#OctPoWriMo Day 14/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “ A Safety Net” #amwritingpoetry #100WordWednesday


For OctPoWriMo Day 14 the Prompt is If I Were Me. Also, combing with Bikurgurl’s #100WordWednesday.


Ask yourself, “If I were me…” what would that look like? Who are you really? Have you lost yourself in being a mother, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, father?


Credit: Toa Heftiba via Unsplash


Ask for the world, typify me,

Take advantage or carve my insides;

Pumpkin gutted.

I’ve chosen to take, the high road, to believe —

To have faith.

Not to see, things not there.

To reveal the truth,

Even though, curiosity may kill me.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t configure the puzzle pieces;

I’m a writer, I love a good mystery.

So, weave me a tale and I’ll unbind it thread by thread;

Only to see it’s trembling core, where light reveals the mayhem.

I wish for sunlight, carved tables with Zinfandel,

A place to write, you next to me;

No suffocation, no squeezing in my chest,

My liberty not at stake.

Complications, deviations, things I never expected;

Truth and disbelief collide as dynamite splashes.

I am the wind, I am the great detective,

No laudanum needed to dull the senses or to dream.

I am the Amazon and I am Alice,

Slipping back into Wonderland.

And I’ve discovered that beneath facades,

Can lie a beast with scales and teeth.

Slithering, slick, slime of rust,

Questionable creature, Adam’s fall —

Eve’s mistrust; and if I can’t have all the details,

Assemble words into some order,

My decisions might break not only I,

But lives lie in the balance.

One who needs, so I must give,

Because my Lord said give all you can;

And even if you’re wrong,

Heaven will be your table in the sunlight,

Where you can write and find tranquility:

The ambience of love.

If I Were Me,

Who knows,

For she is constantly moulded,

Her Creator’s hands her safety net.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Three Line Tales: Nonfiction – Of Encyclopedias and Great Poets #amwritingnonfiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: David Cantelli via Unsplash


In university, most professors agree that encyclopedias are not proper scholarly sources, but they work well as background information; to discover facts that require further support. Old books waft certain aromas, a headiness, but also a mustiness, an acrid reminder of the past and all the knowledge these encyclopedias contain; knowledge judged inaccurate and unreliable alone.

I was studying the poet Samual Taylor Coleridge, and I paused, thinking if in the academic ‘encyclopedia’ of my Literary Criticism textbook, Coleridge’s writing was valid and acclaimed by modern peers, or if he too spouted words too many scholars scoff at and ignore; does his literary criticism require more validation — the answer is simple, nothing can be read at face value, not even the musings of great poets.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Fiction – Blips #amwritingfiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Nathan Wright via Unsplash


On these dark nights, sometimes the words slip away; my mind’s a sieve. I’ve ideas but the fog wanders inside, and whatever I try, I cannot define these thoughts; it’s as if my wings are shorn, clipped from flight. I’m a bluebird singing her harmonious tune, while some melodies become ethereal disappearing into the sun, while others trickle onto paper, wet tears searing; somehow I define them in blips.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Music Challenge/ Photo Challenge: Poem – English Sonnet – “Softly She Remains” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #31 and to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: Mari Lazheva via Unsplash


Killing Me Softly” by the Fugees


Giselle is lost, that’s what they say, while I,

Lay in the abandoned pool, head bent.

I hum tunes here, no water brims; he died.

Thinking back; laughing at time’s memories spent.

Giselle, love! His sweet words still kill softly;

His gentle touch perceived pain, strummed music.

His guitar played songs we wove, sunken softly,

Water and tears drown, kisses, lyrics.

Nights under stars where our voices blended,

Giselle he moaned, as we mixed our sound.

But he’s gone; that truth pummels without end;

A love of teenage madness; our ship downed.

Killing me softly, he’s gone but I’m here;

Flushed with regret’s knife, he’s no longer near.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: July Part Three 2018 – Special Edition #quotes #pinterest #NotableQuotes


More Quotes! Enjoy!


