Three Line Tales: “Tucked Near” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales (x2)


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Nick Fewings via Unsplash.


I’m down-trodden, weakling child;

Until head eases,

Lethargic fog clears; you’re near.

Days are dim, dead dreary,

Dickenasian smog dour.

Gloom plucking my heart’s curves.

***

Yet, within darkness rustles notes,

Silver breezes chime,

Your words are balmy bliss.

*****

As Elijah cowering, cave hiding,

Whisper wind Holy,

Your presence revered; I’m safe.

*****

Calm cooling waters, drench coal —

Stricken sadness; lips —

On my forehead so dear.

*****

Lungs filled with tar-blackness,

Eucalyptus-oxygen cures.

Pain collapses tucked near you.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Prose-Poetry – “Orreries and Moonscapes” #amwritingprosepoetry #SundayWritingPrompt #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Prompt. From the choice of terms I’ve chosen the words: orrery (solar system model) & Divan (sofa without end), Alice blue (color), Eucalyptus (scent), circle (shape), photograph (item in purse/wallet).


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


“Hope in the Air”


She traced the gold paint bitter,

It gleamed as didn’t dirty pennies.

Her measly sum was but a crumb,

And she had risked it for a piece of man-scum.

She returned, here, always — never too far;

Her childhood land of faeries; her home.

She approached the library orrery,

Spinning the sun’s gleaming gold orb.

A sigh escaped her diva-dream lips; she bit them.

Don’t let a woman fool you,

Scarlet lips, they never stay put,

The lipstick travels, blips.

But, masks blood if you chew them;

If you forget the earth’s relation to the sun,

Your relation to reality.

So, she dreamed adrift,

In knotted flannel shirt and skinnies;

Stroking grandma’s velvet Divan,

As if she could fashionably faint.

As if she could divine meaning, stroking Alice-Blue upholstery;

In cup of tea tumbled, crushed nearby;

China splinters dust, fancy tea spilled.

Some relief in eucalyptus leafs soothing;

She can, finally, breathe in her favorite tea;

Nose no longer useless.

She flips off patined-ruby shoes;

Kitten heals meowing, released.

Wiggling her toes painted with satin-ribbon;

Bemoaning her lost love, traitor, worthless, and without guile.

“I never would have done what you did to me,

To anyone, not ever.”

Last words she thinks, but never hurled.

Her Alice-Blue eyes darken,

Trace the doors golden pattern;

Images she modernized, decor, and memory intertwined.

Turquoise-tranquil dreams as her head burrows in velvet;

Arm thrust over head, maiden helpless — but she’s not.

The Orrery still twirling in a circle as —

Red-herring anger flashes.

Red-lips torn, pain to forget frustration,

Tears as a Phoenix waiting to burn, to discover renewal.

And not enough fresh air in the room,

Library dust, mildew, overpower eucalyptus.

She peers at her gram’s patined heals cherished,

They’ve escaped bone-China chips;

Their antiquity safe on Robin’s-egg plush carpet.

A peculiar aroma, dust, eucalyptus, book spines, horse-glue;

Ancient editions, thrown away,

In her family the women restored; she does to this day.

Yet, the photographs of history split her childhood dreams,

Summers here, years of tea parties, and creamy-egg-salad sandwiches.

Wuthering Heights, The Moonstone,

Peter Pan, and The Sun Also Rises;

Scattered between old-editions, photo-albums,

Pictures, preserved photographs; her addition to family history.

Saving literature, pictures, from sunlight, and tears;

She lies back, stretches and dreams,

Alice in Wonderland, Anne of Green Gables,

The Yearling, and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.

She’s humming a tune,

“There’s hope in the air,

There’s hope it the water,

Not even for me. . .”

Until she yanks out her wallet,

Throws out two twenties;

Penniless, but beyond rich with orreries and moonscapes.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 31/Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem — “Plain Sight” #amwritingpoetry #SundayWritingPrompt #MLMM


For OctPoWriMo Day 31 the Prompt is the word endless. I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt based on the Sylvia Plath letter quote: “I talk to God, but the sky is empty.” so glad to be done OctPoWriMo two-months later. It took awhile, but I’m happy it’s done in time for Christmas. Lol.


Credit: Paulo Brandao via Unsplash


Words in the tumbled breeze,

Chatter of birds in early light;

Blinding my ears to fright.

Intense azure glows, I cover my eyes;

It burns, it burns,

What a fright, what a fright.

Restless, my ears ringing as if I’ve spent all night,

With giant speakers, there jarring blare.

And oh, my eyes how they sting,

Such terrible light blinds me in fear.

How can such gleaming light be wonderful?

