Interviews, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Published Work, Religion/Morality, Works Published, Writing

Interview with Gina Gallyot Writer, Poet, and Blogger #amwriting #interview #nonfiction


Good Morning! Welcome to another edition of my bi-weekly interview series. As I did skip a week due to being busy with other writing projects, my aim is to have a wonderful interview for you today as well as a regularly scheduled interview on Monday. Today I would like to introduce you to the talented, caring, strong, and beautiful Gina Gallyot (SingleDust) and her blog: A Life Less Lived: Living On the Equator But Longing For Snow. 


Interview -SingleDust
Credit: Gina Gallyot -SingleDust

1. Please tell Us About Yourself?

My blog is called “A Life Less Lived” and I use the name “Singledust” as the author of all my blog posts. I live in Malaysia, in a vibrant suburb south of the capital city of Kuala Lumpur. It’s a town packed with malls and teeming with life! It is also a college town and the young demographic we have means lots of lovely cafes and hangout joints where the vibe is always amazing.


2. What is Your Blog About? What Are You Trying to Accomplish?

I started my blog because my daughter asked me to stop scribbling in notebooks and publish all I wanted to say. She set the blog up and I began. In early days the blog was a lot of self-discovery, and deciding what my blog was going to be about. I had to figure out what to write about and much personal information I should I share.

I went down a couple of paths, tried doing travel related stories at first, then showcasing foods I liked and places to go eat the different foods in my country, but I wasn’t feeling fulfillment from that kind of writing. I wrote because I needed words to come out of me after suppressing it for so long.

Then I came across Flash Fiction prompts and was hooked. I found I liked writing stories. I had grown up with lots of storytelling after all and thought why not incorporate some of the tales I remembered into new ones I created. So that’s what I did and wrote some poetry on the days the stories seemed more musical. I had never written poetry before this blog so I amazed myself even!

From Flash Fiction challenges, I expanded into longer pieces called “Tales From The Equator,” stories I remembered from my childhood as well as those I told my kids as they were growing up.

All this has provided me with a huge collection of stories and poetry I rummaged through to produce a collection of stories. My blog is my training ground and preparation. It is an amazing place to read other writers, get feedback, develop new story lines, and network.


“I started the blog because my daughter asked me to stop scribbling in notebooks and publish all I wanted to say. She set the blog up and I began” -Gina Gallyot


3. When Did You Start Writing and Blogging and Why?

I started a year ago in February 2016 after some parts of my life finally got settled and I closed painful chapters of my life for good. In my new life, the writing side of me reawakened as I needed an outlet. When I started the blog it was a place for me to write so I would not forget my journey of self-discovery but after some time I realised that the journey was part of my healing and there was no end in sight.

I will continue my healing journey as long as I live. The process has never come to a screeching halt with magical solutions. Each day has a lesson of its own. And as I wrote I released anger and frustration inside me for so long — things I cannot talk about in whole honesty — writing allowed me to layer stories and fantasies into my writing and in that sense has permitted me to heal and recover, like a journal of my life. My life is stories!


4. How Does Your Writing Help Other People and Give You Meaning? 

Just seeing words on paper (well now on screen) brings me joy and blogging have enabled me to connect with amazing people all around the world I would have never met otherwise. I love being able to read their stories and be able to see that the world is full of people such as me, going through trials and overcoming them through writing and in turn, I hope my stories will help others healing or reaching a new spiritual place.

I affectionately call my stories, “my little lines.” I would humbly like to believe that it also inspires others together with the comments I give on the posts I read.


“I will continue my healing journey as long as I live. The process has never come to a screeching halt with magical solutions. Each day has a lesson of its own.” – Gina Gallyot


5. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation? 

My inspiration is the life I have lived, a life less lived; while trying to survive my struggles, never feeling as if I had actually lived. I existed for the next day to start and end, and stories were my refuge. They were places I would go in my mind and create a safe place for myself and my children.

The world around me is also so beautiful in its ordinary splendor. I don’t need the highest mountain or deepest sea, a walk around my neighbourhood inspires me with the beautiful life of nature and people. Every single thing on earth has value and has a story of its own. 

Additionally, I’m inspired by the people I meet, strong people carrying heavy burdens in life, broken people standing tall for others to lean on, humble gentle caring souls oblivious of their own sorrow as they comfort others. In short, the human spirit is extremely inspirational and resilient. 

