Fiction: Alice – Part 2 – The Missing Tea-sets #amwritingfiction #LewisCarroll


Alice wrinkled her forehead puzzled. “How can all of the tea-sets in Wonderland have disappeared? Every last single one?”

The Chester cat laughed. “It’s baffling isn’t it?” Alice shook her blond curly hair out and slid on blue flats.

“What mysterious Wonderland force are we facing? Some creature we weren’t aware of before?”

The Cheshire Cat laughed and cuddled into Alice’s white pillow. His purple and pink stripped fur was soft and fuzzy when she brushed it absent mindedly.

He sniggered. “I think someone’s imagination is running away with itself. Some imagination is good, but too much and it confuses us all. We need your help, Alice. Quite seriously.”

“In Wonderland, there are many strange folk, but then they’re strange creatures in your world too. I think that when we find a tea-thief, capable of stealing all our tea and tea-ware, then we will recognize him — and not a minute before.”

“ Who would have thought, a tea-thief?”

The Cheshire Cat purred and slid off the bed. He poked a paw into Alice’s full length mirror and it slid through the glass. She gasped and chased after him. “Don’t run away from me cat.” A small prayer passed her lips. “Oh, please let everything work out.”

“You’re coming with me then? I knew you’d come back to Wonderland and settle everything.” The cat grinned at Alice.

“You’re asking a lot.” A sigh went through her. She watched him turn, his tail end passing through the mirror; Alice grabbed hold then fell. Suddenly, she was on the other side of the mirror, where it was thick with greenery. Tall grass, lush tulips, giant daises of every color danced in the breeze; giant mushrooms stood over Alice.

“Next question I have, why would someone want all those tea-sets? Surely, even a thief has tea himself and one or two sets are sufficient. Or, maybe he hates tea more than anything?”

Then, Alice and the Cheshire Cat heard a clatter as something crashed. A rabbit popped out of the foliage and onto the road. He looked at his pocket watch and sighed. “Alice, there you are. Late again.”

©️Mandibelle16. (2025) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: (Bop) “ Cold that Bites” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Luke Stackpoole via Unsplash

We gasp in the night, the lunar moon bright,

The aurora sky turns green on sight.

In the fitful winter our breath nips cold,

Wind shivers through us in blasts that mold.

Our hands squished into warm gloves or mitts,

We quake and in the moonlight we sit.

Winter wonderland of frost this fresh night,

Snow drifts, inside warmth surrounds us tight.

A stark cold beauty forms, your cheeks they flush,

The sky ignites in deep colors paint brushed.

Slip-slipping for dear life on thin ice,

No matter you’re in skates that slice.

In layers of wool, down – feathers, be snug,

Warm your ears, heat your feet, blanket hug.

Outside ominous howls of wolves collide,

Cold shivers shake your body; go inside.

Winter wonderland of frost this fresh night,

Snow drifts, inside warmth surrounds us tight.

In aurora brilliance let us go on,

Hear the luminous moon’s mournful songs,

In the day we play despite cold concern,

And, in the house we stay, in heat learn,

There’s crystal beauty in winter’s rough breath,

But better to stay inside, no regrets.

Winter wonderland of frost this fresh night.

Snow drifts, inside warmth surrounds us tight.

Mandibelle. 2024 ©️ All Rights Reserved.

Poetry: “A Christmas Poem” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Miriam Zilles via Unsplash.

Sing a song that rings bright with cheer,

Write a ditty that’s mellow and pretty.

Lift your heart high and pray a litany,

Let echoes of eternity ring near.

Or, in morning, hear clamorous bells clear,

And, joyfully skip across snowy stones.

Trill marvellous melodies, sweet tones.

Let every moment you have be dear.

Let tunes of humming voices carry,

And, in this season of merriment,

Wiseman wandering, a baby born to save, don’t tarry.

Dance in silk, satin, gifts, food abounding,

Beneath holly grant a kiss, or better —

Behold a manger scene; the Savior calls.

Mandibelle16. ©️ All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “Are You Hope?” #amwritingpoetry #poetry


Credit: Daniel Gomez

Are you going away?

Are you leaving these brilliant days for days of stumbling?

When the water whirls tight, and the fish, all they do is fight,

Can you still put things to right?

Can you heal things better now?

You only have to wait.

Because nothing is perfect, and if you’ve a calling, you’ve a calling,

But, some days it feels more like falling,

Into a buttery sky that ignites with tango orange illumination.

Focus — you can only do so much, can you do what you need?

What do you want? What’s the grander picture?

Fight through the wind and the rain; it pours,

Can you distinguish what is right and what is wrong?

Fill my heart where I should go.

Remember those delicate, impressive, stained-glass windows, they demonstrate God’s glory.

Remember time moves quickly,

And we’ve only so long to find clarity, magnificence, and to feel love in the daylight.

We’ve only time to sit and wait before we jump into the whirlpool of life to swim?

