Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Quadrille – “Condemned” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for holding last week’s SPF. 

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Credit: Mike Vore

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Tenement halls, 

Here they —

Breathed; died. 

Rasping voices, 

Calling  ‘Mom.’ 

Struggling, 

One last breath, 

Wheezing, 

Spirits released. 

Polio, Scarlet feaver, 

Consumption, measles, 

Tuberculosis. 

No matter, 

The disease, 

Many breathed, 

Their last. 

Forgotten, lost, 

Sound of silence. 

Condemned to ruins, 
Now the ruins are —

Condemned, 

Tenements called, 

A prison, 

Too late. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Three Line Tales: Kinds of Prisons #3LineTales #fiction 


Thanks to Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

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Credit: Daniel Von Appen Via UnSplash

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There are varies kinds of prisons such as the one the hardened criminals go to — the murders, the rapists, pehedophiles, and those who been involved in aggravated and brutal assaults. There are prisons where people are locked up in for white collar crimes, skimming money off the top of their business, and related incidents. Nevertheless, there are also the prisons that children learn inside; they are called schools but every child knows that the bars on the windows mean something more. 

—— 

©Mandibelle16. (2017) AllRights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “Caged in the Keep”  #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Majestic Golden Rose

———–

My prison or my home? I shall, 

Never know what these empty halls —

Are; if they contain friend or foe, 

If they care about me, don’t know. 

Married off to a stranger, not unkind, not cruel, 

Not a friend, not yet a foe, stately and no one’s fool. 

——-

Behind these walls, a sullen keep, 

I’m kept, without sunlight’s relief.

My thoughts aren’t considered, nor my —

Opinions valued, I’m defied.

No special princess, just his highnesses wife kept, 

Safe from the world, from experience, trapped, bereft. 

——–

Where did childhood’s freedom go? 

Where are the green fields, wild flowers? 

I just want outside but then you’d, 

Never find me again, I’d far go —

Back to my father, to a life of freedom glad, 

My prison? Tigresses caged attack when mad. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Music Prompt: Poem – English Sonnet – “Whisky in The Jar-O Please”  #amwriting #musicchallenge #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Friday’s Music Prompt: “Whiskey In the Jar” performed by Metallica. 

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Credit: GQ – Best Way to Drink Whiskey – http://www.pinterest.com

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Whiskey In The Jar” sung by Metallica 

———

Up the Cork and Kerry Mountains to find, 

Captain Farrell, money in vault to hide. 

Highway man with pistol and rapier, 

Sending him home for the devil to take. 

All his money in saddle bags hidden, 

To home for the highway man hard ridden. 

Said she would love me, never would she leave, 

Molly in bed; man there, now dead bleeding. 

Still to her chambers, go I, highway man, 

Drunk; money to mask and Molly to take. 

Captain Farrell riding up, shooting guns, 

Aiming both barrels; now in prison flung. 

Wish for Molly’s chambers to romp, yet she —

deceived; more, whiskey in the jar-O, please 🥃 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem – Day 27 – Laurenelle – “Both to Blame” #poetry #novembernotes #amwriting #music


Today’s prompt song is “The Night” by Black Lab

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“The Night” – Black Lab

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Credit: Jay Johansen Studio – Flickr Hive Mind

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Night calling and it bleeds with today’s pain, 

Your words, riddles linger, we’re both to blame;

Shower of diamonds, your words cut, blood rains.

It’s the anger you give me, my heart strains
To feel the comfort, the closeness, not this hate;

Can I forgive? Your inner monster reigns. 

He doesn’t hit; he’s inside you unsated
He’s your temper, you destroy us, words dwell

Lips sting abusive words, past ignites, lost faith. 

You think I won’t forgive; I’m your lover, a shell, 
I don’t want to live as Belle, trapped in prison. 

I know beast’s heart; goodness hidden in hell. 

This nightmare, sleeping alone, nothing given, 
Brought us down, broken paths, this our last night? 

You want sleep, you want peace — but I’m livid. 

I’m tired of the bore, this game playing, our fight, 
So I’ll wrap the sheet around you, I’m stupid

I care you’re warm, your sight gives me hope — light. 

My soul’s battered, yours is too, let’s erase —
Our problems; your eyes lift, I stroke your face. 

Night calling and it bleeds with today’s pain, 

Your words, riddles linger, we’re both to blame. 

——

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem -Day 9 – Blitz – “The Darkest World” #amwriting #poetry #novembernotes 


Today’s prompt song is “Cupid Carries A Gun” by Marilyn Manson.

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“Cupid Carries A Gun” – Marilyn Manson

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Credit: http://www.steamyrainingcards.wikia.com

