My Thoughts

Tale Weavers: Poem – The Blitz – “The Maiden and The Dragon” #amwriting #taleweavers #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt about a quest, such as the ones JRR Tolkien writes about in his famous books. 

———–

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——-

Dragons are here, I know it

Dragons beware, my sword is sharp

Sharp as the knives hid on my body

Sharp as the tongue of my wife

Wife said, “Do not go” 

Wife begged, yet I went 

Went through the haunted forest dark 

Went through the storms, muck, and mire

Mire as quicksand, sucked in my body

Mire that almost swallowed my life

Life burnt a flaming hole so wide

Life’s flame would not flicker out

Out of the muck and mire pulled

Out of certain death to rescue a princess

Locked in a tower for my Lord, my King 

Locked in a tower and languishing

Languished she did for centuries

Languished as a spell had been cast

Cast, so she would always sleep

Cast, because evil always hates

Hates beauty and goodness

Hates who this princess is said to be 

Be afraid though, I warn you, friend 

Be vigilant in your task to save 

Saving the princess isn’t the challenge

Saving her, I wondered, where is the dragon? 

Dragon she rose from the depths of beauty 

Dragon was the the princess herself 

Herself screaming, “I am the dragon”

Herself shouting, “I will eat you whole” 

Wholly she transformed in that fiery beast

Wholly she was a scaled, sulphereous demon

Demon who cried, “I am no damsal in distress”

Demon who seethed, “I protect me” 

Me, I gazed upon the languishing beauty 

Me, my eyes met the dragons yellow-eyed stare

Stared into my soul, saw I was a ruin 

Stared into my heart, saw I was wretched

Wretched cursed princess, the dragon? 

Wretched as the princess waiting 

Waiting and no one came so she grew tired

Waiting as she wrecks her vengeance 

Vengeance because no hero is true 

Vengeance, she can depend only on herself, no heroes 

Hereo, the archetypal kind who abuse poor maidens

Heroe, is there such a man who ever existed? 

Existed a hero she once did love 

Existed her hero but he never came — she remains cursed 

Cursed though she be, I could not destroy the beast

Cursed, she knows not why she is punished, cursed. 

Beast but still a girl, so I left, ashamed I could not save her. 

Cursed, she lingers on my mind, the maiden, the dragon as one

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Green For Jealousy” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——

Credit: Jade M. Wong 2016

———

She used to be green, envious of those, 

Who moved with more than their clever placed prose. 

Green burned within her eyes, she fought to know, 

More than the forest invading souls; chose —

To see beyond green, jealousy which rose. 

Stronger person, tougher girl who fought those, 

Who placed her in such tight square-pegged green holes. 

Beyond emotion to soft grace she rose. 

——

Envy tears apart, so green and seething

A monster growing her sharp teeth, teething;

A vindictive being, behind scenes teasing.

No more green for her, she dreams in light blues, 

No more green, peaceful serenity cued;

Jealousy hits door, tosses emerald shoes. 

——-

© Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Actor/ Actress, Beauty, Current Events, Fashion, Health, History, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

The Complexities of Red #thoughts #amwriting #nonfiction


Credit: Giovanni Licea – YouTube

I considered the colour red. How I’m equally attracted and repelled by it. How I pass by a red v-neck sweater in the right shade, but mix my acrylic colours, blend them until my instincts say stop; stop sign red. No wait . . . a bright cool startling red appears on my canvas. I think this is passion and passion is the boldest red. I think of how I not only crave to paint in vivid red, but in many vivid colours and textures. How I trace the feeling of layered paints with my fingers, and hunger for other colours with my eyes – blue, green, and purple. Though I adore all these colours, my favourite paintings are all in red.
 As with my love for sexy heels, which I adore in red too. If red is passion, what more can I say about women and sensuality then red shoes. They’re expression and fierceness. Like Kelly Picklers song “Red High Heels” — “I’m about to show you just how missing me feels, in my red high heels . . .” Red for revenge, red for moving on, red for love. But I hate red for love, it’s memory is sickening. He looked good in that colour – almost the best. 