Have we strength more powerful than night lights and our nightmares?

Although, butterflies dance through sand, sun, sea, and wind; circles of joy, soft melodies will whisper.

Now that I’ve found morning’s brilliant glow, that I’ve found grace beyond the whirlpool — I’ve found hope.

Mandibelle16.©️ (2024) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Bop – “Nature’s Delight” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Margo Brodowicz

I adore these Rocky Mountains built high,

But, I don’t want to climb them, simply to —

Enjoy the shades and tones of rock intense.

We once hiked turtle mountain, it slid off,

In the 1920’s covering Frank,

It crushed everyone in mines and above.

So, I sing my crushed mountain song sad,

Nature provides, ends; so sing while you can.

The white beach with sand dunes, and the wind strong;

A blustery day on Oregon’s cost.

The ocean pummeled, expressively.

Seagulls dipping down onto the shore irate,

Diving for crabs bereft in broken shells.

Sea wood salvaged on the coast; Three walking —

Holding mom’s hands, waves crashed around feet.

We could’ve been stolen by sea; we’re saved.

So, I sing my oceanic tune,

Nature provides, ends; so croon while you can.

We stayed in B.C. thrice, splashed outside in pools,

Ate melting ice cream ‘til night’s fire burned,

Newspaper and dried trees, crackled fire.

While, the brook ran by the campsite, ‘round rocks.

The bottom was all stones so we waded in,

Taking the brook trail, until it was gone.

So, I sing my babbling brook song,

Nature provides, ends; so holla while you can.

©️Mandibelle16. (2024) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “ The Gleaming Sky” #amwritingpoetry


History’s sticky,

Often we experience it, and eyes wide stutter on.

And, you might think we’d learn from it;

Sometimes we do — other times we resist the thought.

We pray that suffering will be insignificant,

That we’ll never receive that horrible, ‘passed away,’ or ‘broken,’ phone call from our loved ones.

So, be not afraid of moving on in life,

He will heal our wounds, our sharp strife.

I gaze up into the brilliant morning,

The tree tops quiet my hearts intense mourning.

There’s a restlessness I cannot recover from.

How do you move on from those who affected and blessed your everyday life — everyday.

People we fought with, loved, and tittered with;

You can’t undo all your difficult unfurling mistakes.

You can’t forget an aching pain that might never reveal it’s purpose and stop.

In the end, the truth’s wonderful; falsehood a moaning wound.

So, be not afraid of moving on in life,

He will heal our wounds, our sharp strife.

I think of those lost in three ways:

One, is to look back on the past and let tears rain.

Two, is to look ahead to the future, knowing old friendship will be renewed in Heaven,

That Jesus will regain our life in the beyond; His name lives forever.

Third, I believe that we’ll celebrate with the spirit, see our loved ones, and be full of joy.

So, let Jesus lead your life, and thus, smile at the good and the bad; with Him and jubilation touch the gleaming sky.

So, be not afraid of moving on in life,

He will heal our wounds, our sharp strife.

©️ Mandibelle16 (2024). All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “You & I” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Annie Spratt via Unsplash

I thought it would be both you and I, but that was years ago —

When your caramel eyes intensified, as I watched you across the room.

But, it wasn’t yet our time and some other girl earned princess in that story.

Now fifteen-years later, we both remember memories that mark how we first met,

How we’ve gone beyond wide-eyed stares, memories of basketball hoops, weight lifting, and English fairytales.

Excitement, my heart pounding, a shadow pulls me in; I knew you somehow when we finally met for real.

It’s difficult when my eyes open and only my ears know what’s real, and the image of you alive in my mind sears.

It stings when I miss the body language of a conversation deeply ingrained in my head.

So, I’ll make my way through this storm with you; hold my hand if you will.

Don’t conceal from me, I’ll tell you the truth & somewhere our eyes will align and you’ll be mine.

And, the biggest connection is the ones of sight & souls, and when we’re actually in each other’s grasp, please kiss my face as you like.

Laugh with me, promise you’ll talk with me, & that you’ll understand some of who I am — I’ll understand you too.

I will learn to comprehend your life story, the things that formed the one I love.

Let my hands go through your thick hair my lips to kiss you, to heal your wounds.

Remember you’re my person, so lets forget all your former princesses; I’ll be your queen.

Will both form our future, our life as it is and how it might be; the joy of Jesus molding and twining our paths together.

He leads you & I on despite the rudeness of life’s pain, & even when all we want is to be entwined.

I’ll remember not the hurt, but to clutch you close when you deal with yours, & hold you dear when I deal with mine.

So, forget the darkness and fall into the light, luminescence in my heart; you shine, through it all.

Let’s hold fast to the future & let the spirit lead us on,

My hands are so tiny, and yours so large, but somehow God knows, we fit —

Both you & I.

Mandibelle16.©️2024. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “ Speak Of Jesus” #amwriting


Credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/rvJBpwEX-1Y

I will speak of Jesus because it’s the truthful way to go, I’ll tell you of His wisdom, the knowledge that I’ve learned.

