Poem: Italian Sonnet – “For a Bed” #amwritingpoetry


Written the first night sleeping in my own bed after a month and a half away.


Credit: Kinga Cichewicz via Unsplash.


Odd ditty penned, but it’s a dire matter;

Time since I rested in powder-puff hug.

Since I eased in downy-feathers snug.

It’s softness no hospice mattress combats.

Nor it’s cotton-candy duvet flatters.

Pillows topple, soft petal-cotton sheets —

Breath; my body sighs where it’s velvet, skin meets.

Near two-months since I lay swathed in satin.

So grateful was I for home to heal, still —

Wasn’t my bed, blankets twisting while dreams fill.

Oh, how I missed my marshmallow mattress —

But, I ache — some know not sleeps hiding place.

In Cloud-bed find I deepest-drowsy sleep,

Still, the darkness lingers in my mind creeps.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 22: Poem — Sevenling — “Seek To Know” #amwritingpoetry


This is going on forever, but eight days left right? So, today (NaPoWriMo Day 22,) I’m doing my own prompt based on Kat from Like Mercury Colliding’s introduction of a Sevenling:


The elements of the Sevenling are:
1. a heptastich, a poem in 7 lines made up of 2 tercets followed by a single line. metered at the discretion of the poet.
2. unrhymed.
3. composed with 3 complimentary images in the first tercet and 3 parallel images in the second tercet. The end line is a juxtaposed summary of the 2 parallels, a sort of “punchline”.
4. the poem should be titled “Sevenling: (first few words of poem).


Credit: Dan Sandvik via Unsplash


Dawn’s clear, shadowed by each day not knowing,

Nothing veiled, I pale sheep mute, come un-dazed;

The alpha wolf’s howl‘s near, teeth crush, tear flesh;

How do you know, when you’ve not been able?

One can’t remain a lamb sobbing, bleating;

The tiger cub’s instincts no fable;

Fresh hope, dim evaded but at what price?

*****

Now, I peer past the burning lights distorted,

Where the sheep and the lambs, are at quiet peace.

The fierce wolves snap, but the tiger cub reaches,

And each lesson teaches —night’s brilliance too.

No more am I lamb, sheep following mute.

I’ve grown stripes, pincer fangs –it’s early days,

Imperfection, growth, it hurts; seek ye first –find.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo Day 17/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Raven’s Meeting” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ, from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge. For NaPoWriMo Day 17, the prompt is:


“Today, I’d like you to challenge you to write a poem that similarly presents a scene from an unusual point of view. Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery from the perspective of the apple. Or the shootout at the OK Corral from the viewpoint of a passing vulture. Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm, as experienced by a raindrop.


Credit: Gabriel Isaak


Because you brought hope too,

I thought we were meant to meet.

Your foot prints deep diagonals in the sand,

Trails of hair caught in the winds thrall.

Eyes caramel touched by ebony,

Mirrored my eyes of coals marbled, my ravens plumage too.

Your locks dance, as my wings reach towards you.

You were my olive branch, but you stood there starring as if —

You were caught in the storm too,

Feet weighted to the ground, cement.

My claws didn’t indent your fine sweater — the wool could’ve snarled my talons.

Your lids flutter, strange, wide as if I’d surprised you.

And when I chirped, (squawked to some), you understood my peril,

The angst of having nothing left inside to fly.

Not to bleed and call forth the ocean’s tyrants.

For a while I stood, peered —

And on your arm, my ruffled feathers rested,

Your strange white-talons graze my head,

And my feathers are swept a moment by skin.

Maybe, you could understand a moment,

Survival without security.

Your eyes translated a kind of pain, our loss both,

Mine without a mate to soar, or the immortality of eggs;

Yours what? A loss I did not know except a need to rest,

For hours I stood shaking, your face nuzzled mine,

Any your limbs folded under, we slept soft on your coat.

Then, the slender sun lit,

You stretched one arm, head tilted,

Our eyes met, as you turned your other limb, and laughed ( ravens laugh too, you know),

I teetered awhile and the conversation clear, despite my peeps, your chatter in response.

Then, you turned, squelching footprints marked your trail from the sea.

