Photo (Collage) Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Mountain’s Wrath” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s double prompt:

Laura Bloomsbury

———

Black and white can change, 

Become the most flaming bright of —

Colours; yet we’re like —

Dorothy on her Kansas —

Farm, not realizing life is grey. 

Never seeing technicolor.

——–

If mountains are but smoke, 

No one who said those words knew, 

How burning orange and —

Yellow looks when your skin is —

Seared; the mountain spit lava clear.

Blew her top, melted downwards. 

——-

On to the town who, 

Had little idea but should —

Have known this day, 

No technology clued.

Their mountain could release Hell,

Sulphurous smelling, burnt Hell.

—-

Poisonous gases, 

Leaking down to the town folk, 

No chance had they when, 

Ashes fell like snow.

The worst kind of snow signals, 

The ire of the mountain’s breath.

——-

In stores, on boardwalks, 

Going about their day the same.

When she erupted, 

No one cared at first.

But the ash and gases came, 

Killing to begin, before —

—–

Lava reached familiar,

Buildings, the library.

Homes, grocery stores, work.

Yet the sky was filled, 

She billowed out her smoke rings, 

And she was just beginning.

——-

Threy should’ve known to —

Leave earlier but no one, 

Takes responsibility;

To late to lay blame.

Run far and fast, lava spews.

Keep going magma flows, kills.

——

No Dante’s Peak is —

This; only mother nature’s, 

Roaring and giving, 

Life as she takes it.

Many die unaware, don’t see, 

Never knew today would be —

The end: waiting done, 

Here comes the promised one near.

Yet some survived it.

Never took lightly, 

Those words: A Mountain is noth –

ing but smoke — they lived through it.

—–

Those who rebuilt knew, 

As the lava and fire burnt their —

Homes, loved ones to crisps. 

Beware the mountain;

Geologists trained don’t know, 

When she’ll yield furious wrath.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reseved 

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Poem: Free Verse – “In Eyes Perceive” #wordhighjuly #poetry #balintataw



——–

http://www.pixebay.com

———

I’ve lost clarity; it’s obvious, observe —

When I’m peering through dense walls, 

Where you disguise your life;

I’m blinded from your changing eyes.

Obsidian pupils, shining as glass;

Solidification of molten lava black.

Rings of green surround pupils.

In certain light, your eyes blackish-green fire;

In another light, they’re a grassy knoll.

I perceive your eyes, understanding you;

When you’re hostil, temperamental;

Your eyes alter colour, swirling into black.

A bitter ocean, a complex green.

Obsidian pupils merge; fight pleasant green.

The storm rages, your eyes stay grating.

As steel and concrete, 

You’re cold, unflinching.

——-

When you’re serene and absorbed in life;

Your eyes tint with light, 

Glow with presence;

Glimmering alert, understanding.

Conversing comfortably; 

Words match your eyes.

Face, sure and bright; 

Joy glows from your lips, 

The creases in your smile.

Wrinkles, fan your eyes;

You laugh and illuminate my sight.

Your fantastic mood drawing people to you, 

My beacon.

——-

But my favourite vantage,

Of your eyes;

Dark pupils focus, adore me slow.

Feeding an ethereal glow;

Throwing off embers of warmth.

Mysterious eyes, wide-open; 

Your true-self, no posing.

Brilliant fire of space simmering;

Us a compass twain, 

Star dust and nebulas.

You appear almost sleepy, 

Eyes perceiving my eyes;

Mood indicators; receptors of feeling.

The lights in all the stars, 

Of every universe, combined.

Heat from your heart (and other parts),

Obsidian meeting obsidian sheen;

Aurora Borealis in our eyes gleam.

Waves of heat and colour impress.

Of all the giant and tiny world’s,

Unparalleled; the world we combine.

Nebulas spark across the dark;

Your truth is when you memorize me, 
Satisfied smile, softly content.
We’ve conquered stars;

As light is the only source,

Differing our eyes; a genetic defect passed,

Transforming brown, to blue and green;

The Northern Lights, 

Enfolding us in time, our space.

——–

Credit: I thought about a lot of John Donne poetry writing this: A Valediction Forbidding Mourning and The Good Morrow mostly. Also, if you haven’t read about why some people have blue or green eyes, when originally, humans only had brown eyes, check-out: Wikipedia – Eye Colour. Turns out blue or green eyes is not a pigment, it has to do with structural colour and the scattering of light in certain conditions. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – The Island


The volcanic island sat there dormet, or so everyone thought.

We had come to L’Isle to enjoy the lush nature around us, the lovely beaches,and hauntingly beautiful ocean. There was scuba diving, off-roading, fishing, shopping, and time to lay in the pure white sand.

Sometime around 1:30 pm we heard a rumble. The local news said it was nothing, that the Volcanic Island made noises sometimes but the rumbles continued from the volcano and people began to evacuate. My mother decided it was time to fly home.

I remember that day as we took off from the small airport on the island the sky was so clear you could see tropical birds flying. But then the volcano blew its top. Magma and fire rained down upon the island and animals and people were caught in its trap.

The smoke was thick but we flew in the opposite direction back towards Europe, away from the smoke and destruction. When mother nature exploded she came a part mercilessly.

L'Isle before the Volcanic Eruption
L’Isle before the Volcanic Eruption

Thanks to Priceless Joy for organizing. Want to participate?

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/04/14/fffaw-week-of-4-15-2015/