Every person also has their own story, but there is the question of who stops to listen when we are all so busy trying to tell our own stories. I try to listen to life happening around me in all forms. It’s important to me to give value to everything and everyone I meet in my short life on earth. It is vital that I never forget people are all connected by invisible threads of endless thoughts and feelings and need to treat each other gently.


6. Do You Have Any Particular Writing Habits? How Does your Blog Fit in With You Are?

I hope my writing has helped inspire people and encourage then to be better than what they think of themselves in low times. I would like to think that my writing (my blog)  is a soft spot to land after all the bad news and horror people read. I would like to be a soft voice and a place people can unmask and be themselves as they read my stories and poetry. I hope they remember it is possible to live life happy and free and know that living a better life is possible at any stage in life.


“I try to listen to life happening around me in all forms. It’s important to me to give value to everything and everyone I meet in my short life on earth. It is vital that I never forget people are all connected by invisible threads of endless thoughts and feelings and need to treat each other gently.” -Gina Gallyot


7. What Are Your Most Current Writing Projects on Your Blog or Otherwise? 

I try to participate in at least five Flash Fiction challenges per week to keep the creativity going. I am beginning to become involved in the poetry community, though I am like the littlest baby there as I never wrote poetry prior to this blog! I am trying to compile all the stories and poetry into categories and maybe publish them in a few of years. Every writer’s dream right?!

I have two recent poetry submissions published on SpillWords. Here are the links and publication dates:
“A Walk in the Snow” published on May 10, 2017.
“Shadows Hold me Tighter” will be published on May 22, 2017. 


My biggest writing achievement is my poetry book titled Remember my: Sweet WhispersI Loved You From A Time Once Before.
It is available on Smashwords as a free download and includes poems I wrote that people enjoyed on my blog.
Interview - Sweet Whispers SingleDust
Remember My: ‘Sweet Whispers – I loved You From A Time Once Before’ by Gina Gallyot

8. What Are You Future Plans For Your Blog and Writing?

No big ones as of yet. I have blog posts as well as guest posts featured on other sites but that’s about it. I still feel I am new to this and I like to let things move at a slow pace and see progress in steps rather than leaps and bounds. I am enjoying the journey, not the destination. Future plans might be to start focusing on a book I started last year but got distracted and have never completed. Blogging at my own pace and enjoying the company I meet along the way has been rewarding so I will continue on this path.


9. Can You Briefly Describe Your Writing Process? Do You Have Support for Your Writing and Blogging in Your Life?

Well, I decided to write again after a negative influence was removed from my life. I wrote a lot as a young girl and well into my early youth. I was sidetracked by the ‘merry go round of life.’ Coming back to my first love of writing stories has been like meeting an old flame and feeling the spark we had long ago that has developed into a mature romance. It’s a safe and uplifting romance of heart and soul, paper and pen, words and emotions.

My support comes from my tenacity for life. My four children have been my pillars of strength and support me with enthusiasm and love. Recently a more meaningful relationship has been the wind beneath my wings and encouraged me to soar higher. I also always have hope.


“Coming back to my first love of writing stories has been like meeting an old flame and feeling the spark we had long ago that has developed into a mature romance. It’s a safe and uplifting romance of heart and soul, paper and pen, words and emotions.” – Gina Gallyot


10. How Do you Maintain Discipline in Writing? Do You Prefer Certain Writing or Reading Genres? 

I discipline myself to write consistently and have a few stories or poetry on file to go over so I am never without material. Flash Fiction is incredibly helpful in clearing the cobwebs to write better in other areas of writing. It allows me to try different styles I might not usually do and this versatility helps me develop a better vocabulary too.

Reading is important too because people need to be inspired by other authors and writers. I spend a great deal of time reading new books and also re-reading previous favorites from beloved authors. My favorite writers are ‘mystical writers. Simple strong words in long flowing sentences that convey images of times we have all once traveled upon are inspiring to read about. 

I fell in love with Yeats as a young girl and am still smitten with him. Poets and writers who write like Yeats and draw emotions from other worlds and bring that feeling into our world, I find interesting. I like human based stories, like those from Khaled Hosseini and recently John Green.

My all time favorite novels include The Alchemist and 100 years of Solitude. Another writer that fascinates me till is John Farris and his Wildwood, Chilling Experiments in the Backwoods of the Appalachian Mountains. I feel a strange attraction to that region although I have never been there before.


11. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers? Is There Anything Else You Would Like to Share With Us?

