Interview With Jade M. Wong


Welcome back to my biweekly interview series. I hope you all had an amazing holiday and I would like to start the New Year off right with an interview from the sweet and gifted Jade M. Wong. Her blog is called: Jade M. Wong – Writer At Heart. Fangirl by DNA. Struggling Human Until Further Notice.


jade-m-wong
Jade M. Wong

1. Jade, Please Tell Us About Yourself?

I’m a New York City girl named Jade M. Wong. In short, I’m a writer in my heart, a fan-girl by DNA, and a struggling human until further notice. I’m often up until 4:00 am at night battling inconvenient words and fantastical stories. If  I were a gazillionaire, I wouldn’t buy a mansion, but a cozy apartment in every city I love. In the meantime, I make do with cozy corners across the internet-sphere.


2. When Did You Start Writing and Blogging and What Does It Mean To You? Why Do You Write?

I’ve been writing and blogging on and off for as long as I can remember. But life has a way of kicking my butt. It’s only this year that I’ve finally been writing and blogging regularly. I’d like to think that ‘life’ and I are now reluctant dance partners and not bitter enemies.

I write because its a way to put myself onto the the page with words. This helps me when I’m trying to revise my writing. I learn where in a particular piece, I am writing badly and where I am writing well. This is a kind of therapy for me and medicine for whatever I’m dealing with in life at the moment.


“I’m often up until 4:00 am at night battling inconvenient words and fantastical stories.” – Jade M.Wong


3. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Write? Is There a Time of Day You Most Enjoy Writing?

Figuratively speaking, I have a muse. She’s a little fairy with thin arms, tiny hands, a sarcastic sense of humor, and a brilliant mind. She’s been with me as long as I can remember, always sending me bits of inspiration at inconvenient times. As a result, I find inspiration in every moment of every day. Not writing, well, it’s simply unthinkable.

My favorite time to write is after the sun sets, when the world is asleep except for me and my muse, and I don’t have to worry about what tomorrow brings.


4. Do You Have Any Current Writing Projects? Can You Tell Us A Little About Them?

I’m currently working on a collection of poetry, as well as playing around with a novel idea (or two). I’ve noticed, the more I write, the more excited my muse becomes and the more ideas flow into my mind. Uncanny how this works, isn’t it?

My published works include a short story titled: Glow In The Dark Stars, which can be seen in The Ghouls’ Review, along with anything I may publish in the future.


:Figuratively speaking, I have a muse. She’s a little fairy with thin arms, tiny hands, a sarcastic sense of humor, and a brilliant mind. She’s been with me as long as I can remember . . .” – Jade M. Wong


5. Can You Briefly Describe The Process You Have Gone Through To Publish Your Writing? What Is Your Writing Process Like?

*Disclaimer: I am definitely not an expert in the world of publishing.*When it comes to publishing, I’ve found it most important to follow the guidelines for each individual magazine I submit to, and to keep my fingers crossed.

My writing process is one part on-the-go and one part wrapped up under my covers like a burrito. During the day as I’m commuting, I write a lot on my phone. When I get home at night, I grab my laptop, get comfortable on my bed with a cup of tea, and write until my muse falls asleep. 


6. Do You Have a Preference For Certain Areas of Writing or Reading Styles or Genres?

My favorite genres to write and read are fantasy, romantic-comedy, young adult fiction, and cozy mysteries, but I’m always willing to try new genres. For example, I recently fell in love with a memoir, Lucky by Alice Sebold, despite the fact my whole life up until then, I tended to steer away from nonfiction.


“When I get home at night, I grab my laptop, get comfortable on my bed with a cup of tea, and write until my muse falls asleep.” – Jade M. Wong


jade-quote
http://www.pinterest.com

7. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice to Give to Other Writers?

The advice I have to pass along comes originally from a writers more successful than myself. Who better to learn from, right?

J.K. Rowling, the author of the iconic Harry Potter series says: “Sometimes, you have to get your writing done in spare moments here and there.”

