#OctPoWriMo Day 12/ Three Line Tales: Lunes – “Conflicted” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales


For OctPoWriMo Day 12 the Prompt is torture. I’m combing with Sonya from Only 100 Words, #3LineTales.


Credit: Ernest Brillo via Unsplash.


I’m not the Candle who’ll,

Burn because you,

You’ve no solace; no heat.

*****

But I can see your gnarled,

Exit-wounds, scars;

Twisted, wrecked, ashes cindered dust.

*****

I’ll not be abused, fractured —

I’ve exit-wounds;

They were smothered flames too.

*****

I might be warmth, ice —

Everything misconstrued, blighted;

My prayers gut-wrenching torn.

*****

Define truth, straightforward, not confused;

Honesty lashed with,

Toxicity, illusion; unhealed wounds seep.

*****

Heart quickens, pace strong, defiant,

Cornered, smothered, responsibility;

One truth believe, another truth quivers.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “A Story of Change” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the SWP, a collage prompt.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Twisted,

Fractured due to —

Difficulties life wrought.

Damage cracked; leather skin, lips torn,

He aches for sleep, to wash, and renew himself.

To slay his hideous demons,

They haunt him, every step.

No rest, he’s too —

Twisted.

*****

Life once,

Satisfied; free —

For him to chose his trails,

To beam in personal glories.

Life’s pinnacle, his wild dreams, finally,

Found fruition; until he fell,

Soul keening in ash.

No desire for —

Life once.

*****

Vivid,

Morado hues;

As yesterday’s wrongs haunt;

No escaping his palled fears.

Thinks he can’t measure up as he once did.

Bitter life’s high-points cost him dear.

Voice silenced, will fading;

Ashamed; his pain,

Vivid.

****

Balance,

Distorted as —

He slurps canned food, silver —

Cutlery from his Nan, most sold to live.

Survival his concern, laughter gone;

He’s wilted, rose petals of dust, a ghost;

No will, no path, hope to —

Restore life’s old,

Balance.

*****

To God,

Man weathered prays,

Forgetting God hears, listens —

To fervent Hail Mary’s, begging for —

A chance, an opportunity.

To find life beyond dusty roads, his bike;

Seeking grand possibilities.

To have life flourish once,

More, reaching to —

To God.

*****

Sweet rain,

Soaks him fast.

A shower well needed,

He’s determined for renewal.

Trims off his wild beard, foam heals;

Now, his plans are clear; he blossoms.

Back home she’s thrilled; he’s here —

Returned; her own —

Sweet rain.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writers: Poem – Bop – “The Hiding Place”  #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #nature 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting last week’s FFftAW. 

———

Credit: Pamela S. Canepa

———

Take me down to the places on hidden —

Paths let’s hike; the lush forest has bidden, 

That we heed her wild calls exploring. 

Let us find all nooks, crannies, and more, 

Let’s find the secrets in this forest, 

Masked for centuries, deep secrets unknown. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

This landscape has its hardships it’s paths —

Twisted and sometimes steep, but we climb past —

All obstacles, find glorious treasures. 

Unafraid in tranquil woods we measure, 

Distances by landmarks, certain trees, —

Curved trunks bowing; see nature’s masterpiece. 

Hiking as far as we can, giant rocks near, 

Hearing the river’s voice trickling clear. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

At night we lie on air mattresses we’re, 

Wrapped in sleeping bags, lost in our dreams. 

The river’s language a tongue we know, 

Then, the sun is high, breakfast made, we go —

To explore our secret, the enchanted world, 

Life is short, peaceful quiet it restores. 

Search for me where rocks pile high, where I’m free. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights a Reserved. 

Friday Fictioneer: Poem – Free Verse – “Echo Beyond”


Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.


ff-train-to-no-where
Credit: C.E. Ayr

Parts of city, no one admits are here,

Only smashed cars, railroad tracks live dying.

Find a fleck of hope here;

There’s not but skeletons, twisted years lost.

*****

We stare into the crisscrossing of tracks,

Wonder how all the trains never seem lost.

For accidents, no care.

Here is our place, where no one dare go.

****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****

I’m tired of staying in this mishmash space,

There’s more to life than choking on coal dust.

My love, we’ll find our place.

We’re wolves, eyes gleaming, searching for home.

