#NaPoWriMo Day 23/ 100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Nightly Rebirth” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesday


For NaPoWriMo Day 23 the prompt is: Today, is to “write a poem based in sound. The poem, for example, could incorporate overheard language. Perhaps it could incorporate a song lyric in some way, or language from something often heard spoken aloud.”

I’m combining with #100WordWednesday Week 68 by Bikurgurl.


Credit: Bikurgurl


The lights flick on tonight,

They echo amidst the streets.

Cars trailing exhaust as rubber grinds,

Zooming off into the night,

Stars blaring, their peacefulness overpowered by —

Flashing lights and strong voices.

Mixed together, some a cacophony,

Some a flowing symphony.

Girls laughing in the bathroom,

Slicking on gloss, smacking their lips.

Men’s voices rumble, lined up at the bar,

Gruff with meaningless discussion,

Jokes interspersed with loud laughter.

Glasses clink and drinks rush,

Pouring cranberry juice and vodka,

A whizz of ginger ale popping;

Scotch on the rocks knocking,

The suck of lemons from tequila shots.

Hoots, cheers, and whistles,

The whoosh of the puck in the net,

A slap-shot slams, a snapshot of time clicks.

Others banter, search for twilight patios,

Voices a “Mmmm,” as steak’s devoured.

Trendy appetizers, the crack of lobster shells.

Drinks raised ‘Slante,’ and with the beat,

The thump of the music a steady rhythm,

A driven rap-beat, a sonorous divas addition,

Soft-heated lyrics, a hopeful passage;

A shiver and, “Ah,” as favorite songs roll on.

The DJ keeps playing,

Sweat-slicked bodies brush past each other,

Hands sweep past bodies, and nobody cares,

In the sultry muggy air inside,

Or the warm sweet-air outside, night’s sigh.

No one can hear,

But the glimmer of voices are never hushed;

On the streets lit up,

Lights reviving a city, a nightly rebirth.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Day 15 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Tale Weavers: Poem – Italian Sonnets – “Unbirthday Hell En Medias Res” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #taleweavers


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write poem in the middle of things en medias res. The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Quote is for the letter N. The Tale Weavers Prompt courtesy of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is to write about an unbirthday. 

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Credit: Not on The HighStreet Enterprises – http://www.notonthehighstreet.com

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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. — Pablo Neruda

———

Serve me tea and cut the cake quickly please,

Ensure my tea is cold with no odd hares. 

Or rabbit fur, or door mouse flees their. 

My unbirthday, she is here — the tease

She comes most everyday to say ‘breathe!’ 

You’re not old yet, many unbirthdays left,

Hold your years close to your beating chest.

You look like twenty-five, oh please

Each and everyday there is chocolate cake, 

Loud parties; a mad hatter who is weird,

Yes, the craziesness gets to me some days.

The party is brilliant, but I always peer,

For an escape home en medias res. 

Alice is happy with one birthday day. 

——–

So back to the town, back to my hills, 

No more unbirthdays? Mind left reeling;

Alice’s leaving Wonderland? Sad feeling. 

Pictures on walls here are hung straight — be still, 

To think on leafy forests dear, woods filled. 

The voice of the rain as it falls and it glows, 

But I’m too drawn to rabbit holes at will. 

Back amidst glamorous parties thrown, 

Having left peace a mere second ago, 

The town brook,  seems a mellenia’s dream.

Same crew in Wonderland serving tea. 

Too hot, too cold, to much cake makes me grow, 

Back to unbirthday hell — un medias res. 

——-


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Collage Prompt: Poem – Tankas – “Not Perfect and Better For It” #amwriting #poetry #fiction 


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

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Poor little Anne tried,

So hard to fit in; she can’t —

Conform to their look.

Sense of presence in her glance,

Terror; they don’t know freedom.

——-

Yet Anne tries and tries,

To be a cardboard box just —

Like all the others.

Left alone at recess eating,

Ripe oranges, she’s exotic fruit.

——

But they don’t invite —

Her to their parties, Anne cries,

She doesn’t see why,

She has to be so different,

A plant from foreign soil torn.

—-

Anne grows into her —

Self; she stops being afraid,

Sees her beauty is —

That she’s unique not like all,

Those other girls, loathing her.

——

In grade school there’s this —

Small boy painted in war paint,

His Dad went to war,

He didn’t return home, saddened —

Anne helps him; he remembers —

——

So years later they’re —

Attached — those girls all want him.

But his friend is his —

Love; she was with him,

All along; the handsome man,

Love’s different, not perfect Anne.

—–

Though she struggles hard,

Hoping for female friends, he says,

He loves imperfect her,

Because she doesn’t have to

Be ‘like them’; she can be good.

——

Then she starts meeting —

Others, women who become —

Her tribe, with her guy.

The gazes of jealousy —

Double, but Anne doesn’t care.

——-

Anne is as a bird,

A swallow singing sweetly.

She’s lively, vivid;

Her eyes shine bright; he loves his —

Anne, contently, completely.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “A Scream” #amwriting #scream #horror #poetry


I have been watching this Scream series, done by Netflix, loosely based on the Scream horror films from when I was a teenager. The show is pretty decent. It has interesting characters with more depth because you can do that with episodes as opposed to movies. As well, the creators are able to string the plot out, giving the episodes more meat that way. It remains a typical teen horror genre show, as the movies were, but I enjoy it. Maybe it’s nastelgia, or maybe it’s knowing most of the main characters are going to get killed off. But exactly how? And when? 

The poem below is loosely based off of the Netflix series.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com

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Life’s a scream,You may not find much, you can redeem.
When life’s a scream,

The parties, drinking, people becoming obscene.

And life’s a scream,

You may not find, the pearl in the center of your dreams.

Life’s a scream, 

But I find this horror genre a has been,

Life’s a scream,

In the day, the conversation ebbs and sways; I lean,

On sidewalk cracks and think, life’s a scream,

Unless you’re out of your mind trying not to bleed.

A wound from your soul; life’s a scream,

When were caught in-between, the middle and the end scene.

Yes, life’s a scream,

The killer lurking, ending all our dreams.

But people keep on saying, ” Life’s a scream.”

Yet, it’s only madness; ripped out seams;

Here’s to everything; life’s a scream,

In the end, a dark blank screen. 

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Tanka – “Sentiments for Sentimental”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt word sentimental.

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http://www.missylongsinger.blogspot.com
 

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Sentimental,

She cried as she remembered,

Her tears streaming down,

Past times whispering softly,

Memories laced with harsh pain.

——

Sentimental,

Whisps of happiness and cheer,

Wonderful times,

Forgotten now, trapped —

A mind that doesn’t know the day.

——

Sentimental,

Years spent, drinking them away.

Parties with girls, now old.

Loving, days spent shot after shot.

Fragile now, liver won’t last long.

——

Sentimental,

Eyes engaging his soul in dance.

First time he saw her,

He’ll never forget, breathless —

Kisses and skin revealed, now gone.

——

Sentimental,

Is that word meaningful for you?

Remembering,

Fondness, time, emotions, experiences–

Missing a person you can’t have back.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.