Credit: Sam Roloff – “The Big Red One”
Yet red is so many things more. It’s anger, hate, rage, hurt, demons dreaming — the beast inside who does not die. Red is sinful, delicious, and deadly. It’s sex and power; a primilness. It’s royalty and blood, red blood spilled for in the body it’s blue (hence bluebloods). I love how classic red is — nothing more classic then a cat eye and red Bridget Bardot lips. Nothing as classic as red Mustang. 

I don’t wear red, the colour outshines me and doesn’t fit with such pale skin and blond hair. Please no red dress – I’d rather blend in and be a classic black or navy dress cut perfectly. But I seek out bits of red and cling to them, not wanting red to blind me. Only some sparkle and razzle dazzle to hold in my hand. Red nail polish is beautiful, with a bit of bling  Red as some of the lights in Las Vegas and red fireworks; red stoplights. 

Red is perplexing because it’s complex, not simple at all. Red is nationalism and red is internationalism. It’s a proud Canadian colour and I don’t mind wearing it on our Nation’s Birthday. Or cheering on our Canadian hockey teams in the Olympics and junior hockey. 

As well, roses are so divine, so deadly pricking your finger. Red, passion and pain. Together swirled these colours of red, of love, and hate collide. There are many shades of grey, but even more shades of red. It’s more than a primary colour it calls as a siren, “Look see me.” No one hides in red. Red cars are often caught barely speeding and Red is a theme of many songs albums as in “Red” as T. swifts song and album and the Beatles album “Redone.” Red as “My love is like a red red rose.” Some choral song I cannot recall. 

Credit: Jeannette Mattson – “Red Rose” – Fine Art America

But I’m sitting here, music blaring trying to decide what to paint. I’ve that special shade of red and it’s mixing and melding with other colours. Shades and tones. I see, red on my canvas and it bleeds. Red blood, blood . . .life, the most prolific association. Red is blood. Blood is life. Red such as poppies, that we must always remember. Red for anger, red for hate, for war. Red to hurt, poor the droplets down a crystal glass. Red red wine. To drink away the blood and crippling thoughts. Red to forget. I like a Malbec with bite. A Zinfandel to make me chatty. A Merlot or Cav-Sav with some friends. Red sangria is delicious. Red strawberry margaritas because there’s real fire in tequila. Red is too many things, too symbolic, too self-contradictory. Red is life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Sun’s Ascent


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW:


sunset-ff
Credit: Footy and Foodie

Words deserted her as fire shot across the sky. She welcomed sunrise casting brilliant light into the dawn, while purple-tinged clouds of white still held wisps of night’s inky black guise.

Beautiful sunrises were evocative for her and could easily bring forth a memory. They had the power to make her eyes hunger and delight, to forget her words. A sunrise’s influence kept her caught in a distinct moment of enjoyment, while at the same time, lost in thought.

The rising sun also inspired prayers of thankfulness. It was a raw moment in nature, primordial to her being. No matter what she was experiencing in life, the sunrise momentarily healed her. Sunlight glazing across the dawn sky mended her body, alleviated her suffering. 

Above all she thought, the hope a sunrise brought was vital. Each day it rose, she was graced with another day to do better and be better. To her, this sense of hope was most profound. It was why she cried, tasting the salt of her tears, as the sun finished it’s ascent.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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#OctPoWriMo – Day 25 –  Alouette – “Insatiable Red”


Day 25 Prompt: Red
“When I was growing up I extremely disliked the color red, not sure if the fact I had red hair had anything to do with it or not. It wasn’t until a few years back that I started to enjoy red and now I love it. I completely embrace red! How about you? Love it? Hate it? Don’t feel anything about it? I have always enjoyed big red barns though, I think it is because my great grandparents lived/owned/worked on their ranch with a big red barn and farmhouse. I loved having family gatherings out there.” 
——–

watery-rose-l
http://www.hiddenworldphotos.com

“Red” – Taylor Swift


Too bright hurts my eyes, 👀

Step-back, blinded by —

Red; the colour kindly few like.

