Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Feed Me” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM #SamaritansPurse


Also thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Sunday Writing Prompt based on a cause near and dear to our hearts.


If you feel so inclined you can donate towards ending impoverished children’s hunger, and towards their betterment through education at:


Credit: Google – Go Fund Me for Samaritan’s Purse


Feed me, a child starving during last bell,

Give healthcare, no dirty water in the well.

For a coin, a donation receipt dealt.

I’ll help my family, the week will be swell.

Cloth me; I need not Prada, pearls from shells,

I’m suffering in an earthly hell.

So, do as God says, give to those who’ve less —

While you too flourish, and pamper yourselves.

There are parts of the earth — they’re called third-world,

Where baby’s stomach’s bloat, so malnourished.

Where disease’s rampant, and poverty’s a curse —

It’s not their fault, so halt your insults hurled.

Improve their lives; buy pencils, books for school.

Let no child ride the metaphorical Hearse.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 22/Tale Weavers: Poem – Blitz – “The Thirteenth Hour (Dim of Chase)” #poetry #amwriting #TaleWeavers #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 22 the Prompt is: ” to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens: ‘The clock can’t strike thirteen.‘”

I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt #166 on the theme of “exploring the sensations of being lost, not knowing where you are and realizing you are wandering aimlessly. How and/or who do you ask for help?”


Credit: Mara Eastern. Used with Permission for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


The clock can’t strike thirteen

Thirteens the witching hour dim

Dim as the black soundless night

Dim as every street’s the same

Same as the last and same as the next

Same figures leering in an unfathomable maze

Maze where I don’t know where here is

Maze where each turn is the wrong way

Way down cobblestone paths

Way down roads with naught but silence

Silence without comfort

Silence that hastens quivering

Quivering and deciding to go back

Quivering as I wander in circles

Circles towards the same stuccoed shops

Circles to windows with signs reading, “Closed”

Closed as midnight has long passed chimed

Closed no matter my banging on houses

Houses red-bricked, idyllic in day

House white-fenced unhearing of strangers

Strangers as I, but I am no harm

Strangers as they who follow and whisper

Whisper that I’m lost and cannot escape

Whisper of this hours unholiness

Unholiness as the demons mock my steps

Unholiness as the graveyard headstones crack

Crack as stones splits with moaning

Crack as hands reach, bloodied and fragile

Fragile as my skin sweating and chilled

Fragile as heels broken — left in bare-feet

Bare-feet blackened from putrid streets

Bare-feet cut by pebbles with each step

Step here, step there, no where leads home

Step into the inescapable hour trapped

Trapped as the chants drew me far

Trapped as I bewitched scampered

Scampered away from the party’s delights

Scampered into the sudden mist further

Further into the labyrinth, a sweet dream in daylight

Further into the hour my grandmother warned

Warned of those of dark intent who wander

Warned of the hour so few remember

Remember the creatures who frighten

Remember the creatures who chase

Chase in the thirteenth hour’s delusions

Chase me, knowing I knew better

Better despite my heart’s rapid fluttering

Delusions fade, a light burns — the wicked-hour passes


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Saturday’s Hunt: Poem – Rondeau – “Midnight Prayers” #amwriting #poetry #saturdayshunt


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix and prompting us to personify an emotion. I can’t quite identify this one, but I’ll try. 

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Credit: Edith Hill

——-

Midnight prayers, bitter sweet, such raw aches burn, 

Reconcile the words, reasons my heart hurts.  

Midnight prayers, pleading for courage, concerns —

Of broken-hearted lonileness which —

Cannot be hidden behind work and lists, 

Keep yourself busy, exhaustion, pleads yearn —

To lay back and rest, a moment to breathe, 

Finding being busy deeply deceives. 

Just one more moment, I can laugh and dream; 

Midnight prayers crying out, answer me. 

Here my desires, my concerns, my needs,  

Teach me to follow, in pain believe. 

There has to be more to life than alone, 

More than suffering, tears and sleepless moans. 

There’s a silver lining in ripped seams; 

Midnight prayers crying out, answer me. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Free Verse – “The a Hobbit Hole” #poetry #flashfiction #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Paul of Poet’s Pub for hosting a #dVerse poem in the form of a blessings poem. 