Many of us dream of having long days filled with nothing but writing. Perhaps one day, our dreams can be a reality. Right now, however, most of us have jobs we need to pay the bills but we also realize words don’t write themselves. Sometimes, the best time for a writer to write is in the small seconds we have between responsibilities.


8. Is There Anything Else You Want To Share With Us, Pertinent to Your Writing or Yourself?

To everyone trying to be writers, artists, doctors, or architects (etc.) I hope we never give up trying to achieve our dreams.

To everyone trying to change the world, one moment of bravery at a time, I hope we remember love will always trump hate. The world will always needs dreamers as much as it needs doers.

To everyone trying to be themselves, I hope we remember that we are always worth it.


“Many of us dream of having long days filled with nothing but writing. Perhaps one day, our dreams can be a reality. Right now, however, most of us have jobs we need to pay the bills but we also realize words don’t write themselves. Sometimes, the best time for a writer to write is in the small seconds we have between responsibilities.” – Jade M. Won


9. Please Share With Us Your Top Three Favorite Blogs?

In no particular order:

  1. Cooking With A Wallflower – This is a cooking blog, hosted by a lady named Andrea. I love her recipes and all her wallflower finds!
  2. Terrible Minds – This is the blog of Chuck Wendig. He’s a novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. He blogs about everything from writing to pop culture, and he always makes me laugh. He also uses a lot of swear words and other not-safe-for-kids language, so that may deter you, but I hope it doesn’t.
  3. I’ve also ‘met’ several bloggers on WordPress whom I consider friends, even if I have yet to meet any of them. Their blogs are my favorites, because they are so dear to me. A few of them include: A Reading Writer, Doodles and Scribbles, and Melinda Kucsera, but there are many others!

10. Please Share With Us Some Writing From Your Blog Which You Most Love:

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

[Poetry] Everything To Lose

By Jade M. Wong

What was it like to love him?
To answer that question, you need to ask me another,
What was it like to know him?
The man I knew was not known to any other.
He was shy and he was kind,
And he struggled relentlessly with a broken mind.
He showed the world a face that was empty
And he saved his shattered soul for me.
Loving him was loving those pieces
It was taking his soul and smoothing out the creases
It was loving a man so in tune with my needs
He’d rather my heart be whole while his own bleeds.
Why did you love him if it was so hard?
Hard? Loving him was easy, as easy as breathing,
As easy as letting the light in, healing,
Because loving him was embracing both the light and the dark,
It flowed like a stream and like hot fire, it sparked.
Why did you love him?
I loved him because I loved myself
Because I deserved a love like nothing else
I loved him because I had the right to choose
And together with him, we had everything to lose.

© Jade M. Wong 2016


10. Here Are Some Additional Works By Jade You Can Read:

  • A Single Teardrop –  By Jade M. Wong – If you’re a lover of rain…or secret stories.
  • Between The Lines – By Jade M. Wong – If you ever need to know, you are not alone.
  • Stuck – By Jade M. Wong – If you’ve ever felt trapped.

Thank you to Jade for agreeing to be interviewed and answering the interview questions with such personality and care. Jade is an amazing writer and here is her blog link again, in case you’ve missed it: Jade M. Wong


Every two-weeks I feature a writer and/or blogger interview. Some writers are published, some are only starting out, some are only in high school and some are more mature adults. Whoever you are or wherever you are in life, I would love to interview you and feature you on my biweekly blog series. If you’re interested in this please send me a message on my Contact Page. See you in two-weeks!


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Music Prompt: Teegan’s Potion – Part 3: Teegan’s Potion and His Passion (Rated R) #fiction #paranormal #romance #amwriting


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Friday’s music prompt, “I Don’t Want To Talk About It” by Rod Stewart. The song is loosely used in part three. Warning Part Three contains Adult Content. 

