Tale Weavers: Poem – Alouette – “Entrapped” #taleweavers #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt on having a dark side or the dark side of life. 

——

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——

” . . .Don’t get to close its dark inside. It’s where my demons hide, it’s where my demons hide” – “Demons” by Imagine Dragon

——-

They’re people we meet, 

In them darkness keeps. 

A veil over haunted eyes, 

Something telling weighs, 

Light badly betrays;

Shadows lift, they’re undisguised

—–

Putting on a face, 

Something’s hidden; pace —

Steadily, you’re caught thinking. 

Truth can be harmful, 

Darkness it swarms. 

Seeming ruse has us shrinking. 

——

To start, talk awhile;

Some demons revile

Other darkness isn’t asked for it’s, 

Unfairly gifted, 

Souls broken, shifted;

Waiting for light at home lit. 

——-

No one is so lost, 

They can’t be reformed. 

Shadows hold tightly, a hand —

Gives hope in the dark,

Heals bruising black marks. 

Keep helping, say: “Here’s my hand.” 

—–

Though darkness found can —

Be fearful, programmed, 

In those with no conscience led;

Most people are sought, 

It happens a lot;

We’re trapped in nightmares dread

—–

But the light of hope, 

In dawn always glows

Derelict souls need help, change, 

Is possible;

Not impossible. 

Leave no one entrapped; estranged. 

—–

©Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Advertisements

Poem: Free Verse – “Second Chance Child” #amwriting #fiction #poetry #adoption


http://www.wallpaperlayer.com

———

Ageless pages, in words transform, 

Who are you to be so adorable? 

Dreaming in daylight, waking in sleep;

Cherub cheeks and supple skin, 

Bright eyes so blue and curious, 

A baby giggling, gurgling.

So mysterious, you came from —

A woman who wouldn’t mother you;

Maybe she couldn’t? Or perhaps, she refused?

But I wonder how she shut herself off from you? 

Leaving your beautiful face, curious reflection

Your cutesy, adorable infant-self, 

Imprinting on another woman.

We all know you’re little, need protection, 

We need remember you’re delicate, cuddle you close.

She didn’t know; how could she not?

How did she leave? 

And when you were adopted and grew,

Did you care anymore? Yet being so small, 

The new woman before you, you loved.

She became the lights in your eyes, the stars in your sky, 

Until half-grown one day, walking with friends, 

You overheard parents talking of you –adopted? 

Such conflicting feelings and such anger, 

Wrapped in teenaged angst. 

Why didn’t she want you? 

She gave you away;

You’re mad at the woman who raised you, 

Your real mother, but not by blood.

Because in your adopted mother’s face you see, 

The face of the one who left you alone.

On those cold wet cement steps (you learn),

Before you could do anything.

Defenceless, you imagine yourself a babe, 

Left to die — or be found by someone horrible. 

But you are here and here you are

The day you find your first mother, 

The biological one you loath, 

You see the drug affects, the needle tracts, 

On her arms, the scars, and the abuse. 

Forty-something woman seems as if she’s sixty hard-lived.

Skin as leather, smoker’s cough, raspy voice, 

Shows you a picture of a much prettier woman, 

Her so young, walking the wrong path. 

Now she’s smiling and patting your hand, 

So relieved you’ve come to see her now. 

One wonderful and beautiful thing she birthed. 

She erases the rage you’ve acquired, 

Makes you feel not so mad because you know, 

She didn’t want you to be her one day.

So she did what she had to do for youshe sacrificed. 

And you mourn for her, for you —

All the time you wasted hating.

When at home lives your real mother,

And before you lies a stranger,

Your biological connection to her dying.

A string formed between you of DNA;

A reason she gave you up, 

To live and thrive through life a better way.

So, young one, I hope you do. 

Your second chance, 

Has always been yours

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Petrarchen Sonnet – “When Autumn Falls” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt on the changing of seasons into Fall and how it influences our thinking.

——-

Credit: Mara Eastern with permission.

——–

Leaves begin to change, butterscotch yellow, 

The reds and oranges blaze into being.

