Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – “It’s a Fact of Life” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW September 5, 2017. 

Excuse the length. I saw the photograph and it fit my poem well. Since I’m still two weeks behind I don’t know that it matters 🙂 

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Credit: Artycaptures.wordpress.com

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When I visit here, 

It’s a fact of life. 

Blood drawn with tiny needles.

Some days they sting, 

Stringing out two seconds. 

Other days, the needle doesn’t register. 

It was a fact of life,

I had to visit here each week,

For the first six months. 

Then, every other week, 

Now each month the rest of my life. 

It’s a fact of life, 

So I don’t pay much attention. 

Facing away when the needle grazes, 

The same ‘good’ vein. 

Blueish-purple in my left arm, 

Silver-violet threads of blood vessels. 

Some months these needles bruise, 

Leave my skin raw and red; 

But If I’ve someone skilled,

There’s a slight indentation. 

Each month —

Babies crying concertos. 

An ominous feeling in the air. 

They’ve no choice —

But to know sharp pain. 

A poke stinging eternities of fire, 

For a wink in time. 

Wailing and —

The waiting room patients’ sigh. 

Then silence follows, 

The miniature massacre. 

Everyone checking, rechecking watches, 

Pulling out phones. 

Waiting for that sickening needle, 

Shuffling in seats,

Legs crossed and uncrossed. 

Glossy magazine pages turned, 

With frequent frustration. 

Toddlers running,

Mothers trying to calm them, 

Hushing their lively squeaks. 

I’m used to having blood drawn, 
Turning my head, 

Focusing on some object, 

Or a distant thought. 

There’s persistent pain as the needle pulls, 
My blood into the tube. 

Six to nine tubes today, 

Blood annexed for annual work. 

These tests burn —

Worse than the tattoo artist’s etching. 

Sketching out the black lines, 

Worse than her needle, 

Grazing repeatedly, 

Skin with vibrant colours. 

Back and forth movements, 
Calming and hushing,

Knowing what to expect and where. 

Conversation, music soothing, 

Then, the artist is done. 

Her needles leaving, 

A work of art behind. 

But the blood test needles ache worse. 

Similar to the last flu shot,

Some years not felt at all.

Other years a poke that —

Throbs all day. 

Despite praying the pharmacist,

Will slide the needle in,

Not deliver a death blow. 

Droplets of bright blood plop, 

To the stark white floor. 

She laughs, this never happens. 

Her mouth turns downward, 

Because you grimace, 

Squish your eyes shut counting the seconds;

Until the hurt dulls. 

She wonders why you wince, 

Why you’re so sensitive.

Says the swelling will fade, 

You’ll live, 

It’s a fact of life. 

It’s a matter of proper training, 

Slipping any needle in gently. 

Not jabbing and mincing, 

A persons veins or muscles. 

Yet still, a fact of life. 
But I remember being six and crying,

Fighting my mother, 

She was angry. 

Because I saw the needle, 

And refused. 

Today, the blood test needles are thinner. 

Adults can ignore them, right

Grit their teeth while the bloods, 

Ripped away, into a tube. 

It’s a fact of life. 

That some things are sharper and dig holes deeper, 

Than blood tests, flu shots, or tattoos. 

There is greater pain flowing from our insides,

If only the hurt could be drawn out as blood. 

If happiness, no worries, and no obligations —

Was all that remained behind. 

If only —

The tattoo artists colours, 

Garunteed you with fantastic health. 

And flu shots didn’t speak of fragility; 

Only the best humors in our blood. 

Gossamer strings supporting dreams. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

dVerse: Poem – Quadrille – “The Sweetest Gift” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Lillian from dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting today’s poetic prompt. Today’s prompt is a gift or present in whatever context. 

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Credit: Picture Correct – Smoke Photography Tips

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An ungift, poisonous —

Vapid utterance. 

Putrid alleys, 

Unimaginable  stench. 

Monstrosity of curses, 

Needles pricking, 

Drugs without euphoria.

No blissful visions, 

No ethereal weightlessness. 

Only a voracious appetite, 

Incantations of demons. 

Should’ve kept, 

Your pitch black prayers. 

