#OctPoWriMo Day 26/Photo Challenge: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Words Slighted” #amwritingpoetry #PhotoChallenge #MLMM


For OctPoWriMo Day 26 the Prompt was inside out. Combining with NEKNEERAJ’s Photo Challenge Prompt.


What is inside you (thoughts, feelings etc) that should be out to the world, but aren’t? Do you have anything inside you that is out, but that you didn’t want to be? Or maybe you are relieved that these ‘inside’ feelings are finally ‘out’?


Credit: Ingrid Endel


Inside me is a puzzle, but you’ve each —

Deciphered yours; you see what you want to see.

And you see what I’ve hidden, cracks that bleed;

Floorboards uncovered, with mystery screech.

You can’t with irate words, pretend to preach,

When you’re knowledge is without ‘word’ essence;

You can’t know truth as golden feathers pressed.

Her name unfurling, a diamond-angel’s speech.

Each syllable’s a traveller wandering.

Vague, lost, content, but curious pondering,

Which roads to amble, in sunlight or rain.

I know we’re all great puzzles, but we’re all —

Poets, writers too; we know despite falls,

Secrets buried within our stories told;

Truth’s a pact; words slighted by Cupid’s bow.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 5/ Three Line Tales: Poem – Haikus – “Garden Faeries Direct”#amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


For Day 5 NaPoWriMo, the Prompt is: “to write a poem beginning with a photo, and find a poem in a language you don’t know (here’s a good place to look!) Ignore any accompanying English and translate the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is “about” your photograph. Also, thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Vek Labs via Unsplash


“The Hand Writes on the Mind: An Arrow ” By Manuel Gusmão

*****

a mão escreve na mente: a flecha

que viaja no papel a rosa dos ventos:

a clave do sol; la clef des jardins;

a chave como um comboio de criança

passando num pátio com palmeira, entre

o crepúsculo branco e a manhã vermelha;

a cidade crescera como os arcos das ondas

ao encontro das aéreas construções das nuvens;

a meio caminho triângulos acesos ondeavam

e a terra recordava-se murmurante

das raízes das árvores eléctricas

em cujos ramos brilhavam os peixes

profundos.

Nem com setas habitarias tal pátria

e por isso as pões na pintura que delira

e desenhas uma fairy queen: um canto

árabe uma princesa árabe escrita em sarapilheira

e aureolada pelo napalm; a floresta em construção

multiplica a lua cheia pelas paliçadas lacustres;

os barcos navegam uma noite branca

que se ergue como um monte iluminado

por monstruosas flores irregulares

em cruz e em espiral à tua espera


Arrow tattooed, handwritten —

Indelible; fay unseen, these —

Wide-eyed pixies.

*****

Sun crests, arises while we —

Recline in the garden,

Crystal fleurs flourish. *****

Vermilion twilight’s spell cast,

Faeries amidst foliage dance,

Directions unknown.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writers: Poem – Bop – “The Hiding Place”  #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #nature 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting last week’s FFftAW. 

———

Credit: Pamela S. Canepa

———

Take me down to the places on hidden —

Paths let’s hike; the lush forest has bidden, 

That we heed her wild calls exploring. 

Let us find all nooks, crannies, and more, 

Let’s find the secrets in this forest, 

Masked for centuries, deep secrets unknown. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

This landscape has its hardships it’s paths —

Twisted and sometimes steep, but we climb past —

All obstacles, find glorious treasures. 

Unafraid in tranquil woods we measure, 

Distances by landmarks, certain trees, —

Curved trunks bowing; see nature’s masterpiece. 

Hiking as far as we can, giant rocks near, 

Hearing the river’s voice trickling clear. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

At night we lie on air mattresses we’re, 

Wrapped in sleeping bags, lost in our dreams. 

The river’s language a tongue we know, 

Then, the sun is high, breakfast made, we go —

To explore our secret, the enchanted world, 

Life is short, peaceful quiet it restores. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights a Reserved. 

Day 8 – NaPoWriMo/AtoZchallenge/Music Prompt: Poem – Laurenelle – “Together” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


For Day 8 of NaPoWrMo the prompt is writing a poem with repetition. For letter of the A to Z Challenge. I’m also completing the challenge of writing for Friday’s Music Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and the song “Jeter Un Sort” by French-Canadian musician Alex Nevsky. 

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Credit: HD Wallpapers

——-

“We be light, we be life, we be fire! We sing electric flame, we rumble underground wind, we dance heaven! Come be we and be free!” ― Kate Griffin, A Madness of Angels

——-
I cast a spell, not knowing what resulted, 

Whatever the time or secrets you kept. 

We’re so closely linked it’s hard to default. 