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©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo/Music Challenge/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Decuaine – “No Pretty Tears” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #SaturdayMix #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Photo Challenge #219. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix with a prompt based on writing a Decuain. Finally, I’m also combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Music Challenge #28 with the song “Cry Pretty” by Carrie Underwood.


Decuain:

The Decuain (pronounced deck•won), created by Shelley A. Cephas, is a short poem made up of 10 lines, which can be written on any subject. There are 10 syllables per line and the poem is written in iambic pentameter.

There are 3 set choices of rhyme scheme:

ababbcbcaa, ababbcbcbb, or ababbcbccc

For a longer Decuain poem, add more stanzas for a double, triple, quatruple, etc. Decuain.


Credit: Enzzo Barrena


Cry Pretty” by Carrie Underwood


I’ll keep my heart closed, remain unexposed,

For I’m just a girl, though composure slips —

I can’t stay rock solid, broke and alone.

To shatter is human as each soul someday splits,

Despite all the glue patching seismic shifts.

I’m trapped in these thorns, a city of ash-bones,

I cry as I struggle caged, my insides nicked.

No one cries pretty, but smiles hide your groans.

You can say it’s all fine, until fake tears loath,

No masking; no one cries pretty like stone.

*****

Lace and gems can’t hide my inner heart’s shame,

I try to be real, but false words infect —

In a crowd or at home, beneath poise tears rain.

Mirrors don’t lie, hurt a picture of neglect,

So, my eyes flow, as infection wrecks.

No one cries pretty, scarring pain isn’t myth.

You can’t pretend when the dam breaks, correct —

Those trails of mascara; they blacken and drip.

Scratching your face, skin red, itching with pain;

You can’t cry pretty — you’ll learn real tears save.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 21/Sunday Writing: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The Unmaking of A Dream” #amwriting #poetry #mythology #MLMM


For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “based on the myth of Narcissus. After reading the myth, try writing a poem that plays with the myth in some way.”

Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on the title The Unmaking of A Dream.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Narcissist so loved himself first,

Blond hair, chiseled jaw, self-love burst.

Down by the pool, his special place —

He dreams of his attractive face.

He can’t find one person with grace–

Enough to see, they’re not on par.

He’s been granted magnificence; his looks they compel,

Admiration from men and women; he loves but himself.

*****

Liriope his mother so gorgeous,

Son of river god, Cephisesus.

Brave hunter disdainful of love,

To proud to care for anyone.

Such was his vainness, he upset —

Nemesis; doesn’t regret —

His reflection, his greatest lust; adrift selfish and vain,

He resents sweet Echo’s presence, her heart aching, her pain.

*****

Some say the nymph she dwindled,

Echo Narcisse’s swindled.

“Leave me alone,” his haughty —

Tone made her stomach squirm, distraught.

She begged, she blathered, she touched him;

But he threw off her hands, voice grim,

She echoed his words; he was entranced in his visage;

No mirror, but a pool’s reflection made Echo livid.

*****

No, the rude hunter did not fade,

Nor waste away with longing gaze.

Echo did not wander until her —

Melodic voice was gone — unheard.

Stomping her foot in anger’s blaze,

She clutched Narcisse’s Hair enraged;

Drowning him in love-lorn grief; a pool of dreams his final grave,

Nemesis concurred, the hunter was best dead; self-love decayed.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Music/Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Broken As Birds” #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the music Challenge, 4 week’s back, “Bird Set Free” by Sia. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge #201.