——-

“I Don’t Want To Talk About It” – Rod Stewart

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

———-

Tallia drove back to Fairy Dust as fast as her Vespa would take her without losing the giant fish off the Vespa’s back compartment. She was feeling afraid because she knew Teegan would be nearly awake, but felt certain he would be in enough of a fog she would have time to make the potion he required. She prayed the tonic took his darkness away, the shadow that stalked him. But at the same time Tallia knew, the shadow was Teegan.

The presence of darkness lurked as Tallia quietly opened the back door, slipping inside her shop. She set the goldfish in his bag, down on a countertop and stood for a moment blinking tiredly. It was the middle of the afternoon and a wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. She had been up late thinking about Teegan, what he could have possibly done hundreds of years ago to be cursed so wickedly. She was thinking about him in other ways too, Tallia realized blushing.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Teegan knew she’d drugged him, what he’d say or do. She didn’t know how much in control Teegan was of his darkness right now. The wisest thing Tallia could do was make him his potion whenever he needed it, whatever kind of potion it was. She thought about the wisdom Teegan hopefully acquired in his centuries alive. Would it make him extra understanding?

Then again, she could be wrong. Some people never learned their lessons despite experience. Yet Tallia was sure, in Teegan’s startling green eyes had been knowledge of dark deeds and lessons learned with difficulty. The blackness in his gaze almost had the affect of repelling Tallia at first.

At the same time, his emerald eyes were seductive and drew her too Teegan. No matter his real age, he appeared to be in his thirties. He was ridiculously good looking in the truest sense. She could smell his particular pleasing scent from where she leaned against the counter in the back of her store. Where she put together potions and caste spells for magical items customer’s required.

Perhaps, it was her heightened sense of smell which brought to life Teegan’s addictive scent, or maybe her memories were more vivid due to her attraction to him.

Tallia jumped when a voice whispered in her ear.

——-

“Where’d you go? How come my potion’s not made? I need it now Tallia,” he whispered.
“Teegan?”

“Yep, I’m awake, thanks for the nap by the way. Did you find out what you needed too? I see you got the giant gold fish. You’re worried about me and the shadow around me which makes you sick. You went and talked to Jude. He’s been around over a century. Old for most humans, but not as old as me, Tallia.”

“I didn’t talk to Jude, he’s in the hospital because he had a stroke and isn’t doing well,” Tallia sad with sadness.” I talked to his great-grandson Aspen. He run’s the store now I guess. He said you were cursed, that you did something terrible. That’s why you’ve so much darkness. How do you make it go away Teegan? What happens if you don’t take this potion?”

Tallia felt warm and comfortable and realized Teegan had moved to hold her from behind, his arms crossed against her stomach. Teegan’s head suddenly lay against hers and she could feel him sigh as if he could finally relax. Tallia had never been so near to Teegan, she felt dizzy in good way. It felt wonderful to be held so gently, though she wondered if Teegan realized he had moved to comfort her.

——

Moments later, Tallia felt Teegan’s lips firmly on the side of her neck, traveling up under her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. His lips moved back down her neck to the v-neck of her sweater. He kissed her over her heart and Tallia shivered when his lips traced her neck, went over her chin, and landed on her lips. Her heart was racing, she felt hot and cold all over.

Teegan bit her lip gently, seeking access to her mouth. His tongue met hears with need. Tallia couldn’t think, could only feel. Her connection with Teegan was something new to her. This sense of knowing him and recognizing him, beyond the physical sense. In her mind, she could feel him encouraging her to relax.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

Teegan kissed Tallia until she was breathless, his hands massaging her stomach, sides, and hips. His hand moved up to squeezing her breast over her sweater and short coat. She moaned when he broke off his the kiss leaving Tallia wanting. He breathed in the crook of her neck, his hand not moving, but not leaving either. It seemed as if hours had passed but it had only been minutes.

Teegan collected himself and moved a distance from Tallia as he spoke: “Tallia, I can’t. I want to, but I shouldn’t have done that; it confused you. I need you to make my potion now please. You’re the only one who can do it. It has to be one of your bloodline. And if you don’t I’ll turn evil. I’ll be a curse myself, a terrible man. I’ve done such evil because I’m cursed, or was before your gifted ancestor came up with this potion. It’s the only way to keep me from turning, Tallia. You and I, we’re tied together because of your ancestor. You remind me of her,” Teegan remarked.