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Credit: Erick Wicklund

——

There are days,

I cannot think, I’m trapped, 

Cornered as a sleek red fox, 

The Predator’s main course. 

Searching for my escape, 

Running through the woods. 

Tripping on my, 

Shaking aching legs. 

Adrenaline quicksilver, 

Sliding through my veins. 

Lungs gasping;

A haunted, hunted child. 

By chance, by divinity, 

A blessing found, 

My ‘hobbits hole.’ 

My home sweet home;

A hiding place, 

To wait out enemies, 

Gnashing, clashing, 

With pointed teeth. 

Vicious men of ill repute, 

Fortune or fate despise. 

A crook in a fallen tree; 

A hole to spy for danger, 

As I veil myself beneath, 

Thick leaved branches, 

Cut from surrounding trees, 

Snuggled in my hobbits hole, 

Wishing Lord God, 

Bless me in my tiny hiding place. 

Leave me unconfronted, 

Unfound, an illusion —

Of invisibility to threats.

Basking in your security, 

Graciously provided, 

Let this not be the end. 

And I could’ve been wrong, 

I could’ve lost hope, 

I could’ve been dinner;

Torn apart by savage beasts. 

But serenity entered, 

On angel’s transparent wings, 

Calmed my heart, quickening. 

While the peace that —

Passes all understanding; 

Surrounded and enfolded me. 

When the dread made, 

 My skin crawl. 

When I bit my lip drawing blood, 

Sharp teeth approaching, 

A beast breathing  heavily, 

A brutal carnivore. 

Wickedness sure to devour; 

But he found me not, 

I was blessed, I was safe. 

Invisible to the lion, 

Remaining in my hobbit hole, 

Fortitudes fortress, 

My hiding place. 

And when all was safe, 

 Morn’s light illuminated. 

The dread of frights, 

Of the forest night, 

The predators that maim, 

And kill, disappeared into, 

The earth’s bowels. 

I prayed, gave thanks, 

And into sunlight I fled, 

The prey who survived. 

So blessed with life, 

Living to fight another night, 

Another beast, 

Serenity my companion, 

My relief. 

——–

©Mandobelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge.

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Credit: Laura Williams

———

Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Collage Prompt: Poem – Cascading Etheree – “The Inner Child” #amwriting #poetry 


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

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie; Bottom Right – Jeremiah Morelli

———

You might think it peculiar to let kids,

Be small, to let them be silly, weird,

When most of their life is spent in,

‘Adulting,’ learning how to,

Be big, responsible,

I say as Auntie:

Let them be them,

Creative,

Full of,

Fun.

——

Let,

Them be,

Wild beings,

Think of stories,

Imaginative,

And implausible, but —

Believe them because you’re,

Playing along, taller tales,

Demonstrate creativity,

For kids, it keeps them young, growing older.

——

Think of tilting towers, Big Ben in blue –

Green prairie sky, a storm brought him here.

But he bends, tilts just because and,

Storm brought along a grand,

Gothic cathedral roof,

Pointed top I’m sure —

Missed somewhere; hot —

Air balloon,

Holds our,

Dreams.

—–

Where,

We live

With such rich,

Possibility.

Imagining,

Tall towers floating in,

Moon lit skies, princesses,

Saving themselves, jumping from,

Clouds, the moon indeed smiling so proud,

Girls and boys — escape from their own towers.

——

Locked fortresses floating, new challenge,

Escaping by flying pirate ships old,

Never turning back to the light,

Of a trapped home, wishing most,

To be little, secure,

Not worry about,

A dragon’s fire,

A port in,

Mid-air,

Light.

—–

Sought,

In night’s,

Binding grip,

All children search,

For understanding,

A hug and kiss when they’re lost,

Hurt, or at least a safe place works.

For home; mom’s gentle touch when,

Nightmares thrive; become to real, kids hide;

But parents are there, provide a haven.

——-

So encourage kids to harness their,

Creativity, to paint and draw,

To find their passions in life, so —

Maybe they can live them too.

