#OctPoWriMo Day 14/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “ A Safety Net” #amwritingpoetry #100WordWednesday


For OctPoWriMo Day 14 the Prompt is If I Were Me. Also, combing with Bikurgurl’s #100WordWednesday.


Ask yourself, “If I were me…” what would that look like? Who are you really? Have you lost yourself in being a mother, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, father?


Credit: Toa Heftiba via Unsplash


Ask for the world, typify me,

Take advantage or carve my insides;

Pumpkin gutted.

I’ve chosen to take, the high road, to believe —

To have faith.

Not to see, things not there.

To reveal the truth,

Even though, curiosity may kill me.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t configure the puzzle pieces;

I’m a writer, I love a good mystery.

So, weave me a tale and I’ll unbind it thread by thread;

Only to see it’s trembling core, where light reveals the mayhem.

I wish for sunlight, carved tables with Zinfandel,

A place to write, you next to me;

No suffocation, no squeezing in my chest,

My liberty not at stake.

Complications, deviations, things I never expected;

Truth and disbelief collide as dynamite splashes.

I am the wind, I am the great detective,

No laudanum needed to dull the senses or to dream.

I am the Amazon and I am Alice,

Slipping back into Wonderland.

And I’ve discovered that beneath facades,

Can lie a beast with scales and teeth.

Slithering, slick, slime of rust,

Questionable creature, Adam’s fall —

Eve’s mistrust; and if I can’t have all the details,

Assemble words into some order,

My decisions might break not only I,

But lives lie in the balance.

One who needs, so I must give,

Because my Lord said give all you can;

And even if you’re wrong,

Heaven will be your table in the sunlight,

Where you can write and find tranquility:

The ambience of love.

If I Were Me,

Who knows,

For she is constantly moulded,

Her Creator’s hands her safety net.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 20/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free Verse – “Ember of Glory” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM #TaleWeavers


For #NaPoWriMo Day 20 the Prompt is: ” to write a poem that involves rebellion in some way. The speaker or subject of the poem could defy a rule or structure that’s been placed on them, or the poem could begin by obeying a rule and then proceed to break it.

Also, combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie TaleWeavers Prompt “exploring the concept of longing. What is it you long for? Health, holiday, freedom, love, understanding, acceptance.”


Credit: Robert Lukeman via Unsplash


These cubicles, they’re full —

But outside there’s fresh -air and freedom.

A world to explore, to engage to the core,

Outside these thin walls is liberty.

No more work burdens to bear,

So, the mountains and city steps I’ll climb.

And these cubicles, I’ll slice them full of holes,

Tacking up scenic pictures to inspire my soul.

Nature’s vibrant purple-skies as storms roll in,

Waterfalls that crash, and streams that gurgle.

Cars that absorb the grind of the rocky-road,

Spring zipping through the highways on four-wheels.

All in all, I’m forlorn, for the wide-great outdoors,

Scented pine-needles and decaying earth.

Wings of bubble-bees as they hit the breeze,

And flutter into pale-pink roses.

I’ll knock down these walls with hammers and saws,

Because no architect supposed workers crave sunlight.

No builder thought windows were essential to breathe,

That these gray walls, dense recycled air —

Aren’t places for humans to exist;

To flourish and grow, to be creative and problem-solve.

They’re the prisons where we labor to earn —

The visage of sunlight on rippling waters.

Oceans crashing against rocks —

The flow of rivers down the banks,

And the hustle of people as they swarm live-festivals,

Scamper for cool beer and watermelon.

When we peer to the ceiling, we’re searching for the sky,

So, you can call security, but either way, I’m escaping.

The green-grass is sweet and calling to me;

My heart beats for the tides’ ankle-deep caress.

And a tangerine sunset, it lives inside me,

The ember of glory that leads the way,

Through the dull-dread of each dreary workday.


