Poem: Free Verse – Thoughts of the Mockingjay #amwriting #poetry #fiction #symbolic 


Credit: Wikia

———

Mockingjay, pretty bird or elegant deadly queen? 

A woman, a creature of dystopia and mythology

If there’s one bird to be, it would be a Mockingjay

Though I know they’re imaginary,

Mockingjays are real as symbols of courage.

Birds which don’t break, they carry on;

Nature outlasting outlandish experiments,

Reinventing, Mother Earth evolving and re-working, 

What humans would call a mistake; 

Yet these Jays cannot be hidden away, they’re fierce warriors risen. 

——

As a Mockingjay, could I fly close to the sun? 

Icarus (I think) burned off his majestic wings doing such a deed, 

 I’d think a celestial queen of Mockingjays is smarter

She’s a stealthy bird whose whistle, repeats any tune heard, 

Her mimickery can be confusing to her enemy. 

A Mockingjay queen, would keep her scars hidden, 

Safe beneath feathers which float, as hope; 

Now fuzz, falling furiously as she grows, dropping downy —

Fast, no longer a chick adorned with puffiness

Now a full-blown black and white glory who sings life’s story, 

The story of pain, betrayal, and loss;

Your average adventure and most tantalising tale. 

Oh, what a Mockingjay can truly be, 

When her heads adorned by sunlight and truth,

Choosing her battles and using her melody

The Melody you’re humming to yourself. 

The sweetest songs of tears, quicksilver and liquid gold, 

Molten metal glimmering

She burns with fire in her soul, though she is no mythical Phoenix;

Yet she rises from the ashes of society and science

She repeats your tunes, the echoes throughout her wild lands. 

——

Credit: http://www.nerdist.com

—–

You’ll never catch a Mockingjay, there’s wrath in her footprints, 

Her anger caused, ignites an inner flame brilliant. 

She’ll swoop from above and end you below, 

The dignified woman, no longer laughing,

Going to battle, her war song a trill

The Mockingjay flies her wings fluid, her form grace designed. 

A legendary bird of modern times,

Survival of the fittest crossing genetics; 

Nature re-designs better than a science lab of horrors

Mockingjay is more than bird she is the huntress

The symbolic warrior of Ancient Greece and Rome – Artemis;

Bow with blazing pyrotechnics and lethal skill, pointed at her kill. 

She lives and she dreams of the day, the war is long ended, 

Where revenge and the cold stone hearted have no meaning. 

Her desire is the melody so beautiful it thrills and heals

Enraptures a soul with clearly sung words. 

She’s a warrior with golden platted lashes, winged at her pray;

A sultry seductress and and goddess flying free. 

Mockingbird walks, she sways, feathers flocked close, 

She’s as precious as the sparrow, calling lonely for her love.

She’d scarred, her heart torn

So strong but in need of help most of all. 

Even symbols of strength such as her, 

Who mimick a fictitious tune with ease;

Need more than survival to hope for. 

She needs more than, a gilded bird cage. 

—–

Credit: Laces and Tiaras

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette – “A Scare” #amwriting #poetry 


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

——

Credit: Natalie Deprina

—–

She’s only twelve, bright —

The only girl separate from,

Her brothers four.

Parents her adore,

Their last child, girl comes, 

For Mom she’s a sight.

—-

A surprise one spring;

Thought there’d be no more kids born.

They so much wanted,

Girl so undaunted;

By elder brothers‘ scorn.

Bird fluttering wings.

—–

She laughs so cheery,

Going about her day, she’s teased

By family with love. 

Animals adore, 

She’s the darling who pleases,

Makes life less dreary.

—-

Out feeding horses, 

Then, rides with such glee calling,

Her dogs following. 

Danger in shallows, 

Ocean so near, tumbles, falls;

Swims smart, resourceful!

—–

Into warm arms pulled,

Mom near lost her dear, her pearl.

Dad is so wrathful, 

She wasn’t thoughtful

And where were her brothers? She —

Was grounded some. 

