Three Line Tales/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Lunes “Children’s Games” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix’s Same Same but Different Prompt. This week’s words we cannot use and need to find synonyms for are: check, dress, hand, snake, and drop.


Credit: Alex Knight via Unsplash


Eyes bright with metal palms,

No clothing I’m —

Armoured in white-plastic overalls .

*****

Divergent from children of skin,

No life’s blood;

But, my tablet never falls.

*****

Curiosity, wonder; I click into,

Games, to play

Slitherers and ladders; winning all.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction/ Saturday Mix: Fiction – Radio City Memories #SaturdayMix #amwriting #fiction #MLMM #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also, thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Saturday Mix prompt on Double Take with the homophones: lacks – does not have, lax – loose discipline. Also the words hangar – garage for airplanes, and hangers – from which things clothes hang.


Credit: Susan Spaulding


“They still keep this old place? Someone’s been lax with the upkeep. It’s lacking any since the ’80’s.” Milo stared at his nephew. “Radio City’s been ’round almost a century. She has old bones, those are hard to preserve.”Riley sniggered and shook his head. “What’s this Art Deco run-down to you, anyways? You a Rockette’s fan?””Your grandma was, but that’s not why I like it here. In 1978, Radio City became a historic landmark. They renovated it. It was this huge hangar attracting musicians and actors.” Milo held Riley’s shoulder. “When I was twelve, my friend and I snuck in as famous singers performed, and during movie premieres. There were back doors often left unguarded. ” “No way you snuck in.” Riley elbowed Milo. He grinned and ruffled Riley’s modern-mullet. “Today if you did they’d arrest you. Back then, they didn’t think kids were that smart. If they caught us we’d say our parents made us go and we were bored. We’d dress up too, and wore pressed suits from wire hangers.” Riley’s smooth skin crinkled around his frown as his great-grandma’s had done. “Whatever you say.” Milo shrugged. “Your dad came with us.” Riley laughed and kept walking, but Milo paused. He closed his eyes as he recalled Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and her pointed bra in nude-pink. His thoughts shifted to Kurt Cobain’s faded notes of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” to a more recent premier of a Harry Potter film with his daughter, Maisy.At the street corner Riley waved, waiting for his Uncle. The kid was always hungry. Milo recalled that ache too.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Prose Poetry – “We the People” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces. Today the two sets of words are: permit and forbid, and visitor and host. Sorry, this is longer than the regular 200 Words.


Credit: C.E. Ayer


He permits and forbids without reason, with much fallacious thought. He twists words as vines and slithers. A side-show becomes the center of the circus ring, as he pretends he can make you great.


But you don’t need him to flourish. Your strength is in your people, you’ve the right, the ability, to burn such policies to ash. You were great before his birth, before his residence. And — into time, and into the past — his words will fade as hell’s bells knell. With each message of condemnation, each compliment a serpent’s tongue lisping. You never know if you can trust him, and such delusion is surely a crime.


Yet, in a Republic or a Democracy, citizens may choose and remove those who speak only to their self-glories, not of Him above or those soldiers sacrificed; not of the everyday person’s self-sacrifice. He plots and in isolation, he’d have you flounder believing every typed character, every Slytherin parcel-tongued lie rasped. Not the truth that he’s cast on his belly and is nourished in slime. You’re not great because of him, but you are great despite him.


We, your ever watchful neighbor, curse the writing on the wall. Sometimes you’re all too near to see the deception that slips through every crack. Thistle-thorned, tree trunk-sized weeds, poisoning all right. But, if you blocked his words and turned away, gave him no more votes or attention. If you ignored him as a child who tantrums, and slammed the door to his room — his words and lies would fade, no more cats yowling. You could be as one who enters into a serene and secret garden, where suddenly, the silence of blubbering ceases, and your mind crystallizes.


You are the people, and no matter your past vote, you have more power than one man’s ploys. You can forbid his doctrine and not remain astray. While you’re a host of greatness forever reclaiming your liberation, you’ve also the freedom to make his presence, his disturbed and loquacious visit, a memory. Everyone falters, everyone knows the anger of manipulation — we’re all human. So, revise your independence for you all as, “We the People,” are the way to greatness.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 29/Saturday Mix: Poem- Quadrille – “Apprehensions: Night Tears Through” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix


For NaPoWriMo Day 29 the prompt is: “to write a poem based on the Plath Poetry Project’s calendar. Simply pick a poem from the calendar, and then write a poem that responds or engages with your chosen Plath poem in some way.” I’m combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces and two sets of words suburb and city centre and repair and damage.


Credit: Maximo Valcarce via Unsplash


Plath Poetry Calendar: APPREHENSIONS

“There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself—

Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.

Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.

They are my medium.

The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.”


No walls to repair, or damage,

Creation’s infinite, sublime.

You tug at my heart —

Buds bursting,

Craving unknowns.

Amidst starlit skys.

Angels swimming,

Chiding indifference —

Knowing white walls,

Can’t entrap.

Not suburbsof children,

Or urbanspeakeasies,

Sparking, neglecting —

The sun’s dissolved,

Bleeding into pitch —

Light tears through.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 28/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Prose Poetry – “Wish You Were Here” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 28, the Prompt is: “to draft a prose poem in the form/style of a postcard.” Also, I’m combining prompts with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Prompt with same but different words. The words are: paint, release, fan, light, and clothes.


Credit: Any Maislon – Google


Dear L,

I’m off on a beach, the honey sand is hot beneath my feet. I’ve slathered in sunscreen every half-hour, but my arms are blushing-red. Finding a swimsuit or two here, that covers is difficult. The waves crash against the shore, but the rhythm is lulling.

I wish you were here, but I needed this time to do nothing, to think about nothing. I feel freed from so much confusion. Today, well this last week, I’ve come to the beach to read and lose myself within a pile of books. I even visited a used bookstore and left my tablet. It’s so hot I was afraid it might melt if in the brushed-orange sun.

This morning I wandered some of the boutiques and shops in this small beach town. It was so nice, many shops had air-conditioning. I’m waving my novel every-few minutes here, as the afternoon heat is intense. But I’ll walk back to my B&B soon to avoid the worst of the sun and apply Aloe Vera. Then, I’ll come back as the gleam of the sunsetting glows in the twilight sky.

We’ll talk soon, and I’ll mail another postcard. Really do wish you were here. You could use the break too.

Love,

A


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.