©Mandibelle16. (2018).All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 12/Poet’s Pub: Poem – Haibun – “The Battle” #dVerse #poetry #amwriting


For NaPoWriMo Day 12, the Prompt is: to “write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. I have to my surprise, never written in this form, so here’s a definition from Haibun– Poets.org:


“Haibun is a poetic form that allows one to answer some of these questions while providing a fresh perspective through a lens that focuses on nature and landscape. Haibun combines a prose poem with a haiku. The haiku usually ends the poem as a sort of whispery and insightful postscript to the prose of the beginning of the poem. Another way of looking at the form is thinking of haibun as . . . a prose poem ending with a meaningful murmur of sorts: a haiku.”


Also, I’m combining with Paul Scribble’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub, poetic prompt on a quote about poetic arts. The two prompts fit together well.


To write about poetry is to believe that there are answers to some of the questions poets ask of their art, or at least that there are reasons for writing it, writes Michael Weigers, editor of the anthology This Art: Poems about Poetry (Copper Canyon Press, 2003).


Credit: FreeStocks.org via Unsplash


Past the ravine, the North Saskatchewan flows; ice on her surface where Spring’s murmuring waters compose. The snow floats, sheets of ice crack, confused, the rivers pull bursts through. Amidst howling winds and bitter nights of chill, Spring waltzes in with lilacs. But old-man winter berates with frost, slippery roads, broken sidewalks. Spring blossoms and explodes, to weave the buds that summon bees. Springs drugged words ignored, no lush greenery bursts. Leaves rot, the ice, the snow, the muck, the refuse mushed, derelict without Spring’s blossoms. She hums her tune, an heals Winter’s hacking cough; she pleads her assurance of poppy fields. The old-man shakes his fist with cantankerous growl — another ‘last’ snowstorm grits. The poet composes in metaphorical bliss, avoiding morn’s beams. The question of, “Why?” No matter. The question of, “How can I not?” Words that enthral.

*****

Sleep in poppy’s opium kiss,

Revel in sunlight’s verdant bliss;

Spring’s song; poet’s light.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo/Music Challenge: Sunlight Too #shortfiction #amwriting #dierksbentley


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting PhotoChallenge 200. Also, thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this last Friday’s Music Challenge “I’ll Be the Moon” by Dierks Bentley Ft. Maron Morris.


Credit: Justin Peters


“I’ll Be the Moon” by Dierks Bentley Ft. Maron Morris


It begins innocently. A few words, a few texts that turn into a few hundred messages. A few phone calls and coffees. A few drinks, and late night conversations. My phone lights up in the dark. “Where are you?”

“Come meet me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Kier, meet for a drink. For an hour, maybe two, maybe three.”

“Baby, I’m in.” I speed towards our favorite restaurant bar. Our relationship has never passed conversation. Eyes locked for eons, long enough to drown in each other’s presence.

Jovial talk and laughter echo as I open the worn door. I find you in the bar area, in are usual place. My pulse thumps louder and your smile lights up my heart. Elation and a sense of tranquility rushes through my veins.

You take a sip of your beer then, saunter over to greet me. Grabbing my cold hands, you warm them, caressing them before grazing the back of your hand against my cheek. Its silkiness stokes a fire, igniting embers inside me.

“Girl, you can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

You chuckle and lean into me, forehead against my chest. “Yeah, I’ve been missing the sight of you. I keep thinking about you.”

Your words are sweet relief, and our first kiss overwhelms me. I grasp your vanilla scented hair in my fingers. Your lips brush mine over and over. I nip your bottom lip, and the clammer of voices and TV’s in the bar fade.

I’ve dreamt of kissing you often. Is it even real? Then, you moan and the kiss elevates, lips melding, and tongues meeting faster; passion burns brighter in us both. We’re lost until a waitress pokes my shoulder. Her sharp nail bites, and breaks our fog.

“Hey, Kier.”

“Oh, Brandy. We’re kind of busy. I stare at your swollen lips, and prepare to dive back in for more.