Write from the heart what you want to say. You can use your metaphors, pseudo names, or examples (metaphors and literary devices) that distract from you, but write as if it is the last essay or poem you will ever get to write.

That’s what makes you stand out from other writers — sharing your heart. Don’t let the blogging statistics derail or distract you. Numbers have no real weight in comparison to what you write from your own heart and feelings.

Moreover, I have never wanted to live a mediocre life in either thought, word, or deed. While I joke and say I write ‘little lines’ and often am told to give more respect and emphasis to my ‘little lines,’ they are strong on their own and not fragile lines but lines that encourage people who think they are not worth much.

People read these ‘little lines’ and feel uplifted because the world they live in is trying to confine them. I want ‘little lines’ to help set people free and be whoever they want to be, never living a mediocre life in thought, word, and deed.


“Moreover, I have never wanted to live a mediocre life in either thought, word, or deed. While I joke and say I write ‘little lines’ and often am told to give more respect and emphasis to my ‘little lines,’ they are strong on their own and not fragile lines but lines that encourage people who think they are not worth much.” – Gina Gallyot


12. What Are Your Three-Favorite Blogs you Follow or Enjoy, just for Fun? What Do You Like About Them? 

I love reading blogs in this order: flash fiction, poetry, and long reads. They inspire me to write better stories, and each writer has their own flavor. It’s too hard to mention a top three or even top ten. I enjoy each writer for their own kind of fiction and emotion.


13. Please Share With Us Some of Your Favorite Pieces:

A special one to me from the tales from the equator series:

The Dust and Glitter

She was a pretty tiny bird living in a big white cage. Her master would sit each morning and evening and admire her beauty from just outside her cage. She loved it when he came to sit with her, he read her stories and sang songs and she was his inspiration. He was an artist and he drew lovely paintings of her, sold them and even put some around his lovely house. She longed for him to open the cage, just once and let her out so she could sit in the palm of his hand, but he never did. Always just looking at her, smiling and saying soft soothing words, he would always leave when the woman came.

He lived with a beautiful woman in this house, she never came near the cage, almost never knew the little bird existed and would ask the maids to clean the cage and feed the pretty bird. Little bird looked with envy at the beautiful woman with the long black hair and flowing dresses, her feathers were short and had too many colors, her cage had no walls, she could never hide her ugliness.

One day, a praying mantis sat on the window ledge and asked the tiny pretty bird why was she quiet, why she never sang. Little tiny bird said she had no singing voice, she was made only for man’s eyes, not for his ears or heart. And the mantis thought she saw a tear, but birds don’t cry thought the mantis, not in these parts anyway.

The little bird talked to the mantis every day in between the times the artist sat by the cage and they grew to know each other more. The mantis was as old as the sands of the desert and had traveled far and lived long, she was old and wise but had no heart, yet lately talking to this tiny little bird made the old mantis feel something she had not for a very long time now. It was like an inflation of her hollow chest.

One day she asked the tiny pretty bird if she would like to be free? And the tiny heart fluttered with uncontrolled joy. But the bird asked how? And the praying mantis divulged an ancient secret.

Praying mantis were the gods’ eyes and ears on earth for there were places the gods could not go to, the crevices and the cracks of the world, so they created the praying mantis who could slip in and out unnoticed and gather information back. The mantis had some magic and in them and were allowed one wish for their entire life and that’s how they would end their lives, by granting a wish as their final breath.

The little bird was upset and refused to listen more, but the old tired mantis coaxed her; allow me to bestow the wish on you, I have lived long and traveled far, I need to rest and move on to the next life the gods have planned for me. I have been a mantis too long, almost since this new world begun, set me free.

And the little bird because she had a lovely heart, though so tiny, it was full of love, for the handsome artist man and she wanted to feel the touch of his hand, agreed. And they decided on the right time to carry out their plan.

It was a beautiful sunny morning, where sunlight reflected off every surface and sunbeams found secret places and brought them warmth and the little bird decided today would be the day. The artist would arrive soon and she wanted to be free from her feathers and cage. The praying mantis nodded in agreement.

When they heard the man approaching, the mantis cast her final spell and the cage door flew open and the tiny pretty bird flew out and landed on the ground, now a tiny little lady with streaks of blue and green in her hair. The tiny bird was so happy to touch her own skin and pretty hair and she looked to thank the mantis, but the mantis wasn’t there.