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Witch drums pounding

Witch drums, I’ll escape your hell

Hell is the death in your eyes

Hell is the blankness in your stare

Stare at today, world has changed

Stare at today, yet we’re all here afraid

Afraid of your spiders

Afraid of your mangled crowns

Crowns are for glory

Crowns aren’t for the gory

Gory I predict your future will be

Gory I predict as your trigger finger pulls

Pulls into hate

Pulls us into helplessness

Helplessness, you say hold your hand 

Helplesssness, if I give in, I am damned 

Damned by your words

Damned by your voice

Voice of sultry sin

Voice of evil intent 

Intent of voice to charm 

Intent of voice to bring pain and shoot 

Shoot your arrow through the hope in me

Shoot your arrow through the hope in this world 

World you’ve with your private hell

World is not yet without hallejeuhs 

Hallejeuhs set me free

Hallejeuhs have more power

Power greater than the wretched Cupid you’ve become

Power greater than your hand scrunching tight my own 

My own prison in your grasp

My own hell is you, on earth

Earth which you blacken 

Earth which you pollute 

Pollute our minds with lies

Pollute our minds with lyrics

Lyrics sung, no love song, you’re no Cupid 

Lyrics screamed, you’re the pitch of dark

Dark of night without hope

Dark of night unfolds its wrath

Wrath so great, I hold my Halo

Wrath so great I stutter my prayers

Prayers so intent, my Halo is safe

Prayers so intent, your tar-black is smothered by light

Light washes away your petrude charade 

Light shines upon your malicious deeds

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten 

——-

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©Mandbelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “My Other Half” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo prompt:

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http://www.inspirationfeed.com

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There are two-sides to me,

One you will hardly see.

She only comes out one night,

When the orb of the full moon frightens and blinds. 

She marks her time trapped, on my back,

Pacing inside me, my evil twin.

Each day I feel the pain she creates;

Carving out another tick, counting the days —

With her burning sharpie;

Writing on me with acid.

She takes the days five at a time;

Slowly each night I feel her poison,

But I shut her in, shut her down tight.

She is buried and not to be found,

When I call all light towards me. 

—–

Yet I have no power,

When her strength is full,

When the monster prowls, 

When it snaps its teeth for blood. 

The werewolf inside,

Biding her time,

Until now, when the moon is full and round;

She spits and she howls,

Her teeth sharp tiny daggers. 

She comes out from the floorboards,

The darkest dankest corner of my soul. 

Her prison she erupts from, no longer trapped,

She unfolds her wrath on all who pass, brings terror;

Clawing at me, shredding me for fun,

Because she knows when the night is done,

I’ll have my strength of luminous sparks again.

The light of the day will flow through me,

Cascading through my body,

Repairing all wounds.

But for tonight she roams the earth,

A horrifying hell monster with claws that hurt;

She shreds my insides, reminds me how small I am,

That she is all powerful and will one day win our war.

——

But I am growing less afraid,

And I have time to be patient.

The night it ends, she’s back in her cage,
Marking me with acidic ink, every night,

 Until when next the moon is full bright —

She’ll break free of my skin, 

The torture will begin.

But yesterday night she didn’t come out? 

There was no fight to lock her in;

I think she’s trapped inside me, for good? 

And I’m claiming back my skin,

Healing all her burning marks 

Becoming someone new.

My other half is dead I think,

I don’t feel her uncoiling, 

Scrartching her way through my defence.

My plan conceived it ruined her.

And in slumber I locked her thrice, 

Poisoned her in sleep.

So the only place she’ll terrorize —

Is her own dreams and I think she quite deserves, 

The nightmares promised her, 

For all eternity;

Sickly wicked sister, gone at last. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

———–

http://www.motaen.com

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When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “The Good.”


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A personal matter, what you believe,

What is the fire in your furnace,

And why keep it a secret, if you think you’re right.

Perhaps, you’re afraid that you think the wrong thoughts.

Perhaps, you’re prejudiced and say the wrong words.

Maybe you talk, about that which you don’t understand.

Maybe, you don’t really know what you believe.

It’s okay, but you shouldn’t be ashamed.

—–

Where does the good go? It isn’t for reward,

It’s because you believe in a God who is the word ‘good.’

People aren’t good, don’t you see the news?

Sin and badness is within us — from Adam innate.

Even when we try, the good isn’t always good.

It’s hard to explain, but I won’t keep quiet,

Why should I keep my faith locked up, when others could benefit? 

Good deeds have no reward, but they make you feel good.

They are needed in a world where many things are wrong.

And are to be done because it is for the moral good to do.

Also because it was commanded by God to be good neighbours.

—-

You may not believe in a heaven.

Good deeds won’t get you there, but faith could be the cure.

Didn’t you ever wonder where the good came from,

Don’t twist what is truly good, evil is simply good twisted.

Don’t tell me faith is personal and should be hidden.

That’s like being caught in the darkest deepest blackest hole,

And having a candle that could light the way out,

But never lighting it because that candle is ‘personally yours,’

Someone else might find your light, and benefit from its glow,

I share my faith, because my light could lead others home.

So, where is your light, when your candle isn’t lit.

You’ll never find your way out of prison walking in black pitch.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Cinquin – “No Regrets.”


A Cinquin is an unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines. It was developed by the Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.

For more information visit Shadow Poetry here.

 

http://www.superiorplatform.con
 
I thought,

Snow falling would,

Would cover the evidence.

But the cops are not stupid they–

Found him.

——

Gasping, 

I wonder when,

They will come to my door,

And take me away and finger print–

My hands.

—–

They’ll search,

In my dresser,

They’ll find something of his,

The gun he carried trying to–

Force me.

——

I fought

I wouldn’t let–

Him hurt me, not my body.

He injured me with his body first.

I cried.

—–

Lurking,

I saw him here,

He wanted me again, 

So, I picked up his gun and I,

Shot him.

——

They’ll lock,

Me away when, 

They identify him, 

No one knows how he hurt me first.

He’s dead.

——

I’ll go,

To prison because he,

Was a monster and I,

Killed him when he tried again, I’ve

No regrets. 

—— 

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.