#OctPoWriMo – Day 3 – Poem: Cheritas – “Empire Fallen” #amwriting #poetry #metal 


For Day 3 of OctPoWriMo the theme is a taste of metal and a poem form called Cheritas

What I really love about Cheritas is that it’s a very loose form. Cheritas are a stanza based form rather than a syllable-based one. It’s really simple: 1 line stanza, 2 line stanza, 3 line stanza. The lines can be any length you choose. 

Now for the word prompts: Metals have been associated with everything from alchemy to astrology to chemistry to (the obvious one) geology. Without metal we wouldn’t have much of what we call modern civilization. 

When was the last time you tasted metal? Your fork as you ate breakfast? A dental tool? The iron when you bit your tongue? Growing up with braces? What memories and emotions are attached to those moments?” 

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Credit: Scott Webb via Unsplash

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I had a dream, the tang of copper in my mouth

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Alloyes of aluminum and steel, crunching together; 

Before the crumpled flattened and I no longer saw the flawed. 

——

Until we gazed upon the smooth magnite and tin roof surface, 

Of a galleries’ artistic architectural lure; 

Metal’s tangy and bitter flavor, would not leave my mouth. 

————

Had become a masterpiece, a building for an empire to follow, 

—–

The tartness of copper, it’s brownish hue sparkling; 

Touches of bronze, silver, gold, to gleam in the morning. 

—–

A society of metal, a new age of alloyes beyond scrunched up foil, 

A glorious sunset sparkling with warming hues, 

Before the rust, the dust, and broken bonds revealed– the empire had fallen. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: What Big Teeth You Have #flashfiction #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Maria @ Doodles and Scribbles

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Lauren worked at the Starbucks until 12:00 am at night. She thought after a time, she would feel safer and more comfortable walking home in the dark. Her apartment was only four-blocks away.

This evening she felt particularly on edge and the noise of metal dropping somewhere nearby, echoed in the night. 

Lauren began to shake, she had one block to go when she started to run. Then there was only the front door to get into her apartment. She hurriedly opened the door and screamed when she felt someone touch her arm. 

 “Calm down Lauren, it’s only me. Your neighbour Alice. I’m headed over to my sisters. Brandy and her kids are all ill with the flu and I’m going to help her with the little ones.” 

“Oh Alice,” Lauren said trembling. She squeezed Alice’s arm, happy she was there. “I’m sorry about Brandy and her kids, I didn’t mean to freak out on you. It scares me walking home in the dark alone.” 

Alice clicked her tongue, “A girl of your age shouldn’t be alone at night.” When she bared her wolf-like teeth, Lauren knew it was too late. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem -Day 9 – Blitz – “The Darkest World” #amwriting #poetry #novembernotes 


Today’s prompt song is “Cupid Carries A Gun” by Marilyn Manson.

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“Cupid Carries A Gun” – Marilyn Manson

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Credit: http://www.steamyrainingcards.wikia.com

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Witch drums pounding

Witch drums, I’ll escape your hell

Hell is the death in your eyes

Hell is the blankness in your stare

Stare at today, world has changed

Stare at today, yet we’re all here afraid

Afraid of your spiders

Afraid of your mangled crowns

Crowns are for glory

Crowns aren’t for the gory

Gory I predict your future will be

Gory I predict as your trigger finger pulls

Pulls into hate

Pulls us into helplessness

Helplessness, you say hold your hand 

Helplesssness, if I give in, I am damned 

Damned by your words

Damned by your voice

Voice of sultry sin

Voice of evil intent 

Intent of voice to charm 

Intent of voice to bring pain and shoot 

Shoot your arrow through the hope in me

Shoot your arrow through the hope in this world 

World you’ve with your private hell

World is not yet without hallejeuhs 

Hallejeuhs set me free

Hallejeuhs have more power

Power greater than the wretched Cupid you’ve become

Power greater than your hand scrunching tight my own 

My own prison in your grasp

My own hell is you, on earth

Earth which you blacken 

Earth which you pollute 

Pollute our minds with lies

Pollute our minds with lyrics

Lyrics sung, no love song, you’re no Cupid 

Lyrics screamed, you’re the pitch of dark

Dark of night without hope

Dark of night unfolds its wrath

Wrath so great, I hold my Halo

Wrath so great I stutter my prayers

Prayers so intent, my Halo is safe

Prayers so intent, your tar-black is smothered by light

Light washes away your petrude charade 

Light shines upon your malicious deeds

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten 

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©Mandbelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Unshedlike Shed #flashfiction #amwriting #fall


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Phylor

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Matt never talked about the shed in his yard. In the past he’d been rude about it, if I asked him. But I’d never seen the shed door half-open before.

He gazed at me steadily as he often did now. One day five-months ago I caught him staring at me and he blushed.

Now, he’s trying to tame the wisps of hair from my face, but neither of us had made a real move. 

 “Why is the shed half-open?” I asked.

 “The basket in the shed door, it’s for us. We’re going on a fall picnic,” Matt said proudly.

I blushed, “Where are we going to have the picnic Matt?” 

“In the shed, Aubrey.” 

“But we’re not allowed in there remember? Your Dad said never.” I reminded him.
“It was one of my Dad and my Mom’s favourite places when Mom was alive. I told my Dad I was taking you on a picnic and he told me to clean up the shed for you; Grandma helped with the decore.” 

I grinned.

The shed was rustic-sheek, painted in soft ocean-toned colours. There was a loft up top with a queen mattress, thick white cotton sheets, a navy duvet, and several accent pillows.

There was a huge white window with a navy cushion to read on. The shed even had a small kitchen with mini- appliances and a metal and wood island for two, along with a washroom with a matching tiled shower.

I gazed at the ash wood floor as the sun danced across it and back to Matt.”This is amazing! You did all this for me?” I asked overwhelmed, tears slipping down my cheeks.

That’s when Matt took my chin in his hand and kissed me. It was the first of a lifetime of kisses and memories in our unshedlike hideaway. 

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My apologies. I think this piece is a bit long, but I can’t seem to cut more right now. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

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http://www.motaen.com

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When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101 – Reflection – “Mirrors”


Your eyes are a reflection of your soul it is said; but if you’ve seen pitch black-brown eyes, you know they can be the kindest gentle eyes.

People used to be afraid of their reflection — much like our pets. The authorities thought using mirrors was vanity as the Puritans had no mirrors.  But I can think of many instances having a mirror would be handy.

It was thought that your left hand was evil, especially if you were left handed. Because the right hand mirrors the left, the left was to be watched.

People used to look at themselves in surfaces that shone and reflected a person’s image back. Glass has not been around so long so we used metals that when shiney gave a reflection.

When mirrors came about, they were put in every place you could think of. On the table, the wall, and on the ceiling. Where can you escape your reflection when it is always mirrored.

And when you do sit down and think, for some self – reflection, does your self reflect your heart or soul? Are you living the life you want to?

And with “selfies” and mirrored surfaces at every place we go. Does our appearance always measure up? Did we leave lipstick on our teeth? Or cut our face during shaving?

I think there’s a bit too much reflective surfaces if I may say so myself. I think we are a bit vain as we look at ourselves in every mirrored surface we can. Perhaps, if we reflected more on the inside our bodies would reflect something greater — something kind.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.