Too late to look now, the handsome artist had approached, and the little bird now a pretty little lady smiled at him with the prettiest smile she thought she had. But the artist was taken by surprise and she never knew he could be a cruel man for she always looked at him from behind the bars of her cage and only saw what he showed her of his true self.

He shouted for the maids to chase away this intruder, he said. Chaos reigned as maids came to remove the tiny little stranger from the big lovely house. They roughly pushed her out the door and told her to do her begging elsewhere, this was the mistress and master’s house, not any common place.

Little bird tried to speak but no one could understand the language she spoke and she could hardly walk, new to feet and no feathers she felt exposed and abused with the rough hands and words. She understood them; why could they not her.

And they shut the big heavy white door and tiny little bird stood alone on the road.

Devastated that her plan had gone so disastrous, she wished she could talk to the praying mantis, her only friend all the years she sat in that cage, she wondered if she had been tricked. Living in that cage wasn’t so bad after all, at least she got to see her handsome artist twice a day and she had water and food and sunlight. Now she had nothing, she would never see his face again.

She walked down the road uncertain which way to go, her bare feet on the hot asphalt, the warmth went all the way to her chest, but never reached her heart. And she knew she could not live like this in this world; and said a soft wish to the gods who would listen, punish me for my greed and insolence, take me away from this existence. Leave me as dust in this world for I feel empty and distant.

And the spirits of the sun took her message to the skies and some gods had pity on her and said such a beautiful soul must be rescued somehow.

So they guided her thoughts till she walked further down the street and they crushed her body with a magnificent sunbeam and she became tiny flecks of dust that settled among the rocks and the grass, she would always be free now, and be part of the world yet no one would see her, she would be as she wished, just dust and glitter.


Please Find Other Posts from Gina Here:


Thank you to Gina for agreeing to be interviewed for my biweekly interview series and being so patient about when the interview was posted. Here is the link to her blog homepage once more: A Life Less Lived. If you would like to be a part of my bi-weekly interview series, please reach out through my Contact Page.  See You on Monday!


© Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Animals/Pets, Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix: Poem – Bop – “Mysterious Humming” #poetry #saturdaymix #amwriting 


Thanks to Theresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. Today’s prompt is a poem or piece of prose to describe a hummingbird or another creature using unique similes and metaphors. 

———

Credit: Eden Hills – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

———–

Silent but for humming, sound of wind, 

Whizzing, flying, carbon bubbles sigh

A tune of a melody, light, profound, 

Sweetness of ambrosia nector cries, gold drowns. 

Sleekness and color, bright, bold splashed paint, 

Fast and fleet, wings of bubble bees rate. 

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Flit and flutter, bird or bee dreaming, 

As comets blazing across the sky beam. 

Music created, of soothing toned sweet hums, 

In churches as monks chant matins well sung. 

Soul of being, flash of sight, slight thrumming

Awake in the nostalgia, dreams summoning. 

Such honey, sugared lies, praises so sweet. 

Observing the beating, a golden snitch fleeting

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Please let me catch you, most superior bird, 

Chirp and chatter with warbling tweet words. 

Catch the bird thrumming, humming his own song, 

Words of a lifetime lift the world prolong. 

Wisdom knows, one cannot catch butterfly clouds, 

Nor humming birds, who flutter profound

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 25 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Writing Prompt: Poem – Cascading Etherees — “The Urn, Death, and the Light” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #WritingChallenge 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is a “challenge you to write a poem that explores a small, defined space.” For A to Z Challenge the GoodRead’s Quote author has a name beginning with letter V. Im going two work in the Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Prompt from last week of a letter to death

——–

Credit: Tomb of Wayfaring Soul

———

It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

———

Such a tiny space I’ve ended in,

No satin lining, pillow, or light. 

Shelved next to others kept, 

Hear in this wall, directed, 

The family not to pay for, 

More than an urn, 

But why, ask I, 

Am I in, 

This wall, 

Left.

—–

It’s, 

Easy,

To understand, 

You didn’t want me —

Reminding  you, who I —

Used to be alive and whole. 

That my ashes in an urn could,

Easily fall, ending up on the floor. 

I’m wondering death, if you laugh at this? 

——

If you comprehend my annoyance clear, 

That my ashes weren’t scattered far  —

Into the park, the Off-leash trails, 

Or into the water, 

To a place of peace. 

No walls for me, 

Take my remains, 

Death, cast them —

To the, 

Wind. 

——-

At, 

First I, 

Had many, 

Questions, 

But I knew you took, 

All you needed of, 

What was left of me. 