And, although we need the world to be full of goodness, of fresh clear mornings, and children’s giggling.,

I will speak of Jesus because he creates these special moments.

And, I’ll wonder what sentences I write or say, if they will be enough, What words will be perceptive and vibrant, full of peace not hate.

That’s why I speak of Jesus, for he died to erase all ire, and I’ll meet new friends and old, as I walk with Him each day.

Those friends of joy, gladness, sadness, those little ones who wear their food on their face, and what we all need in family’s much needed embrace.

Family that’s strong, not belligerent, family that gives and cares — I’ll even meet acquaintances everywhere I turn.

But, I hope, whoever I meet, that they’ll all speak of Jesus, because they sure need Him too.

I may have told them of His glory, but they’ve a unique path, to choose to walk with Jesus through, and I will speak of Jesus and care for other’s too.

So, I share my love of Jesus, and don’t get blown away by wants and needs, even the existence of another’s deepest love.

For God’s spirit told me how to love — has done so in a practical spirited way.

So, for this reason we let the Spirit talk whatever words to us He wishes,

He proclaims to us wisdom, from how it is to love another person to pieces, to hold them close so tight your bones ache.

To why we do what Jesus says: because then our paths stay straight.

And, if some morning, my love and I should not wake, we understand, that this is the will of Jesus, that we reach Heaven’s glow.

In ominous clouds and brilliant effervescence, we will speak of Jesus, for of us He has already spoken and has decided to keep.

And, trustingly, we both chortle & talk, we joke because it’s funny, and we love in the worst times, no matter if we’re damaged.

We know what works best of for us and you — that is to speak of Jesus, the way, the truth, the life.

We will both trust and speak of Jesus, will you choose to spread his glory too?

Mandibelle16.©️ 2023. All Rights Reserved.

Non-Fiction: “The Last Day” #amwritingnonfiction


Credit: Phil Hearing via Unsplash.

This last day I didn’t blink. I slid on my black long-sleeved dress, snug and warm. I tried not to think too much because then, this day would be over and that would be it. I attempted to let Thanksgiving exist as meaningful conversation, thankfulness, and gladness. Everyone else would easily do this, but it was our last day in our home (so I thought), so I wanted to absorb every moment, to listen. Would it actually be the last time in our house? The last time we all gathered together in prayer then feasted there?

It being Thanksgiving, my mom and my Aunt prepared succulent thanksgiving dishes: Perogies mushy with becel and bacon bits, scalloped potatoes, hot turkey, home made cranberry sauce, and ham with sweet pineapple rings . We ate green beans mixed with turkey and crisp cooked carrots, meat cabbage rolls, and soft white crescent rolls. For dessert there was fragrant pumpkin pie with whipped cream; with that came a chorus of mmm’s and ahhh’s. Feasts are like this, a place to gather with each other and to treasure the moments. They’re a place to form family and a place for everyone to hope for more joy and less hurt in life.

I didn’t know what memory would be the last in our parent’s beautifully finished house. This home has been almost completely remodelled, and my parents bought the house when I was 17-years old. It is located near dog trails, the North Saskatchewan river, and two family parks.

That Thanksgiving day, the fall leaves — brilliant red, orange, and yellow — were blaring. They lead to cheeriness in the remains of our family home.

Now all us kids, we’ve all moved away from our family house, so thank God for good company, for a final dinner cooked in it, and for pleasant conversation. Nevertheless, leaving the home still hurts, because our family home, a part of childhood, has disappeared. Will it host a holiday feast again? Will it remain part of our fond memories any longer?

There are far too many ‘lasts’ this Thanksgiving and that stings. My heart feels heavy and sad; although, we’re all mellow from wine and the delectable Thanksgiving meal. There’s a darkness here, hanging in the air, a frustrated ambience. Family, we had such a strong one, I thought, but even ours fell apart; so now we’ll rebuild.

Now, come next holiday, despite tears of missing what used to be, we will construct good memories and carry what’s best into the newness of the Christmas season. New people, new love, new lives, new sharing, so that we remember the true meaning of thankfulness, the truth of a baby in a manger — hope to the world.

Our home is no longer ours to covet memories in, to share wonderful times in. What was cheerful, good, and full of love, has become a dim hollow. For today is a last day celebration, but tomorrow is a first; a new home to live in ourselves & the relief when mom decided that she would carry on in the house and not sell it.

So, yes, we will all still come together, and we will unite in joy, in holiday seasons, in our old renovated home, and its history. We will look back for despite fear of heart ache. The house that formed us lives, and we even though we drive home from this supposed last day to our separate places, must accept change.

Instead of letting the darkness of life twist us, we must flourish, poinsettias plentiful, yellow Gerbera daisies of sunshine. We keep on living, smile into the effervescence of new homes, and old — of Autumn candles and memories.

