dVerse, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “Winged Hope” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 29, 2017. Also, thanks to Paul Scribbles of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting a poetry prompt on magic

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Credit: Jade M. Wong – FFftAW

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Art bleeds, 

Nobody’s seen before —

Winged ring,

Mortally wounded.  

Some kids arrows —

Embedded. 

Forever trickling,  

Whenever someone’s — 

Dying. 

Knives, gunshots wounds. 

Whether they’re sick —

On pain medication. 

Or dead in sleep.

Winged circle bleeds, 

For generations. 

Weeping blood,

For death is —

Constant. 

Yet in darkness, 

Gleams old magic, 

Hope’s recourse, 

Heals. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Villanelle - 19 Lines aba, last two lines are a couplet -aa, Writing

#OctPoWriMo – Day 14 – Villanelle – “Fighting to Heal” #amwriting #poetry


Prompt Day 14: Shameful

What does the word “shameful” bring to mind for you? I found two quotes from nineteenth century French writer Victor Hugo that seem to capture my own thoughts on this word. Take a few minutes to free write and see where this leads you. Is it something you’ve done? Something that was done to you? Something you’ve observed on either a small, personal scale or large corporate or government level?”

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http://www.poetsontheblog.blogspot.ca

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http://www.youtube.com

———-

No one said, life is as believed, 

We pass each day, avoiding pain; 

Forgetting, shamefully deceived.

Our worlds turn amiss, we bleed;

Yet, from difficulties too we gain. 

Consider them in life as reprieves

Intense pain, blood leaks and we grieve,

Toxins cleansed, blood let, not in vain;

Wounds left, shamefully unseemly

Suffer, yet many a worse life conceive; 

World that’s mean, feeds on human pain.

Yet, we shine our hope, despite grief; 

Though our scars are deep, we still breathe. 

There’s strength fighting, not leaving, 

A man near death, not left to bleed. 

Sacrifice and freedom conceived. 

Sadness trickles past, cleansing rain;

Bathed in water, hope found, relief, 

Strength, warm light glows, hope healing. 

———

Villanelle:

“A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa.The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).”

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Friday Music Prompt, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Short Stories And Serial Stories

Music Prompt: Poem – Quatrains – “Constant Cravings” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. This week’s prompt is the song: “Constant Craving” By KD Lang

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http://www.curejoy.com

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Constant cravings not only for,

An addict or a pregnant gal.

Cravings that run deep, thus, inform–

Temptation in life, to resolve. 

—–

Find balm for cravings we adore,

The deadly; we’re not infallible.

What if they control us, and pour–

Salt on wounds, we’re delicate, fragile.

——

Some addictions, need be unformed,

Forget the drugs, the alcohol–

Constant craving beyond our core,

Craving affection, unappalled.

——

A deep urge, to have and to pour —

Water on our burns, all close calls.

But can you escape craving more? 

Never enough, always need salves. 

—-

Constant want and feeling so sore —

Need completion, a place to fall. 

Beyond bad cravings, wanting more.

Constantly seeking, peace enthralls.  

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse –  “Fraility Flailing” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt Frail.

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http://www.nited-academics.org

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We walk the golden path; we’re frail, 

Is there any other way to wander?

No one stronger or wiser left to fight?

But we’ve aged within minutes, 

We forgot to gaze behind us, 

To see what the past left for us;

Wisdom and knowledge with a bloody trail. 

Instead, we’re continuing on a broken path, 

We’re frail, aging humans by the seconds;

Counting our tomorrows,

Before we have them granted.

Not listening to our elders;

Who lost life, limb, peace, to war and grief.

We don’t look skyward to the heavens, 

We watch our own feet tremble.

Stuttering we stumble down the trail.

Dragging our canes and walkers;

We’re riddled with bullet holes.

Wounds we never felt, 

We never gave up our guns;

Never thought what “security,” meant,

For our children and grandchildren.

We’re all exceedingly frail, 

As if we were ancient beings;

We carry their genes but their wisdom, 

We breathe out like carbon.

The hurricane winds blow through our ears, 

Blocking out what we don’t want to hear. 

Truth is a dangerous weapon, 

The truth can change direction.

The truth can smart and hurt, 

Our lungs can barely breathe.

It degrades and humiliates, 

It stings our eyes and it turns, 

Focused vision, to grey static.

The truth it always is revealed, 

Until all we can see is real.

But real has no pertinent meaning, 

When what you’re used to, 

Lies promoted and shouted.

Lies built upon lies, 

More colourful than, 

The Grande Canyon’s layered rock.

We hide behind our lies, 

It makes us distrusting.

Flailing, we cannot believe in anyone;

Not even ourselves to do what’s right.

We cannot elect using logic; 

No true king on this earthly realm, 

To lead us to glory and home.

We don’t even have faith in, 

Our own minds and bodies.

We’re so frail, as paper cranes crushed, 

As tissue paper torn without thought.

We cannot lift our fingers to point, 

To teach unlearning children lessons, 

Before they end up like us.

We’re frail; yet we don’t know the meaning, 

But as assuredly as the world turns, 

Our ashes and dust, 

Will blow away in the wind.

The sands of time keep swirling, 

And we’re growing ever closer, 

To our own cremation;

We think we have forever, 

But our steps are forgotten memories, 

Or thoughts not even the silt of dirt.

Frailty so visible, we lumber around slowly, 

In our slumber losing memories.

We forget to see where yesterday led, 

Blindly we falter and walk where we may;

Into tears, and traps, we’re used, betrayed —

Abused and hopeless.

But we reap what we sew;

Our harvest was distrust and darkness, 

A black-hole eating consuming all good.