And we’re no longer foes who are — 

Bound to time; so you explain the whys,

Fill in the wherefores, gazing ahead soft. 

——

Kingdom of light, love, facing the Heavens,

Death says this is the right place and —

I pray he isn’t wrong, for all —

Is revealed here in the —

House me Father built. 

His mansion with —

Many rooms for —

The faithful, 

Those souls, 

Won. . 

——

So, 

Death you —

Have not your, 

Victory. 

Death you have no sting, 

And in eternity, 

All questions are answered, 

Tranquility comes knowing, 

The reason for everything —

The cross on Calvery, God’s love divine. 

——–


———–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Elevenie - 1 Word - Noun, 2 Word - describes 3 Words - Place, 4 Words describe, 1 Word ends, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Travel, Writing

Day 23 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Photo Challenge: Poem – Elevenie – “The Mending Woman” #AtoZChallenge #NaPoWriMo #photochallenge 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write, “an elevenie. An an eleven-word poem of five lines, with each line performing a specific task in the poem. The first line is one word, a noun. The second line is two words that explain what the noun in the first line does, the third line explains where the noun is in three words, the fourth line provides further explanation in four words, and the fifth line concludes with one word that sums up the feeling or result of the first line’s noun being what it is and where it is.”

The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s prompt is for the letter T. Also thank you to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s photo challenge. 

——

Credit: Source Unknown

——–

“[F]abrics doesn’t make exquisite dresses, it is the stitches. — Treasure Stitches

———

Seamstress,

Sewing powerlines, 

Deserted highway dusk. 

She fixes everything she’s —

Skilled. 

—–

Highway, 

Snowy, windy,

Middle of countryside 

A giant needle weaves, 

Stitches.

——-

Seamstress, 

Never pausing, 

Amidst winding roads, 

Fixing energies flow, she’s 

Wired. 

——

Fixer, 

Forever career, 

Barren places found,

Mending for others but —

Forlorn.  

——

Belongings, 

In backpack, 

Town to Town, 

Igniting power’s wicked spark, 

Gone.

——-

Hitchhiker, 

Purposeful steps, 

Melting snow puddles, 

Spring follows, winter mended, 

Warmth. 

Mender, 

Stitching problems, 

Walks estranged roads, 

Sewing all problems, she —

Disappears

—–

Gone, 

Out of —

Sight of strangelands, 

Goes where the wind, 

Blows. 

——–



——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Ghazal, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 13 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Ghazals – “The Dragon Boat Returns to Shore” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a ghazal. The GoodReads Quote begins with the letter for the A to Z Challenge. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF as well. 


“A Ghazal is a poem that is made up like an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that preceedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.”

See: www.shadowpoetry.com


Dragon Boat SPF
Credit: Alistair Forbes – A Mixed Bag

“And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet I would remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content.” Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore


The dragon boats arrive, the sea pulling them into shore,

Watching remotely from a distance, will he be on shore?

For many months they wandered, the boat their prized shelter,

Now they are home, the boat still floats, they’re at the shore.

I’m afraid to see them, brothers, their friends, so dear to me changed,

I wave, my kin they come forward their eyes remote, onto shore.

They’re gaunt, they’re battle worn, they need food, steaming hot baths to soothe,

Once they settle, they talk, thick coats warm them on the shore.

My brothers, my childhood friends, have lost part of themselves,

On the ocean suffered, in baren lands they smote on the cold shore.

They’ve treasures, furs, they’ve jewels, silver, gold — they lost their life spark,

Gazing at my love, his face coated in grime, eyes dead on shore.

The days pass by, the village returns to normal almost,

Except the men who left; returned forever remote to shore.

I talk to him, I talk to my brothers, hearing how each piece,

Of their self died, no matter we doated on them on shore.

Time passes, I think I’m seeing things when his eyes alter,

Warmth returns, he takes my hand, away from the boat on shore.


img_3553-7

 

img_3552-10


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Free Verse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


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

——–

Credit: Laura Williams

———

Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Wrapped Refrain, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain(2) – ” The Perks of Floating” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the photo prompt challenge.


Credit: Josh Hayes

 

I have a great deal of trouble staying straight up grounded,

If you got to know me, you’d see at times I feel confounding.

I don’t understand it myself,

But imagination is wealth.

So I know it’s okay to fly,

Up into the grayish sky.

Because I know how to make black and white turn colorful,

I can make a life of gray tones light so wonderfully.