“You need to tell me the entire story. This isn’t fair Teegan. Of course, I’ll make the potion. But my Aunt never told me any of this. The cancer took her a way in so little time. I need more answers from you,” Tallia pleaded.

I don’t want to talk about it Tallia. Make the potion. You’re breaking my heart here,” Teegan said rolling his eyes.

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll be evil, as I’ve said and as I’m sure Aspen told you. I’ll hurt you, probably kill you, and I don’t want to do that. If I kill you, I’ll be evil forever — until someone kills me. You’re the last in your line. Make the potion, Tallia, we could be happy.”

“We?”

“Tallia, make it now! You know I’m not trying to deceive you. You can feel it.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do feel you’re being genuine. I’ll make it as fast I can.”

——

Tallia gathered all the ingredients she had laid out earlier and brought them to an extremely large mixing bowl. She measured all the ingredients into the bowl quickly and accurately, barely thinking. She followed the directions in Aunt Willow’s tome and chanted the right words when she needed to say them. Pouring out the water of the giant gold fish’s bag in a sink, she slid the giant flopping gold fish into her bowl. With wide eyes she watched the potion simmer and turn scarlet.

Aspen had been right, the goldfish was a sacrifice of life. Although a mouse or anything small would’ve done the job, but her ancestor’s writing said the giant goldfish was preferred. Tallia strained the chunks of ingredients from the mixture; the goldfish had disintegrated.

Tallia pulled a beer stein out of her cupboard to Teegan’s surprise. She poured half of the scarlet liquid into the earthen beer stein. Teegan had been watching Tallia create the potion the entire time. He hadn’t said anything, only watched her, familiar with her actions. He’d probably watched her Aunt Willow and her Great-Aunt do the same. And many of Tallia’s ancestors, if she could believe his story.

She turned around from the giant bowl and found Teegan beside her, leaning against the counter studying her. His hand moved, pushing her light purple-grey hair behind her ear. He was so much taller than her, Tallia thought.

Teegan smiled when she offered him the beer stein.”Where’s yours?”he asked her.

“Where’s my what?”

Your half of the potion? You have to drink it with me,” Teegan told her.

Tallia was about to protest but he was gazing at her in a particular way. She noticed the pain usually hidden in his eyes present. She felt it through her being and it softened her heart; her protests crumbled.

” I wish I wasn’t so intuitive, Teegan. You do really need me to drink your tonic with you? Do you promise I’ll be okay?”

“I promise. Your Aunt, she was always fine. You’ll find it invigorating actually,” he said.

Tallia nodded reading what Teegan had told her in the tome beside her on the counter. How did she miss that direction? Peering up she noticed him pouring her a beer stein of the remaining liquid. She took the potion from him, grimacing because she knew the ingredients in it. She tasted a bit of the potion, testing the flavour. It tasted like cinnamon and a woodsy red wine. How could that be? 

“Bottoms up?” Teegan said holding up his stein.

Talia clinked her stein with his, “Slainte,” she said.

—–

Teegan’s potion was easy going down. Tallia could feel a lightness, as if her cares were floating free. She felt energy, Teegan was right. His potion did feel invigorating. Her mind felt intensely perceptive as well. Swallowing the remenants of the liquid she saw Teegan had already finished his.

“Better, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s amazing stuff,” she said peering everywhere, everything around her was completely crystal clear. Her early fatigue was gone. Tallia noticed Teegan’s dark circles had faded. He appeared younger, his few wrinkles smoothed out. He was gazing at her again in certain way, and she knew from the flicker in his green-eyes what he wanted. Tallia felt almost drunk, except the potion made everything feel real.

She laughed aloud and Teegan frowned,”What?”

“No you’re not getting that from me,” she said.

“It wasn’t difficult to get a kiss and more from you before. You like me. I can tell, I like you too,” Teegan said, eyes darkening and meeting her own.

“No,” Tallia said laughing again. “You have to earn it. Take me out. Tell me about yourself and my ancestors. Did you sleep with one of my great- great – female relatives?”

“Don’t you feel like you’re burning up inside? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t . . .” he said approaching Tallia, following her as if she were prey. “I slept with the first of your ancestors I knew, she was my .  . .  my woman, for a while. But she died and we never had a child.”

Tallia backed away from Teegan smiling, wary but turned on at the same time. He was irresistible and Tallia found herself trapped against a wall. She laughed more as Teegan stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Her mouth ran dry seeing his finely sculpted body. He grinned and grabbed both her hands, holding her hands above her head. Tallia whimpered and Teegan chuckled.

“I’m not, I’m not a one night type of girl and you’re . . . you smell so good. But you’ve lived so much longer than me, what could you possibly see in me,” she murmured.

“You’re not one night Tallia.  I was thinking many many and I see you’re beautiful and gifted; you’re also intelligent.You didn’t immediately trust me.”

“Okay . . .” Tallia began but Teegan’s lips roughly met hers and she gasped as his tongue invaded sliding against hers. His hands were everywhere beneath her shirt and bralette. Then her shirt and bralette were gone and his mouth was there and she couldn’t contain her cries. “Oh no . . .”

He removed his mouth breathing hard, “Stop?”

“Oh please no!” Tallia said.

He chuckled and continued loving her with his mouth. “Teegan . . .” she whispered, feeling her body melt into his.

He pulled off the rest of her clothes, kissing her slightly round stomach and turning her around to kiss Tallia all over back and to her surprise, over her hips and bottom. His fingers found her center and rubbed below, circling her sweet spot, his thumb pressing against her.

“Please please. . .”

Teegan kissed her bottom again and turned her around so his head was level with Tallia’s belly button. He kissed her stomach before thrusting two fingers into her core, she shook and nearly screamed. It hurt but it was okay because the pleasure of his fingers going in and out of her was intense. She wailed when his fingers took her over the edge.

He kissed her, his lips and tongue centered on her core. The sensations Tallia felt were indescribable. Teegan was teasing her, he knew she need to come again but wasn’t letting her; he was making her wait for him. Teegan removed the rest of his clothes and gently lifted Tallia’s body onto the counter. He pushed both his fingers inside her again, adding a third.

“I’ve never . . .” she whispered suddenly shy.

“At your age? I’m flattered, no one values that these days,” Teegan whispered.

Tallia flushed, “Well it’s complicated. It’s gone but, I never had sex.”

“What do you mean?” Teegan asked stopping. His voice sounded grim.

Don’t stop, don’t,” Tallia begged.

“Okay, but I will kill whoever did it to you,” he promised.

Tallia believed Teegan, he appeared dead serious even though they were having sex.”It’s fine,” she mumbled. “It was a university party. I was too drunk and fell asleep and he was there sometime. When I woke up he was gone and I hurt,” Tallia admitted anxious for Teegan to continue loving her.

“Are you okay, are . . .”

“Please don’t, don’t stop. Please I need you.”

Teegan nodded, understanding. “You’ve got me,” he replied.He guided himself to her entrance and gently pushed inside.

“Okay?”

“Good, more.” Tallia said gripping his sides until Teegan was completely inside her. It stung and hurt but it was also the best feeling she could imagine when he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he whispered dirty things in her ear, all the things he wanted to do to her.

She felt his rhythm increase and her own body released again, more powerfully this time. She felt the final pushes of him in her body as he came. Teegan breathed heavily, holding Tallia and kissing her forehead.

Then, Tallia was crying, amazed tears were falling down her face. But Teegan gently hushed her and kissed her tears. It was hard for her to believe Teegan could ever be an evil monster. Tallia needed to know more about his past, when he was ready to tell her; she hoped it was soon.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Nothing Is Green #3Linetales #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3Line Tales: 

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Stephen Wei

——-

1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air. 

2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.

