#NaPoWriMo Day 1: Poem – A’L’Arora – “Choose to Dream” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 1, the prompt is below:

“For our first (optional) prompt, let’s take our cue from O’Neil’s poem, and write poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something. It can be a sort of recipe, like O’Neil’s poem. Or you could try to play on the notorious unreliability of instructional manuals (if you’ve ever tried to put IKEA furniture together, you know what I mean). You could even write a dis-instruction poem, that tells the reader how not to do something. This well-known poem by John Ashbery may provide you with some additional inspiration.”


Credit: Luis Quintero via Unsplash


I can’t instruct you with fine words to write,

Those have to gravitate from inside you.

I can’t make you sit, inspire you to jot,

You know what’s good writing, take quiet pause.

Perhaps, you’ll dream as the daylight expires.

Perhaps, you’ll save rhymes for a moment’s time.

I can’t force your words by pen or keyboard,

You must decide, set aside seconds — write.

*****

All the prompts in the world won’t bring fame,

You’ll have to practice every day and night.

Despite exhaustion, sleeplessness, family;

You’ll scribble ideas, create stories.

Or grab your phone, fingers tapping sweet tunes;

Let each note inside you burn to live, breathe.

I can’t shove you each day, candle light’s best;

But, sunlight burns too, when inner words seethe.

*****

I can’t correct all your grammar, you’ll not see —

These ‘niggly ‘ errors you once thought were not.

Not anything series ’til you learned.

Now, each line has value; each mistake irks.

But, until you ripped apart each sentence,

You never caught on — adverbs are poison.

Now past words, are awash with repentance.

*****

So, now I leave you writer-child make space,

For my words, themselves, must tumble forth in haste.

We’re all hiking paths together –comment.

We all rock with troubled gasps, when the keys —

To our vivid imaginations hide.

When our characters that gloried, us demean;

When our plots tangle, webs weave and muddle,

But we’re all here, write awhile, choose to dream.


A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L’Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as “La” is her signature. “Aurora” is Italian and means “dawn” – “Arora” is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Meat That Isn’t Me” #3LineTales #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting.


Credit: Cathal Mac an Bheatha via UnSplash

Gwendolyn asks the leering butcher,

“What’s your finest

Cut of meat?” Eyebrows raised —

——-

He gazes up says, “What type

Of meat Madame?”

She grits her teeth, repulsed.

——–

He watches her, lasciviously flirting,

He winks; Gwendolyn —

Replies,”Meat that isn’t me.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) 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: “Words”


Thanks to the Daily Post for yesterday’s and today’s word prompts Refresh and Voice.

—–

The right words to write, don’t happen each day,

When you only want to lie on the couch and let,

Each and every word in your head drift away.

It’s not as if what you write has to be set.

—-

That the lines all have to be one length.

That all lines have to be the correct amount of syllables.

Some days there is no power in your writing voice –no strength,

And your rhyme isn’t on, rhythm too is dribble.

—-

I write and half-way through I feel a need for a refresh.

Wipe the page clean, type something later when life makes sense.

It isn’t as if life is especially pressing,

It’s only that right now — I don’t make sense.

—–

Maybe life needs to feel refreshing again,

Maybe, your spirit needs to feel alive,

Before you can say exactly, what you mean to gain,

By writing these words down, and to let them thrive.

——

We need only find our writing voice in the everyday world,

Searching for a place we can be heard.

I don’t know why but my thoughts are awhirl,

I’m still searching for the right words.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Writing 101: Day 20 – The End (A Poem) 


Prompt: Wrap it all up.

The end has come. Fairwell for now. It’s time to go out on your own now.

Though you’ll be back to learn some more. For now, we say Adieu and Ciao.

You are changed since you first began, with everyday you grew.

And now you return to where you started; your journey has come full circle.

You are stronger after what you’ve been through, and writing everyday you became a mouth piece.

You scribbled and wrote, took. pictures, and typed until your fingers were sore.

This writing journey has not ended, you’ve just touched on a prologue.

Once the ember is ignited you can’t shut out the light.

Light defies darkness, it comes in out worst times to shut out the terrifying pitch black.

Don’t be afraid; your terrors and woes, your happiest times, fretful moments, and memories of all kinds — they will build your power.

One should not often wield a sword in this world, so let us wield a pen and write the rights and wrongs, the haves and have nots.

Let us write of every topic, of every feeling, of the pieces of a broken heart, and hearts sealed with a silver kiss.

But we are done. Fini. Don’t you know that you have a choice; a decision on whether you can do this unaided.

You have the skills to let words fly; to inspire and grow until words form a language that speaks to the entirety.

No word was ever wasted. Edited, but it existed for a reason. You’ll revise endlessly.

And finish with a matter of letting memories collide; as thoughts that you have completed one small journey provide you with satisfaction sublime.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.