You move away slightly, gripping my shirt, eyes wide. There’s enough room for Brandy to half squeeze and wiggle between our bodies.

“Kier, you want a beer? You haven’t ordered. There’s specials on tap or do you want your regular?” Brandy presses her red lips together. She. wiggles her chest against my side. Her scoop neck t-shirt leaves cleavage bulging. But I’m not interested in her and never have been.

I peer at you, your biting your lip. Your eyes narrow at Brandy. “My regular drink’s fine, Brandy.”

She peers at you and freezes. You roll your eyes and she flushes. Her lips form a practiced fake smile. Brandy sways her hips, teetering back to the bar on red heels.

You burst out laughing and snuggle into my checked shirt and chest. Then, you pull my my face down towards your lips. Your hands sneak around my back, and stroke my back beneath my shirt.

“Mmm.” I can’t help moaning. Our lips clash, the sparks between us explode. I lead you back towards the booth, where no one will bother us.

We converse, and make-out as if we’re both sixteen. We laugh for hour, and I never want the night to end. When your ringtone, “House of the Rising Sun” goes off, ‘his name’ pops up on your caller ID. I stare at the floor, hiding my disappointment.

You brush your hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, it’s time to leave. I need to go home. ‘He’s’ wondering where I am.”

I hate your excuses, but sigh against your neck. I place small wet kisses up your neck towards your velvet earlobe. You giggle and push me away half-heartedly.

I grasp your small chin. “Ain’t no one gotta know. Please, Mer, one more kiss before you go.”

As you walk away, I admire your toned legs, your skirt swishing around your knees. You stop, turning your head back, and flash your sweet blue eyes at me. Your coy smile lingers in my mind as you saunter out the door. You don’t know how sexy you are, even when you’re leaving me behind.

I grumble to myself, stretching out in the booth. What are you doing? She’s married and it’s going to get complicated. Then, my heart comments. It’s already complicated, Kier, and you know it. You might as well see it through and see what happens.

Brandy strolls up to me, sliding her hand down my arm. She’s young with glossy black hair and whisky-colored eyes, but she has no substance. Her beauty has nothing on your mahogany curls, sparkling green eyes, and your plush pink lips.

She lacks your ironic sense of humor and innate sweetness. I push Brandy off me and drink my third beer. I imagine your silk skin in my arms, that we’re in a place where no one disturbs us until we say so.

*****

A couple of days later you call me, distraught and weeping.

“I can’t do this to my husband, he loves me. We’ve ten-years together.” The weight of those years is in your voice. You’re audibly exhausted and frustrated; your tears pierce through me.

“So, he’s cheating, again?”

“Yeah, his fifth affair, that I know about.”

“Ten years, huh? I don’t wanna be a liar, Mer. And I don’t wanna be a fool, but I hate keeping our affair a secret. I’m sorry he’s cheating, but you deserve love too. Give us a chance. Leave ‘him.’ I would never cheat on you, and we’ll be so much better than you and ‘what’s his name.'”

“We are more. You’ve always been more to me than him, even when you left.” You’re whispering. I wander if you’re hiding in the laundry room, so ‘he’ doesn’t hear our call.

Your voice wobbles. “You’re all I have, ‘he’ doesn’t know me as you know me. He doesn’t love the me from long ago, or the me today. Kier, please always love me, and don’t let me go. Someday soon, this will all work out.”

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t care anymore. “Okay, Mer, for now our relationship can remain a secret. I will do this for you, if you want me to. Can you do this? Juggle your husband’s infidelities and us? Sometime soon you have to make up your mind. A man that treats you like ‘he‘ does isn’t worth your time.”

You cry louder. “I never thought I’d see you after all these years. I can’t let you go again. It ripped me apart when you left. It was the reason I married ‘him.’ I didn’t have to think about the hole in my heart from you, with ‘him;’ at least until his first affair.”