Casting a spell you poisoned; I was swept, 

Your magic undid me, your mystic chase, 

When I’m without you, life feels bereft. 

I did not know how long our lives would each grace —

The others life with fun, forgiveness, trust, 

A connection that binds us, incases. 

Clumsiness and emptiness touched —

Our lives; we’re still intimately linked. 

Chains who will not separate with distrust. 

Didn’t know we’d become indelible ink, 

Lives intangled, passionate natures. 

Time ticks by, let our magic continue linked. 

We’re the one, the other wants sated. 

Your arms keep me safe, and hold me so close, 

Let’s remain woven through magic correct, 

Our relationship solid, causes chosen 

To live, to be us, what God has transposed 

I casted a spell not knowing what resulted, 

Whatever the time or secrets you kept. 

———


——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain(2) – ” The Perks of Floating” #amwriting #poetry 


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


Credit: Josh Hayes

 

I have a great deal of trouble staying straight up grounded,

If you got to know me, you’d see at times I feel confounding.

I don’t understand it myself,

But imagination is wealth.

So I know it’s okay to fly,

Up into the grayish sky.

Because I know how to make black and white turn colorful,

I can make a life of gray tones light so wonderfully.

——

It’s not that I’m anything unusual, different,

Then anybody else or even those who write proficiently.

But anyone who inks the page,

Knows what writers create engaged,

It’s exciting, magical,

Uplifting, and illogical.

The writer illustrates, cuts, folds, does the restitching —

Of stories; ripping out seams until what is left enriches.

——

It’s not easy to comprehend the scribbles and —

You find delicious cake baked, chocolate rich and grand,

Icing so sweet, flavor melding,

A creation vivid felt.

Picture perfect, read with pride,

And more delightfulness resides,

Hidden inside these golden words so captivating,

Intoxicating, ethereal, rising enraptured.

——-

Perhaps it’s not clear, why I let a balloon carry me floating,

It’s just, I’m seduced by language, writing, hopeful words wrote.

So protecting myself from —

Life’s elements thrumming,

Inside me, around me — I’m safe,

Despite trolls, odd notes of hatred.

I keep honing my craft, in my prettiest flats,

My comfortable wool coat; the writing it lifts me enwrapped.

——-

I let the fates lead me where the wind blows me, knowing,

I could be entrenched in editing woes, left moaning.

But I keep going with my muse,

Taking all of her abuses.

‘Cause they teach me burying —

My secrets, is so worrying.

My inspirations keep the balloon drifting, rising,

I have a great deal of trouble, but my writing makes me smile, surviving.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Octain Refrain – “Three Lights” #amwritng #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

——

Credit: A Mixed Bag

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

A night deep, the black ink deftly hiding, 

Criminals, the lost, truly evil find. 

Misdeeds better performed where every sound —

Is a nightmare calling, no justice found. 

Unrevealed secrets proffered, ungrounded, 

Realization of innocents expounding

Out here ‘neath stars, curse of night, hurt resides. 

Three light in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black ’round, 

Presence of luminescence, rats scatter . 

Lights are strong, don’t flicker, they matter. 

Bring attention to the wounded, those drowned

All their sorrows piling-up —burdens

Shine your light thrice, save them for certain. 

Demonstrate there’s another way clattering

Sing songs of broken hearts; at last they’re found. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

Though we may fear darkness, here there’s no need, 

As long as there’s light radiant, just heed. 

Never let your fears overcome, light resounds, 

Washes out creepersshadows; it centres.  

Gives hope for tomorrow, transformed life mends

Malevolence abounds, stay grounded

Light always wins —brilliance all precedes. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


SpillWords Published Poem: Free Verse – “The Persistent Consistence of Water” #amwriting #poetry 


Hey, just sharing another poem published on http://www.spillwords.com, to whom I’m grateful to collaborate with. I think you guys have seen it before but here it is again:

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The Persistent Consistence of Water” By Amanda Eifert

http://www.spillwords.com

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “The Persistent Consistence of Water” #amwriting #poetry #audio



————

If the words keep on dripping, the drops from a tap;
A problem, no plumber can seem to fix.

And drops gather close, become oceans of water. 

And swimmers keep treading, doing laps through drops of water. 
Drips and drops, no solutions and no answers.

Problems with solutions; problems never existed — solutions solve nothing.

But to mix up a cocktail or solve some chemical equation.

There are no answers, if you’re terrible at math. 

Or drink, until the solution is being drunk.

Keep drilling away, chiseling, at the stone edifice.

You know you’ll carve something,

Or perhaps, the water does the carving?

Deposits sediment and cuts through rocky banks.

Making rivers deep and wide, 

Building-up, forming, layers of silt and rock,

Until a Canyon has formed; red-sand glow, Arizona sky,

Grey rock interspersing, with shimmering crystal white; 

Glimmering blue-santorini water flows through.