—–

Didn’t think enough;

She’s safe, all is well, she’s hugged,

Held close by her Mom,

Told, “Be careful hon!”

You’d be missed, you’re much loved.

Mom again gives hug.

—–

She’s happy again. 

Learned she’s human, as others. 

Preteens can die too.

Better to ride through —

Ocean waves, with friends, brothers. 

So life it remains

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Prompt: Fiction – Teegan’s Potion Part Two #amwriting #fiction #serial 


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

HERE’S PART ONE 

—–

Credit: SirLounge.com

 

Tallia anxiously glanced at Teegan who was asleep on her waiting area couch. She was sure Teegan would be angry at her for drugging his coffee, but Tallia didn’t feel she had a  choice. Something was off about Teegan and the darkness surrounding him and Tallia didn’t want to make his potion rashly; there could be dire consequences.

She had found one ingredient which was odd, scrawled off to the side of the ingredients and directions for the potion for Teegan in her Aunt Willow’s tome. Apparently, the potion required a giant gold fish. Tallia wasn’t sure why Teegan’s potion would require the gold fish, but it was something she would have to leave the store to buy.

Teegan had told her if he drank his potion the darkness surrounding him, the shadow that caused a sensitive magically inclined person such as Tallia to hurt and feel pain, would leave for a long time. How long was a long time? And how old was Teegan really? To her he looked about thirty-five.

If he was as old as she thought he might be, she knew he might understand the sleeping drought in his coffee, knowing Tallia as a magic shop owner, had to be wary if Teegan’s potion involved dark magic. Tallia had no way of knowing how long he would be asleep from the drought. She had tried calling Jude, the owner of The Black Coven magic store numerous times on his cell.

Jude must be having a brisk business at his store because he or his assistant, never picked-up the store phone either. Jude was about eighty-years-old as best as she could guess. But his family magic shop dated back to the Middle Ages. He had to know something about Teegan and the potion.

Tallia checked on Teegan one more time, she hoped he’d be out another two hours at least. She needed to leave the store buy the giant goldfish as well as visit Jude. Something inside her told Tallia it was vital she gathered as much information she could get on Teegan and his potion before she set about making it.


 

She drove her Vespa to The Black Coven first. It was located in an ancient, rundown part of town dating back to the 1400’s. But those who needed to visit Jude’s magic shop, knew how to find it. As Tallia’s own magic shop had been with Aunt Willow, Jude’s place was also a hole in the wall.

The streets were narrow here and Tallia knew her Vespa would be more inconspicuous, as well as, she would be able to travel down narrow streets she couldn’t maneuver with her car. There was a bit of parking lot a block down from The Black Coven. Tallia parked, leaving her Vespa in a parking space.

She walked down to the ancient magic shop, opening the creaky old wooden door and removed her side-bag. She had placed her Aunt’s great tome in her bag. She turned the book to the correct page, listing ingredients and directions to make Teegan’s potion in the script Tallia did not recognize.

Then she called out, “Hello Jude, are you there? It’s Tallia, Willow’s niece. I’m sure you felt me coming. Was there a reason you didn’t pick up the phone? Or have you guys been extremely busy today?”

Tallia received no answer. She gazed around the dusty store, it appeared empty.”Um, Jude’s assistant, Aspen, are you here? We’ve never meant, but last time I talked to Jude, he’d said he hired you to take over from him?”

Again Tallia received no reply. She walked around the magic shop. The Black Coven was a mishmash of magical items all stored on old stone and wooden shelves in no particular order or thought to design.

Powerful and dangerous items were among those items which were standard, and pretty harmless magical items. She saw crystal balls, different statues, and a wall with ingredients for potions and spells kept in jars.

She was shocked to see certain items used only for dark sorcery. These items frightened Tallia. She could sense there blackness in her mind. They were much worse than the darkness which followed Teegan — at least she thought so.


 

Jude had always been grandfatherly to Tallia. She had meant him many times as grew-up. He often had coffee with her Great-Aunt and Aunt. She wondered why he wasn’t answering her. Tallia walked up to the counter where a 1950’s cash register sat in dust. There was a bell and Tallia dinged it a few times.