For me, it’s a curse.

No afternoon delight, but hellish nightmare.

The hammer’s swift; I the rock pit —

It’s pulsing, the rhythmic pain seething.

Lips moaning pleas,

Make it stop, but its unceasing.

Not after strong coffee as my stomach lurches,

Nor over toast I spit-out disgusted.

My skin, elephant tusks envy such paler.

No wine or liquor could cause,

A tinge so blue as the veins in my wrist.

Such hopelessness,

A putrid cycle of faithlessness.

Once I believed, now I am lost;

Lamb to the slaughter, must I too sputter?

Have my heart carved,

Gurgling water, blood in the tide.

But the tawny bird near my ear,

He flew inside my broken pane.

He cocks his stubborn head,

Eyes rapid; he mutters, words pained.

His left wing slops,

Tossed from the nest, now he rests near me.

I’ve not the heart to twist his neck,

Though his wing be his death.

But oh, he chirps, eyes rapid,

He sings despite his tepid clawed-steps.

Tiny talons gripping my pillow.

He sings, peers outside,

Aware he can’t fly;

We both can’t.

So, we stare in confusion,

Peering at each other, eye to eye.

Both defenselessness,

We know will soon be cut down.

Yet, while I groan, bird tweets,

The funniest chirps, as if conversing.

He’s livid until I arise, bring him a saucer;

Sups his water, munches sunflower seeds.

He try’s to flutter, my heart leaps —

He flails to the floor.

His eyes see cerulean horizons,

Not wretched revolt.

I’m mad at God,

He made the bird disabled.

But as I curse — bird’s tawny head shakes, beak twerps.

It occurs to me,

He sees more than ‘something’ out there.

If he can chatter at me unperturbed by my size,

Then, fling himself towards the sky —

Only to fall,

Perhaps than, faith can also fly again?

If God can mend my wounded heart,

With nails, grit embedded deep,

Can my feathered mate,

Have his wing set straight?

Perhaps, yes?

Then we can both soar,

And peer to the azure, the Heavens.

Recognize that this ‘something,’

Isn’t intangible, isn’t hiding,

It’s in plain sight,

Crystalline truth sudden,

In opulent morning breeze.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 11/Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem — Octelle — “Avoiding the Cracks” #amwritingpoetry #MLMM


For OctPoWriMo Day 11, the Prompt is falling through the cracks. Also, I’ve combined with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt based on a Rudyard Kipling Poem called “If . . .”


Your soulmate wasn’t supposed to be perfect. You were meant to see the cracks in her soul and fill them with what you have and she was meant to see yours. Together you would be complete.” Shannon L. Alder


“If . . .” By Rudyard Kipling


It’s difficult for men to see,
We’re all cracked with faults daft, costly.
It’s difficult to admit we fall,
That we can’t tread through life evolved;
Not noting where the sidewalk bends,
Without the aid of our good friends.
What makes a man, it’s hard to know,
What makes a woman, do you know?
*****
But for both genders, patience works,
When those near find fault in our quirks.
If you remain trustworthy,
Despite others doubt’s swerving;
And consider their judgment still.
If you forget their lies and wills,
Focused on themselves, and choose truth,
You’ll avoid sidewalk cracks; the uncouth.
*****
It’s easier to forget hate,
To face it, but act with graciousness.
To have wisdom, but not force —
With advice for others; ignore —
Their destructive plans, their schemes,
Learn instead to master dreams.
Think with discernment, avoid cracks,
Don’t get caught up in silly spats.
*****
Be wise in triumph, and stay calm —
When disaster imposes wrongs.
While others misconstrue words —
You’ve spoken; if they’re perturbed,
Ignore the traps of fools and knaves.
See as they fall through the cracks, waves —
That drown them, as you find shore,
Keep going, rebuild; them ignore.
*****
Hold on with all you have inside,
Life’s no elegant first class ride.
Things look up, than they swivel,
Until you’re trapped within riddles.
Hold on to hope, know all men count.
Let none slide through society,
Not without amiability
*****
Your are the sun; you are not cracked.
Those your glow touches, keeps you on track.
You’re the sun lighting the world,
Yours is the world as it fast whirls.
You are the stars sharing your sheen;
Nebulas bursting seams,
So, keep avoiding sidewalk cracks,
Keep gliding on air, and there bask.

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.
   
   
©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Music Challenge/Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “ A Fallen Star’s Quest” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #32 on the song “Moon River”sung by Audrey Hepburn. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: ezornier @deviantart


Falling blaze of light, night faerie,

With feathered puff wings she tarries.

Downy angel of stardust sent,

After the Moon Rivers descent.