” I never meant to hurt you, but I had to leave, to see the world. Now I’m home, for good.”

“I’m glad. Are we going to meet tonight? ‘He’s’ going out to see her.”

” How about somewhere in-between where you and I live? If that’s what you want, we can meet as often as we’re able. I still feel as if you’re leavin’ me in the dark, accepting an affair. I want more. For now, he can be your sun and I’ll be your moon.”

“You’re so lyrical. I love that about you.”

“Sometimes I am. But, it makes sense. He has your days, and I have your nights, time permitting. But what happens when the two times intersect? He can be the sun and I’ll be the moon, for now, but not forever.”

****

It’s a lavish hotel with swanky modern minimelest decor. The bed is swathed in white, with a mattress so comfortable you could sink into it. You’re stretched out, our skin flush and our limbs tangled after hours of loving. I kiss your forehead, brushing my fingers through your mahogany curls.

Suddenly, ‘his’ ringtone goes off. Your phone lights up.

I kiss your cheeks and your sweet lips.

You bury your face in the pillow, moaning. “Gotta go. He’s wondering where I am.”

“I know, but it still ain’t easy. Just tonight, stay longer. Stay for the whole night. Say you’re at your friend’s place having a girl’s night after a hard day. Call your friend, Liz. She’ll back you up. Tell ‘him’ you forgot to phone or text him earlier.”

“I don’t forget to tell him stuff like that.”

“Maybe, you do, only this once.”

You giggle, “Someone’s creative tonight. You must really want me to stay. I want to stay too.” You smile, plush lips brushing mine, before placing your head on my chest. I wonder if you can hear how fast my heart beats when I’m entwined with you.

You raise your head, your green eyes alight. You kiss me hard, not soft but with need. There’s desperation in your kiss.

You climb on top of me. “One more time before I go.”

I grin. Our kisses and caresses multiply, tightening the cord of our connection. Later, you’re gone, but I’m lay awake in the early morning hours.

My mind won’t stop circling. Tomorrow, she’ll be waking up beside him. She’ll tell him that you loves him, but I know, Mer, doesn’t mean it. She loves me she told me so. She doesn’t love him at all, she never has.

****

For over five months now, we continue to meet whenever possible. Unexpectedly, we have the whole weekend to ourselves. ‘He’s’off on a business trip. You told me ‘he’ has a new mistress, affair number six. I don’t understand how he doesn’t know he has the best of all women in you.

You’re splayed on top of me and we’re both gasping for breath. You pull the blankets up around us as our sweat cools; your head fitted in the crook of my neck until you raise it.

You bite your lip, peering at me. “In my mind when I’m looking at him, and when I think of him, I don’t see us continuing on like this. We’ve had ten years, but ten years of what? Ten years of lies and deceit, now on both our parts.”

I rub your back. You talk about him a lot some nights. Thinking aloud, attempting to solve the riddle. How do you let your husband know you want a divorce, that there was never any love between either of you.

You kiss my neck, then my heart. “I’ve been lying about loving him for years. I can’t stand all his affairs, but are we any better? We’re having our own affair now? I feel so guilty, but at the same time, I don’t care anymore. He deserves it.”

“I hate this.” I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I have to tell you. ” He’s always the elephant in the room. No matter what you think, he’s never known the real you. He doesn’t see you for you, or the false life you both live. But girl, I see you and know the truth. I see you clearer than he ever will.”

I flip you over, resting on top of your sweet body and my forearms. “Don’t let this be a secret any longer. I don’t want to only be the moon; I want to be sunlight too.”

I kiss you tangling my lips and tongue with yours, channeling my will into our loving making. Between gasps you whisper, “Tuesday, I’ll see my lawyer.”

My eyes widen and you giggle, kissing my joyful grin. I tickle you, then my hands make the familiar journey down you alabaster freckled skin.

Before you leave I try to encourage you. “I’m no longer the moon, but sunlight too. I’m every time of day with you.”

