Tale Weavers: Poem – Rictameter – “Foresight” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt having to do with the importance of sight, physical, spiritual, or beyond. Also thank you to Linda J. Wolf of the blog Urban Poetry for the new poem format. Rictameter verse had 9 lines and the first and the last line repeat. The syllable count for each line is as follows: 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2. 

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Also, I know many of you are doing the A to Z Challenge for April. But if anyone’s interested in poetry, join me in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). A poem a day for 30 days. You can sign your blog up at www.napowrimo.net. Each day in April, return to the site for the daily poetry prompts and remember to link back to the website when you write your poems and to tag your work #NaPoWriMo so other bloggers can read your awesome poetry. Looking forward to reading everyone’s poetry takes. If you are REALLY up for the challenge combine NaPoWriMo with the A to Z Challenge 🙂 

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Credit: Google Images

To see,

With clarity,

Minds are required to —

Be open to possibility.

All the relevant outcomes forecasted,

Made with thinking of calculated —

Risks; all aspects bad,

Or fortunate,

To see.

——-

Because,

Limited sight,

Costs lives, so we try —

To foresee what could occur.

What is likely to happen in certain —

Situations; or what won’t —

Occur; we attempt to —

See the future,

Because.

——

We live,

Blindly despite,

Attempts to know.

We can’t actually know;

As much as we make it seem,

As if we can configure potential,

But it’s all a fantastic lie.

We know nothing but —

Footsteps ahead,

We live.

——

Blindly,

Our sight fades for —

Physically our prime is —

Short; but we can see past —

Spiritually if only —

We choose to see, to look within and find,

Our immortality left,

After we pass on.

We try to see,

Blindly.

——-

In life,

We desire to —

Know what happens —

Next; can we stop our fears,

Trouble from taking place or should —

We leave it in God’s hands and let,

Our worry and painful burdens,

Be His to decide,

Thy Will Be Done, 

In life.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: When The Wheel Stops Turning


Thanks to Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields for hosting FF.


ff-cogs-and-wheels
Credit: Sandra Crook

Bruno’s days were spent turning the wheel, bored and physically exhausted. At night he returned to his hovel, barely awake enough to eat thin gruel. In the day there was mead to ensure the serfs didn’t rebel.

But the mead wasn’t helping today. Bruno glared at the the serf master, upset he didn’t even know what or why this wheel turned.

One day when the serf master tried to whip them, Bruno reached out and caught the whip grabbing it and knocking the serf master out. He ran as far away as he could run.

Bruno heard in the east, a landowner was giving out pieces of property in return for part of the proceeds; he thought this would be a much better living — at least, he hoped.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

 

Poem: Reading Sonnet


When the evening comes I have no voice,

To tell you that, there is nothing left.

I’ve done what I’ve set out to do,

And now I must rest to feel alive again.

I sit in bed and read the stories;

My reading voice is loud and clear.

I hear it in my head as I read,

It narrates and asks the questions.

Until the night comes creeping in,

And I’m too fatigued to do anything,

Then I must sleep and heal each day.

For tomorrow brings more tales to read;

A great expansion of the mind.

To be physically exhausted

But mentally revived.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.