Poem: Free Verse – ” The Truth”


The following is a re-blog and re-edited version of an old poem I found:


pearl-in-clam
Credit: http://www.globe-views.com

The Truth is as a pearl,

polished and genuine,

Gleaming in the waters still.

Deep beneath where the —

Light dances and shimmies on the water’s surface.

It is something taken for granted, something I gave up.

It’s became this hole inside my heart burning, seething,

Twisted and warped beyond recognition.

An evil formed out of something so pure.

A repulsive ugliness which strangles me.


I want to give you that pearl let it gleam in the sun;

Let it adorn a jeweled neck, a sign of hope on a beauties breast.

But I lied and I took our security away,

I lashed myself tight to seaweed, strands of purple haze, watery worries —

They will be my grave, they will make you despise me.

For I am broken soul now and I cannot turn around.

I am set in my ways, though I wail and turn wane.

You are the light of a pearl, the soft flick of ashes, your lashes —

The soot of my pain, as I lie to you again.

The scent of those ashes, that burning acrid smell;

Reminds me of churches, of a place purer than pearls.

Where the air is so still I can hear my breath wrack,

Hear my heart beat, find forgiveness relief.

As I cry in my soul, it’s forgiven but torn.

While you pray to nothing, it separates us more.


I speak of a heart beat between you and me,

A quiet place we rest, but you make me cry in pain.

Wound me, complete me, and I bite my tongue

As my wry wit replies, to the pain on my peaches and cream,

The  bruises the aches in my legs, to find no peace.

In that, there is nothing but the trapping of my lies,

The seaweed grief come to strangle my reprieve.

A word of love, taken back, a thought, perhaps, I care little.

But when I am skin to skin and feel,

As close as to anyone that I’ve ever been,

When I would give to you what I’d give to no one else,

You turn your back, you leash me, stop my attempts to train,

So I swirl in and out of this complicated romance, the jumper in the whirlpool.

The one plashless, hopeless because she cannot take back time,

Thinks you and the pearl that glimmers in her eye, would have never been,

Had she not minced words and told you:

“I feel nothing — leave me be;

I enjoy the closeness but you are no shiny pearl of truth.”


I see the future unravel, unruly, uninvited coming near,

Ending because you refuse to believe,

In the significance of ashes and churches.

Because I refuse to live in the world,

The woman with a pearl around her neck.

It’s chocking me, the truth, it slides,

A warm gold chain that clasps the pearl in place,

Tightens the pearl around me neck,

Until lost breath is imminent.

When will I say them, those impending words?

When will I say it I cannot trust you,

I cannot tell the truth,

You choose to do works when faith is needed.

You hurt me, and care little to understand me,

My lips seal the words, close them in a box, turn the key;

Pandora’s box ready to unleash this pearl of wisdom,

Perhaps, wise words, but there are no wise-men here.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Purple Haze


A storm of this magnitude was a rare occurrence when the weather wasn’t boiling hot. The temperatures had been mild at best.

Albert had felt the temperature slowly decrease outside his truck where he ate his favourite chocolate bar. He had become cold enough to throw on his thin jacket. Albert adjusted the rim of the Blue Jays hat, as the first drops of rain fell methodically on his nose. 

Then the storm had arisen with tyranny. The unbiased cruelty of Mother Nature had thrown everything she had into the storm as Albert ducked back into his truck for cover.

Golf-ball sized hail pounded down, denting Albert’s beloved white pickup truck. Then the rain crashed in torrents of harsh unending water from the sky. The wind was blowing, howling it’s rage and rocking Albert’s truck.

Albert turned on the radio to comfort himself. He could hear thunder in the distance rumbling closer.

 The sky was a harsh grey with a small purple glow as lightening sparked across it. One lightening crack was so terrifyingly loud, Albert jumped. 

The destructive path of the lightening with thunderheads, made Albert think he was adrift in purple haze when deep booms were followed by flashes of brilliant purple.

Then, the radio was suddenly, blaringly loud to Albert as the thunder and lightening passed. The rain continued in sheets.

Jimi Hendrix was singing “Purple Haze,” crooning in his legendary voice on the radio:”Yeah, Purple Haze all in my eyes, don’t know if it’s day or night . . .” 

Albert could relate to those lines as he waited through the mid-afternoon in his truck, for the purple haze left in the rainy sky to pass. 

(Although, Albert knew Hendrix sung of a different kind of “Purple Haze. “)

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A Mixed Bag

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Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF
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Jimi Hendrix ” Purple Haze”

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©Mandibelle16.All Rights Reserved.