Sunday Writing/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Wraiths at the Window Dissapear” #anwritingpoetry #SundayWriting


Thanks to MindLoveMisery Menagerie for hosting #SundayWriting. The words I’m using is “Wraiths at the Window.” Thanks also to NELNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s photo challenge prompt.


Credit: Unknown

Wraiths of silver strings near,

Hearts of darkness, at the window pear.

I cannot undo what I have done; guilt of the self-shunned.

I cannot whisper truths of then; they say, “I serve myself and pain condone.”

Yet, I surge to live past window panes — clawed beasts;

For they’re as ghosts, nothing but wild make-belief.

But, closer still, they draw; arm hairs prickle at their spite.

They’re lifeless dream-frights, sick-faced skulls, madness without light.

But, I’m no wraith, evil-sworn in Hell’s pit trapped,

I’m a creature who’s not forsaken; who’s clasped tight —

In a greater being’s benevolence.

So, when I crumble to pieces as wraiths trail close,

I cling to silver sparks, to golden paths, summer sunlight bold.

I’m not afraid of monsters, their creep and slip-slime, shivers down my spine;

I’ve no fear of mystics, their pitiless swords, ropes of malice torn.

Here, daylight seeps through, dawn explodes peaches and cream;

Sky’s beam the beat of life, as powder-puff clouds float.

Scratching claws crunched, but the nightmares are past; they’re ripped from my heart with angel’s might.

For even in my dimmest hours, as one who carried a weighted ring,

I have my Sams, and they bolster me.

I have my white-wizard, omniscient one, and —

While they’re are times fear nips at skin or tears humiliate in dreams,

The brilliance of day reigns; I’m never lost to forever-demons.

The weight of my guilt’s revoked with sweet hope;

A blinding, piercing glimmer challenges each wraith of fright.

And I nudge open pale-eyes on icing-sugar beaches,

Denying dank souls who screeched in my ears, plucked at my soul;

I’m without the crushing weight of the world,

I’m enlightened, strolling through surf, gulls calling,

As chatters alight with gray-finned dolphins, porpoises too.

Beacons in my hour of need, gracing me homebound,

To where our greatest loves –they’re the only real,

No wraiths or spirits wandering, no ghosts —

Their time is ephemeral, without eternity, without Heaven’s bliss.

My time has only begun, & it’s sheen points towards the fantastic tomorrow;

Evil wraiths, dementor’s kiss–forever I resist and conquer.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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


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.

——

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.

——-

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.

——-

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.

———

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.

—-

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.

—–

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.

——

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.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Photo Challenge: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Cowboys and Indians” #amwriting #poetry


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

——

Credit: Elizabeth Anna

——-

Face so black, eyes green-blue, a warrior stood, 

In forest, playing games, children not meek.

On the faces of cliffs roam, hide and seek,

Cowboys with guns, face arrows of wood. 

Her hair is in braids, she’s taller and could, 

 Take out any boy; her face paint it streaks;

Black oil paints stain her pink dress as she seeks, 

Unafraid, with bow ready, arrow’s wood —

Will strike at any movement and set fly, 

Weapon which could hurt, but that’s life she sighs.  

Hopes her arrow might hit a deer — dinner, 

For a family she can’t feed, as a child. 

Only a girl, no parents but she plays, 

In this strange cowboys and Indian brave’s game. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Etherees – “The Man In Darkness” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt words Stroll and Chaos.

——-

Down through the woods and over hills,

Strides a calm and quiet man searching,

For lost trails, gazing at the–

Setting sun, as the moon takes —

Precedent, inky —

Sky a light with —

Northern lights,

Greenish, 

Glow.

——

Stroll,

Through the —

Darkness of —

Night’s powerful —

Sting; cold cutting winds,

No warmth found in shadow,

Pine needles crunching under–

Foot and animals rising to —

Go about nocturnal business and —

Scare a stranger unused to the dark night.

——–

No fear in this man’s heart, strolling in the dark, 

He feels at home in night for day is —

His chaos; the constant trill of —

Sounds and day life driving —

His spirit to hiding,

Beneath acquired,

Layers built to —

Shut-out every-

One else,

Life.

—–

Night, 

Brings its–

Peacefulness,

Stability,

Reason and clear mind,

No shouting and yelling,

No deadlines or staying —

Into supper time, grieving him,

Of nights call for him, wander its soul, 

Find comfort beneath the moon, wolves howl.

—–

In sleeping bag beneath the sky this man, 

At last rests his weary head because,

Tomorrow morning chaos reigns,

People who always want you–

To do something you don’t,

You’ve no time to lose, 

Can’t clean their mess,

But you do,

It’s not,

Night.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.