Poem: Quadrille – “The Catacombs” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Paul Scribbles for hosting the ‘underground’ poem prompt theme for this week.

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Credit: Paris Trip Adviser

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In catacombs roaming, 

Creature of the dark decay. 

Sun burns flesh from bones, 

Igniting funeral pyres. 

We all must wander, 
I choose the catacombs;

Underground inhaling,

Dust of rotting flesh. 

Piercing tranquility, 

Screams of dead long past. 

Lullabys send us to bed,

Before yellow sapphire rises. 

Waiting for pitch coal;

Good becomes evil too easily. 
———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Poem: A L’Arora – “The Wanderer Who Yearned”


Thank you to The Daily Post for the prompt words Natural and Struggle.


wander-the-world
http://www.thechangeblog.com

A wanderer navigates far on her journey,

She traipses from stars luminous in ink darkness,

Across natural hill she can’t not climb,

In lush valleys sleeping, dreams whispering in,

Travelling far, in-between, in the world down below,

Knowing not peace; restless she artfully treads,

Breathing the life, new civilizations she learns,

Tracing the moon, it dips to to her hands; she treads.


Wanderlust a vise; no peace yet, no worry,

In the sky’s plashless flamingo pink, fire orange stark;

Tranquility masked, in the eyes of young and old; she finds —

Wisdom in their tongues so foreign, not to her akin;

Grass, scented sharp and fragrant; an afternoon’s soft pillow,

She shares not, a fear of ‘what’s out there;’ no dread,

Roaming each day, hopping off trains, nothing her concerns;

Inscrutability of the world hails; she goes wherever, not knowing dread.


In Paris, she didn’t bother climbing the Eiffel Tower leery,

Of crowds, and people overwhelming; she’s a lark,

Free spirit, sweet melodies trailing; requires space to fly, to find —

Her life abroad, journeying towards the sun as it sets in Berlin.

Abundance of pints in Germanic territory; laughter she borrows,

A smorgasbord of people, faces to greet before bed.

Memories composed  in songs of the moments; she burns —

Companionship,she’s persuaded; singed remnants in bed.


Through Italy and Greece she did not falter, clearly —

Used to travelling trails, which ever road ingenuity sparked.

Nothing, exquisite as midnight’s blackness, in her mind,

The ruins of Ancient Greece in Athens alight; interlude in Santorini.

Riches of Rome, what need has God of golden sorrows?

A few nights idle, in soft hotel bed; relaxation as she read,

Of home, the place she missed the most; yet she yearned —

Struggling within; wanting more of the world, of new places read.


Climbing the Alps; mountains so high, a drop shear;

Below the air, not but wind, as she embarked.

Her mind in the beaches of Spain white; now resigned.

Searching forever, not to discover, real truths in the wind,

Traversing, strong, full of vitality; healthy to the core.

Until her ankle, tottered over, with a sprain and scratches bled.

Relishing in the Netherlands, a peaceful place to learn.

Sleeping in, and delighted to pause; until scratches never bled.


Of Nova Scotia’s Atlantic ice cold waters clear,

She gazed on architecture as Europe’s in Quebec, and parks,

Of pristine nature, trees, and flowers; but nature’s blind,

To the tumult of thought occurring inside her; she’s on a tailspin —

To Australia’s Opera House in Canberra; heart sore–

Journeying in the Outback; most treacherous place led,

By tour guides; and journeying in Melbourne earned,

Photographs caught on Instagram; further travels led.


Down to the Dominican, all inclusive; drinking slush and beer,

Reacting as she roamed where Inca’s lived, Mexican landmarks,

Insider herself, she perceived a need to still her being, and find,

Her place in a multicultural earth; her home, she grinned —

Such knowledge absorbed; little she knew, remaining ashore.

 Determining home, in the vast open prairies she once fled,

Traversing infinitely; it was a greed which no longer in her burned.

Home in her heart; she soars, a new trail found, where she before fled.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – “Left Out.” #Maydays #amwriting



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Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. I skipped the prompt about geeking out for now. But am going to write about today’s prompt on friendship. My view in my poem today is that even though friendship is excellent, there are times it is frustrating. 

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http://www.pinterest.com

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I know all my friends are out, 

And I’m stuck inside.

I know we’re true adults now, 

I still feel left out.

As if I wasn’t living life, 

As if I’ve missed so much to time.

Conversations and memories, 

I was never privy too.

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Maybe I’ll never grow up,

Maybe a job high up isn’t so vital.

I’m making life up as I go, 

It’s the best I can do, 

I wish sometimes you understood, 

It’s extremely difficult for me sometimes, 

Not only dealing with what life throws at you,

But trying to work through problems, 

Going through a veil, more like a brick wall —

Somedays.

——-

Cancer is killing my friend, 

I don’t know if she knows, 

How wonderful a friend she is to me,

And I don’t know why but she always, 

Floods the room with her beautiful light.

She has cancer and yet, 

Her energy level is much better than mine.

I don’t know how to make my best friends understand, 

They do, but sometimes, 

They don’t see anything at all.

——

Two hours in, needing to sit down and not move, 

Having eaten two pieces of cake, 

One I shouldn’t have eaten. 

Brought the hostess wine, 

Do all the right things to be a gracious guest.

But rarely, do I feel ‘in’ on all the things going on.

I don’t know that feeling anymore, 

I’m used to friends talking around me, 

My mind fading in and out.

I try to pay attention, all the hours I’m out, 

Don’t treat me as a child, like I can’t handle life.

Like I can’t handle honest words and your normal lives, 

Mental illness is a bitch and people have little thought, 

Of what you’re working past.

People may think things, 

At this point I assume my besties understand my battle, 

But maybe they don’t understand?

——

Maybe it’s still a disease people feel uncomfortable about, 

Because they’re grown up into adults with jobs.

They have kids and careers, 

They’ve the normal life.

I’m at home after years, fighting to have energy, 

Writing writing, who picks that as a career? 

But my dreams live and drive me forward.

No matter if my story is polished and presentable, 

I make myself impeccable.

Nice hair and makeup, 

Cute clothes for my size, 

Trying to be thin, like most of them, 

Pretty as them, but more width to my hips.

——

Striving for someone to take interest in me, 

Not feel I’m doing nothing with my life, 

Ask questions about me and be curious, 

Just as I am curious about your life.

Don’t talk over me, 

I know you all have your own fights, 

Cancer the biggest I believe right now.

I wish because of it, you’d understand me more too.

I’m launching myself forward, 

But I must move to a slower pace.

I don’t want to lose my best friends, 

I don’t want to be the only one who feels, 

We need to stay in touch.

——–

An attractive guy would be nice,

A listener, a toucher, a hockey game lover.

I’d love a dog and our own condo, 

No debt, and the ability to exercise well.

All these things I want, 

With boundless energy, 

No more worry about what my friends think of my illness.

Just like them, normal.

——

I want safety in his touch,

Seeking closeness with him and equality.

Connected to me, he’s not half-treating me, 

As of I’m forever a spoiled kid, 

Just because I need a ride.

Because I’m not well enough to drive.

Themes that under lie my life at times, 

Girls looking above me, raising their noses, 

Not knowing I fly in stars and midnight showers of rain.

Soaked to the bone in my imagination, 

Dipping my toes in the rain as I write, 

Sharing my gift and my faith, 

Wisdom of magic and belief.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.