Music Prompt #5: Poem – Lunes – “Not Your Mama” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Prompt every second Friday. Last week’s song was “I Ain’t Your Mama” by Jennifer Lopez. I guess next time I’ll have to pick a better song, no one was interested in giving this one a go. But I should write for my own prompt at least. 

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Credit: 2nd Chance Water Restoration

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“I Ain’t Your Mama” by Jennifer Lopez

——-

I’m not just the woman, 

Who cooks for, 

Love, your favourite foods served. 

——

I’m not the one who should, 

Be waking you, 

To work, every single morning. 

——-

Crazy in love, partners united, 

We’ve fallen apart, 

Let’s glue the past together. 

——

For a future where we’re —

Both committed; both —

Living life to the fullest.

—–

No settling into comfortable boredom, 

Watching TV not, 

Noticing each other, nor caring. 

—–

Do some house work, it —

Will heat up, 

The sheets; bring back fire —

——

And if you don’ t desire, 

Changes or improvement, 

Tell me now, I’ll pack —

——-

My bags; I’ll start again, 

Because I deserve —

Better — I Ain’t Your Mama. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – “Left Out.” #Maydays #amwriting



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Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. I skipped the prompt about geeking out for now. But am going to write about today’s prompt on friendship. My view in my poem today is that even though friendship is excellent, there are times it is frustrating. 

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http://www.pinterest.com

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I know all my friends are out, 

And I’m stuck inside.

I know we’re true adults now, 

I still feel left out.

As if I wasn’t living life, 

As if I’ve missed so much to time.

Conversations and memories, 

I was never privy too.

——-

Maybe I’ll never grow up,

Maybe a job high up isn’t so vital.

I’m making life up as I go, 

It’s the best I can do, 

I wish sometimes you understood, 

It’s extremely difficult for me sometimes, 

Not only dealing with what life throws at you,

But trying to work through problems, 

Going through a veil, more like a brick wall —

Somedays.

——-

Cancer is killing my friend, 

I don’t know if she knows, 

How wonderful a friend she is to me,

And I don’t know why but she always, 

Floods the room with her beautiful light.

She has cancer and yet, 

Her energy level is much better than mine.

I don’t know how to make my best friends understand, 

They do, but sometimes, 

They don’t see anything at all.

——

Two hours in, needing to sit down and not move, 

Having eaten two pieces of cake, 

One I shouldn’t have eaten. 

Brought the hostess wine, 

Do all the right things to be a gracious guest.

But rarely, do I feel ‘in’ on all the things going on.

I don’t know that feeling anymore, 

I’m used to friends talking around me, 

My mind fading in and out.

I try to pay attention, all the hours I’m out, 

Don’t treat me as a child, like I can’t handle life.

Like I can’t handle honest words and your normal lives, 

Mental illness is a bitch and people have little thought, 

Of what you’re working past.

People may think things, 

At this point I assume my besties understand my battle, 

But maybe they don’t understand?

——

Maybe it’s still a disease people feel uncomfortable about, 

Because they’re grown up into adults with jobs.

They have kids and careers, 

They’ve the normal life.

I’m at home after years, fighting to have energy, 

Writing writing, who picks that as a career? 

But my dreams live and drive me forward.

No matter if my story is polished and presentable, 

I make myself impeccable.

Nice hair and makeup, 

Cute clothes for my size, 

Trying to be thin, like most of them, 

Pretty as them, but more width to my hips.

——

Striving for someone to take interest in me, 

Not feel I’m doing nothing with my life, 

Ask questions about me and be curious, 

Just as I am curious about your life.

Don’t talk over me, 

I know you all have your own fights, 

Cancer the biggest I believe right now.

I wish because of it, you’d understand me more too.

I’m launching myself forward, 

But I must move to a slower pace.

I don’t want to lose my best friends, 

I don’t want to be the only one who feels, 

We need to stay in touch.

——–

An attractive guy would be nice,

A listener, a toucher, a hockey game lover.

I’d love a dog and our own condo, 

No debt, and the ability to exercise well.

All these things I want, 

With boundless energy, 

No more worry about what my friends think of my illness.

Just like them, normal.

——

I want safety in his touch,

Seeking closeness with him and equality.

Connected to me, he’s not half-treating me, 

As of I’m forever a spoiled kid, 

Just because I need a ride.

Because I’m not well enough to drive.

Themes that under lie my life at times, 

Girls looking above me, raising their noses, 

Not knowing I fly in stars and midnight showers of rain.

Soaked to the bone in my imagination, 

Dipping my toes in the rain as I write, 

Sharing my gift and my faith, 

Wisdom of magic and belief.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Her Hair Is Falling Out”


http://www.huffingtonpost.com

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I felt it slice through my heart, 

The sharpened blade of a knife, blood spurting.

When she said her hair was falling out, 

It made it all too real.

I felt pierced by a sword, 

Blood draining from my face,

Collapsing from a wound brand new,

I wish I knew how she handled it.

Could face the world with such grace,

I tried to put myself in her shoes,

To keep it about her.

But if she is anything like me,

The loss of blond locks would be gory,

An image of c#%€£r, to be detested and banished.

But reality spears through the aching heart,

She handles all with fierce fire.

—–

But when she said “my hair is falling out,”

My eyes filled with salt water, 

Channels of tears went down pasty cheeks, 

Off skin prepared for the night; I lost it.

In her pictures, she appears happy, like herself,

Handling each trial, each challenge with a smile.

But when she wrote “we’re going wig shopping,”

The tears wouldn’t stop.

And the pain in my stomach is a giant knot.

I’m scared to release that pent up rage, 

At God for allowing her to find out four stages in, 

With a two-year-old and loving husband of only a few years.

She’s living life —

But I ache for her and I pray,

Because I know there is no other way.

Let God heal the c#%*£rous growths.

Let her be healthy, let us grow old as friends.

Let her baby have his Mother.

——-

I think it’s an issue of vanity,

A woman’s hair, her crowning glory,

But my friend’s beauty goes beyond her features,

Beyond skin deep, 

Yet I weep while she smiles,

Picturing her hair at her feet.

Her new wig on her head,

Being prepared for when,

She loses all of her hair.

But yet she finds the strength to keep fighting.

Without blond hair to shield the struggle behind.

Without one of her most defining features,

She loosing her hair with such fortitude.

My friend does not cry,

She smiles with eloquence, 

Handles her fight with class.

But I weep and I weep.

In my dreams, I cry for her, 

For her I’m so afraid of losing,

When we’ve both only begun life’s journey.

She’s come this far,

In prayer and empathy, 

I cheer her battle on.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.