Perhaps, sometime a millennia ago.

Waters made of drops of water.

Drip dripping from the sky through humanities history, 

The weather of a million dark and stormy nights.

Oceans of droplets, oceans eroding rock in rivers with deltas and gorges; black and deep.

Deep deep the secrets these gorges do keep,

The water disappearing, chasing the blackness it seeks,

Drip dripping droplets and they fall down the window.

Where little children trace the drops with their tiny fingers.

And breathing in steamed windows, 

See the O’s made by their precious little mouths.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 
 

Fiction: It Began In An Elevator #fiction #amwriting #elevators 


http://www.mademen.com

———–

It began in an elevator. One of those unexpected moments which occur in life. You were gazing at me and I looked up at you transfixed; there was a sparkle in your blue eyes. 
As the elevator went higher, the people emptied out onto their respective floors. Eventually, we were alone. 

I felt my breathing quicken and could hear your breath speed up beside me. I listened to you breath, in and out, desire for you rushing through my veins. 

There had been a meter between us in the elevator, now you somehow were right beside me. I could smell your cologne: ocean, vanilla, and a note of something sweet. 

I felt your eyes peering down at me, inspecting me from head to toe. The mirrors around the elevator reflected my image: Shiny black booties, polk-a-dot hose, a black A-line skirt, and a hot-pink sleeveless blouse. Makeup lightly done, eyes bare except for mascara and black eyeliner, and pink lipstick. My light blond hair was braided, stray hairs framing my face.

You saw me, catching you giving me the once over and you smiled genuinly, daring me to look you over. My eyes discovered your form: tall, and lithely muscled, wearing a navy pin-stripped suit, grey dress shirt, and a grey-blue tie. The tie matched your blue eyes exactly and your face was freshly shaved with a defined jaw; your brown hair curled slightly at your collar.

I blushed, staring at my booties, comparing them to your designer shoes. It felt as if the  elevator wasn’t moving at all, or maybe time was standing still.

 “You look pretty,” you told me. Your voice deep and a bit husky. “I like your perfume, it’s floral but not overwhelming; it smells delicious.” You gave me a devasting smile and I nearly swooned.

Instead, I gathered my wits and smiled back at you, blushing again.”I like your navy suit,” I stammered. “The blue, blue of the tie and the navy of the suit, it matches your eyes. And your cologne, it smells wonderful.” 

I couldn’t believe what I said. I saw you grinning at me from the corner of my eye as I stared shyly down at my boots.  It wasn’t normal for me to be so nervous, my heart beat so furiously. 

You tipped my chin up to better look me in the eye.

“The elevator.It’s not moving,” I said.

You chuckled, “I made it stop. If only for a moment or two.”

“Why?” 

But then, your lips touched mine. Soft and questing at first. Gently, coaxing my month open, until your tongue danced inside. Rubbing and sucking on my tongue, causing me to sigh and fall against you.

I returned your kiss grabbing the lapels of your jacket, kissing you harder, wanting more of you, of your magic taste, your delicious mouth all over my skin. Your arms came around my body, holding me close.

Suddenly, the elevator started moving up again. We both pulled back from each other panting. 

“Why did it start again?” I asked. 

You gazed at me with your intense blue eyes, still gathering yourself.  “I’m not sure. You have to have high-clearance to make the elevator start and stop. I didn’t make the elevator move again. Believe me!” 

Before we could say more, a beautiful woman with dark hair, walked into the elevator on the twenty-sixth floor. The woman smiled at as both, not oblivious to what had gone on between us minutes before.

“You have lipstick on your face, darling,” she said to you. Your face went pale and you tried to speak but the woman only laughed at you.”Don’t say a thing, you do this all time. But I’m your wife and I know, you’ll always come back to me.” 

Your wife exited at the top most floor and you gave me a longing gaze, whispering: “I’m sorry.” In only a few minutes, you broke my heart.  

——-

What is it about elevators? I wondered later. My recent experience with you made me think of many TV shows and movies, where elevators have great symbolic and/or metaphorical value.
Elevators are the place for the beginnings of trysts and romances, as I had hoped today would be. They are the places stopped for people to reveal truths and secrets. They are a place where the everyday manners and values are quickly forgotten. Elevators can even be symbolic of life and death.

Today, I felt cheated. I thought the elevator was our beginning. In reality, I had been caught in the middle of some rotting relationship. You were extremely deceitful and right now, I can’t forgive you for what you did. Your lies have killed my attraction to you.

 So much so, on Monday when I see you get in an elevator, I will wait for the next elevator going up to arrive. I know you’ll notice, it’s exactly what I hope. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.