3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Mirrored Sestet – “Fear of Moon” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this tarot prompt of the moon.

——-

nothoughtdeviantart.com

——–

World is dim, unconsciousness formed swirls.

Swirls call my mind to odd distant other worlds.

Journey, searching, will I find a place worth, 

Worth finding strange people, repeat journey

Cannot do what I need to do, what’s taught

Taught in school, remembered, forget I cannot

——

Always search, but I never find hallways

 Hallways leading home, place needed always

Excitement high feeds my  inticements

Inticement lingers, through mass excitement

Words coming from my mouth, words but unheard.

Unheard words, no one understands my words.

——

Dreamscapes, such funny places explored seem

Seem alive but hiding painful dreamscapes

No escape, when you wish to climb, landscapes.

Landscapes change in dreams I find, no escape. 

Colourful world, weird place some twisted other —

Other world catches, enfolds, colourful world. 

——-

Where am I, that I chase and can’t find there

There? Places which are morphed, a trap, go where? 

Placed objects in my hands, details I traced

Traced how they felt before I left replaced

Shimmering full moon glimmering.

Glimmering dark moon shimmering. 

——

In dreams the moon it haunts, whispers of sin,

Sins past, present, future not letting in —

Hoping of waking up, tired of fake words spoke.

Spoke from mouths which would never stop hoping.

Here they do, the moon crushing hope with fear.

Fear it rules night, moon glows; yet morn now here

———–

A Mirrored Sestet – http://www.shadowpoetry.com

The Mirror Sestet, created by Shelley A. Cephas, is a poem that can be written in one or more stanzas of 6 lines each. The specific guidelines for this form are as follows:
The first word of line 1 rhymes with the last word of line 1.
The first word of line 2 is the last word of line 1

and the last word of line 2 is the 1st word of line 1.

——-

The first word of line 3 rhymes with the last word of line 3.
The first word of line 4 is the last word of line 3

and the last word of line 4 is the 1st word of line 3.

——-

The first word of line 5 rhymes with the last word of line 5.
The first word of line 6 is the last word of line 5

and the last word of line 6 is the 1st word of line 5.

———

The Mirror Sestet can also be written in non-rhyme.

All rules must be followed except there is no 1st and last word rhyming.

———

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse –  “Words Which Can’t Be Snatched” #amwriting #poetry #badday


http://www.publicdomainpictures.net

———–

The walls close in, I cannot breath.
Sitting inhaling between my legs, 

My breathe is short, my throat constricted.

I will not play the victim, 

Though anxiety and stress, 

Isn’t something I handle well because —

A sickness lives and hurts me. 

It’s not clear to everyone, 

You can appear and sound well, 

Yet, be caught in the Guinea Pig’s wheel, 

Some kind of rotating Hell. 

Release me from prison, I’m praying for help, 

My God, my God, I feel alone. 

A need to get this pain off of my chest, 

I can’t breathe, feel asphyxiated. 

Such tears redden my eyes, blank and bloodshot;

A blue so grey, it’s the eye of the suffocating storm. 

You think it’s safe, but a dark madness comes fast, 

Shaking you off your feet.

Turning you to mush, dust, particles of air.

Aren’t we all atoms, building cells — at a smaller level? 

What makes it so such atoms making cells form a being, 

A pin cushion to be stabbed? 

While cells of blood splash unto the floor.

Forsake me not, 

Terrible days come out of nowhere. 

I cannot think, I have no words.

Head pounding, a drums beat, 

I think I might throw-up. 

Careless words written, make me ill,

Shake my foundation, 

Take away my control.

You have no clue how I feel. 

After all these years, you believe you’ve solved me?  

You’ve only picked a lock, in a chain of locks locked.

But you hurt with your writing — why didn’t you ask? 

You’re shaking my world, I have no strength, 

I’m not in the place you think I am. 

You rock my foundations, I’m not doing well. 

Answer me this, how could you think

Fatigue such as mine goes away, by blinking? 

You haven’t solved the riddle, 

You cause me great problems.

