100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

 Day 24 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Art of a Story and Death” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday flashfiction prompt. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art.” The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Prompt begins with the letter U. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl – Her Photograph and work of art for the prompt 🙂

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To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarates, the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, however, retreats from life by turning in into slumber. The other arts make no such retreat— some because they use visible and hence vital formulas, others because they live from human life itself. 

― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet”

(Sorry finding a Q name for this piece impossible but there is Q in Disquiet!)

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The photograph is lovely at first, 

A brilliant blue sky, soft winds of cool breezes, 

The Atlantic still icy, but forgiving. 

Trees rise and guard the home, the lighthouse, 

Ancient ones in slumber as spring yet approaches. 

Rock walls prevent a fall below, to the unforgiving chill. 

Hypothermia comes quickly here, 

But the scenery makes up for the inherent danger. 

Bright pink of the house stands out and the tower above matches, 

Glows in the night when the boats pass by, 

Protecting and guiding ships. 

The long grass still waiting to be verdent, 

Not dry crumpled straw. 

And the owners of the house are silent, keeping to themselves, 

Their only sense of existing, is the light that glares, when outside the tower is dark. 

Spring is slowly birthing, but the ocean’s still freezing, 

And the danger is too real for ships too close.  

And a stranger walking watches from the dim, 

Holding back a dog barking in madness. 

The bulb has burnt out, now disaster is unhinged, 

The ship clips the cliff, the house crumbles and the ship sinks, 

Screams in the night, in the Atlantic’ waters cold numbness. 

And when all is said and done, only the lighthouse stands, 

With a burnt out bulb of fault. 

How can this photograph be a work of art? 

Is there art in dying? 

Or is art and death as a perception, to ambigious to be real? 

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©Mandibelle16. 2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

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

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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. 

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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. 

Acrostic, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Shadorma - 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables, Writing, Writing Challenges

B&P Shadorma & Beyond: Poetry – Shadorma/Acrostic – “Moon Tides” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt. Today’s focus is in the acrostic form of poetry with the Shadorma

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Such madness

Unfolds when the moon, 

Sits giant,

Orb shining. 

But tonight he’s a wane crescent. 

Madness tame. 

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Matters not, 

All moons wax quickly, 

Desperate song, 

Not hidden. 

Endless men, tricksters howling, 

Sending out —

—–

Signs of blood, 

Unconscious filled, 

Nattering, 

Teeth grating. 

Amulets of their hearts throbbing

Mystical tides pull. 

—-

Endless ins

Demonstrative outs. 

Water brings, 

Water it takes.

Moon’s pull on sailors can’t be —

Helped, when madness roams. 

—–

Morning comes;

Vessel sinks into the —

Water’s depth called.

Aimless men, 

Know not of the night only it’s —

Consequences.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem:Free Verse – “Fleeting”


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the prompt word fleeting.

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download (3)
http://www.kids-myshot.nationalgeographic.com
Considerably, much time in life is fleeting,

Even this moment passing now, it was a cheat —

We didn’t know we’d never get the moment back,

But it’s gone forever, clever, a moment we lack.

Fleeting, means something isn’t here long,

We need our best attempt, to remember it’s song,

When all our moments are gathered at the end of life,

We will see life was fleeting, for it’s pain and strife.

Perhaps, we will only picture meaningful times,

Laughing with loved ones, and considering old rhymes.

Pieces of poetry and prose, leading us through each day,

Thinking, and contemplating words, as they play,

At the end of days, it’s hard to say, what will be important.

I think for our time with our families, we’ll feel fortunate.

But if our moments are fleeting, how come they take their time,

Letting as watch the clock tick-tock, slowly, and stately, chime.

The sun may set, but it rises again; each morning so glorious.

Thinking, one day the sun won’t rise; right now it’s notorious.

It rises each day, shooting rays and light across our paths.

So when He leads us, we can go step by step and laugh.

Awaking early, only to see the breathlessness of pastel colours blend.

Photographing sky in our minds with nostalgic clarity, to rend.

Time happens so slow, but quickly when we think, how it went,

So, if you please stop saying everything is fleeting,

Instead be cheerful, and don’t forget to greet,

The people you come across in the passage of our lives.

Live each day, a wondrous burst of your best tries.

Take your time drop by drop, and spend it well, don’t cheat.

Be watchful; when moments go, they go on feet so fleet.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.