Poem: Alouette – “The Past Dying”


 

womanmulticolourface
Credit: Tory K Webb

To you who chips at

My heart who just sat,

With your friends drinking coffee,

Not paying notice,

I guess I’m not quote:

‘A girl who cares you’re lofty.’

*****

I’m not a step near,

For you to but snear.

My presence unwanted your,

Affect forever,

Something severed.

Piece of me died you deploring.

*****

Not all experiences,

Are helpful; hence,

They’re moments disregarding,

All I’ve learned,

Thoughts which make me squirm,

My insides, wretched, I’m left scarred.

*****

You don’t feel so wrong,

Moving to your own song.

Admitting it was about looks,

How attractive you were,

I the ‘disturbed‘ girl.

Went home; didn’t return took –

*****

Other roads, castles

Of sand, no hassle.

I’ve nothing from you I want.

You’re but old history,

Learning experience stripped.

Walking my paths, undaunted.

*****

You’ve gone, gone gone; I’m —

Just swell; days ‘neath time,

Never fully heal, but let —

Old days die in past,

Wither at a glance.

Survivor, blessed delighter.

*****

red-shoes-logo-mandibelle16


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

November Notes: Poem -Day 24 – Italian Sonnet – “The Blame”


This days song prompt is “Buses and Trains” by Bachelor Girls.


“Buses and Trains” – Bachelor Girls


woman-hiding
http://www.pinterest.com

Mom, you didn’t say, how cruel the world is,

I could blame you for it all, but I’m grown.

Teach me, I could’ve learned by your grace known.

Each day I’m run down by trains, it’s fun this–

Game; ears ringing from sound trains make hissing.

Or a bus in front of me is coming, near miss —

Only by seconds I’m safe, empty words moan.

Why do I being pulverized feel sewn

Together a quilt, with all pieces, its bliss.

How do I explain I needed guidance?

It hurts me, you decided, gave me up.

 Without your words, boys became as chocolate,

Choosing the worst, failing being grown-up.

Addicted, inhaling them, drug sate.

You could’ve taught me better, it’s too late.


img_2951-22


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 26 – Lento – “Don’t Abandon Them”


Prompt Day 26: Abandonment:

“What does abandonment mean to you? I deal with abandonment issues all the time. However, there are ways to view this word in a positive way.”


beachsisters
http://www.pinterest.com

Justification, they aren’t one of us;

Illustration, cold abandonment.

Illumination, we’re one –so be just;

Inspiration, we’re at heart as them.

Transformation, provide helping hand.

Desperation, suffering is mad.

Divination, we don’t know future.

Desperation, many abandoned.


Consideration for people in life,

Participation, together win fight.

Illumination, truths revealed about strife.

Justification, nothing about it right.

Diversification, different skills aid.

Inspiration, create solution.

Mystification, make it more clear.

Inspiration: restitution.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: NaPoWriMo 2016 – Lune – ” Leaving ” 


  

Prompt:

Today, I challenge you to write a lune. This is a sort of English-language haiku. While the haiku is a three-line poem with a 5-7-5 syllable count, the lune is a three-line poem with a 5-3-5 syllable count. There’s also a variant based on word-count, instead of syllable count, where the poem still has three lines, but the first line has five words, the second line has three words, and the third line has five words again. Either kind will do, and you can write a one-lune poem, or write a poem consisting of multiple stanzas of lunes. Happy writing!

Please visit www.napowrimo.net for more information.

——

http://www.buddhabarbie.com

——
Peering your way advertent obscure, 

Days have passed,

Shards of glass inside me.

——-

Why is sorrow so meaningless.

Make it better,

Hear me out; you refuse.

——-

Coupledome requires us both to,

Tell the truth,

Communication is key; so listen.

——-

Capricious games are not me,

I’m not playing,

Whatever joke you’re about today.

——-

Be serious, moments are fading,

I’m still waiting,

How many nights spent crying? 

——-

Brokenness, requires feeling I think,

To care enough,

Feeling gutted and raw inside.

——

Thought we were supposed to,

Make our lives,

Lasting moments for each other.

——

Carelessness, you have no soul,

Once you loved,

Love has grown thin, cold.

—–

In Purgatory, if you believe,

What Catholics teach,

Frightening fire, burning soot reeks.

—–

Fire enthrals passion, makes heat.

But you’re ice,

Was there ever crackling flames?

—-

Again, convinced myself you were,

Healthy for me,

Should’ve kept searching and hoping.

—–

Now, I’m raw, inside out.

Sobbing mess living.

Making or breaking; I’m leaving.

—–

You don’t hear me leave,

It’s fine because —

You never saw me anyways.

—– 

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Word Wrestling 


Pages of books not written; I’m smitten with writing and making connections. Between the exertions of the mind and the final piece laid out before me; a master piece a sculptural word image.

Many pages have been torn out so worn with notes and ink they had to be reborn upon the laptop screen, reformed and moved around until an agitation would cease to exist inside the writer’s mind.

Placing words are like placing memories. A smell of leather and glue can you bring you back to those first books, the classics, made in ancient form; but now the books aren’t even paperback or on thick paper; now the books are read from phones and tablets. It’s a new form of perception for words.

Words have no meaning until you make them a sentence, until you move them around with more of their kind and place them between periods, commas, semi-colons, question marks, and other punctuation. But in saying that, arrange them properly or abandon all hope.

Words don’t have meaning until you say what you mean using examples and making the sound of the words pleasing; perhaps, you’ll alliterate or personify. Or maybe you’ll say exactly what you meant sparsely and short.

These words are all tools to build the illustrious novel, the poetry book, the poster, the newsletter, or the magazine. You can use them with images snapped by a camera, but you can make them an image. Smash together words like ants coming from a hole in the wall.

You can poison with words the way you kill ants – Borax and Icing sugar – a deadly sweet treat like words that linger for their artifice. Words that are artificial, extending their life just to be, we don’t need them here.

We could spend hours debating word usage, sentences, and clauses. But who cares really? I just wanted you to comprehend the connection of words to final draft, to your fait accompli. I wanted you to dream while you type away that words can actually mean a great deal when they are used properly.

They can snake into your mind, a superhuman surprise and in a rush you’ll hurry to write down your word picture. You’ll create another part, a piece of the pie, and for moments you’ll dream sipping on endings. And eventually it will fit, click and create the last words ever written on the subject by your author, unknown. But you can call her Jane Doe.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.