Today (we thought) was a last day, but tomorrow is a first as forgiveness and family heals wounds — even that of almost losing our childhood home. This is still one of our last days here, in home we don’t live in anymore. And never tell me otherwise: That buildings don’t hold memories, even after their inhabitants have long moved on.

Mandibelle16. ©️ 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “Oh, my Soul, No Nightmares” #amwritingpoetry


Oh, my soul, you’re too quiet, & this pax, money cannot buy it.

I call to you Lord, and my soul finds rest; I’m normal, nothing so special,

But, you use me for little things, and little things resize, arise as bigger things each day in life.

Still, at times, life’s dim shadowiness sinks, the sun flashes and I inhale deep,

In the calm of dawn I repeat my prayer, over and over,

The glacial air of midnight fades, vapor in the quiet, in the morning air.

Rest, oh, my soul, oh, my soul, discover tranquility,

Be serene, and be still, let me know the peace, the dense protection in thickness laid safe.

Let my tongue call gently, and no longer let twilight’s eeriness overcome.

No matter my attitude, bring hope into silent mornings,

When I sleep deepest, provide warmth in your words,

The thickness of a leather Bible, verses remembered from the night passed.

So, now today, we arise with happiness,

Let the sky be a perfect blue, faded lapis luzila and cloud white.

Push away the dark night with its suffering, let it roll away as ancient tomb stones;

Be near me now, so the thick plum fog, the travesty of nightmares won’t linger.

Don’t forget your servant as she calls for aid — “Oh, my soul,” she cries as morning dawns,

Up the paths and down the aisles, natures natural kingdom, the finest architecture.

She asks for the sunlight to beam bright, and delights in split roadways home which, all lead one day to Heaven’s gleam.

Let’s walk in woodland too, and wander amongst trees old and strong,

A place of silence, a blessedness in afternoon’s glory, and the nights storm.

Help reveal the tranquility of daylight, of a life well lived, so that we’ll never be afraid of gothic nightmares.

The clang of steel, the violence of bullets, a crushing stabbing pain, and the iniquity of red violence,

It stuns everyone, carries fear into it’s bitter shambles.

Oh, my soul, oh my soul, let not their be garish nightmares, only the pleasure of the serene faith in my soul.

Bless my life with the silence of tiny moments, no vivid dream that stuns, only the reality of a calm day.

Let me rest away, contrite heart open, the Savior’s whisper echoing, “Be still and know that I am God.”

“Be still, be still, and know; be still.”

©️Mandibelle16 (2022). All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Serenity” #amwritingpoetry


I’ve. humble words that must be said,

And, I pause with reason, as I consider,

Trying to understand the full measure of the Savior’s grace.

To struggle against painful steps in life,

Come out, come out, discover the message traced,

On every line of your hand and face, eyes wide.

I’m trying to comprehend why physically,

We must never forget we’re not ruined; He’ll fix you.

With Him we’ve hope and life, not a mystery dim,

Some people suffer most, but how do they stand after each,

Swift kick or punch, that bleeds and bruises deep?

Walk quickly, discover that with forgiveness we require healing,

We need Jesus’ sufficient undeserved mercy.

His shadow grand and black, to hide us beneath His shadowed wings,

His Feathers rumpled, let us sleep in wonderful peace.

Let’s delight in sleep and healing, discover mental clarity,

Let not our memories fade, don’t forget, let us be grateful,

So, I pray lift us up, when we’re ready to serve,

So, mental and physical tragedy never becomes the norm.

Only something suffered in a brief pause,

Be it standing or moving at a considerable pace,

Let us fly on eagle wings, let us feel renewed. in your promises.

Let us reveal heart, for all wander and require time,

Desiring to heal in Heaven’s glorified goodness.

And with each day of life, to do our best,

Not hurt too much, but to learn and experience.

To breath fresh air and take in the beauty of life,

Just a pinch of magnificence before our own glorious hour,

Walking in His footsteps in serenity.

©️Mandibelle16. (2023) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Italian Sonnet — “Made Right” #amwritingpoetry


I didn’t think you’d hate me or worse,

Turn your face hard, flat as if I don’t exist.

As if all meanness in us persisted,

Couldn’t heal, and our pink bubble burst.

All this ire in our lives wouldn’t disperse,

Each word we spoke crashed, clashed as glacial winds,

No harsh sentence muttered would rescind.

Inside our bodies ached, felt sore, pain burst.

Despite our tiff, fireflies flew in skies of night,

And, a relationship broken turned right.

Wounds alleviated with moonlight words,

Calmness healed lies’ hurt, provided insight.

We swam the lake, ire to free; hearts birds,

With each fluttering stroke our pain reversed.

Mandibelle16. (2022) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “One Opulent Summer” #amwriting Poetry


Who am I that I am meant to have this life? To wander in this marvellous world, and love nothing more than life’s sweet grace.

