Poem – Quaterns – “You Are Not The Girl” #poetry #amwriting


Credit: Marcus Baccatti – http://www.pinterest.com

*****

You are not the girl I always knew,

The person I was most like, you flew –

No longer my number two,

You’re the girl I defended too. 

—–

At every step abandoned I grew, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

You say one thing, you’re actions show,

You’re not a dependable though.

——

I disattach so you won’t hurt,

Make the marks of neglect so curt.

You are not the girl I always knew,

I relied too much on you it’s true.

——

You’re not such a good person, though —

I put you on a pedestal, so –

I took care of you, and trusted you,

You are not the girl I always knew.

******

You are not the girl I always knew,

Life it changed, with it we both grew –

Forced apart at first by you, then thrown,

Hurt so much, but I’ve always known –

—–

I can’t completely trust you through –

You are not the girl I always knew.

So involved in yourself, stopped thinking,

Stopped caring, it made my soul shrink

——

To think of where life takes us, knowing —

One day you’ll leave, forever going.

You’re not the girl I always knew,

You just look like her, there are few –

—–

Who could ever replace this girl,

But she is stuck in her own world.

Changes, hoping friendship renews, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

*****

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem -Day 13 – Etherees Cascading – “I Don’t Understand” #poetry #novembernotes #amwriting #writing #music


Today’s song prompt is called “Shell Suite” by Chad Valley.

——-

“Shell Suite” – Chad Valley

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

——

Signs written on the walls, handwriting no —

One reads such a language anymore.

But you saw the signs, the moment —

Words in my head untangled. 

I don’t understood us, 

Myself, in this mess. 

My feelings confused, 

Time was short. 

Now we’re —

Gone. 

—–

Signs, 

Are so, 

Clear to you, 

I don’t need some —

Gifted seers dream.

Echoes in my head rhyme, 

Tapping my foot along in —

Rapid time, and I wonder where —

My search will begin, if I find us? 

Quarter past, rustle up — we fit or we don’t. 

——

Somehow I’m the one in control, I choose, 

I decide; I want to just go with —

The flow, not worry, not decide;

But at least I have my say. 

Yet life works out your way. 

Grand design heart beats, 

Perplexed by these —

Sounds, friends, foes, 

Yourself, 

Dazed. 

—-

It, 

Mattered, 

Not, writing —

So vivid and —

So crystal clear I, 

Felt resilience in, 

My chest; down to the beach, 

Our getaway, but rhythms ting. 

They keep echoing, it’s exhausting, 

Figuring out your charms, while packing for the sun. 

—-

You’re packing; feel the heart attack we live, 

A life I want not, I’m looking for the shore. 

For a place to get of off the flooding —

Boat before it carries me down. 

Where are you, where’d you go? 

Writings on the wall, 

Said it all well, 

They’re erased. 

You’re gone, 

Fled. 
——

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Pushing Daisies” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

A Mixed Bag

——-

Little Lana, stood with her Mommy saw —

Flowers thought, “daisies,” over grave grew tall.

Thought Dad was here, never saw him at all.

Mom had tearful eyes, emotion made her raw.

Why’s Daddy pushing Daisies, where’s my pa?”

Lana asks fragile Mom; had heard phone call —

Nana said Dad’s, pushing daisies, new calling.

Mom cries at question, by the grave she bawls.

——

Pushing daisies, what did that mean? Girl knew —

Not the phrase, but thought it’s Daddy’s new job. 

Papa came, Lana asks, “Why Dad now grew —

Daisies? Wasn’t doing business his job?”

Tears trailed down Papa’s eye, his nose he blew:

“It means your Dad is dead, to heaven flew.”

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


Poem: Quatrain – ” Not Empty; Complete”


Quatrain Pattern: abab abba ccdc dddd

—– 

wwwimgur.com
 

——

Some nights I’m always broken.

I try to pick-up the pieces,

Motions occur unspoken. 

I only shatter more, unceaseless.

—– 

Finding the words, then I spoke. 

Asleep nightmares gave no peace,

My puzzle has no fitting piece

Regretfully, I’m feeling choked.

—–

Water rising to my aching throat,

Sipping the liquid as I float,

The more I drink, I may not —

Drown; perhaps, I’ll find a life boat.

—–

Questions I ask, answers I know not,

Seeking the knowledge, mind don’t rot.

Functioning dot to dot,

Puzzled girl, completeness she sought. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Writing 201- Limerick/Enjambment – Judged Imperfect


Rhyme Scheme: aabba

If you tell me why people love 

Each other; You’d have to agree it’s a blessing from above 

Because people are imperfect and their flaws are

Visible enticements on why you should stay far

Away from them even if the gloves 

Are off; and you’ve seen someone for who they really appear to be. 

Because nothing is worse then knowing a person and then realizing there not who you see

They are a liar, a stealer of your time

And a cheater of your ideal, what a crime

That you shouldn’t be allowed to know someone and that they should be

See – through, completely visible to you and should inspire a thought

If they are imperfect and to be stripped of there shield then why not you – ought

You imperfect person, judging others

When you should act as brothers

And perfection should never be sought.

Poem: I’m Not 


I’m not a crystal ball, I cannot tell the future. It’s a crime to know what time brings.

I’m not a shiny diamond, in that tear drop shape I wanted. Maybe, I’m a future bride but maybe I’ll buy my own ring.  

I’m not a simple book, when you look through a library full of literature. I’m classic, contemporary, romance, adventure, biography, mystery, fiction, non-fiction — “a little brown mouse in somebodies house.”

I’m not defined or confined by a word, I have amassed the wealth of many words. And I might be a run-on-sentence but that’s just because there are no pauses in life.

And I might be blue – eyed and blond but I am not a matter of my looks but a matter of seeing deeper. I’m not the body infront of you I’m the one that was me at twenty-three. 

And I’m not going to try to hold you back because I’m the one who stumbles, you can go on with your life . . . I’ll be fine.

And you are not a matter of your religion, I love you anyway, though I wish you saw the light in the darkness. 

And just because I cannot do all the things you can, does not make me challenged, does not mean I can’t do anything — just call and ask.

I am not someone whose fallen and wants to sit life out, now you hear my voice calling — I have the voice of a lion, screaming let me out! 

And I’m not a room you visit just because it’s peaceful, I’m all the nuisances that came together to form the feeling in this room, as you sit and drink your tea — I’m the warmth that you’re feeling. 

I’m not alone, although sometimes I believe it, I am not isolating myself, I’m just trying to find a middle.

I’m not the amount of time I stay awake at night, I am the woman always thinking, until sleep finds me sooner.

I’m not my favorite dog, but I carry her with me, I need those memories to sustain me until I can get another.

I’m not a single picture, I’m a collage, a mosaic, a seer of the big picture. I am paint, charcoal, pencil, 20 LB paper, erasers, stubs, and paint brushes.

I’m not a tumble in the sheets, I have a name, and If you’re here with me, you’re here with me. 

And I’m not defined by things, all that can be bought. I love to look gorgeose but I’d just as soon sweat and feel the high of endorphins with makeup running down my cheek.

I am not the way you look at me, like you know all about me, what makes me tick, what makes me sad, what makes me happy.

I am not a moment in the sun, I am the hummingbird flitting so fast she can’t breathe. And everything that ever was is eating through me thrumming.

I’m not defined, I’m not confined. 

But why in the world would you look at yourself, really look and see, — everything you’re not?