I’ve even seen dark purple plum seeming, 

To alter green from summers pleasant glow.

Sunlight fades to shorter nights, cold wind blows.

Shorts and sandals packed, sadly left dreaming.

Of gorgeous nights spent breathing warmth, now seeing —

Prayers streaming to God, please yet keep the snow. 

——–

Favourite season, feel comfortable walking, 

Strewn leaves, scented decay and pleased —

On the porch still sipping wine and talking.

No sunburns now, most loved fashion season, 

Fancy boots and shoes; snow please stop stalking. 

Always unwanted, snow comes, lace knocking.

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Paper Bag Princess.”


  
Here’s for the meanings and the seemings,

The words we’ve been breathing, though they are concealing,

We’re never hidden behind steal, or a solid wall of bricks.

And we’re shamed, peeking out of ‘the cupboard,’ hiding like the Indian did from a childhood book.

 We move through our thoughts, the glances of others who don’t understand —

What it means to remain hidden.

——

They’re all out there with their sunglasses and dreamy looks,

 In a world finding love, come together — some love separates. 

And I haven’t spent the days before Valentine’s Day dreaming,

 I don’t need a man to give me flowers or chocolates. 

I don’t need more demands and inferences of combinations dialled,

Short and electric, but fizzles and drizzles, as the rain pours outside. 

Dividing our time between sleeping and daylight,

And the sun keeps on rising; 

I keep on imprivising all the things I’m construing,

In a mind filled with despising a guy who I left.

Who made me know what it hurts like to feel neglect,

After he’s gone on, but still calling — I wish he would stop.

 That I could forget all about these “tygers” and their wants. 

I’m not happy nor comfortable, unless they get their cut, pieces of my being;

They’re dividing me among each other, taking the best cuts and leaving the scraps.

—–

And outside is a puppy and I want to hold her, because she doesn’t need much —

Only to eat, walk, cuddle, play, and go wee.

She needs her nails clipped and her teeth brushed sometimes. 

I’m a woman begging everyday of her life for things I’m uninspired to give,

If you won’t even attempt to do better, make it as important as a ‘business deal.’

 I’m not above you or below you you dirty-thirty-something.

 I’m just looking for meaning among people who are loyal.

I’m caught in my dreams, betwixt the real and the “real” in this Wonderland. 

And if we look through the ‘looking glass’ we only see people in poverty,

Who are thinking only of eating and surviving. 

Loving doesn’t matter much when you are looking for fresh water, 

When you’re sickly and dying — or does it matter most?

——

But here, won’t you hear me —

In our first- world of problems — 

I’m trying! I’m trying — but it’s never enough.

You dragons eat your steaks and leave me with nothing but my dry bones. 

You ravish a ‘paper-bag princess’ and leave her without a stitch;

Clothes that cover her heart.

And you suck her organs dry of blood and all matter,

You leave a her exposed for the vultures to grasp at,

 You break open a bottle of liquor and the whole room explodes, 

Covered in champagne and the bubbles make you choke.

Sifting through closets, cover up my exposed heart,

I don’t want to reveal myself but in the “real” world I must.

 Because if your broken your fixable and can be put back together,

 A mirror that’s shattered and eternally busted.

——

And these words may make little sense but that’s what you call — prose poetry,

Of a girl, who’s  a woman, who’s a child, who’s lured by the promises,

Of a blackness so bleak no one can see in front of their face,

Because in the darkest depths, the light shines brightest.

Arise and save yourself, 

Think of the words to describe your freedom desired —

Taylor Swift wrote it well: ” It’s too late for you and your white horse to catch me now.”

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Septolet – “Dragon’s Fire.”


The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information on this form.

——

 

http://www.pinterest.com
 
——

Engaging demon,

Caught dreaming, 

Roars.

——

Rapid movement,

Teeth snapping, 

Crash.

—–

Couldn’t perceive,

Dragon’s burning,

Embers.

—–
Comatose seeming,

Monster gleaming 

Terror.

—-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.