We’re frail, until we fall where we walk, 

Because life is faulty and frail too;

And our short time, 

Has been for not;

If we cannot learn from our past, 

See how history repeats no matter the leader.

But we are human, 

So we do not learn, 

Thinking we’re invincible; 

Until the day we’re not.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “The Battle Infinite” 


http://www.youtube.com

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Demons dreaming, 

Surround me as I wake;
Oh give me serenity, 
Nightmares creep and ache.

Falling from a mind overwhelmed, 

By imagination on overdrive;

Let my mind be at peace,

Let the demons finally cease.

No understanding have I, 

Why the demons we slaughter,

Are always the same sin.

I defeated you before, 

But you come back for more;

The snake, loathsome reptile,

From Eden you did break.

Losing tiny snake legs, 

To strike a woman’s heel.

How dare you come back, 

To bring me down again.

I pray you keep your distance;

You keep moving closer.

Claustrophobia, panic, 

Praying you don’t turn me to granite;

Pulling out my weapons, 

I’ll battle Medusa harder still.

You can see the braided,

 Depths of my scars;

We know each other well old foe, 

But I won’t go down pleading;

I have light in my armour, 

Not the kind which normal snakes like;

The kind which burns,

Makes snakes writhe for life.

Pain will be your only friend, 

Old foe; you fight the same.

Each and every time I return, 

I don’t know why I turned my back on you;

Those not weary do not see, 

The enemy coming up behind, 

A dagger piercing my back; my heart.

A knock to my head; concussions blind;

But I heal fast, and I heal stronger.

Building my muscles each movement,

I recover; blood may flow, 

And I hurt all the same;

What’s worse, I can’t blame you for all, 

I do this to myself.

Will you ever learn stupid girl?

When are you no longer a frightened child?

There are no excuses to justify my crimes;

I know what is right and yet, 

Time and again I find my foe and fight.

A battle with motions memorized, 

A continual siege; I win and lose.

Pound you into the ground, 

Poison you with your potent venom;

But you bounce back and reform, 

Taking on another sin,

To challenge me for awhile;

Making it sound excellent, 

That such a rest wouldn’t be exuberant.

If I’m smart I liquefy you;

Your blood and more stain the ground.

But since I’m human, 

I complicate the issues.

And there are days I pause, 

To be attacked and left weaponless, 

Filled with panic and worry, 

Wandering the valley as the poison seeps deep.

Only in the coming of dawn do I delight, 

Fortitude returns and I smile small, 

Learning my lesson, 

Time and time again.

Experience keeps teaching despite, 

A woman who continues to decide who she is;

Not knowing, not realizing, 

Life is a gory battle, no one escapes.

The scar tissue builds upon scars;

Wounds of war are often the worst, 

When we are not expecting them.

Pulling the dagger from my own back;

It’s a pain I hate to remember vividly.

But I got up;

And I walked on. 

Feeling the dawn heal me;

As I kept on the road.

To another traveller I might seem,

A terrified, desperate girl.

Yet more often I see the same look in another’s eyes;

The knowledge of heart break, repentance, and experience.

A cycle doomed to repeat until we’ve finally learned;

Bigger hands than ours must deal the blows.

Hands which hold,

Entirety of unknown and known universes;

Hands which cradle the world.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.  

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Senryu - 5,7,5 - 3 verses - 17 syllables, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Senryu – ” No Thought.”


 Senryu (also called human haiku) is an unrhymed Japanese verse consisting of three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables (5, 7, 5) or 17 syllables in all. Senryu is usually written in the present tense and only references to some aspect of human nature or emotions. They possess no references to the natural world and thus stand out from nature/seasonal haiku.

The 5/7/5 rule was made up for school children to understand and learn this type of poetry. For an in depth description of Haiku, please visit the Shadow Poetry Haiku, Senryu, and Tanka section. There is much more to senryu than the madeup 5/7/5 version.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

http://www.bluedragoncreations.com

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He’s bewitching me,

I don’t perceive his allure.

He hides fatal flaws.

——

Lips to lips, regard,

Eyes which fascinate appeal,

His intentions veil.

—–

Articulated,

He fails to grasp pain is real,

He wounds without thought.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Writing

Christmas Miracles: I have scars but I’m Okay


Merry Christmas everyone! All the best to you and your families. I’m sitting in the living room with my family we have just opened our presents and Grandma came over and opened up her presents too. Last night we had two of my Grandmas and my Godparent’s over for late night snacks and sweets. A good time was had by all and I think it was midnight by the time everyone left and we had all cleaned up. Unlike most years, we chose to open presents today because we were all so tired. One of my brothers slept over and the other wanted to get home and sleep because he hadn’t slept the night before.

While talking to my Uncle last night ( one of my Godparents) we were discussing the topic of scars. All of us in life go through challenges and this leaves wounds and scars behind. When Jesus showed his wounds to Thomas after he had risen from the dead on Easter Sunday, Thomas felt Jesus’ wounds. He put his hands right in the places Jesus had been hurt when he was crucified on the cross on Calvary. He felt the place where the nails had been in Jesus’ hands and the hole where a spear from a Roman Soldier had pierced him in the side to see that Jesus was dead. The truth is, some wounds don’t heal and some form scars but we are all left with the presence of our bad times and painful traumas.

That is why God sent Jesus in the manger in Bethlehem. Even though that baby grew up and died on the cross, even though all his wounds didn’t heal, Jesus rose from the dead having defeated sin, death, and the grave to heal our wounds and battle scars. Even though we carry them through life, Jesus keeps us whole.

That is the most important message I can share with you this Christmas, the true meaning of Christmas. But, however you celebrate and for whatever reason I wish you the best. Thanks for your follows, likes, comments, and discussions throughout the year. Thanks for everything from the bottom of my heart.