To be grateful and satisfied, to be whole or empty, but I’ve still room for others, to care for and with joy to fill.

I pray that I can trust people and that fear will disintegrate, that tranquility builds within me in these sunshine glory days.

Oh, summer sun, the cooling rain finds you easily, and it’s a glad night to be out among the streets when sunshine-showers hide the heat’s haze.

People serene, delighted, and out among each market stall, a little wet, but no one cares.

Markets and festivals are like that as rain drenches skin and the sun luminates; we choose our goodies —

Carrots crisp, peaches juicy, cinnamon buns fragrant, and red wine some Malbec flavor we’ll all enjoy tonight.

Ah, this plethora of delight, proof of the summer season — one of plenty, then, summer continued into Autumn.

But, of July and August heat we love best, in scorching sweet nights, people in shorts and tanks, sun dresses sweeping the pavement.

And sometimes, I heal among this summer haze of crowds, but sometimes I remain at a distance.

Then, I scent the aroma of food, homemade drinks, and tiny shops and stands full of goodies; my eyes grow wide.

And, I don’t have to think for a moment; these treasured times satisfy, as I fly back to dreams in the night.

Now, I’m awake, not bored, and full of great hope, blessed by plenty,

I know that whatever is bringing me down will not last forever, and that wherever I go (be it anywhere) I’m not alone.

Jesus walks with me down His chosen path for me; He will forever walk with me, and I with Him — I’m never alone again.

And, come sometime, we will all find freedom, never to be cast about by shadows; protected by Him, the only way to keep going.

So, lead us away, let me write of bold and insignificant dreams, of wonderful gifts, and blessings untold.

There are too many things to say and do before winter’s cold arrives and bitter snow falls.

And, I do not but take in everything, thought by thought, experience by experience, good times, trying — all of them,

Then, Autumn is alight with orange-pumpkin, yellow-taber corn, vegetables & goods from brilliant harvests,

Of things that are possible and real, full of all of life’s changes, miracles provided, food given.

I daydream in sunlight, the sky glittering full of stars at night; mostly, I appreciate those long summer days,

Swim suits near white sand, soft skin, Ombré suntan lotion, children hooting and screeching in pools, a time of joyful fun.

Let us all delight in summer, and never forget its warmth, as it carries over into Autumn’s harvest, colder, but never lost.

For now, stretch your limbs and amble by the waterside, summer memories held tight.

They must, for a bitter freezing comes with after opulent days of summer; it always tries to cheat us days.

Opulent summer sunsets, markets, walks, beaches, fresh cut grass; conversation in the purple sky.

Those are the days we’ll forever remember, and never be at loss to forget.

©️Mandibelle16. (2024) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “The Fireworks: Canadian Dreams” #amwritingpoetry


http://www.middleeastexperience.com

I thought it more than magical, a brilliance of lights,

Coursing through the atmosphere, something beautiful aglow.

Your words rang true beneath the starlight sky persistant and calm,

And, I could breathe again, as the fireworks shot high into the night.

Such splendor in the sky, violent light plunging then taking off, twisting trails among the stars.

We shared in a crystal clear evening, an experience together,

A beginning of something sweet, as the lights carried into the emergence of another summer,

We gasped at fireworks bright and walked through vivid streets and roadways.

Sidewalks filled with chattering, a world full of singles and families, children awed by multi-colored light.

And in your arms, he smiled, a boy out to enjoy the night, perhaps; a shadow of one who will be ours,

Only, a small child, but he was full of energy as the the fireworks whistled madly into the sky.

And it struck me again, as the lights descended, ending in pearls of dew, red sparkled-delight,

That one day you would hold our own son, and we might entertain him at a similar event.

You and I, hand and hand beneath the God-given sky.

Smiles, a longing in your eyes as all kinds of fireworks released, and ballooning thoughts of what could be silenced all.

Ten-minutes later, and the light-show ended, and we’re a beer away from more deep thoughts of endless wonder,

You put the child down, gave him back, all the way home he titters;

He was full of summer joy, and that joy overtook us too as the night sped on.

Oh, country in whom we’ve no disturbing plight, God’s grant us time to linger, and sit in quiet dark and summer sun.

We’re no longer alone, or are we?

I, stuck in this apartment, you beneath the sun’s dusk of glories.

But, as my writer’s mind sifts, I rediscover our language, one of lovers, with calm and delight;

Language spoken in stuttered sentences then smoothed out as whisky into a glass, an amazing uplifting feeling of freedom relished.

Words and dreams together, forming our night, a one day history of us, hope for our future lives,

Fireworks, liberty, a child’s laughter, beer: all Canadian dreams.

©️Mandibelle16. (2022) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Walking the Line” #amwriting poetry


Crédit: Unsplash

You’ve walked the line, been down that road,

You hear that roar, cars fly past you into the distance.

You’ve walked the line for good reason and the brilliant light is calling:

Come closer now, the end is near,

Come closer now, from Heaven our Savior beckons.

