Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) — “Full-Hearted” #amwritingpoetry #taleweavers #MLMM


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver’s this week with his theme: all things bright and beautiful & what it means to us. Also, thanks to MindLoveMisery’s MenagerieMindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Prompt #41 “This Is Not the End” by MILCK.


Credit: Joshua Fuller via Unsplash


This is Not the End by MILCK


All things bright and beautiful cleanse; this is not end.

Star’s leap, shrinking violets shimmer tall, lively bend;

Despite storm’s ahead, summer’s heat,

Deepens azure; the sky still beams,

Wide-eyed giggles, cherub children;

Bells tinkle joyful, dreamscapes mild.

Your schemes aren’t the end, despite a shameful purpose;

Sickening plots — lies, your ugly’s gone; I’ve more worth.

****

This isn’t the end, of all things bright and beautiful,

I’m not afraid of monsters, your cunning half-truths.

I’m a survivor furnished,

In sweet trappings of God’s spirit.

I fear not your Slytherin tongue;

I’m a warrior inspite your drugs —

Candy words, lethargy, crafted bitter-bliss —

You’re daft, such a nasty trick; too late — you missed.

*****

All things bright and beautiful, life moves, expands,

Beneath snow spring trickles in streams; ice cracks, your damned.

Wicked man against roaring lion,

His might rages, light that defies.

I’m not afraid of ruthlessness,

For I’ve inhaled His brilliant truth.

You can’t snuff it out, you can’t beat it’s flames; feasting on–

Destruction, your falsehood revealed; I’m no man’s pawn.

*****

Sweet lamb am I, protected from plots; your slaughter —

Without regret, dishonest; I win you falter.

This lapse isn’t the end; I’m free.

Once blind, I stare eyes pitying;

Your tricks are done, for I have sun.

Wild winds, tangled grass and I’ve won —

Space to wander in aqua dawn, white sands beautiful.

All things bright, I’ve chosen a door and key — heart-full.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#OctPoWriMo Day 10/Music Challenge: Poem — “Frigid Air” #amwritingpoetry #MusicChallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 10 the Prompt is dancing on air. I’m also combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge and the song, “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” sung by Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.


When love is going well, in those euphoric moments, it is like dancing on air. Everything feels good, the sun is bright in the sky without a cloud to rain on your mood. Whether it is hormone induced, something good happening in your life, or true love, tell us about a time when you were dancing on air.


Credit:


Diamonds Are A Girl’s Bestfriend” Sung by Marilyn Monroe

https://youtu.be/hEyWqVfY4vo


Mademoiselle lifts her feet,

Bending her toes, dancing on her toes.

She’s his ballerina enclosed,

By bars and the spaces in-between.

She keeps on acting,

She thought it was enough,

But the chasm between her and monsieur grows.

He’ll buy her obedience, but little does he know,

Diamonds are a girls best friend — not men.

She’s to practical to believe, his lips on her hand,

A kiss is divine, but it won’t pay her rent.

And between them builds an icy wall,

Women wrinkle, men become stuck,

They stop caring, not learning new ways.

All kinds of loves’ charms fade;

But Mademoiselle knows best.

She begs a diamond from her time love-spent,

Square or pear-drop,

Rounded or oval, they don’t alter shape;

She’s dancing on air, because she has it all.

Diamonds are mademoiselle’s best friend,

But ‘tween her in monsieur there’s only,

Frigid air.

The world freezes, and no one’s dancing;

Twirling in air, that’s for fake romances.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Heart Breaker #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Credit: Yinglan Z.


The volcanic crater was a disfigured heart. Chance thought it resembled his own.

“Where are you going?” Chance shrugged. “Going to work for a month.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, no one wants to be alone today, not even me. I could have any man I want, but I chose you.” Giselle’s lively green eyes gleamed.

It was then he noticed the name tattooed on her wrist, within an ombre pink heart. “Who the Hell is Robert, and why’s his name on your wrist?”

“I’ll tattoo what I like on my body.” Chance strode towards Giselle, tilting her chin up so she’d meet his gaze.

“Robert’s the guy you’ve been sleeping with? The one you promised to break it off with, I assume?”

She laughed, grasping Chance’s hand. “We got to talking and had too much wine. Now, we both have tacky tattoos, but you know well Robert’s nothing. I haven’t seen him in a month.”

“You said it was over five months ago?”

Giselle’s bottom lip quivered. “It was, but we ran into each other that once.” He could see her pale cheeks redden; she was lying.

“Robert can have you; I’m done.”

Her eyes flooded with tears.

“I know well your crocodile tears. Don’t be here when I get home, Giselle, never again.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “Ambrosia for Fools” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to Scribblersdip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Sunday’s writing prompt! 

——-

Credit: ScribblesDip – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

———

Are lies beautiful?  

White-lies that trill? 

Masking darkness, 

Tumbling fights. 

I know not your demons, 

Only mine. 

Lies, beautiful? 

Is the truth blind? 

People desire lies, 

Crave —

Drops of poison. 

Evil makes life, 

Sickly ripe. 

Are people capable, 

Of goodness, faith? 

He chuckled, 

Souless eyes void. 

Offering opium, 

Ambrosia for fools. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Deserved. 

Published on wwww.spillwords.com: Poem – Cleave – ” Unwrapping Deceit” #poetry #amwriting #spillwords


Thanks  so much to SpillWords for publishing anotherof my poems. This is a Cleave poem and it’s redone as it was a poem from a few years ago. It’s called Unwrapping Deceit

——–


——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem- Bop – “The Waves Call — Forget” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——–

Credit: Louise – The Storyteller’s Abode

———

Forget all your cares come play in the sand, 

Forget the whole world, your work, all your plans.