You kiss me, holding our heads nose to nose. ” You’re the sun and the moon and everything in-between.”


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 31/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Acrostic – “The Flapping” #poetry #100WordWednesday #amwriting u


For OctPoWriMo Day 31 the theme is an Acrostic poem with the word mysterious. Also combining with Bikurgurl’s #100Word Wednesday prompt. 

———

Credit: Heather Sanders

———

Mist veils the horizons as sunlight peaks, 

Yellowish-glitter highlights the forest in gold dust. 

Strange flutters heard as the fog dissipates, 

Trite concerns to the silence heard, no boisterous bird peeps.

Everchanging, the fog leaves and returns, slithering into —

Remenants of rabbit holes and homes dug by foxes. 

Ill winds blow but the fog conceals their bitterness, 

Only the sunlight crawling beneath the fog bodes well. 

Universal symbol of hope from night’s darkest creatures still dwelling, 

Sounds of eerie flapping again, fading into slumber. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 3 – Poem: Cheritas – “Empire Fallen” #amwriting #poetry #metal 


For Day 3 of OctPoWriMo the theme is a taste of metal and a poem form called Cheritas

What I really love about Cheritas is that it’s a very loose form. Cheritas are a stanza based form rather than a syllable-based one. It’s really simple: 1 line stanza, 2 line stanza, 3 line stanza. The lines can be any length you choose. 

Now for the word prompts: Metals have been associated with everything from alchemy to astrology to chemistry to (the obvious one) geology. Without metal we wouldn’t have much of what we call modern civilization. 

When was the last time you tasted metal? Your fork as you ate breakfast? A dental tool? The iron when you bit your tongue? Growing up with braces? What memories and emotions are attached to those moments?” 

——-

Credit: Scott Webb via Unsplash

——-

I had a dream, the tang of copper in my mouth

—-

Alloyes of aluminum and steel, crunching together; 

Before the crumpled flattened and I no longer saw the flawed. 

——

Until we gazed upon the smooth magnite and tin roof surface, 

Of a galleries’ artistic architectural lure; 

Metal’s tangy and bitter flavor, would not leave my mouth. 

————

Had become a masterpiece, a building for an empire to follow, 

—–

The tartness of copper, it’s brownish hue sparkling; 

Touches of bronze, silver, gold, to gleam in the morning. 

—–

A society of metal, a new age of alloyes beyond scrunched up foil, 

A glorious sunset sparkling with warming hues, 

Before the rust, the dust, and broken bonds revealed– the empire had fallen. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lune – “Memories Endurance” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

——-

Credit: Meghan Yabsley via UnSplash

——–

Remember, we used to bike, 

Far out towards, 

Soft blue-green temperate ocean tides. 

——-

Miles down the highway to —

Meet dawns arrival, 

Sunlight glazing higher and higher,

——

Until fresh morning air greeted,

Breathing in salt; 

The fragrence of memories endurance. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt #3: Poem – Bop – “All Day and All Night” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s music prompt based off of Lady A’s new song “You Look Good.” 

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Credit: http://www.loveisalanguage.com

——-

Lady Antebellum – “You Look Good” 

——

You are the fire in my veins in this old, 

Noisy bar, my movement, steps foretold, 

Before I ever meet you face to face, 

We move ’round each other tightly embraced. 

Dance floor our Haven sparks zing and our lips —

Meet and you moan, no we’re hip to hip. 

Baby you look good all day and all night. 

Spinning me on the dance floor with such ease, 

Tonight is a night I feel, we’ll both be pleased. 

Holding me so close we brush against lust, 

Back and forth, taking me home, a must! 

Cab is slow, we want to be alone, 

With each other and love’s unquiet love moans. 

Not too fast, just take it nice and slow, 

The sunlight reigns but we will not let go. 

Baby you look good all day and all night.