And a horrible day doesn’t end, 

Tone of voice, sets off tears again.

You don’t treat me like an adult, only a child —

Because I’m forever screwing up.

I want out but, how do I escape? 

For I find I’ve built, my own prison. 

And you tighten the chains, 

Until breath and blood flow flicker out, 

Until everything which matters blows apart.

Until in the sky, floats clouds, sunbeams radiant, 

And the Eagles take me flying on their backs.

And I escape to poetry, 

Such words which can’t be snatched. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

———–

http://www.motaen.com

——–

When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Alouette – “Murderer” #amwriting #poetry #poison


Thanks to Poets United for the poetry prompt: Predator and Prey.

——-

http://www.quotesgram.com

——-

Loved being your girl, 

But, done with this world.

Preyed on, murdered viciously.

Hunted, forcibly;

Caught, controllably.

Trapped in sucking quick-sand.

——-

Stuck in thought in —

My head; beg within, 

Is this the end?  You and —

I, are no more to —

Be; merely, see -through, 

Another couple out of hand.

——

My skin is white, pale.

I’m not cold, don’t wail.

Hours ago, you poisoned me, 

I fell asleep no —

Pain; not yours, dead though.

Hate seethed through you, love which bleeds.

—–

When did it leave us?

Love, affection, trust?

Did you become predator

When he looked at me? 

He’s vapour; Freely —

Loved you; your prey; died with gore.

——

But I’m above clouds, 

Mistakes by cowards.

Shutting you out, I never

Ingrained hurtful pain, 

Inside your body; lame —

Excuses, you’re a murderer.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Vines and Truth” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.dreamstime.com

———

If you’re trapped in this reality, 

The words you hear will never betray.

If you’re trapped here, 

You’ll never say the words,

You meant to tell me.

Soul words, which climb, 

 As vines through your lips.

Vines that keep growing, 

Whispering the language,

 You grew-up bilingually,

 Conversing and spelling.

The words you only say with friends, 

And the silly ones your family made up,

Nick names, pet names, 

The names a lover calls;

The words you speak,

 When you tell the truth, 

And the words you catch yourself saying, 

When you’re outright lying.

—–

Did you dream you could hide, 

So many secrets and so many tombs.

Bury us beneath words,

 With no proof, no truth;

Does anyone know real?

In the land of typed phrases, 

Spellcheck, and autocorrect,

 Are our words even ours?

When you can change the words,

 To mean and say, 

Precisely, what you want them to say,

When your body language, tone, 

And emotions cannot be seen,

What hides obscene and unseen?

——

And when I see such stunning eyes,

And they carry me away;

When your voice hits me there,

 In the bottom of my heart.

The growl on your lips, 

The tilt of your hips.

A glass of milk, brings tranquil sleep, 

More gentle vibes and vines invisibly, 

Through my mouth to yours.

As plants do crawl and sprout, 

So do we affect someone else.

And you wonder how can you build,

An Alice in Wonderland lost yourself.

With so many vines,

Caught on your tongue,

Like a hydra with far–

 Too many heads to chop off,

Vines as heads keep growing, 

No fire can consume the lies, 

Covering the truth. 

——

Find out, what is life here? 

There– with them? 

Or someone else? 

Listlessly browsing, areas meant, 

To be lonely and free, at a cost, 

Or joined together birds of a feather;

If “Hope is a thing with feathers,”  

As dear Emily Dickinson wrote;

Please fly to the safest and softest place.

And let’s lay unmoving, 

As vines wrapped around each other.

Not worried about our tomorrow’s,

Or finding more secrets;

Let the truth be our lips meeting,

Let the truth be in feeling our eyes, 

Engaged over cheese, bread, and wine later.

Sitting on the couch,

Wrestling with your dog;

Watching our favourite shows,

Until sleep calls,

In a world where no one,

Can be trusted completely, 

Where there are too many,

Half-truths and white lies.

Assure me at least,

You mean the best, and try,

To say the truth, as vines —

Wrap us together into,

The pitch dark night, 

Tangled tight.

