Poem: Nonet- ” I was her, once”


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the word prompt envy.

—–

Sophie Loren envies Jayne Mansfield
Sophie Loren Envies Jayne Mansfield (www.curitibainenglish.com)

—–

Insidious sin from within me,

Walking beside, head turned to her,

What about me, blank space beside,

Unnoticeable me,

Been with you a while,

You stopped seeing,

Invisible,

little

me.

——

When I catch you in the backroom,

Looking at her full of desire,

Kissing her face with love,

Green demon inside flails,

Screeching, betrayal,

Not understanding,

Envious,

I was her,

So loved,

Once.

—-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

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Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers: “Demonic Beauty”


Enclosed in the bar, eyes magnify; temptress in red, silk sliding on skin.

Sway in her hips, a tease of the senses. Men breathless consent, adoring sin.

Striding with ease, heels ruby with diamonds. Naked shoulders shimmer, anticipating.

Treading softly, fallen in red fire, elusive, and beguiling; illusion of flames sating.

Moving her hips, licking cherry red lips; coal glimmer in demonic eyes.

Sensations burning, engulfs her body; seething, writhing, building her disguise,

A vestige of power; she’s the tyger enticing, an allusion to Eden, of poisonus lies.

Decisive, sauntering closer, flicking hair, tar-black as the ash before Lent.

Peer into eyes, a glimmer of gold, metal men grieve for; silence, fire scent.

A vision, a curse, a whisper in vain — animating, the instrument on stage, 

Notes dance, music bleeding; breathing sweat, the melody of the enraged,

Fire rings, smoke engulfing; watch the woman despair, her voice entrances, beware–

Beauty enraged, a witch, incaged; performing she’s the beast, on stage no cares.

——-
 

http://www.pixebay.com
 

Thanks to Priceless Joy our wonderful host of FFfAW.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Camaflouge – “Demon Within.”


If you look closely and try, 

You may see things that are alive. 

That hide behind the veil lifted;

Reveals a soul oh so dark , 

Utterly twisted at heart.

You may see things huge and torn,

A memory of childhood born,

And blood seeping through the core,

 And not a place you want to live.

What unstable being lerks within,

When we see passed our own sin,

Seek forgiveness and find that,

A monster still lerks there in.

He hides with growls and much power;

He is the epic Grendle to slay,

Did Beowulf forget to prey,

A seething demon hiding,

Would never arise again and–

We can’t hide behind our horror.

We can’t decide we’re afflicted,

And let the demon in his —

Golden palace glitter sleep.

We must fight the monster hid,

Deep beneath our normal-self.

The part that no one can see,

The soul in a dark prison,

A prison of ebony.

What capricious darling,

Needs to be torn to pieces.

The light envades the darkest–

Places in our hearts and minds,

My soul wakes up to find that God,

Designed us a Camaflouge,

We should never hide from He

Who is every space and those —

 Hidden inbetween sight.

We are able to find within what–

Has hid and free ourselves from —

A captivity and find–

A dream of peacefulness,

Divine providence, focus.

Don’t let the darkness win the

War for your soul and fight it–

You are hidden away and–

Safe, once condemned but alive,

With the coming of the light,

Remove the shackles and clothes,

That hid the human within the 

Walls of oppression and sin;

Of Camaflouge you have —

No need, go now, be at peace. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

The Confusion


Confusion enters my bones every time you write to me.
Just a little quip, and you’ll take what you need.
You make me think, what if I just gave in?
Temptation what a horrible mistress you are.
If I just gave in, would it be bliss?
If I broke my promises just for a little bit.
If allowed myself to sin just for a moment.
Would I remember that night for a long long time?
Could I handle the guilt, or would it eat me alive.
Would I be comfortable with you, could I trust you?
The biggest problem is I want to be your friend.
You would douse me in delusion for awhile.
And then let me go, used, and abused.
Now you beg and you beg.
But another day you’d order me away.
Who are you to control me?
I am independent and free and I have my morals.
I hang onto them I do, when you would hold temptation before me
And I would reach out and touch, but to be burned.

Poetry: Some kind of Grace


Tried to put my life together one more time.
The advantage of time, you’ll just turn it to ashes again.
There’s no such thing as perfection, just a rejection.
Please don’t let me dig a hole I can’t climb out of this time.

Money is power and money is king.
So hard being a material girl, when you haven’t much treasure.
But we survive the days of little wealth, and find in comfort
“I can survive on my own, I can live on what I have, and that makes it okay to
Want what you often must turn your back on.”
But digging holes is what I do daily.

Your choking me now with the thickness of black smoke
That acrid taste that leaves fire in my mouth.
I’ve burnt another bridge, How long before I burn?
You can be forgiven a million times, pray to heaven,
And be replete and renewed in forgivenesses’ blissfulness.

But sometimes you beg for contrition and it’s not a pretty sight.
Pray to not sin those sins again, but sin works in “spirals”
And takes the sinner from “pride”to “despair,” and there is nothing in the middle.
For no one can contain the soak of poison into our veins.

Vanity, is a place I often lie, and think about the beauty that values things
More makeup, more contour, more glitter, more perfume.
Live the life of luxury or step down from your tower and just be human
Pretty and forget to be vain, but vanity and pride sit together as twins
Dig another hole, die another day, live and let live oh but for the propensity of sin.

To touch everyone and everything.
Make them mad again, play my hand again, lose their trust again.
I can only make right what I have confessed, else I’m caught in wrong doing.
Else, I’m sucked in by the twisting of what is good.
When Eve took the apple she sucked and “she ate,” I ate it with her, she should have known, mother of all. That witch!

And I aim for a life where I can have more control because I have less of it.
I aim for a life where it’s okay to smudge your face and pick yourself back up.
Be a little kinder, help a little more, and I find God in the strangest places,
Coaxing me on, let go of everything, come follow me.
And I stumble along contrite for a minute until I twist my ankle in some unlikely hole.
I should know where it is, I was the one who dug it.

And I know moments of grace, undeserved and glorious,
But I’m always searching for that little bit of hope.
Where grace clothes me and I’m adorned, a creature of sin,
Once rejected and torn, now I sit at my father’s heels and I’m content.
No longer forlorn. I am accepted a stranger no more.
For my time…and in eternity forever.

Works Cited

– Milton, John. Paradise Lost.