Will you call? The waiting game is played, 

Three nights and I’m aching, you remain, 

First in my thoughts so finally I call. 

You’re not there, then you are, my problem solved.

How about a repeat, how ’bout a lifetime? 

Let’s be us, baby yours and just mine. 

Baby you look good all day and all night. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 12 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/FFfAW: Poem – Free Verse – “The River’s Course” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo is to “write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds).” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote is from the letter L. As well, thanks to Pricless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Water and Rocks FFftAW
Credit: Maria of Doodles and Scribbes

“The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It’s an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?”
Kamand Kojouri


 

The river she flows fluent, flourishing in her mad descent,

Rapids, water reeling past rocks leading her to a path of providence.

Fast, and fleet, a river rivaling; I’ve experienced —

On the weary trail, the river cutting, crushing the rocks.

She carves her path, ploughing silt to the shore,

Debris of dramatic, erosion deciding on the the crooked carved path.

The water, she must flow, finding her fabulous spark in the light of —

Lumionous sunlight, searing in the afternoon heat.

For this river runs through the desert, the orange, organic trails,

Mixed with red-rock, rizing in the Arizona afternoon.

Cliffs creating a canyon so deep and wide, where the water dances through.

No one to stop her destruction of rock, her pounding so hard it hurts,

But the river rivals all, keeps on carving her way —

Through the canyon cringing, when she chops off more silt.

Off its brilliant fire, she finds a place where the —

River rests in waterfalls crashing and carniverous,

Then she wanes as she reaches shore and and lays back breathing,

At ease, she is pleased and settles,

Against the sand of some beach, somewhere; she’s oblivious —

Simply sliding against sand,

No more cutting of solid rock required,

Tranquility is in the tide, easing in and out,

The river finds, rests with her lover,

Her and the shore are silent heart beats.


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Are Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “A Nightmare of Ink” #amwriting #poetry #nightmares


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the his week’s Photo Prompt chalkenge.

——-

Credit: Reylia.deviantart.com

——-

She holds the flowers teaming with a life force all their own, 

Knowing the ombré blue blossoms will escape; 

Flutter into the world carried on the wind, 

Pettles and fluffy white seeds blown across the land. 

Messengers of hope and artistry, a beauty undefinable. 

Her hands tightly grasp the stems, no thorns to prick errant fingers. 

She can’t let go, however, she she tries, 

Hands entrapped on rough stems holding too hard. 

So rigid are her hands, blood comes forth, 

The pressure of her grip too intense;

With great thought, he watches her, observes her reactions, 

She doesn’t understand why he’s hurting her; she needs help. 
She’s dressed in her navy dress and in life he loves it, 

In her dream, he picks at the fabric of her sleeve in disgust. 

Mumbling to himself, then struck with a thought, 

He’s found a thin fluted vase in blue to match her flowers. 

She doesn’t conprehend the symbolism or the reason, 

When ink he pours onto her flowers from the vase. 

He stains her hands until they appear black, 

The flowers are ruined and slicked with ink like oil. 

The streaming ink is everywhere, 

Her beloved smiles at her, he chucks her chin and winks, 

Takes the flowers and places them in the vase. 

The ink is all over her hands and arms;

Hers and his, and he’s laughing. 

Saying how difficult ink is to remove from one’s skin, 

So he cradles her face and he kisses her long, 

But then she awakes in her dream, 

To permenant ink stains all over her face and hands.

He smirks at her, walks away no care for the ink staining him. 

The moon gleams in the sky and it rains — buckets of tar black ink, 

Caressing her body, covering as sludge, dripping and spilling. 

What value is ink if she has no pen’s cartridge to put it in? 

She’s not able to use it to write. 

The world around is flooded by this precious commodity, 

And when she finally awakes for real, all is forgotten. 

Yet, the hands she holds up to the sunlight, 

Are stained dark black;

She’s tattood in the memory of a dream, 

Nightmares and reality never giving way to truth. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.