You may stumble , you may fumble, and the light at times will dim,

But, however you walk, however you run,

Keep moving, keep driving downwards towards that effervescent line.

Walk your road in His holy name,

Promenade and don’t be all ashamed of this life.

Of every little fumble — repentance means you’ve recovered.

Know my love we’re ours, and you are mine,

So, keep marching, motoring with your hands on the wheel.

Keep calling out with your voice loud, your courage proud.

Because you’re mine, and I’m yours, we’ll walk towards that line.

Keep loving, keep up the pace;

Precious one, oh heart of mine,

Starlight so talented and rare.

Let the stars across the sky streak in orangish light.

Keep the dance going and follow the steps.

Keep going, keep training because we’re each other’s,

And we’ll tumble down that hill and follow the maze towards that line.

Translucent diamond pink rare, graphite pencil, granite counter, all matter alight as we hurry on foot;

We’ll discover nature’s beauty in this once beautiful place.

We face degradation, yet we grin our eyes wrinkled,

Our feet moving onward —God knows why.

So, be mine and let’s stumble together towards that stunning sky.

Unto the end let’s go and never fear because we’re each other’s, and we know where the line begins and ends,

We know what it is to pause and smile delighted.

When the effervescent light breaks and night turns into stunning sky bright, don’t forget that line.

Because you’re mine, I chose to walk the line with you.

Never will I forget, our path,

Hands tough and joined with yours,

Let’s stumble this sacred line as one.

Let’s walk the line to Heaven’s glorious sight.

©️Mandibelle16. (2021) All Rights Reserved.,

Poem: Free Verse “ Lived & Cherised #amwritingpoetry


Far gone words have left us sleeping, silenced in pitch darkness.

In such pain we murmured insights that go unremembered, dark words mumbled a story undeveloped.

Words to ponder and trails to traverse towards the white sand yonder, never having the right words and never travelling the right pathway.

I tried to discover the truth, the way out, but with only Jesus and His Spirit could I run, away from malice, to traverse away from blackened lies.

Leave us not alone in the quiet of this time, so we rejoiced when we sailed up and beyond the dim land.

Keep us meandering down the worn walkway to you Lord, we’ve freedom’s grasp but still we wonder:

Where’s faith in this magnificent journey?Where’s your grace as our feet print the sand?

Through this month. through tire and mud-prints, though we’re dirtied, let us keep going yonder.

Let us not forget anymore of faith or grace, it’s been granted. Let us not ask, “ Where is peace in this broken darkness?”

Pitter patter through the hallway, and in this tiny house let us meet and devise a lifetime of courage,

Let us devise the right words so that none dissolve into lost murmurings of nightmarish sleep.

Hear my words and may they be sweet with rejoicing, may they do more than flicker and never combust into smoke,

Never let them be mere bickering —let our tones be beautiful without an onerous tale of broken-hearted lands.

Like silk flower petals soft as roses, sharp as they protect well-thorned, let our words be sweet.

And don’t forget, you whom I love, I’m here now for you to not forget, to lie sleepily beside and ponder life.

How do we return to the call of wispy sunshine mornings? How do we hear again the trill of the robin’s calling? Red bellied and gorgeous despite familiarity.

Wake me up and let my love with me traverse, gently into sweet trailing sunsets.

Wake me up Lord, let the summer mornings thrill; wake me up, my love, in the quiet hours let us whisper.

Our secrets are ours an earthly eternity to bear, but one-day we must pass down the words it took too much time to learn,

One day we must wake up and be firm, but not today or another soon.

For now we must learn to merely live, no longer in darkness, we rise in the Savior’s glory,

And the spirit heals our broken-souls, so that each midnight we still smile and whisper, not words of black decay, but those of a life now well-lived and cherished.

©️Mandibelle16. (2022) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “Waves” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Linus Nylus via Unsplash.

How do you understand yourself when you’re stretched past your limits?

Can you devise a genius plan or will you fail?

Times aren’t easy during delusion,

Powdery dust of summer after spring grass; rouge flowers of distinct brilliance.

All this confusion — Lord end it all.

No more days lost in summer’s haze.

We are your effervescent lights and you are our captain so let us serve gratefully.

Let us swoop as the mighty eagle, let us be swift as a hawk; lady hawk soaring sky high.

How do we survive in a society of whispers where the common good is questionable?

Where’s my sweetness, where’s does he persist?

As I linger he waits calmly with me;

He remains, he soars in the sky’s bright blue wonder and lands despite the crashing waves below.

Sea-green ripples push him forward as he struggles through foam;

Covered by deep blue water until he swims against the tide.

Here I welcome him home seething or full of joy.

This place is not fit for only one,

Keep us both close to one another and both safe;

Help me traverse your pathway and find hope, a reason to relax in respite.

Follow trails in glorious sunset, where we hum the tunes of the old world.

They blend with sanguine songs of the new world and we smile while our hands touch — linger: we wait —

To arrive to our home above, below the azure sky and cotton clouds.

With blessings of the Holy Spirit,

Let us find harmony, hands clenched in each others’;

Provide us perseverance to walk—on.

Deep chocolate eyes never breaking from mine,

Breath in the perfect serenity of nature’s other worldly silence.

A closeness and stick-to-it-of-ness, that will keep us close forever.

©️Amanda_ME. (2021) All rights Reserved

    Continue reading Poem: Free Verse — “Waves” #amwritingpoetry

    Poem: Free Verse — “ Of Faith & Light” #amwritingpoetry


    Only a whisper remains, frantic words melted away, ice-cream dripping down the cone, mint-chip wasted.

    Somehow explain light to those who do not comprehend reality nor care to find the words to say, all that needs to be said,

    To those who will never understand the tranquility comes deep with price; it’s a gift.

    An undeserved gift on a wooden cross justified, He saves, no matter if we’ve giant faith or small,

    So, let us live with a quiet faith that grows or a loud one that inspires all, for — the light is how I made it, survived broken walls that trapped and protected.

    I was told to keep pushing forward, so that within the spirit’s guiding I continued,

    And though lack of belief sometimes weakened and cold icicles started forming, I let my heart melt.

    It can harden as diamonds unshatterable, facets that mirror pain or suffering; let us end this hardness in the light’s glory.

    Strange dark places please never exist for me again, faith and grace became our guiding stars; we can’t manage without them.

    And having a wonderful evanescence of hope, we keep pulling ribbon through fingers, nervous gestures that we’ve conquered.

    And imagining sand between your toes playing beach games, no longer exist in darkness frozen but in the beauty of this new reality, this world.

    Awake from slumber, dream wonderful dreams, don’t banish or judge, try to cherish others,

    Move forward in delight because the sun’s warm again, the sky’s a perfect azure blue.

    The summer markets crowded, fresh carrots crunch and peaches trickle juice,

    Cherries sit to spit out pits, homemade apple pie, even someone’s homemade wine.

    Small glories, but oh, how meaningful they are: to be free is to struggle and grow each day despite threats,

    With the humour, love, and freedom we adore, take huge, medium, and minute chances.

    Discover ways to raise ourselves up and provide faith as giant rolling stones, thunder, and mountains rising mid-sea.

    The large moments of terror and earthly movement creating perseverance, strength to trust and go on each day.

    And, in tiny ways, perhaps it’s more difficult to move on, but we do; we conquer our fears in God’s light.

    In the great and small things of life, so Jesus sets us free, to be and live, and in Him we share with others,

    So, those in darkness find us glowing, full of hope and startling light.

    ©️Mandibelle16. (2022) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: Free Verse — “We Call It Silence” #anwritingpoetry


    Credit: http://www.unsplash.com

    There’s this sacred silence that consists of quiet even with the densest words.

    Where lies white-noise and the ability to tune, zone-out in slumber.

    My story’s mine, and you flit right through it,

    Too many experiences catch hair, snag, and sting skin.

    Some words betray, some don’t last, and some words aren’t meant to remain.

    Silence is required and your words paint bold life’s background;

    Silence is your tone, the one that appalls us all, inside of memories and childhood mistakes.

    Still in this noise in the middle lies restless relief,

    I’m awake and present, asleep in white-light,

    Ne’er to tumble into slumber.

    Some meanings are inherent in the word silence, existent to prevent old- school offensiveness.

    Yet, I keep talking, repeating the word to you all:

    Silence makes the heart develop fonder,

    Silence let’s my love sleep as he ponders;

    And silence is the dispensing of kindness.

    The purple dusk of sky shimmering into night’s ire.

    So, forget arrogance or insolence, forget all this disgusting language,

    As only in private can ‘silence’ relieve and help us string together prose or poetry (un-orderly or in metered variation).

    Once more forget terrible words, let our minds wander, let me grace the valleys we love to trample and tumble within;

    Let my love and I sleep no longer groaning,

    Wishing only for our whispers and excited chatter.

    A little more tolerance from those to us nearest,

    It may save us a fight, confirm a blessing.

    No disrespect but at times — we require the white-noise of complete silence.

    ©️Mandibelle16. (2021) All Rights Reserved.

    Alice’s Adventures: Fiction — The Missing Tea Sets – Part 1#amwritingfiction #LewisCarroll,


    Credit: Google Disney

    Alice peered out the car window. It was difficult to see in the pouring rain and dreary sky. When she stepped out of the vehicle her blue flats crushed grass heavy with droplets. The skies cleared after a long drive and Alice was eager to be home after visiting her grandparents.

    She hurried up the stairs placing her carpet bag in the entrance of the house then dashed up the stairs to her room. She collapsed on the bed and pulled a thick blanket over her body. She drifted in and out of sleep.