Wider than a mile it bubbles,

Cutting past her legs stumbling.

She lifts feathers to fly, but her wings are weights, ball and chains set;

Sunshine hair in her eyes she smiles, but her feet lurch dirt wet.

*****

As the moon’s orb casts brilliant beams,

Directs a path she deftly gleans.

Her body trembles winter cold,

Winds chilling skin; for she’s been told —

When to earth she fell, she chose weak;

To no more be a star so sweet.

Her wings disassemble, feathers as snowflakes fall, flutter;

Mud sucks her feet; she’s a once gleaming bird wingless, sputtering.

*****

Dimmed star, broken-hearted lover;

She seeks a soul; he loved her ‘bove.

She treads his way, an innocent,

Not knowing human sorrow’s pins;

Her wisdom lost, but she peers and waits.

Branches rustle, spirit engaged;

Perfection fumbles in girlish form, black-hole discovering —

A quest; she’s swept down Moon River, crazy truth uncovered.

*****

Stardust child with heart unchanging,

Rides a rainbow’s trail on the chase.

She’ll find him; he’ll gentle whisper,

Asking why she became a wisp.

She’s down Moon River full of angst,

Though, with her wings she scaled its banks.

With tears of joy on petal skin, she’s found her dream-maker;

Her heart sparks; he bends to carry a star home, she’s quaking.

*****

Their two drifters mingling swiftly,

Rising to wander the world’s mists.

Places of wonder that light her eyes,

Thunder breaks, in terror she cries.

They’re a duo with each other —

For but a lifetime’s sacred vows.

In years, the nebula rekindles shines with her soul twin;

Falling blazes, light ethereal, on infant wings both spin.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Fallen Angel” #poetry #MLMM #amwritingo


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Sea Angel, transparent wings transport,

With lights of butterscotch dawn.

Your pistils and stamen,

Tangy bright, a heated encounter of self;

A falsehood perverted.

Yet, your wispy grace flutters,

Luminescence lures with —

A cobra’s venom.

Such a strange angel,

No whispered warnings.

Your effervescent petals enchant–

In the dark.

Floral and fluorescent,

A perilous Lilly,

Not one of hope on a casket,

A Lily of spite and survival engrained.

For you are ancient —

As creations dawn and Eden’s loss.

In the depths you’ve continued,

The world changes but you know little of it.

Only of your pincer teeth,

Stings of sunflower razors.

Taking your prey into pitch.

Where you’re the only light,

The only flower.

As coldness numbs, their blood turns blue,

You steal a soul, angel of despair.

You’re the harbinger of evil;

Unrecognized or understood.

Beauty is your survival, your instinct;

And you’ve not the wit or care to know —

You’re a curse, you’re a witch,

You’re without light’s truthfulness.

You’re a ghost transculent;

Your poison, the end.

With vivacious glory,

Enthralling and cursed.

You lead astray,

Such lambs of the water,

To the depths of misery.

To the finality of nothingness.

Woe to you,

Fallen Angel,

Pandemonium’s first stone.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Guide Dog #amwriting #fiction


Thanks to Susan Spaulding for hosting SPF.


Credit: Susan Spaulding


“Benny, you’ve a purpose holding this lamp. You won’t grow old, hungry, become tired or sore.” I whimpered. It was difficult to understand why Beau was leaving.

“You see, Benny, everyone needs hope. Sometimes we all go through times wretched and dark. We forget that these times end, and you’ll know when and who needs your aid.” I wagged my tale and stretched myself on Beau’s wooden stump.

He scratched my ears. “I’ve lived a long life. It’s time for your master to go home. Guns and fighting plague my dreams. My brittle bones and ragged breathe can’t handle another day. Tonight help me towards the afterlife.”

I licked Beau’s face, and nuzzled into his neck. He held my head. “When I’m gone, take those such as I home. But give those who still have a chance a choice; not everyone who wants to die is at the end their life.” I woofed, but I obeyed. Beau never returned after our last walk, but I listen well.

“Oh, but you’re here now? Maybe, it’s not time for you to quit, yet? Which path do you want to take? Ah, back to your family. I knew you could do it. Here, I’ll walk you home.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers/Saturday Mix: Poem – Free Verse – “Snuffed Out” #amwriting #poetry #TaleWeavers #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting TaleWeavers and a prompt/theme where light is the focus. Also, combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie May 12, 2018 Double Take Saturday Mix Prompt on the homophone words: cedar – an evergreen tree with seeder – one who broadcasts seeds, and days – more than one day with daze – to bewilder.


Credit: Samantha Lynch via Unsplash


I’ll never trace the curve of your lips,

Where it dips, and lick my thumb;

Your nip, a playful bite.