——

It’s not that I’m anything unusual, different,

Then anybody else or even those who write proficiently.

But anyone who inks the page,

Knows what writers create engaged,

It’s exciting, magical,

Uplifting, and illogical.

The writer illustrates, cuts, folds, does the restitching —

Of stories; ripping out seams until what is left enriches.

——

It’s not easy to comprehend the scribbles and —

You find delicious cake baked, chocolate rich and grand,

Icing so sweet, flavor melding,

A creation vivid felt.

Picture perfect, read with pride,

And more delightfulness resides,

Hidden inside these golden words so captivating,

Intoxicating, ethereal, rising enraptured.

——-

Perhaps it’s not clear, why I let a balloon carry me floating,

It’s just, I’m seduced by language, writing, hopeful words wrote.

So protecting myself from —

Life’s elements thrumming,

Inside me, around me — I’m safe,

Despite trolls, odd notes of hatred.

I keep honing my craft, in my prettiest flats,

My comfortable wool coat; the writing it lifts me enwrapped.

——-

I let the fates lead me where the wind blows me, knowing,

I could be entrenched in editing woes, left moaning.

But I keep going with my muse,

Taking all of her abuses.

‘Cause they teach me burying —

My secrets, is so worrying.

My inspirations keep the balloon drifting, rising,

I have a great deal of trouble, but my writing makes me smile, surviving.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Free Verse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

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. 

 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix: Fiction – Riding The Wave #amwriting #fiction #saturdaymix 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday’s Mix 100 Word Challenge. 

——

Credit: GSK 17

——-

We’re balancing on the train tracks, walking them carefully with our arms held out like acrobats. The tracks start to rattle, at first minutely, but gradually the rattle increases as we hear the train nearing. 

Remaining as long as we can, we walk and balance, challenging ourselves and testing the fates. When the train whistles loudly, we step off. The tracks are clanking and clambering, as if the bolts holding them down might come free. 

The beast approaches and with it comes the wind from the train’s speed and the smoke from the coal fed engine. We stand as close as we can, without it hitting us. 

It’s an electric and deadly thrill when the train rushes past and we’re not even grazed. We don’t fall back, we ride the wave between life and death as it passes. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Licentia - aabbccddeeAA, BBffgghhiiAA, CCjjkkllmmAA, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Licentia – “Without A Sound” #amwriting #poetry #love


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

——

Credit: Rich Howman

——–
Laughter in the moment, golden hour found

Hearts beat as one, time stops, without a sound

Swing her up into your arms, because it —

Felt like the thing to do, she’s dear and swift;

Her punch on your arm, painful kind of bliss

All to happy to meet with a wet kiss. 

Perserved in time the clock keeps ticking fast, 

Moments gone, looking back, it never lasts. 

Years slide forward, what can you do but, 

Move forward too, memories cause a rut. 

Laughter in the moment, golden hour found, 

Hearts beat as one, time stops, without a sound

—-

Swept her up into your arms, because it —

Felt like the thing to do, she’s dear and swift. 

Wiggling and giggling in your —

Arms; begging to have legs on ground restored

She thought she was too heavy for your back, 

You just laughed and kept her close, said “Relax.” 

You were walking barefoot on the cool —

Wet ground, the grass made you slip, such glad fools. 

Drop of joy harnessed in a crystal glass

Kept to hold, make the precious moments last. 

Laughter in the moment, golden hour found,

Hearts beat as one, time stops, without a sound.

Her punch on your arm, painful kind of bliss

All too happy to meet with a wet kiss. 

Lovers as close as lovers can be, rolling —

On the blanket, on grass, after strolling.

Gleam in her eyes promising heaven, 

Twist of her smile taking you to Never —

-land of pirates, lost boys, and she, Wendy, 

Picking up a sword, fighting for her when —

Pirates attacked; shoeless running in real

Life; time ceasing again, treasures for feels. 

Laughter in the moment, golden hour found

Hearts beat as one, time stops, without a sound

——

Perserved in time, clock keeps ticking fast, 

Moments gone, looking back, it never lasts. 

The truth is hard to swallow, to remember

Years pass, euphoria is dismembered

Harsh realities, sickness, health; sickness wins, 

She flew away my sparrow with the wind.

Such disease sucks the life from a body, 

Hope, a religious dream from pain prodded. 

A new eternity to love, swing round with —

Dirty bare feet and love despite death’s grip. 

Laughter in the moment, golden hour found

Hearts beat as one, time stops, without a sound

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved