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Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “For the Little” #amwriting #poetry #taleweaver


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weaver’s Prompt August 10, 2017. The prompt has to do with birth

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JV Garcia via UnSplash

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Or lives may fade, flicker out,

Although time is short, new youth shout. 

Wild being young; then mellow, 

As life reaches end, they’ll bellow. 

At death’s cruelty at snatching, 

Their loved ones stolen before their time, thus grasped —

Death doing his duty, aiding the sick to pass. 

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In grief we forget they’re two sides, 

More than death, new life born crying.

Lusty wales, that mother’s yearn —

To hear when their baby’s have learned, 

Peace in the womb, is no longer.

Time to live, greet both Dad and Mom; 

Promise of life, legacy in children cherished, 

We all die, but we also train the youth and build them. 

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As necessary as death, is —

Our sweet infants crying so hard. 

Swaddled, held close, loved with full hearts, 

Provided best, us making do —

With the old, ensuring kids have food. 

All their needs, some wants, so they know they too belong. 

Not spoiling, letting them control, but nurturing strong. 

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So baby held within my arms, 

I promise you, here there’s no harm. 

As a babe and child, I can keep —

You safe, but you’ll grow learning; sweets —

Too many you’ ll become ill and keen

You don’t listen, life can be mean — 

It’s no piece of cake; but I’ll let you be little, although —

You’ll hate me; life has enough time for forgiveness too. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 17 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/ First Line Friday FF: Poem – Free Verse — “Full Moon of Neurotic Night” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #FLF #poetry 


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘a First Line Friday Prompt. The first line from last Friday was: “I’m going to tell you how I lost my inheritance.” For NaPoWriMo the prompt is to write a nocturne which is a poem/song about the night. For A to Z Challenge, today’s letter is O for a GoodRead’s quote.  

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Credit: Arial Estrulin – Travel and Landscape Photography

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“You don’t have to be dead to leave a legacy. — Onyi Anyado”

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I’m going to tell how I lost my inheritance, how my legacy rides in tides as the full moon rises, 

How the night stole my humanity and hammered my soul a blow. 

The dusk covered the light, liquid tar blanket bestowed, 

The sun hid himself away, way down in western wilds of woe. 

A sinking feeling settled in and a certain chorus began to ring,

A range of notes, a rising crescendo of riveting lyrical prose. 

A poet’s words possessing her, when she knows full well, 

The powerful pull of the midnight hour. 

And the pressing provocative lure as the moon glows, 

A white orb that won’t warble, a strong luminious light, 

Residing over all as every full moon does. 

To be host over the howling wolves, the healthy youths as they prowl, 

The dark delights of the night distend into the dimest parts of every soul. 

A choir of banshees brazenly taking souls salaciously, the maids from their beds,

The hour of the demons drawing back to their victims with wet bloody lips;

The incubus raging and awaking the wild within their prey. 

And all is a lure, an image not clear, all this is imagined, 

All this is frightening, foretold in nightmares. 

The affected awake in the morning from the pleasure and pain,

From satisfied appetites, appalling in the dank aptitudes of night. 

Night swells and swallows herprey wholly, partaking and doping with her starry glow, 

Inviting the worst from the wise, even ill from the innocent. 

Yet a moral being cannot mean to say, night has had her way and ‘I’ had no say; 

It’s easy to give in with ease, to isolate one’s self to enthralling entertainments, inscribed darkly now on souls. 

And what’s done in the night when the moon is full and fat, cannot be told for it stays hidden on those nights, when the wildest ones escape.

The vampires and the wolves, the creatures we know not of, and humans do not stay humble ether — they choose to fly with the fallen. 

A nocturne of night will tell you what power presumes to hide beneath an inky black veil,

It’s not pure evil, it’s the usual kind, who chooses to dance with the devil, and forget their choices their choosing for charm and wine. 

For tequila and vodka, for him and her, and whisky burning down your throat as the howls of the night combine with a loss of memory; 

And we all awake mid-afternoon, no one knowing the peculiarities of such a night, a full out frightening moon. 

Only a feeling, a shiver, a prayer, as the moon fades from brilliance, she is trapped, unwillingingly held as she wanes us back into morality. 

The light of the sun salutes from the east and all is forgiven in harmony and health, angelic nebulas, skys of blue birds, and Bambi deers galloping. 

Woe is the wicked night on the full moon, but how much greater is the morn after malevolence is perpetually destroyed,

Yet oh, how we miss the fun of bliss in the dark — no thoughts, no reason, just acceptance to absorb the pleasures of night’s nocturnal nightmares. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.