Your brows wiggle; eyes sapphire.

While we slide past maybes,

Sleek condos and greenery;

Cedar trees that sway,

A seed in my heart nourished.

Sharp grass intoxicating —

You claiming my mouth;

Sweeping of lips,

Slow and exquisite.

Sweat makes us stick.

I ache as I’ve never.

Your hand rests ‘neath my throat,

My pulse rapid and wild.

You’ve etched my heart,

I’ll never forget.

The wind rustling, and the flapping of wings,

Our breath in syncopation.

Fighting for air against —

Little deaths.

In a moment, a few minutes,

On a train—

Where we two met.

Potential flared; I turned —

Flustered.

The pain in my chest,

Will it lessen?

Dazed as the days drift,

I didn’t know your name.

Know the flame you kindled,

Would burn me.

My hearts lit with your light,

But the mischief in me,

Craves you both in deepest night,

And the blinding day;

Beneath the Mexican sun,

On tequila beaches.

Daylight to overwhelm,

The throb of pain,

Of possibility snuffed out.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 22/Tale Weavers: Poem – Blitz – “The Thirteenth Hour (Dim of Chase)” #poetry #amwriting #TaleWeavers #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 22 the Prompt is: ” to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens: ‘The clock can’t strike thirteen.‘”

I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt #166 on the theme of “exploring the sensations of being lost, not knowing where you are and realizing you are wandering aimlessly. How and/or who do you ask for help?”


Credit: Mara Eastern. Used with Permission for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


The clock can’t strike thirteen

Thirteens the witching hour dim

Dim as the black soundless night

Dim as every street’s the same

Same as the last and same as the next

Same figures leering in an unfathomable maze

Maze where I don’t know where here is

Maze where each turn is the wrong way

Way down cobblestone paths

Way down roads with naught but silence

Silence without comfort

Silence that hastens quivering

Quivering and deciding to go back

Quivering as I wander in circles

Circles towards the same stuccoed shops

Circles to windows with signs reading, “Closed”

Closed as midnight has long passed chimed

Closed no matter my banging on houses

Houses red-bricked, idyllic in day

House white-fenced unhearing of strangers

Strangers as I, but I am no harm

Strangers as they who follow and whisper

Whisper that I’m lost and cannot escape

Whisper of this hours unholiness

Unholiness as the demons mock my steps

Unholiness as the graveyard headstones crack

Crack as stones splits with moaning

Crack as hands reach, bloodied and fragile

Fragile as my skin sweating and chilled

Fragile as heels broken — left in bare-feet

Bare-feet blackened from putrid streets

Bare-feet cut by pebbles with each step

Step here, step there, no where leads home

Step into the inescapable hour trapped

Trapped as the chants drew me far

Trapped as I bewitched scampered

Scampered away from the party’s delights

Scampered into the sudden mist further

Further into the labyrinth, a sweet dream in daylight

Further into the hour my grandmother warned

Warned of those of dark intent who wander

Warned of the hour so few remember

Remember the creatures who frighten

Remember the creatures who chase

Chase in the thirteenth hour’s delusions

Chase me, knowing I knew better

Better despite my heart’s rapid fluttering

Delusions fade, a light burns — the wicked-hour passes


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Beyond Words or Woofs #amwriting #flashfiction #dogs #homelessness


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—-

Credit: Fandango


The trails meander through the river valley park where the city erected unique benches made from verdant trees felled to create park pathways. At night Paul and his four dogs inhabit a particular bench. They rest their tired legs and pant joyfully, cooling off from the hot humid summer days, during the night.

However, in the winter the dogs huddle against Paul, absorbing each other’s heat. Paul doesn’t have much in his tattered backpack. Only a oversized bottle of water, a bag of dog food, a couple of protein bars, and thin blankets for the dogs. But one night the ice creeps up frosting Paul’s beard. It’s -45 degrees Celsius outside and the homeless shelters are full.

Despite layers of clothing Paul trembles and his teeth chatter; he can’t sleep in this miserable blizzard. He’s terrified the dogs will freeze to death — they’re his family and all he values in the world. He covers them, wrapping them in blankets before spreading the sleeping bag across them all. Their fur is frosted over and he keeps rubbing them with his gloved hands to keep their bodies from stiffening.

Suddenly, a light shines, blinding Paul in the treacherous cold, then his body heats as if he were sitting out on a beach in Mexico on the perfect hot day. The dogs peer up at him from the white sand, wagging their tails. Paul and his dogs have moved on and exist in a place beyond words or woofs. They’ve left cruelty behind.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.