Sleep – Mandibelle16

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.

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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

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Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry

March 30, 2017March 31, 2017 mandibelle16

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

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Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain.

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

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Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage

March 26, 2017March 27, 2017 mandibelle16

Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.

Collage MLMM — Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

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Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

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In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

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Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse —

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

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Cherries,

You’re sexy as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe —

Cherries.

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As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

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Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands —

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

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Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.

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Notable Quotes March 2017 Part One #quotes #pinterest

March 1, 2017February 22, 2017 mandibelle16

Happy March. Enjoy the quotes and I do apologize if there are doubles from last month. I try to delete those out of my pictures but forget sometimes 🙂

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10.

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14.

Credit: Credit: http://www.pinterest.com

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15.

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Photo Challenge: Poem – Quatrains – “Tale of The Floating Bride” #poetry #amwriting

February 15, 2017February 15, 2017 mandibelle16

Thanks to NEEKNERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge prompt.

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Enchanting child in slumber keep,

Red hair surrounds you as you sleep.

I wait for you to wake from your dreams,

No longer a porcelain doll preened.

*****

A wedding gown white lace so frothy,

Mother hoped your match was lofty.

That you’d found your life partner,

Your prince, your man, for life to start.

*****

But day by day you grew sad,

When pressed with his kisses ran.

Empty feeling inside you grew,

Like a butterfly away flew.

*****

Mischievous child, pain grew,

His fist at your face straight-on flew.

Hiding the bruises with powder,

Not even concealer shrouds.

*****

Pride vital to you, tiny doll,
Escaped; no one to catch your fall.
Fly in dreams with delicate wings,

Winter ends, it’s soon your spring.

*****

Gather your courage –call it off;

Don’t marry him, don’t be soft.

In front of the crowd, show each cut,

Let them see bruises, you must.

*****

So they know an abuser,

Isn’t good enough, he’s a loser.

He broke your velvet wings,

Your sanity held by strings.

*****

But it was too late even then,

The lake too close; so your end.

Now you float, butterfly who swims,

Eternity of light your win.

*****

We tried to save a doll of glass,

But on death she shattered, passed.

Down below the water’s dark depth,

She’s tranquil, free; although, she leapt.

*****

Mind too distorted, destroyed,

Lover’s hands threw her like a toy.

World tough; his madness changed them both,

In Heaven she smiles free to float.

*****

He mourns her death each day, each drink,

Pretty soon his rage him too sinks.

Accidents happen to the unaware,

She pulled him in, drowned his despair.

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: New Beginnings #flashfiction #fiction #amwriting

February 4, 2017February 4, 2017 mandibelle16

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting.

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(Hello! Just noting this piece had a mind of its own and is somewhat longer than the usual 200 words. Cheers!)

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“Closing time / One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer.” The mellow lines Semisonic floated into Tyrelle’s ears.

It was 2:00 a.m. and his friends, Jordan and Simone, were trying to shut their house party down, arranging places for closest friends to sleep and for others to catch a cab home. Tyrelle nursed his last drink for the night. As per usual, he was upset these days.

His beautiful Cleo should’ve been with him here tonight, ensuring he didn’t feel like such a recluse at his friends’ party. He hadn’t been in the mood for a party but since Cleo had ended things three-months ago, he knew he needed to move on.

More Semisonic lyrics played through from an IPad:”Closing time / Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.”

Tyrelle watched as Simone finally locked the front door. She peered at at him and moved to give him a short friendly back rub. “You still miss Cleo, huh?”

“Yeah, everyday. Does it get easier?” Tyrelle asked her.

Simone sighed, “Before Jordan, I was with Blake and I thought he was it. Then he broke my heart and for months after, I didn’t function well.”

“After a while I stopped thinking about Blake as much. I realized I resented the hold he had had on me. Then I chose to become involved in life. I volunteered and I saw more friends and family. Not long after, I met Jordan,” Simone said smiling.

Tyrelle smirked. As if what Simone said could ever be possible for him. Then he remembered the last line in the Semisonic song. About how other things had to end for better and new things to begin. So that’s what he decided to do — to begin anew.

He picked up his phone and blocked Cleo’s number. Tyrelle unfriended and blocked her on every social media. Tomorrow he would start going to a different gym location then Cleo to workout and he would go to a different grocery store by his condo to shop as well. Finally, he grinned, he would get a new haircut.

Yes, it was time to live again.

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“Closing Time” by Semisonic

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Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Licentia - aabbccddeeAA, BBffgghhiiAA, CCjjkkllmmAA, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Poem – Licentia – “Some Magical World” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers

January 31, 2017January 31, 2017 mandibelle16

Last week’s Tale Weavers prompt was for us to write about a magical place. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting.

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Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.

A hole in the ground or Wonderland?

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland?

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling

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A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

A hiding place where I often prefer,

Don’t search for me in my valley secure.

I’m riding raindrops, kissing the sun,

I’ve never had so much freedom or fun.

Gentlemen here, always decent and sweet,

A wink in their eye, naughty whispers keep.

They’ll treat a girl well, hold tight if she weeps,

And if you would like, they’ll love you to sleep.

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

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Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.
Gerber daisies everywhere with roses,

Brilliant vivacity, colors exposed.

Pixies trailing their dust eternally,

Wings of lace light night, give hope certainly.

Everything’s first bloom, so never spurn,

This place humbles beautiful; with tears yearn.

No contacts, surgery needed to peer,

With clarity of soul, all vision clears.

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling

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A hole in the ground or Wonderland?

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland?
Here is my land, I’m caregiver among —

Faeries with animals exotic, young.
In their best-years forever, conversing —

Plainly; furry adore cuddles, nothing terse.

A tiger cub sits by me so befuddled,

When wolf pup becomes part of our den.

When I cheer because each word I’ve written —

Makes sense; stories flow unrestricted.

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling

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Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.
A comfortable place where I sit typing,

Art studio where brush strokes have foresight.

Friends visit often, chocolate’s water,

No weight gained, eight squares a day should be sought.

Parties like Gatsby’s with flapper clothing,

Each night unique theme, we don’t bemoan.

As if we’re happy drunk with extra spunk,

Able to keep life in moderation’s trunk.

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

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Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Where The Arched Doorways Lead #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction

January 20, 2017January 22, 2017 mandibelle16

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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“The [girl] who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the [girl] who went out. [She] will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging [her] ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend”

― Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

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“Where do those doors lead, the arches are beautiful. Is there groin-vaulting in between each arched doorway?”

The tour guide stared at sixteen-year-old Tina who was a surprise student of art history. “If you wish to discover the architectural features of the building, you must find them exploring, it’s how things are done here,” he said.

Tina watched as other students from her high school trip went exploring in pairs, while she ‘the know it all,’ was left on her own.

She walked through the first arched doorway and turned to see the tour guide watching her enter, “What is the purpose of these long hallways of arches. Do they end?”

The tour guide sighed, “Go see for yourself. Sometimes experience is the best kind of knowledge.”

Tina began following a series of arched doorways. She was filled with both trepidation and a strong urge to succeed, finding the exit.

At times she had to choose a direction to travel when four different archways presented themselves. She kept walking until she was frustrated, bored, and tired. Then Tina lay down, resting her head on her jacket to sleep.

In the morning she was relieved to find the exit. Last night she had thought she would never find a way out of this maze. She felt like a changed person today.

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Poem: Quatrains: “What Never Heals”

January 10, 2017January 10, 2017 mandibelle16

“I know that’s what people say– you’ll get over it. I’d say it, too. But I know it’s not true. Oh, you’ll be happy again, never fear. But you won’t forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.”

― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

******

One day you promised me the pain,

Would eventually heal, I’d be —

Free from photographs and the shame.

While I am here, tears streaming.

Out of my mind, of my head,

Did you burn memories seething?

They never left my soul, they’re undead,