Forceful, seductive, 💋

Not for reluctant.

It’s sunsets with the fall of leaves bright. 🌅


Maple trees red sigh,  🍁

And red eyes crying.  😭

Mighty power, red does lend.💰

Most sold lipstick —red; 👄

Classic colour said;

Cadillacs, Mercedes Benz.  🚗


Royal, wealth of land,  👑

Expensive dye’s hand —

Made scarlet; a king’s fine robes. 🔱

Privilege, money. 💰

Repulsive, funny,

Never liked, but on my toes. 👣


Women opt for red

Cooler; warmer red

Men’s own own chosen taste;  💪

Brilliant red, sexy; 💋

Elegant, regal, next. 👑

Amount changes, moods, tastes.


Trashy women in —

Sultry plastic.

Grace of love felt; most fav shoes. 👠 👗

Naughty and nice, 👍

Santa and Christmas; 🎄

Lights saying stop, you’ll lose.


Curious colour,

Loved or hated fleur.

Rose, hibiscus, poinsettias. 🌹

Different meanings,

Red fleurs, never seen; 🌹

Dancers doing flamenco. 💃🏼


For myself I think,

Preference for pink. 💗

A tint of red, more like me.

A bit of lipstick. 💄

If I must wear it.

Sport’s teams, and broken heart’s pleas. 💔


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.


Fiction, Musette - 2,4,2 -aba, cdc, efe, etc., My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Musette – “I Saw Him First”


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And now, for our prompt (optional, as always). Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that tells a story. But here’s the twist – the story should be told backwards. The first line should say what happened last, and work its way through the past until you get to the beginning. Now, the story doesn’t have to be complicated (it’s probably better if it isn’t)! Here’s a little example I just made up:

Please see NaPoWriMo for further information.


The Musette, created by Emily Romano is a poem that consists of three verses of three lines each. The first lines have two syllables; the second lines have four syllables, and the third lines have two syllables. The rhyme scheme is a/b/a for the first verse; c/d/c for the second verse, and e/f/e for the third verse. The title should reflect the poem’s content.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information on a Musette.


Jealous kids
http://www.pinterest.com

Dead on —

Stairs; Rose stares off,

Glimpse gone.


Seeing,

Nothing anymore,

Freeing.


Walking,

Out of her house,

Gawking.


Neighbours,

Fighting again,

Wavers.


Inside,

Drinking hot tea,

Resides.


Cleaning —

House, Restoring,

Gleaming.


China–

Dolls glistening.

Kinda.


Alone,

No one else home,

Enthroned.


Her chair,

Sit wondering,

Not fair.


Jil took,

Has Ted and kids,

Ted’s looks.


Rose wants —

Ted; Jil stole him,

Jil flaunts.


Young Rose,

Beauty gifted,

Such Pose.


First time,

Rose saw Ted stare,

Sublime.


They kiss,

Under stairs hide,

In bliss.


Before,

Jilly saw him,

Adored.


Rosey,

Girl every guy,

Mostly —


Wanted.

Rosey saw Ted,

Sauntered.


Jilly,

Loved Ted, before

Rosey.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Fiction, Free Verse, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Index – “Remembring in Cold”


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Finally, our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

For further information please see NaPoWriMo. My source is The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors, 7th Ed.

——

About sufferring they were never wrong,

A little black thing among the snow,

I sit wondering if there is somewhere that is home.

Ah! changed and cold, how changed and very cold!

I’m merely looking for a warm place to sleep,

To dream of Air and Angels, not to experience bitter frost,

I’m An old, mad, blind, despised,and dying King,

Every where around the world I have seen,

—–

In control of my own life, remembering —

  A women’s face with Nature’s own hand painted.

I miss my Queen, Behold her, single in the field.

She’s gone on even when I cried:

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy.