So, I arose, and in dawns flight I left behind the blight before your presence;

I didn’t feel alone, I didn’t feel so lost,

I cawed once more.

Then, I drifted with gentle currents and thought,

We were both the better for our nights rest, our meeting.


Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 13/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Blitz – “Pressure Engraved” #amwritingpoetry #100WordWordWednesday


For OctPoWriMo Day 13 the Prompt is If I We’re You. Also, I’m combining with 100 Word Wednesdays from Bikurgurl’s Photo Prompt.


Are there things you sometimes need to get off your chest? When was the last time you felt strongly that someone needed to see things from your point of view? I think this prompt lends itself perfectly to a Blitz Poem.


Credit: Alex Ilby


Such pressure rising as the dim lake drowns

Putrid water invades mr lungs, crushes my chest

Chest choking salt-water terrified

Chest rasping with each tiny breath

Breath weighted with ocean filth

Breath that’s sticky, wet, toxic

Toxic fears cripple my legs, tire-out hands treading

Toxic fears of the half-dead: I’m gasping

Gasping, a dumbbell crushing my lungs

Gasping as I let out deep breathes to cleanse

Cleanse my spirit of skin shivering

Cleanse my heart of this stress-inducing love

Love that drowns and makes me whole

Love that lets me finally find

Find a blissful beach without monstrous waves

Find a warm place on the sand to sleep

Sleep, I yearn for it as banshees screech

Sleep, I beg for it as the predators howl

Howl as I quiver, biting my nails

Howl as my courage trickles away– I’m outwitted

Outwitted by breathless panic, desperate pain

Outwitted, the Minotaurs talons clawing my neck

Neck enwrapped with silken scarves choking

Neck bundled beneath feather-silk, dreams killing

Killing me softly, these life-altering responsibilities

Killing me softly, these rigid expectations

Expectations you hold of I so meek

Expectations you hold, not understanding —

Understanding I’m a pins width from crashing

Understanding how with difficulty, I have strived

Strived to be where I am

Strived to be myself and arise

Arise, but not to discover I’m disadvantaged

Arise, but not to ignore my intuitive doubts

Doubts as steel wool scratches

Doubts as I’m carried out by the tide in the storm’s silence

Silence, if only for a moment I can collapse

Silence, self-care to reforge my walls

Walls of back-breaking stone, tough alloys

Walls that keep the creatures harming at bay, to —

To keep me safe, crippled shoulders un-tensed

To keep my bastion strong, so I can lay me down

Lay me down without your vise-like grip engraved

Lay me down to recover, before I rise to respire and inhale

Gripping my hands, crescent marks engraved

No trembling stress shocking, only mountain air to inhale.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Sing me a Melody” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #poetry 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday’s on August 16, 2017. Poem for Oneta Hayes of the blog: Sweet Aroma

——-

Credit: Bikurgurl

——–

Sing me a melody, 

Write me a song.

Songs of celestial glory. 

Of love that’s deep sweet. 

Save me from the dark, 

Inner demons disguised. 

Write for me, 

Crystal clear notes,

Ones angels simply respire. 

Sing me a melody, 

Calm and serene. 

Of the cereulan blue sky, 

Of hope in eternal life, 

And time past misery. 

Sing notes cascading, 

Sung lentement with —

Unbending trust; 

That those in “[D]arkness

Have seen a Great Light.” 

Sing me a melody, 

Tear drops on cheeks. 

Of joy, deliverance —

Of liberty, and grace. 

Sing harmoniously, 

Or in a caphella. 

With light’s pure —

Luminescent brilliance —

Never snuffing out. 

Sing me a melody, 

As light as air that trills. 

Glimmering with sunbeams, 

Ringing with care for hope. 

Simg of vivacity, 

Surpassing the dark of night. 

Sing me a melody, 

Of healing that restores. 

Sing songs of bravery, 

Of endurance. 

Songs overcoming shadows, 

And landing in the dawn.

Sing me a melody, 

Bring me sweet relief. 

Among beauteous architecture, 

For all those times gone by. 

Sing me a melody;

Surrounded by the skills, 

Of artists and writers 

So profound there work, 

Sings me alive. 