Or find a haven in,

Their talents, their skills,

Urging away,

Stress; relief,

‘Cause life,

Hurts.

—–

So,

We teach,

Live your dreams,

Let them unwind

You; be as free as

Butterflies; don’t be tacked,

To a board on the wall kept.

Fly lovely, safe, remembering,

Humanity is indeed so —

Delicate at times; you’re not invincible.

—–

But in the power of the imagination,

You can always escape the threads,

Binding you to reality.

You can have liberty,

Smile, eat your cake too,

And hopefully,

Your partner,

The one who,

Loves you,

Most.

—–

Has,

Their own,

Inner child,

Understands and,

Knows, love is gentle,
Love is fiery, bold,

Love and creativity,

Both hold; let you be dauntless, free,

Full of life, security to —

Be held; be wild both as adult and child.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: Lying In The Grass #amwriting #nonfiction #flashfiction #fiction #philosophy 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

——-

I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’

It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo – Day 14 – Villanelle – “Fighting to Heal” #amwriting #poetry


Prompt Day 14: Shameful

What does the word “shameful” bring to mind for you? I found two quotes from nineteenth century French writer Victor Hugo that seem to capture my own thoughts on this word. Take a few minutes to free write and see where this leads you. Is it something you’ve done? Something that was done to you? Something you’ve observed on either a small, personal scale or large corporate or government level?”

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http://www.poetsontheblog.blogspot.ca

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http://www.youtube.com

———-

No one said, life is as believed, 

We pass each day, avoiding pain; 

Forgetting, shamefully deceived.

Our worlds turn amiss, we bleed;

Yet, from difficulties too we gain. 

Consider them in life as reprieves

Intense pain, blood leaks and we grieve,

Toxins cleansed, blood let, not in vain;

Wounds left, shamefully unseemly

Suffer, yet many a worse life conceive; 

World that’s mean, feeds on human pain.

Yet, we shine our hope, despite grief; 

Though our scars are deep, we still breathe. 

There’s strength fighting, not leaving, 

A man near death, not left to bleed. 

Sacrifice and freedom conceived. 

Sadness trickles past, cleansing rain;

Bathed in water, hope found, relief, 

Strength, warm light glows, hope healing. 

———

Villanelle:

“A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa.The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).”

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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.

Poem: Shadorma – “Disasters and gods” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #tadhana 



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http://www.youtube.com

———-

Beyond your, 

Control there exists, 

Such forces in–

The gods of, 

Weather and sky, who —

With pleasure torment.

——-

Killing their, 

Children, people of —

Earth they harm.

Tornadoes, 

In dry places flatten all, 

Homes; many left for dead.

——

Your typhoons, 

Come raging with wind, 

Water and, 

Take away, 

Our loved ones, disappearing  gone.

Our pets have no chance.

——-

When you gods, 

In your games, take life, 

I wonder, 

Where is your, 

Mercy and kindness; your grace? 

Murdering, no thought.

——

I wonder, 

Should I pray, not to —

You beings, 

But to gods, 

Who give a damn about life, 

Answer pleading prayers.

—–

Perhaps, an —

Intelligent designer, 

Can say to, 

Me in words, 

Why my wife he brought back to his —

Heavenly home first.

——

Why my kids, 

Have disappeared and,

I want to —

Only be–

With them all; not alone on earth.

Explain to me why you —

—–

Take in earth –

Quakes, tremors causing, 

Giant waves to–

Crush any in, 

Its powerfully hungry path.

Why such waves, hate me.

——

Why do the, 

Volcanoes in places, 

Explode and —

Take others, 

Around the world not caring, 

Indiscriminately.

——

With no thought, 

Disasters around —

Us destroy.

And they kill, 

Each year taking more and more.

Tears return again.

——-

Creator, 

New God I search for, 

Will you give, 

Me peace and —

Reassurance I will see my, 

Loved ones soon? I pray —

—–

They’re not lost–

Forever; there’s small, 

Hope in my, 

Voice to the, 

God, I now beg for to bring me–

Relief; answer prayers. 

——

Hey! This is the last post for #wordhighjuly and the Filipino word prompts. Thanks to Rosema and Maria for hosting! 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.