Eventually, a man about the same age as Teegan came out. He looked Tallia over and before she could say anything he held up his hand.

“We knew you were coming Tallia. It’s alright. Jude hasn’t been well lately and he’s in the hospital. For his age, he has done well until now. It’s why he hired me to handle things. I’m one of his great-grandsons, I’m. . .”

“You’re Aspen. I know, Jude told me about you last time I saw him a few months ago. He attended my shop’s re-opening. I run Fairy Dust.”

“Yes, Jude told me about you. You rang his cell, but he has trouble talking right now my Aunt told me. He had a stroke. I’m sorry I was busy when you called out in here. From what I can glean from you, you’re dealing with some sort of darkness from a client and you need some advice,” Aspen said.

Tallia nodded, “Poor Jude, that’s awful. I’m sorry for your family.” She put the tome in front of Aspen and waited as he read and reread the potion procedure and ingredients.

“These seem to be pretty normal ingredients, except for the large goldfish. But maybe the potion requires it’s life force? I’m not sure what to tell you Tallia. What’s Teegan like?”

Tallia couldn’t help but blush thinking about Teegan.”He’s demanding but seems to be understanding enough. I thought he was about your age,  when he first came to my shop. I could feel the shadow emanating from him. It made me sick, especially when he came back the second time.”

“The second time?”

“Well I pretended I was sick the first day, even though he did give me a headache. I went home for the afternoon and I hoped he’d go somewhere else. But the next day he was back. He told me he was old. My Aunt and Great Aunt made him his potion before. He was able to stop me from feeling ill, from hurting me, by chanting a few words,” Tallia said.

“I’m not sure what I’m dealing with, will the potion truly make Teegan well? Will it make such evil leave him?”

Aspen was paying attention to Tallia’s words carefully. She noticed he was concentrating. He wasn’t bad looking himself. He had auburn hair and bright green eyes. He was tall but not as tall as Teegan. He was attractive but more in a nice guy way. Teegan was definitively what women would call a bad boy. 

“Well,” Aspen said,”I think your Teegan is cursed. That’s why he needs the potion, quite badly I’m afraid. You really should hurry back and make it for him. We’ve an extra goldfish around here somewhere, we must.”

“Cursed, cursed by what or whom?”

“It’s hard to say Tallia. Jude would know more I think. Even so I believe Teegan is much older than Jude by hundreds of years. I’ve heard whispers of Teegan. He must have done something terrible in the past would be my guess. Something awful enough to warrant being cursed to live so long and to require a potion.”

Tallia sighed, letting out her breath.

“I have a feeling if he doesn’t get this tonic, he’ll be a resistant foe to deal with Tallia. There’s a reason he takes it. I doubt he wants to be who he is when he’s dark. He wants to be normal and this potion allows him to be.”

“You know all this?” Tallia questioned. “How did you know?”

Aspen smiled mysteriously, “There’s things I’ve heard Tallia. Also, I can read through you, what you felt around Teegan. I can feel his presence too, so could Jude; he’s a powerful guy. Go back and make his potion quickly. He’ll be awake soon.”

“But . . .”

“Tallia, such as you and many other magically inclined people, I have a sixth-sense. That’s how I know these things.You have one too, although less developed. It’s telling you to go back to Fairy Dust and hurry.”

Her blue eyes became huge and Tallia nodded mutely. Aspen handed Tallia a bag with the giant goldfish.”On the house,” he said with a grin. She wondered how they had this giant goldfish just lying around. It wasn’t a typical magical ingredient.

Tallia called back to Aspen lightly,”Stop by come check-out my store some time; have coffee.” He walked her to the door and Tallia stuffed the tome back in her side bag.

“I’d like that,” Aspen said grinning. He winked at Tallia as she left. She was deep in thought and was surprised to find herself getting onto her Vespa, placing the fish on the back of it.