Piercing flames of candle flicker, 

Enlightens fractured hearts. 

Smoke of holy incense. 

Healing through illumination, 

The sweetest gift.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

November Notes: Poem – Day 29 – Septolets – “Love Bigger Than The Pines” #poetry #amwriting #novembernotes #music 


Today’s song prompt is “Hunger Of The Pine” by alt-J.

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“Hunger Of The Pine” – alt-J

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Credit: Aspen Snow Photography – http://www.pinterest.com

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Hungry trees, 

Flesh, bone,

Graves for —

Some.

Others, 

Jump from

Branches; they

Fly, liberated. 

Words echoing, 

Clench heart, 

Safe keeping, 

Locked. 

Hungry, 

Thieves, conspiring, 

Evil found, 

Hold me.

—-

Spirits flying, 

Running, screaming, 

Terror finds, 

Us.

Hurdling, 

Uniting bodies, 

Pillows absorbed, 

Warmth’s lack. 

—-

Hungry pines, 

Needles deadly, 

Grabbing greedily, 

Wanting.

This, 

Connection stubborn, 

Maddening laughter, 

Protecting me.

Pine’s hungry, 

We’re quicker, 
Sliding sagely, 

Loving. 

Deeper,

You’ll find, 

Us bends,

Your mind. 

—–


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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Angel Down, Angel Down” #amwriting #poetry #angeldown #ladygaga


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt: 

http://www.mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com

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Lady Gaga Live – ” Angel Down” 

I’m so thrilled with Lady Gage’s new album. I love her dance and pop-music stuff but her new songs, some of them go deep. This is one of those songs and I used the lyrics “Angel Down” for this poem. What I love is how in the video she is live, and sounds the same as if you were listening to her on her new album. Talented singer! 

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She built her life, she built it strong, made it so —

It wouldn’t fall;but you can fortify —

The keep, make it so no one can slip in, 

There are always cracks within perfection; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

You can see the lines forming before she breaks, 

Memories from the past she thought would save. 

She’s safe –an illusion broken when the mirror —

Of life shatters within her face, she’s beat; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——

Trapped in a birdcage, no song to sing, 

Her tunes aren’t lucid and her wings are clipped, 

Such dreams as a young woman, such glad times, 

Now she’s angry, so frustrated — life’s a lie; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Paints her makeup mask, hide the mirror’s blood tracks, 

She thinks she’s imperfect tries to conceal —

New dress, she’s pretty, long legs on display yet, 

She can’t hide feelings, she doesn’t fit in here;

Angel Down, Angel Down

—–

He said heels were stupid, girls can’t walk on —

Four-inch needles; yet they made her happy.

Night of the dance, stumbled; wore light blue chucks,

Sitting on the radio at the party crying; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Years pass, another day spent sifting in, 

Her see-through life, on clothing racks, she —

Attempts to find the perfect fit,  but she —

Knows like her, it’s elusive, can’t be found; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——-

Music saves some, for others it magnifies

A hurt and hole inside her –can God even fill? 

Remembering hideaways, experiences —

To fill the void within, smile with tears dripping;

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

Time in lavish living rooms, won’t make her, 

Feel love she’s so denied; she can’t even —

Love her own body, isn’t what it was, 

She fingers trinkets bought, fears with tears smear; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—-

Jewel she thought would invoke good memories, 

Fill her with hope and joy again; sharp pains of —

Her past; but now her wings have been pried off,  

She’s a habiscus plucked and dying slow; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—–

Packing suitcases, her body trembles, 

She’s going on journey; her state of mind —

Broken; but she’s trying to heal and she —

Prays new memories, stop her rapid descent; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

—–

Please somebody, please help an Angel Down and —

Unlock her cage –the one she created, 

Show her some love, let her taste freedom. 

Be someone she can trust, so she won’t fade;

Angel Down, Angel Down 

—–

Angel found her feet and flew, 

Sailed above clouds anew;

The sun glints of her smile and–

She’s brand new bird who trills;

Angel Found,  Angel Found. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Tattoo, For Me, For You?


www.theriskobserver.com
http://www.theriskobserver.com

When I was 4 years old I use to go over to my Godparent’s house where I was babysat by their youngest son. He had tattoos all over his body and I decided right then and there that someday I was going to have a tattoo but it would have to be the perfect tattoo. I did not like some of the skulls and dragons my Godparents’ son had as his tattoos. I wanted something gorgeous, something unique.

Fast forward to grade 2 or 3: my class at school is at a tattoo exhibit at the old Edmonton Art Gallery. I remember seeing many beautiful tattoos of flowers, butterflies, women, and all kinds of symbols. Symbols that meant something to whomever had been the lucky or sometimes unlucky recipients of these tattoo stencils. Some of them went back to the 1700’s for sailors who had gotten tattoos back then. Some of these tattoos marked people as criminals.

In tattooing today, a thermal-fax makes a stencil of your tattoo and it is placed on the shaved area of your body that you would like your tattoo. Even the finest of hairs can get in the way of doing your tattoo. Deodorant or soap and water is used to push on the stencil and create a dark impression of the tattoo you are going to be getting on your body.

After, the tattoo artist prepares their tattoo machine. The inks will be placed in little tiny cups called ink caps and the needles and tubes will be removed for their ‘sterile’ pouches and placed in the machine.  Clean and distilled water will also be placed into a cup for cleaning the needles during the tattoo process.

Next, a bit of ointment is placed on your tattoo to help the tattoo stencil stay on longer and to aid the needle in sliding across your

www.kristiemichelle.deviantart.com
http://www.kristiemichelle.deviantart.com

skin smoothly, which is definitely better for the person receiving the tattoo. The first few minutes of getting a tattoo are the painfullest and after that your skin gets use to the procedure. More people pass out from the idea of the needles on their skin then the pain of the real needles.

Once the stencil of your tattoo is filled in, the tattoo artist can go into detail with colors and shading. The needles used for color are called magnums or the tattoo artist may use a different machine altogether. After the tattoo artist will probably take a picture of the cleaned up tattoo for his or her portfolio. A bandage will be applied after some ointment and it is important that you take care of your tattoo according to the tattoo artists instructions (Hudson).

When I was 18 and a lot of my friends were getting their tattoos I hesitated. I just hadn’t found the right tattoo. It took me 10 years to do that. I was on Pinterest and came across this picture of these beautiful light watercolor flowers on a girl’s arm. “That’s my tattoo,” I remember thinking and I think that if I can handle the pain I will definitely get that tattoo. But now I am considering adding some color, maybe just pink all over the flowers.

Getting a tattoo is a difficult decision to make and many thoughts go into the process of getting a tattoo. Some of the people on Facebook who I asked to share their opinions with me on the subject said that “they need[ed] their tattoo[s] to mean something.” A couple of women also said that visibility was also something they thought about when they got their tattoos. They didn’t want their tattoos visible for special events or so that people got the wrong impression of them. A lot of people thought they were very cool but hesitated to get one because they thought they would get bored with them easily. Other people said that they used their tattoos as “a reminder of something important to motivate themselves” and that they used them as “stories” and “inspiration.” Still others were allergic to the tattoo ink and worried about the pain, not to mention, the price of getting a tattoo done. Someone also said that they didn’t want their tattoo too big so it was overwhelming. I really appreciated the help everyone gave me concerning deciding to get a tattoo done.

20131208-151215.jpgMy consultation is next Monday and I’m anxious to hear what my tattoo artist has to say. Some of the things I am scared about is that my skin will be too sensitive or that I will be allergic to the ink. I am also scared I won’t be able to handle the pain for hours on end and that my tattoo will be too expensive. Although, most people I talked to thought it would take anywhere from 2-4 hours depending on the skill of the tattoo artist. So here’s hoping everything turns out alright. What I am most thrilled about is that the picture I found will be something I will be proud to have on my body when I am 89 years old. It will be a memory of my youth. For me my tattoo will be a symbol of strength even in fragility.

You see we live in such frail human bodies that can get sick at the drop of a button. But our spirits endure long after our bodies are gone and God makes us stronger than we even thought possible in life. Our strength lies in our weaknesses in the most delicate parts of our lives, this is when we find what makes us strong, just as there is strength in a fragile flower.