Sing me a melody, 

For all I wish for is peace. 

In sleep to hear, 

Sonorous songs. 

Transcendent, complex, 

Yet, utterly simple as —

Those words that say, 

“Be still.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weavers: Views on Death by Emily Dickinson and John Donne #amwriting #poetry #JohnDonne #EmilyDickinson 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver’s Prompt based on the figure of death. Emily Dickinson’s poem “I could not stop for Death” and John Donne’s Holy Sonnet – “Death Be Not Proud” seem to say exactly what needs to be said for me on the prompt. And whatever I do, I can’t think of something I could say better than these poets due regardimg the personification of death. Please enjoy!

——-

Credit: Google images for Reuse

Credit: Google Images for Re-Use

——-

1. Because I could not stop for Death (479)

By Emily Dickinson, (1830 – 1886)

http://www.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

 Because I could not stop for Death – 

He kindly stopped for me –  

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  

And Immortality.

*****

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility – 

*****

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –  

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –  

We passed the Setting Sun – 

*****

Or rather – He passed us – 

The Dews drew quivering and chill – 

For only Gossamer, my Gown – 

My Tippet – only Tulle – 

*****

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground – 

The Roof was scarcely visible – 

The Cornice – in the Ground – 

*****

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads 

Were toward Eternity – 

*****

(www.poets.org)

———

Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud

BY JOHN DONNE

wwww.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee 

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; 

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow 

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. 

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, 

And soonest our best men with thee do go, 

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. 

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, 

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally 

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. 

*****

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 12 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/FFfAW: Poem – Free Verse – “The River’s Course” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo is to “write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds).” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote is from the letter L. As well, thanks to Pricless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Water and Rocks FFftAW
Credit: Maria of Doodles and Scribbes

“The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It’s an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?”
Kamand Kojouri


 

The river she flows fluent, flourishing in her mad descent,

Rapids, water reeling past rocks leading her to a path of providence.

Fast, and fleet, a river rivaling; I’ve experienced —

On the weary trail, the river cutting, crushing the rocks.

She carves her path, ploughing silt to the shore,

Debris of dramatic, erosion deciding on the the crooked carved path.

The water, she must flow, finding her fabulous spark in the light of —

Lumionous sunlight, searing in the afternoon heat.

For this river runs through the desert, the orange, organic trails,

Mixed with red-rock, rizing in the Arizona afternoon.

Cliffs creating a canyon so deep and wide, where the water dances through.

No one to stop her destruction of rock, her pounding so hard it hurts,

But the river rivals all, keeps on carving her way —

Through the canyon cringing, when she chops off more silt.

Off its brilliant fire, she finds a place where the —

River rests in waterfalls crashing and carniverous,

Then she wanes as she reaches shore and and lays back breathing,

At ease, she is pleased and settles,

Against the sand of some beach, somewhere; she’s oblivious —

Simply sliding against sand,

No more cutting of solid rock required,

Tranquility is in the tide, easing in and out,

The river finds, rests with her lover,

Her and the shore are silent heart beats.


img_3553-7

 

img_3552-9


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Are Reserved.

Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Photo Challenge: Poem – La’ Tuine – “Siren No More”


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


monsters
Credit: Ilmari Nen

Bare feet on the earth, pausing for rest,

She’s weary from the the life she lives, just —

A sister to keep her company, it’s tough,

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Burying her face in fragrant earth less,

Her sister find her, cause tussle.

Leave her alone, she’s tired of life’s rust.

Freedom it calls, Siren nor more.


She prays, will the gods release and bless —

Her? Let her be human, lust —

As a woman; not to thirst for blood’s rush.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Her prayers, they’re answered, she’s less —

No longer, living forever, but —

Mortal who can love a man, keep trust.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserve.

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: Fiction – Her One #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. 

——

Credit: http://www.pixebay.com

——–

(I truly meant for this to be Flash Fiction, but the story just developed. Sorry about the way – over word count.) 

Grandma June huffed at Natalie, her granddaughter visiting her at home.”You’re not getting any younger, you’re thirty-eight. You can’t barely have babies anymore!” 

Natalie rolled her eyes at Grandma June,”Gran, I’m an elementary school teacher. I like going home and not having to worry about kids.” 

June sighed,”It was that man, you were supposed to marry. He’s a thief and stole your heart; I’m right aren’t I?” 

Natalie ignored June’s question. She hated when her Grandma or anyone, talked about Christopher. She’d never admit he was her one. 

He had been since she was in grade ten and Christopher an attractive senior in high school. It was when he had first asked Natalie out. They’d broken-up, having had incompatible lives with Christopher away at university soon after. 

Then, seven-years-ago, they’d ran into each other and started talking and dating again. Natalie had convinced herself this was finally it. Sadly, a few weeks before the wedding, Christopher had disappeared; the memories were agony for her. 

—–

Two-week’s later, Grandma June called Natalie up to invite her to a wine and cheese night she was hosting for her neighbours. She had tried to decline but June was adamant Natalie attend. 

She arrived at her Grandma June’s surprisingly lively wine party, in jeans and a white t-shirt. She had barely bothered to apply makeup as Natalie had come from the gym and was worn out. 

“Oh you came,” Grandma June said excitedly, approaching Natalie as she let herself inside. She hugged June and kissed her cheek, as June poured Natalie a large glass of red wine and filled her plate with bread and cheese. She winked at Natalie and left her alone in a small sitting room to rest before joining the other guests. 

“Natalie?” A deep voice said. She turned on the sofa towards the sitting room door. Christopher’s voice shocked her, she had almost doused herself in red wine. His familiar timber filled Natalie with great pain. She peered up at him feeling raw, as if he’d only left her yesterday without explanation. 

Tears began dripping down Natalie’s cheeks; she was crying and couldn’t stop herself. Christopher immediately sat down on the sofa beside Natalie and pulled her close; he wiped her tears away with his thumb. She tried to jerk out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her move. 

“I’m not letting you go, ever again,” Christopher swore.”I can’t explain much about why I had to leave you, only that I didn’t have a choice.” 

Natalie shoved him hard, “You have nothing more to say, nothing at all?” 

Christopher was noticeably upset, “I told you I worked as an IT consultant. But I could never tell you or anyone who I worked for until recently. I worked for Special Forces in the army and I was called out to a job. It’s the only thing I can’t about. The job lasted years, and I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone. We saved countless lives, but it was awful what I did to you and being without you. I’m sorry.” 

Natalie rubbed her swollen eyes, “You’re a liar Christopher. You could’ve mentioned something, anything. What do you want now? To stay for a while and then leave?To rip me apart again?” 

Christopher buried his face in his hand, before gazing up at her: “I’m out now Natalie. I swear to you I work for regular businesses now, nothing to do with Special Forces or the army. I’ve no more secrets other than experiences of war and blood. I came back here for you, I even moved into a house on your Grandma June’s street. I hoped somehow, you and I could be together again. I love you.” 

Natalie made a sound of frustration. Emotions of both anger and feeling relieved assaulted her. Despite her anger at Christopher, Natalie knew inside, there would never be another man for her but him. 

To Christopher’ surprise, Natalie moved to sit in Christopher’s lap and be closer to him, to breathe in how delicious he smelt. 

“Marry me now and we can do whatever celebration our families want later. I’m still mad at you Christopher but you’re it for me. I’ve always loved you and always will. If you can be with me and never leave me like that again, I can forgive you.” 

Christopher nodded at Natalie, saying: “I promise.” He held Natalie tightly and kissed her lips hungrily

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the sitting room door and Grandma June walked in, a smile on her face. June’s boyfriend Nigel was with her and so was the local United Church minister. 

Natalie looked at Christopher, “Did you do all this?” 

Christopher shook his head, squeezing Natalie tight and kissing her cheek. He pulled out a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring set from his pocket. He slid the engagement ring on Natalie’s finger, and Grandma June handed Natalie a ring which had been her Grandfather’s wedding ring. 

June smiled at Natalie and Christopher, a gleam in her clever blue-eyes. All was at it should be, she thought as her and Nigel witnessed her granddaughter’s wedding ceremony. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.