She told herself to pay attention and hurriedly drove back to Fairy Dust. Tallia too felt she needed to make Teegan his potion and fast. She prayed he wouldn’t be angry with her or worse. With such darkness within him, she didn’t want to be an object of Teegan’s wrath.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

November Notes: Poem -Day 9 – Blitz – “The Darkest World” #amwriting #poetry #novembernotes 


Today’s prompt song is “Cupid Carries A Gun” by Marilyn Manson.

——-

“Cupid Carries A Gun” – Marilyn Manson

——-

Credit: http://www.steamyrainingcards.wikia.com

——-

Witch drums pounding

Witch drums, I’ll escape your hell

Hell is the death in your eyes

Hell is the blankness in your stare

Stare at today, world has changed

Stare at today, yet we’re all here afraid

Afraid of your spiders

Afraid of your mangled crowns

Crowns are for glory

Crowns aren’t for the gory

Gory I predict your future will be

Gory I predict as your trigger finger pulls

Pulls into hate

Pulls us into helplessness

Helplessness, you say hold your hand 

Helplesssness, if I give in, I am damned 

Damned by your words

Damned by your voice

Voice of sultry sin

Voice of evil intent 

Intent of voice to charm 

Intent of voice to bring pain and shoot 

Shoot your arrow through the hope in me

Shoot your arrow through the hope in this world 

World you’ve with your private hell

World is not yet without hallejeuhs 

Hallejeuhs set me free

Hallejeuhs have more power

Power greater than the wretched Cupid you’ve become

Power greater than your hand scrunching tight my own 

My own prison in your grasp

My own hell is you, on earth

Earth which you blacken 

Earth which you pollute 

Pollute our minds with lies

Pollute our minds with lyrics

Lyrics sung, no love song, you’re no Cupid 

Lyrics screamed, you’re the pitch of dark

Dark of night without hope

Dark of night unfolds its wrath

Wrath so great, I hold my Halo

Wrath so great I stutter my prayers

Prayers so intent, my Halo is safe

Prayers so intent, your tar-black is smothered by light

Light washes away your petrude charade 

Light shines upon your malicious deeds

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten 

——-

——-

©Mandbelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “My Other Half” #amwriting #poetry


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

——–

http://www.inspirationfeed.com

——–

There are two-sides to me,

One you will hardly see.

She only comes out one night,

When the orb of the full moon frightens and blinds. 

She marks her time trapped, on my back,

Pacing inside me, my evil twin.

Each day I feel the pain she creates;

Carving out another tick, counting the days —

With her burning sharpie;

Writing on me with acid.

She takes the days five at a time;

Slowly each night I feel her poison,

But I shut her in, shut her down tight.

She is buried and not to be found,

When I call all light towards me. 

—–

Yet I have no power,

When her strength is full,

When the monster prowls, 

When it snaps its teeth for blood. 

The werewolf inside,

Biding her time,

Until now, when the moon is full and round;

She spits and she howls,

Her teeth sharp tiny daggers. 

She comes out from the floorboards,

The darkest dankest corner of my soul. 

Her prison she erupts from, no longer trapped,

She unfolds her wrath on all who pass, brings terror;

Clawing at me, shredding me for fun,

Because she knows when the night is done,

I’ll have my strength of luminous sparks again.

The light of the day will flow through me,

Cascading through my body,

Repairing all wounds.

But for tonight she roams the earth,

A horrifying hell monster with claws that hurt;

She shreds my insides, reminds me how small I am,

That she is all powerful and will one day win our war.

——

But I am growing less afraid,

And I have time to be patient.

The night it ends, she’s back in her cage,
Marking me with acidic ink, every night,

 Until when next the moon is full bright —

She’ll break free of my skin, 

The torture will begin.

But yesterday night she didn’t come out? 

There was no fight to lock her in;

I think she’s trapped inside me, for good? 

And I’m claiming back my skin,

Healing all her burning marks 

Becoming someone new.

My other half is dead I think,

I don’t feel her uncoiling, 

Scrartching her way through my defence.

My plan conceived it ruined her.

And in slumber I locked her thrice, 

Poisoned her in sleep.