The day’s a sunny bright yellow sapphire,

Lemon drops in the sky, lay back respire. 

The air here is fresh, ocean salted breaths,

 Ponder the waves, forget life’s a mess.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

Life can be a barbed wire fence keeping out,

Trapping  you within the cluttered house. 

When you try to get out, take the fence down,

The barbs of your wall pierce your hands– you frown.

Watch the tear drops, the blood drops compile, 

Regrets; tears burn tomorrow’s hope with ire. 

So escape the fence, leave the caged prison,

Yonder lies the beach, waves rise, spark freedom.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

You don’t have to impress anyone here,

Close your eyes and nap; read a book, dear. 

A story well known or a new one found;

Floppy hat, sunscreen, ice cream downed

Hear the gulls cry, squish toes in the sand,

No need to be aware, just understand —

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

November Notes: Poem – Day 21 – Octelle – “Leaving Now” #amwriting #novembernotes #poetry #writing


The song prompt for this day, is “Recreational” by Aaron Krause 

——

“Recreational” – Aaron Krause

——

http://www.pinterest.com

——

This isn’t real, I cannot feel, 

Your lies are fine, don’t make it real. 

Your words remind me what you did, 

Your words hurt me within.

Keep your lies, no promises, 

There’s no more compromises.

You don’t say it outloud, your lips sealed, 

Numb inside, I’ll never fully heal. 

—–

The music starts, covers silence, 

I don’t want to hear your weak defence. 

Broken promises shatter, 

The shards so sharp scatter.

Didn’t mean the words you said, 

I called you out and you fled. 

Pretending you don’t hear me hence, 

I’m leaving, no reprehending. 

——

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond: “In Darkness Lies” #poetry #writing #amwriting 


This is last week’s Shadorma prompt, hosted by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. The poem, “Travelling Through The Dark” by William E. Stafford. 

——

Credit: http://www.transformationplus.com

—–

There are things, 

Best not explained and

Thought of once, 

Forgotten. 

Some times rise up in memory

Some nights lost.

—–

Perhaps the —

Road was offending —

Nature not —

Giving her, 

Space required for her to thrive, 

Voice unheard.

—— 

But I wish, 

Someone out there could —

Hear nature’s —

Whispers cried. 

Then we wouldn’t harm her deer, 

Not anything.

——

We might have —

More respect for such creatures whom —

Know not where —

They tread is —

Surely the end, too dangerous, 

So they die. 

—-

And like that —

Deer killed by the road,

Womb full of —

Baby who —

Won’t ever be born; Nature —

Cries for loss. 

—–

If the corpse, 

Lies there on the road, 

Some idiot, 

Not paying —

Attention; he’ll hit it and —

Kill himself. 

—–

Though the deers, 

Death is so tragic, 

So is the —

Loss of a —

Human life more; though we think, 

Some don’t think. 

——

Perhaps a —

Sign some flashing lights, 

Saying, “Deer —

Crossing Please —

Be aware,” but some don’t read. 

The corpse goes —

—–

A gaping —

Grave to eternity, 

Mother and —

Fawn are gone. 

No vigil, no prayer, no thought, 

Nature mourns. 

——-

“Travelling Through the Dark” By William E. Stanford 

——

Traveling through the dark I found a deer

dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.

It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:

that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

—–

.By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car

and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;

she had stiffened already, almost cold.

I dragged her off; she was large in the belly..

 ——-

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—

her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,

alive, still, never to be born.

Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

.——-

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;

under the hood purred the steady engine.

I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;

around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

.——–

I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,

then pushed her over the edge into the river.

——-

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Still His #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

—–

A Mixed Bag

——

Caden wasn’t sure how he arrived at the park; his feet had walked themselves there. He sat on a park bench feeling empty and worthless. In front of him sat an old Chinese stove, but he gave it little thought. 

He’d lost Caroline for real this times and Caden didn’t know how to get her back. Lyrics from the song playing in the pub as she walked away from him, were on a continuel loop in his mind; she loved that song. He sighed, begging his mind to forget the painful lyrics.

“She’s imperfect but she tries, she is good but she lies. She is hard on herself, she is broken and won’t ask for help. She is messy but she’s kind, she’s is lonely –most of the time. She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie; she is gone but she used to be mine.” 

Caden hadn’t ever felt so low. What did a man do when the woman he thought he’d stay with forever disappeared and wouldn’t talk to him? 

No one seemed to know where Caroline was. He had almost cried in front of her Dad saying he only wanted to apologize and win her back. Caroline’s Dad patted Caden on the back saying,”Things will get better soon.” 

Caden stared at the odd Chinese Stove wondering what its purpose was. He attempted to distract himself with the stove as the lyrics from that damn song floated back to him:

“If I’m honest I know I would give it all back for a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two. For the girl that I knew who’ll be reckless just enough, who’ll get hurt but, who learns how to toughen up when she’s bruised . . . she is gone but she used to be mine.” 

Caden pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block the words out. 

Suddenly, Caroline was standing in front of him, “How did you get here?” He asked her.

She gazed at him, “You look horrible Caden. Did I do that to you?” 

He gasped shocked at seeing her, truly there now sitting beside him. Caden couldn’t hold back, he cried into Caroline’s neck as she stroked his hair; he held onto her tightly. 

“I thought you would never forgive me,” he said. 

“It’s alright,” she crooned to him, “I’m not leaving you ever again.” 

Caroline was still Caden’s girl. 

——-

Sara Barielles – “She Used to Be Mine” 

——-

Lyrics from AZlyrics Sara Barielles Lyrics.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.