Credit: Kyle Thompson


“Bird Set Free” — Sia


Broken like a cage, a bird flutters, pages in the breeze

Harnessed voice caught, sputters,

Sputters as clipped wings sprout feathers

Sputters as a tattered soul struggles

Struggles through the pain

Struggles, not able to sanguinely sing

Sing the fire of a scream inside

Sing the song of a creature chained

Chained and rejected

Chained, but the need to soar resides

Resides within a silent piercing message

Resides within her brokenness surviving

Surviving and holding on tight, nails piercing skin

Surviving in the melodies, phrases key —

Key to life, the writer writing,

Key to life, the singer singing with iron will

Will to shout as a bird set free

Will of vocals as a crescendoing sound

Sound of a voice roaring, echoing and never ebbing

Sound of a voice struggling back to life

Life, a vivid dream alive and brilliant

Life a scream torn from our insides, sick pain rising

Rising and lifting wings in the wind

Rising no longer with ghosts hiding

Hiding the lies that eat through us inside

Hiding our sadness, those tears until —

Until our voices are shrill from relief

Until melodies release the tension

Tension of of being muted and broken

Tension of piercing wails lifted

Lifted high, nails scratching to be alive

Lifted high not wanting to die, caged door open

Open to life and exploring, songs that twist

Open to life, shouting loud, a bird set free to fly

Fly to the edges of the ancient map

Fly to the fire of the sun, wings without wax

Wax poetic of those times you felt trapped

Wax on the candle dripping as light fades

Fades to be reborn in celestial fire

Fades as dreams rediscovered in ditties

Ditties thrown as a bird set free

Ditties forever sung, a piercing yell released

Released all anger, released all pain

Released all bitterness, soaring as the falcon —

Falcon dipping, bending, screeching

Falcon, no master, no cage, no traps

Screeching because birds glide to their own tunes

Trap escaped — now a birds truly set free.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes December 2017 Part Two #quotes #pinterest


Merry Christmas! These are a bit late but I hope still helpful and inspirational throughout the holidays. I’ve chosen to stick to Regular everyday themes. Sometimes the holiday quotes and holiday themes can ‘Holiday’ a person out. Thank goodness for hockey or all that would be on TV at night would be Hallmark type Christmas movies.

Anyways enjoy your Christmas’ and ponder these in-between. 🎄❤️😊


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©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

November Notes Day 16 /Photochallenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Immeasurable” #photochallenge #poetry #amwriting


For November Notes the song is “Words as Weapons” by Birds. I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge Prompt.


Credit: Discrete


“Words as Weapons” by Birds


You can try to measure her angles,

Try to rationalize her curves.

Measure her so your comprehension of her is scientific;

But to math and science she’s absurd.

She has no rhyme or reason,

And you can’t make a person a logical equation.

Her body is not algebra,

Nor is she a kind of Cosine, Sine, or Tangent Angle.

You can use your words as methodical weapons,

To untangle her qualitative values,

But your words like swords will never cut to her core.

She’ll use her tears as numerous weapons,

And you can’t measure those.

Their quantitative value is beyond this world.

And she’s no statistical value,

She isn’t found in Trigonometry or in quadrilaterals.

And you’ll find no help about her in Epistemology;

Nor any philosophical math or logic.

Some things in life are beyond words and equations,

They aren’t logical or reasonable,

They are what they are.

And if you love all her curves and angles,

Can’t you let that be enough?

There’s no need to hypothesis,

To predict the future or the next hour,

So what if her face is symmetrical?

You can use your words as abject weapons,

To untangle her qualitative values,

But your words like swords will never cut to her core.

She’ll use her tears as numerous weapons,

And you can’t measure those,

Their quantitative value is beyond this world,

It’s called feeling and living in the moment,

Joyeux de Vivre or spontaneity,

No being afraid to let life happen,

To have Passion in the here and now.

Though you find it easier to measure and quantify your life,

Perhaps quality is a better goal?

And if such beauty you behold,

That you cannot find the exact right words,

There are other ways to show your love.

You can use your words as hurtful weapons,

To untangle her qualitative values,

But your words like swords will never cut to her core.

She’ll use her tears as more painful weapons,

And you can’t measure those,

Their quantitative value is beyond this world.

Before your mind starts to unravel,

In charts and graphs and parabolas,

Accept her for the flower she is,

Blooming without thought or reason,

In the midst of a freezing winter.

She is who she is and she isn’t a number,

Not even a poem,

She’s only and always a woman,

Her worth immeasurable,

Her love beyond equations and perfect values.

She is your summer in the bitter cold of life.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved