Poem: Cascading Etherees –  “Him Narrating Defeat of The Pillow Wall.” #wordhighjuly #amwriting #poetry #siping



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http://www.wifflegif.com

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Here siping beside you on our comfy, 

Stalwart bed; the pillows stacked so high.

“Why so many pillows? Explain what,

You need them all for because–

Babe, you don’t touch me and I, 

Miss you and your bright, 

Smile; as we delight, 

In us both, 

Loving, 

Well.”

—–

“But, 

Now you, 

Build a pile, 

A pillow fort.

Are bed is divided, 

We can’t even see each —

Other; and it feels as if, 

We’re children playing games you  —

And I; forts being a fun thing in my past, 

Yet with you, there’s no fun only, silence.”

——-

“I tried breaking down your wall once you woke, 

I said, ‘”I’ve had enough,”‘pillows flew, 

Throwing them on our bedroom floor, 

I brought you so close to me, 

Told you,’ “I missed you,

Please, let’s not fight you’re, 

right. I’ll spend more, 

Time with you, 

From now, 

On.”‘

—-

“You, 

Gazed, 

At me in, 

Shock, smiling a —

Bit sleepily, 

Saying, ‘”My dream has come, 

True; but I need us to always, 

Be a priority in our —

Life, together;”‘and I smiled with hope, 

Held you, whispering:”Baby, me too.”‘ 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Harmony in the Park


Thank you to The Daily Prompt for the word prompt harmony.

—–

I’m sitting cross legged  in the middle of a grassy hill at the park on Saturday as I meditate and observe. People walk their dogs and the occasional cat. They walk in couples and families, some complete with strollers of bawling twins. There are those who stroll, those who amble, and those who power walk, their arms swinging absurdly.

Runners zip inbetween the walkers to keep up their pace. Dogs being walked on their leash on the paved trail, happily jump on the runners for a sniff and to say hello with curiousity. A runner does not know if a particular dog is friends or foe. It is easiest for them to keep their distance in the hub-bub of trail traffic. But one runners can’t help but laugh as a furry dog lavishes him with friendly dog kisses.

On the off leash trails I wander now, and dogs run free chasing each other, it’s all a  glorious canine game. Cyclists come racing, tearing down the gravel trails on their bikes with bells to warn people of their presence. They don’t appear to realize these gravel and wood chip trails are built for the dogs and their humans. 

Go back to the paved trails in the park you cyclists. Some dogs are frightened by cyclists and may lunge at them. Cyclists are too loud (as are the rollerbladers) for many dogs and they could get hurt (along with the cyclist) if cyclists remain in the dogs’ zone of unleashed freedom on the off leash trails.

Children run around back in the grass in the park, playing fantasy and make believe with invisible friends. A playground is full of small children swinging, jumping, and sliding in bliss.Giggles and laughs decorate the air. An entire conversation happens between young Mackenzie and her invisible friend Charlie. 

A Mom yells to her toddler, “Come back,” as he nears a volleyball match in session. I watch with interest as the  match takes place in an area of sand and I pause to watch the match finish, team blue is victorious! 

I sit back on the grass under a tree and watch the clouds slowly moving cotton puffs in the sky. A tired dog approaches me and I sit on lush green grass and pet his baby-soft black fur. I miss this, the closeness of woman and dog. This peace of humanity and animals, in the park, is what I call harmony — as close to it as we can hope for on earth.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Nonets -“Mutual Longing”


Thanks to the Daily Prompt for the word longing.

———

  

——–
Doesn’t matter where I venture to,

Doesn’t mean much when I’m absorbed,

Inclination is to think,

Of Moments with him past, 

Why isn’t he here now,

Inside I Know,

He’s left me,

Feeling,

Cold.

———-

Wandering in search of you, you’d,

Think I’d ponder why you’re vapour,

Why I haven’t seen your face,

Glancing you from a far, 

You can’t comprehend,

What it is to,

Want and not,

Hold close,

You.

——-

Drinking down frosty beer, she’s somewhere near,

Dreaming about how it feels to kiss her,

Hold her close, breath her in,

Said words that haunt my fears,

Can you take words back,

Watching her sip,

With her lips,

I miss,

Her.

——-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Looking Back on My Dad’s family.


I knew there was a prompt I forgot about this week! How could I forget the wonderful Jacqueline’s Echoes of My Neighbourhood? So, I haven’t taken any recent pictures lately but I have some more pictures looking back to the past.  

 
This wonderful warm women was my Great Grandma Kendal. She lived in Church Bridge, Saskatchewan, where my Grandma grew up. I don’t remember exactly how old she was when she died but she was in her early to mid-nineties. I have longevity in my genes. I remember visiting my Great-Grandma’s house a couple of times as a child and teenager. When I was 5-years-old and My Great Grandpa Kendal was still around, my Great Grandma Molly sang to me How Much is That Doggy in the Window and gave me some fabric and buttons to sew little pillows with, for my Barbie dolls. 

When I was about thirteen-years-old, we visited Great Grandma (her name was Molly) again. One time on the visit when everyone else was gone she told me to come and sit with her. She told me when my Grandpa Willard Eifert married my Grandma, my Grandpa had a bit of an attitude. He thought my Grandma’s farm family was a bit beneath his own family who were all highly-educated pastors and nurses. She told me it took time for my Grandpa to get over this. She also told me my Great Grandpa Phillip Kendal had a dream about heaven shortly before he died; in his dream God showed him heaven and it was beautiful in a way he could barely describe. The last thing she told me was not to cry for her when she died because she would be in heaven and happy. I didn’t cry for her, I knew better when she passed away.

  
This is my other Great Grandma on my Dad’s side, her name was Ida and she was an interesting woman. She liked to dress well, and would save up for one expensive suit, rather than buy a few cheap suites. She married my Great-Grandpa Carl Eifert who came from around Leipzig, Germany when he was a little child. Carl became a Lutheran Pastor and Ida gave birth to many children, sons who also became Lutheran Pastors and daughters who married Lutheran Pastors or became Nurses. My parents helped Great Grandma Eifert out a great deal when she still lived in her house in my home city. Later, her children moved Ida to White Rock, BC, closer to her daughters,and we visited Great Grandma Eifert there when I was a young girl. I have a memory baking cookies with her when I was three or four-years-old too.

Ida lived a long life, into her nineties as well. In fact, she passed away when I was almos fourteen-years-old, in July. When she died my family viewed her body at the funeral home. It was disconcerting to see that our hands looked exactly alike. So, I know who I inherited my hands from.

  

Two-weeks later, after Ida’s death, her son, my Grandpa Willard Eifert passed away exactly on my Birthday. It was a terrible birthday spent at the funeral home, helping Grandma pick out caskets (etc.) My Grandpa Eifert was young when he died, seventy-three-years old. I miss him so much to this day. I think his funeral was the first funeral I openly cried at. 

I was close to my Grandpa. I often slept over at his and Grandma’s house in the city. I spent time out at their parsonage near Wataskiwen when my Grandpa was still a Pastor, before he retired. My Grandpa smoked a lot until he quit in his fifties but the damage had been done. On the Eifert’s side, we have bad lungs and my Grandpa had emphysema which resulted in him having an oxygen tank eventually. When he died it was due to his smoking. His heart had been beating at a runner’s pace for twenty-years and it finally gave out. It still makes me sad because you never think the last time you see someone alive, is the last time you’ll see them. Last time I saw Grandpa he was in hospital and he said he wasn’t doing to well. We didn’t stay long.

What I remember with my Grandpa the most is all the time we spent playing chess and cribbage. I learned cribbage when I was seven-years-old and only beat my Grandpa three times at Chess ever. Twice he was tired so I don’t count those times. We played Yahtzee and Uno and deciphered cryptograms and crossword puzzles. In the mornings when I was over, I would wake up early and help Grandpa make breakfast. At the parsonage, there was tractor rides and VBS to go to at Grandpa’s Church in the summer. When Grandpa died my Godfather told me the greatest gift I could have received was my Gandpa going to heaven on my Birthday because he was no longer in pain and with his Lord.

My Grandma also pictured here, is a special lady. She is about eight-six and slowing down but doing well. I played games with her when I was younger. We also did all these fun crafts such as making our own Christmas ornaments. I helped her bake items such as Apple stroudal and homemade donuts. She was in her house until recently and is in a seniors place now. She is a kind person who loves to talk and be social. She was a great Pastor’s wife and is involved in Church to a great degree still. I need to visit her soon, she came back from a vacation seeing her sister with my Dad. Having an adult relationship with my Grandma is different from having a relationship as a kid. I wish my Grandpa hadn’t smoked so he could be here too, and I could have an adult relationship with both my Grandparents. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Monedy – ” Grandpa.”


A monody is a poem in which one person laments another’s death, as in Tennyson’s Break, Break, Break, or Wordsworth’s She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways. (Also see Dirge, Elegy, Epitaph)

Please see Shadow Poetry here.
 

http://www.thenota.deviantart.com
 
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Dear Grandpa, you’ve been gone so long,

I was a teenage girl when you sang your last song,

I didn’t know all the things I know today,

I’m scared to know the things you knew when you went out of play,

——

Grandma cries every year on my Birthday,

She’s weaker now, but she still has her cheerful way,

Remember when we last played chess?

I don’t either, I suppose I could guess.

—–

I only beat you three times, once if I’m to be truthful,

Because the other two times you were having trouble getting a breathful.

It’s hard to remember your face, your eyes, the wrinkles on your hands,

But sometimes I want to cry because we had this connection and you and I, we understand,

——

Through reading books and playing games to challenge the mind,

That’s what you do when your not physically able to find,

Much way to be physically active how you want in life,

How I wish there was a life to live without strife. 

——

But ages past, I’m thirty now. I’m all grown up,

While you drink up your heavenly cup,

Life is hard some days Grandpa –you knew,

I wish it was something neither of us had to go through.

—–

Someday I’ll see you again when you’re young,

You’ll appear how you did when you had great lungs.

You won’t smoke, you won’t need nicotine carcinogen drugs, you’ll be fine. 

And I will see you there as the steps I take lead me closer to my end of time. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet “You’re Gone”


I miss you like the warm

I miss you like the air

How come you’re not there

I miss your strong form
I remember your smile

I remember that look

I remember what you took

My heart to beguile
I know that you’re gone

I know that you’re happy

You told me to be happy

But I miss you is my song
Death is a journey you took alone;

But when we meet, death we will condone.

Nights Like These


‘ It’s Friday.’ I think. ‘ I should be doing something.’ Maybe, I’m just past this phase of having to go out Friday night or maybe I just don’t care. But it wouldn’t be quite true to tell you that.

After getting use to habitually having little energy around 24-years-old I soon became familiar with the stay-at-home-Friday-night and usually I’m not a fan of it even if half my friends are starting families.

There is an energy and quality of let-loose and be-free about Friday night’s I miss terribly. I miss the drinking, the random philosophical conversation’s at 3:00 am, and the laughter and conversation that encompass a good time. Most importantly, it’s a feeling of belonging. I am without a — you-belong-here-with-us — on Friday nights. I still get the odd Friday out but I’m much more likely to be be worn out on a Friday then I am on a Saturday or Sunday night so I look forward to those. But other times I’m kind of grateful just to kick back on Friday and watch a movie or TV, read a novel on my IPad, or just surf the fashion blogs and Pinterest.

Hey, I’d be out there in the Friday night trenches if I could, I think. But realistically you have to have had a busy and productive week to look forward to those Friday nights, to make them seem special. Instead I was out last night at Olive Garden with my boyfriend and then over at his place until late and unless I’m exhausted from what I’ve done in the day or the day before I can choose any night to be my Friday night. It’s almost as if Friday night has lost its uniqueness for me. I’m not bragging because I would actually rather have the ability to work in the week and provide a living for myself. Some people wouldn’t but that’s my simple dream. That and to have my Friday night’s back.

I don’t miss the hangovers, I don’t miss creepy people at the bar, I don’t miss convincing my drunk friends they need to take a taxi home, I don’t miss the awful food one eats at 2:00 am when only battered chicken fingers or anything dripping in sauce or grease will do, but there were some great memories, some great people, and some funny episodes. A big part of me hopes they’ll be more times like these in the future (minus the greasy food and bar related shennanigans) because as much fun as it is to come up with and write your own story, it is an equally or even better adventure to live your own stories.

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