*****

Bitterness leaves me caught in this valley,

Is still and hot; we’ll move, find our names.

Wolves as you and I,

Our might is large; ignored, we’re crafty.

*****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****


“The Cave” – Mumford & Sons


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Laurenelle – “Freeing the She-Wolf” #amwriting #poetry #fiction


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

Credit: Natalie Deprina

—–

I writhe, I wreathe for I’m neatly twisted, 

You’ll never unravel me, my heart unknown. 

You hold the tether on my talons tight fisted

I’m tenacious, a survivor bold, 

You can tie me in knots, try to keep me near;

I’ll escape, live without your blackness owned. 

I don’t quit; you shouldn’t trap me for fear, 

I’ll catch you first, she-wolf who swiftly bites. 

Your callous ropes hurt, but I’ll disappear

Love doesn’t choke, it’s not uninviting

Love is a freedom, not a smoke screen

But you’re in my den, I’m growling my spite

My name isn’t “Sweetheart,” don’t demean me;

Power struggle invoked, within your ropes —

I’ve held dear, but know I’m incharge here. 

Droplets of blood, I swear I won’t be broke

Such a darkness in you raptured by my light. 

Goodness will win; she-wolves don’t quit, they’ve hope. 

My love, no more traps, let my heart be free

Your wolf, let her breathe, she’ll return to thee

I writhe, I wreathe, for I’m neatly twisted. 

You hold the tether on my talons, tight fisted. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: No Good Witch #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——-

Yinglan Z

——-

Belinda was a nasty middle-aged woman, but her behaviours were characteristic of someone older. 

She was mentally and physically sound; however, the pucker of her frown never left her face. Wrinkles indented themselves deeply into her forehead, around her eyes, and around her mouth; her skin was pasty white. 

She pretended to walk feebly; but when a neighbourhood child or dog was near her property she ran out screaming, wearing stodgy Victorian gowns, no skin showing but her face and hands. Her hair was always severely pulled back in a tight bun. 

Besides a cat or four, she disliked everyone. She made known she had cut her family out of her will. All her money would go to a stern Catholic congeragation she had terrorized since she was four. 

 An old trailer and burned-out truck from a cousin who had lived with her, remained on her lawn, even after the cousin disappeared. No one who entered Belinda’s house came back out, only her cats. 

 The neighbours thought this had been occurring for some three-hundred years, having heard the same stories from their great-grandparents and before. 

Was Belinda a ghost? A banchee? A witch? No one knew. But every now and then someone disappeared inside her doorway and everyone knew that person wouldn’t be returning. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 9 – Tankas – “Spiralling Nightmares” #amwriting #poetry


Day 9 Prompt – SPIRAL

“I love that you can find spirals from the tiniest places (our DNA) to massive expanses (the Milky Way) and everywhere in between. Free write about spiraling and see where you go – do you spiral up or down? Find where this word takes you and go from there.” 

——–

http://www.thebuzzfeed.com

——-

Whispy visions form, 

In our minds, in dreams, in sleep;

Foggy images, 

Are we us in our dreams so real? 

 Perhaps, we’re who we desire? 

——–

Perfected, ideal. 

No flaws, idiosyncrasies, 

We save the day and —

Our wishes come true and life, 

Is exactly how we would want. 

—–

Then again most dreams, 

Are ghastly and confusing.

People don’t make sense

You’re chasing someone or you’re —

Being chased — there’s no escape.

—–

You’re afraid and lost,

Your dreams, colourful, and vivid. 

Childhood friends are here, 

People you’ve seen only once —

Nightmares spiral, ripe with fear.

——

Facing an enemy, 

Bully from school, or those you —

Loved, or part of you does? 

What’s real? Will you remember? 

Why do your friends hide and yell? 

——

Or perhaps, you dream, 

Much more serenely and feel, 

A peace never felt,

 In waking hours never found, 

Tough living life; then you sleep . . .

—-

Do you sleep enough? 

Perchance to dream, feel refreshed

Or do you thrash and —

Scream, spiralling nightmare, 

Taking ahold preventing —

——

No waking, no sleep; 

Twisted and caught inbetween, 

What’s real and what’s not

The savage territory, 

Our mind’s fears torturing us

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Resevered. 