So the only place she’ll terrorize —

Is her own dreams and I think she quite deserves, 

The nightmares promised her, 

For all eternity;

Sickly wicked sister, gone at last. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Photo (Collage) Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Mountain’s Wrath” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s double prompt:

Laura Bloomsbury

———

Black and white can change, 

Become the most flaming bright of —

Colours; yet we’re like —

Dorothy on her Kansas —

Farm, not realizing life is grey. 

Never seeing technicolor.

——–

If mountains are but smoke, 

No one who said those words knew, 

How burning orange and —

Yellow looks when your skin is —

Seared; the mountain spit lava clear.

Blew her top, melted downwards. 

——-

On to the town who, 

Had little idea but should —

Have known this day, 

No technology clued.

Their mountain could release Hell,

Sulphurous smelling, burnt Hell.

—-

Poisonous gases, 

Leaking down to the town folk, 

No chance had they when, 

Ashes fell like snow.

The worst kind of snow signals, 

The ire of the mountain’s breath.

——-

In stores, on boardwalks, 

Going about their day the same.

When she erupted, 

No one cared at first.

But the ash and gases came, 

Killing to begin, before —

—–

Lava reached familiar,

Buildings, the library.

Homes, grocery stores, work.

Yet the sky was filled, 

She billowed out her smoke rings, 

And she was just beginning.

——-

Threy should’ve known to —

Leave earlier but no one, 

Takes responsibility;

To late to lay blame.

Run far and fast, lava spews.

Keep going magma flows, kills.

——

No Dante’s Peak is —

This; only mother nature’s, 

Roaring and giving, 

Life as she takes it.

Many die unaware, don’t see, 

Never knew today would be —

The end: waiting done, 

Here comes the promised one near.

Yet some survived it.

Never took lightly, 

Those words: A Mountain is noth –

ing but smoke — they lived through it.

—–

Those who rebuilt knew, 

As the lava and fire burnt their —

Homes, loved ones to crisps. 

Beware the mountain;

Geologists trained don’t know, 

When she’ll yield furious wrath.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reseved 

Writing 101: Poem – Etherees – “The Mark” #everydayinspiration


Today’s prompt is to use a quote to begin our writing.

———

The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.  – Samual Smiles

———

Such goals we have to not miss the giant mark, 

To accomplish though we faulter and–

Find ourselves falling of the mark short.

My gaze has set upon the hill,

My determination —

Evident and, 

Perspiration,

Relevant.

Crying, 

March.

—-

I,

Will not —

Let failure,

Tarnish my–

Intent to triumph,

Strength, running through my bones,

Sweat upon my brow and I, 

Reach for that set goal growing still,

Never going to give, can’t alleviate —

The pain I meet, my struggle with heart.

—–

There is no distance I won’t go, no path–

My sword won’t clear the way, lashing through,

Knowing my own virtue isn’t,

Worth a mercenary,

Heart of one who cannot,

Taste the wine which is,

His life’s blood met, 

Breaking bread and,

Fighting on,

Life is, 

Tough.

—-

Goal, 

In my, 

Grasp I, 

Keep winning,

There is no place to —

Wander of path I’m kept, 

Focused on the prize before —

I am confused by life’s debris,

Keep up the challenge, the struggle,

Never fear, blessed angels fight with you to end.

—–

No weakness in my lungs, battle cries are —

Rung; an invading army charges through,

Not pierced by arrows or swords of,

Finest sharpest metals mixed,

Alloys fit to strike wrath,

Life is a fight won, 

It’s hard to breathe.

Even stabbed we,

Triumph.

At last, 

Rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rughts Reserved.

Day 10 – Sonnet Shakespearan- The Storm


I walked along a path

That led this way and back

I could feel the winds wrath

The lightening gave a crack

My crystal eyes teared

I cowered very low

Worse then all I feared

A howling I heard so

Then sunlight dripped inside

My heart did slow a beat

No more need to hide

I got up off my seat

Then larks let out a song

Was daylight all along



http://www.globe-views.com

The storm was powerful