But I jest, I could not stop her death,

Now I sit here in this park praying,

Come down, O Christ, and help me! Reach thy hand,

But this Darkling Thrush is on his own so frozen, he is burning hot,

——-

Seeing her: Drink to me only with thine eyes Faerie Queene, 

Farewell: thou art to dear for my possessing.

My Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,

There is a Folly of Being Comforted by your memories,

I Go and Catch A Falling Star in the bitter night,

Hoping it will warm these decaying bones,

Life went by quickly, so many Good-Morrows,

Those who know me would say:

He never expected much only prayed — A Hollow M[a]n, 

How vainly me themselves amaze.

—–

[I] would drink by myself had I some money,

I have no name I would think, as I Look into my Glass,

In this strange labyrinth [of life] how shall I turn?

Oh Rose, thou art sick, I couldn’t save you,

O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being return,

I’ve been trapped in winter so long, I forget, in Pains of Sleep,

Past and Present, blur together and Splendor Falls,

I’m Standing aloof in giant ignorance,

Starlight night, the only warmth, as my breath shows in the cold.

——-

Ten years ago it seemed impossible,

That the world, my loved ones, would forget me,

The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

They say that hope is happiness and you and me will be together soon,

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon,

[I am the] Hollow [man]; Weep with me, all that you read,

You that with allegory’s curious frame, 

Don’t miss me, as in the night I freeze,

Thoughts ventured to her,

Why should I blame her she filled my days,

And so it seems she fills, my heavenly thoughts, at rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Writing

Poem: Quatrains – “Fight and Fly”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt fight.

—–

Flying Birds
http://www.pinterest.com

—-

Troubled pearl, thoughts awhirl,

Spinning fast, life makes you hurl,

Never stops, never just right.

Make your own moments, win that fight.

—–

Sifting sands go through my hands.

Spheres off beaches, white grande.

Dreams of blue water, clear and dense,

Without sharks, that makes sense.

—-

Sharks of land so much sicker,

Make a woman fear as life flickers,

Red red roses, blood dripping down,

Trickling lifelessness without a sound,

—-

Daggers thrust in open hearts,

No one goes far, not able to start.

Words of fear and words said in haste,

Looks like living, isn’t chaste.

—–

Tricked clever, by events out of control,

Lessons learned from life’s list of roles.

Talking quietly, whispering secrets;

Who needs those words — awful secrets.

—-

Blazing eyes go forth and vent,

Tell me the way to happiness, invent —

New ways to find strength, and flight

Don’t you know the best way, fight.

—-

Hidden hands, bowed in prayer,

Why is life so utterly tinged, `beware,`

Go the way angels do, dive in blue skys,

Flutter with purpose, learn to fly.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship

That Fuzzy Feeling


Building for weeks now, has been this fuzzy feeling in my heart. It’s brand new and I really wasn’t sure what to do with it at first. Separating feeling and being reasonable is getting harder to do, in fact, emotion is becoming reasonable. A huge bursting feeling tickles my chest and I know it because it’s been growing inside me slowly, a deep red rose, thorns and all. A feeling as if I’m wrapped in a soft plush blanket and it’s insulating me from everything bad outside.

I think you call this feeling love, it’s what I’ve begun to know it as. At first, it was just a look in his eye and now it’s something shared between us. I try not to think about the problems, I just stay wrapped in our bubble. I know outside are all these thorns, brambles and dangers waiting to ruin the web of connection spun between us. But here, are just he and I. As John Donne had written in one famous poems ” The Good Morrow”  we are lovers in our own world. And we have to stay connected, we have to face challenges ahead but for awhile I feel safer than I’ve been in such a long time, I am cherished – really happy – and all these fights, these hard issues we’ve dealt with, the one’s we will deal with, are met with the lack of space between he and I – barely an inch. We just look at each other and smile and as long as I can touch him even with my voice, it’s going to be alright. The future is not so scary, it’s hopeful and building as we build stone upon stone a foundation for a life.

The Good-Morrow

BY JOHN DONNE

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.
(www.poetryfoundation.org)

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