Poem: Free Verse – ” The Truth”


The following is a re-blog and re-edited version of an old poem I found:


pearl-in-clam
Credit: http://www.globe-views.com

The Truth is as a pearl,

polished and genuine,

Gleaming in the waters still.

Deep beneath where the —

Light dances and shimmies on the water’s surface.

It is something taken for granted, something I gave up.

It’s became this hole inside my heart burning, seething,

Twisted and warped beyond recognition.

An evil formed out of something so pure.

A repulsive ugliness which strangles me.


I want to give you that pearl let it gleam in the sun;

Let it adorn a jeweled neck, a sign of hope on a beauties breast.

But I lied and I took our security away,

I lashed myself tight to seaweed, strands of purple haze, watery worries —

They will be my grave, they will make you despise me.

For I am broken soul now and I cannot turn around.

I am set in my ways, though I wail and turn wane.

You are the light of a pearl, the soft flick of ashes, your lashes —

The soot of my pain, as I lie to you again.

The scent of those ashes, that burning acrid smell;

Reminds me of churches, of a place purer than pearls.

Where the air is so still I can hear my breath wrack,

Hear my heart beat, find forgiveness relief.

As I cry in my soul, it’s forgiven but torn.

While you pray to nothing, it separates us more.


I speak of a heart beat between you and me,

A quiet place we rest, but you make me cry in pain.

Wound me, complete me, and I bite my tongue

As my wry wit replies, to the pain on my peaches and cream,

The  bruises the aches in my legs, to find no peace.

In that, there is nothing but the trapping of my lies,

The seaweed grief come to strangle my reprieve.

A word of love, taken back, a thought, perhaps, I care little.

But when I am skin to skin and feel,

As close as to anyone that I’ve ever been,

When I would give to you what I’d give to no one else,

You turn your back, you leash me, stop my attempts to train,

So I swirl in and out of this complicated romance, the jumper in the whirlpool.

The one plashless, hopeless because she cannot take back time,

Thinks you and the pearl that glimmers in her eye, would have never been,

Had she not minced words and told you:

“I feel nothing — leave me be;

I enjoy the closeness but you are no shiny pearl of truth.”


I see the future unravel, unruly, uninvited coming near,

Ending because you refuse to believe,

In the significance of ashes and churches.

Because I refuse to live in the world,

The woman with a pearl around her neck.

It’s chocking me, the truth, it slides,

A warm gold chain that clasps the pearl in place,

Tightens the pearl around me neck,

Until lost breath is imminent.

When will I say them, those impending words?

When will I say it I cannot trust you,

I cannot tell the truth,

You choose to do works when faith is needed.

You hurt me, and care little to understand me,

My lips seal the words, close them in a box, turn the key;

Pandora’s box ready to unleash this pearl of wisdom,

Perhaps, wise words, but there are no wise-men here.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Flash Fiction: Cast Out


Fort McMurray is an oil town and that means many jobs for those who are skilled at oil wells. It’s camps aren’t the nicest place for a woman to work but at least a girl can make good money simply working in hospitality, managing and handing out the keys to the rooms the oil workers and staff stay in. My boyfriend Jack, works out at an oil well. We drive up to camp together in his SUV.

I could tell on this trip back home to Edmonton from the camp, Jack was angry. He thought I was flirting with some other men the other day. I was just being nice, it’s hard not having many other women not to talk to. So, now Jack believes that I’m always flirting with other men and he thinks I should stay in the city and get a job there.

We are arguing in the SUV loudly. Jack is threatening to throw me out on the highway, even though it’s cold and dark. I beg him not to but he has had enough and he stops the car, comes round to my side, and throws me, my purse, and suit case on the side of the road. 

Now I’m walking down the highway at night. My jacket is thin, my feet are in flats, and no car or truck seems to see me wave. My iPhone is dead, not that it mattered, I can’t get a signal out here. 

I kick the ground frustrated and angry at Jack and my situation and before I can stop myself my foot slips into a hole at the road side. My ankle twists, I scream and hear the snapping sound my ankle makes as it breaks.

Now it’s colder outside still. I can hear the creatures of the night in the wilderness near me. It’s finally twilight and my ankle throbs. No one sees me sitting so close to the ground and in tears as the sun rises. I wonder when they’ll find me. If only Jack had believed me.

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!