——-

©Mandbelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Silver and Gold” #poetry #amwriting


http://www.thecollegeinvestor.com

———-

Please Listen Below: 

———-

​Forged in Silver and Gold,
My legs in Bronze wrapped.

Precious metals, the artist molds.

Silver and Gold; precious and cold.

You never let me attach;

Though you feel my skin,

Your most beloved metal.

The artist in me approves,

As you etch my form, and carve,

The length of my body in Silver and Gold.

The Gold of my hair, burnished with Bronze.

The Silver of my pale skin,

Gemstones for my eyes;

The bluest of Sapphires.

More shadow in the glitter,

Masks the deception we share.

Hides my introspection, pain on the inside,

How you could hurt me?

Sketching my soul?

With your golden hands;

So tanned from your heritage,

Creating art with our beauty.

As the Ancient Greek and Romans,

Perfection in Silver and Gold bodies.

You sketch and you etch,

You carve, curves and sensations,

With Silver and Gold,

Caressing my body,

Destroying my core.

My heart and my soul,

The edge of reason fading,

Quicksilver in my veins draining.

Etching you back,

Silver and Gold, for my chosen;

Highlighting your scars,

Diamond gems bright.

Silver and Gold; until I am old,

My body you fashion in Silver and Gold,

Taking and talking, performance art.

My artfulness; your artfulness,

Mutual thirst, for precious metals slaked.

Ag and Au the atomic symbols,

In movements like music,

Golden pixie dust brightens the air,

Silver dust on my eyelids, your cheeks.

Fly me to the Neverland;

Let’s escape the rabbit holes.

Paint our trail flying in Silver and Gold.

I’ve nothing but my heart,

For you my most precious metal.

Silver, Gold, and gems, your body imparts,

Hoping there is more at your core;

In your heart, and in your soul.

Something warm and soft,

The dust from precious metals as pillows pulled of feathers.

Hurt me not; forget me not,

Love me with your Golden skin.

Your Bronze eyes alight and brilliant;

Silver and Gold, we’ve no control,

When the talk turns to whispers;

We blossom and glisten, sweat beading,

Golden and Silver;

My scars so deep glimmer,

Created to highlight the Silver in my skin.

Of Gold so entranced,

Your enthralling hands;

Touch me and multiply the treasure.

You cannot melt me down;

I’m quicksilver on your tongue,

Solid Silver in your grip;

Trapped by your Bronze eyes.

Silver and Gold, in the rise of sun,

King Midas, his work done.

Silver lips give you a kiss,

Beg for your shimmering touch.

As the sun beats down,

The most Golden light,

Of all the light known,

Creator has granted in Silver and Gold.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Alouette – “Head on My Lap”


The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:

Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

The form name is a French word meaning ‘skylark’ or larks that fly high, the association to the lark’s song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word ‘alouette’ can also mean a children’s song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children’s poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line (please see examples below).

Please visit Shadow Poetry for more information.


Man with Head on Woman's lap
http://www.pinterest.com

I worry for you,

My reasons see through,

No such opacity and —

You never look up,

Drinking coffee cup,

Living in your box of quick sand.


You won’t admit truth,

Reality isn’t proof,

What world do you inhabit?

Not ever seeing,

A blank lost being,

Following the white rabbit.


Life’s not Wonderland,

It’s not a game grande.

You need choose to be living,

Not a ghost fading.

A person jaded.

Wake-up, be aware, forgive.


We can’t live this life,

No passion or strife,

Dig-down in your belly, find —

Life’s fire hiding, soar —

Past limits, encore!

Joy, vibrance; be kind.


Love, you’re secluded;

Don’t live deluded.

You’re my everything, my fire.

Darkness you have found,

Devours you around.

Let us be flames who aspire.


Be not sad, life changes,

Alter our exchanges.

Talk, laugh; head placed on my lap,

Tell my your secrets.

All your woes, bleakness.

Let no thoughts keep your soul trapped.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.