    Sometime later she felt a tickle on her nose. She sneezed and sat up, eyes heavy with sleep. She rose and changed into a dress white with lace. She sneezed then hopped back from the bed.

    “My goodness, what are you doing here? The Chesire cat smiled at her his pink and white stripes gleaming in the morning light. “Oh, just dropping by for a visit.”

    “You never just drop by for a visit.” Alice tittered. The Chesire cat’s grin widened. “Well, we’re having a problem Alice and you’re excellent at solving those for us.”

    “Oh, sometimes I am but not always. I’m rather tired right now still.” She yawned and crawled out of bed. The Chesire cat sidled up to her. “All the tea sets have gone missing in Wonderland. There’s nothing to make tea in and no plates for cake. We haven’t had any unbirthdays in ages.”

    Credit: Google

    Alice laughed and ran a brush through long blond hair before tying it back. “Hmmm, that’s rather weird. Why would anybody steal all the tea sets in Wonderland?”

    “We don’t know Alice, that’s why we asked you.”

    “Well, what about the White Queens generals did you inquire with him?” She scratched behind the Chesire cat’s ears.

    “Yes, but all their teacups, plates, and teapots (etc.) have gone missing too.”

    Alice rubbed her temples.” I imagine that some of those were heirlooms?”

    “While yes, the thing is that they’ve been around so long that we’ve grown used to them.” The Chesire cat stretched and sighed, belly in the air.

    Alice buckled her blue shoes and paced. “Well, can’t you buy new ones?”

    “Oh no, we never do that. They’re far to expensive to replace, especially at the Madhatter’s tea party table. We can’t afford new China sets.”

    “One set is better then none. The white queen could afford to replace a few at least. No?”

    The Chesire shook his furry head. “We can’t replace or remake them. They shatter whenever we finish designing a new one, in an instant in fact! Then they disappear.”

    “Into thin air? And how did the old ones go missing?” Alice tapped her lips in thought.

    “Well, the original tea sets disappeared while we were using them. There was tea everywhere. Jam all over the table, sugar in a pile, and honey dripping down a chair or two.”

    Alice stood. “This is absurd. Alright, I’ll see if I can help. How do we travel to Wonderland today?” A door appeared by Alice’s dressing table. It was half- the size of her bedroom door and glowed a bright orange. A large keyhole appeared in the middle of it.”

    The Chesire cat motioned with his paw. “Crawl through this the door. The key in is on my coller.”

    She carefully removed the key, ensuring to rub the Chesire cats back for helping and being direct for a change. Alice opened the door with a click and a field of flowers appeared in the distance. She hunched her shoulders and crawled through doorway into Wonderland for another adventure.

    The Chesire cat smiled. “Follow me dear Alice. Everyone’s in a fright and eager to see you.”

    She hooked the key back to his collar. “Already?”

    “Yes, Alice. We can’t live without our tea here.”

    “A lot of people can’t live without their tea, Chesire cat.”

    It was then that the March Hare pounced on here and tumbled into fragrant grass. “Alice you’re here. Why did you take so long? We need your help now!”

    Alice rose from a patch of grass near the Madhatter’s tea party. She patted the March Hare in assurance. “I only just heard you’d arrived.” His eyes twinkled and he grasped Alice’s hand with both paws.

    “Why do you think all the tea sets in Wonderland disappeared? Are you sure they’re all gone?” Alice climbed to her feet And the March Hare sniggered and jumped off of her legs.

    “Oh we’re sure, Alice. There’s one anywhere. Everybody’s upset including the red queen and that’s a scary thing.”

    She nodded in agreement. ” Where do we begin and how do we find something that’s disappeared into thin air?”

    “Oh, the usual way.”

    “Which is?”

    “We talk to the Queens.”

    Alice sighed. “Even the red?”

    The White Rabbit hopped beside the Match Hare. “Yes, unfortunately, but I have an ‘in’ as you know. But, first we see the dormouse and the Madhatter. They’ve experience with thieves.”

    “Things don’t disappear all the time here, not in my experience.” Alice tapped her shoe.

    “Along time ago, almost so long ago that no one remembers, all the tea disappeared, not the tea sets.”

    “The door mouse is he that old? Mice don’t live that long in my world.”

    The March Hare and the White Rabbit sniggered. “He’s actually full of information when he’s not sleeping.”

    Alice brushed her stockings off and headed towards the tea party table. The others followed behind her. The table was empty of visitors except for the Hatter, head in his hands in dispair. She’d never seen him hatless before in any of her visits.

    She sat beside him. “Hello, Madhatter, tell me everything.” He peered up at her. “Tea thieves are the worst. Alice. I’m so pleased you’re here. Many years ago all our tea went missing. This time all our tea sets have vanished — some very precious.”

    “I’m so sorry. Tell me more.” Alice sat and the Mad Hatter began his tale.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    Inspirational Non-Fiction: “Keep At It” #amwritingpoetry


    Credit: Brandi Obroa courtesy of Unsplash.

    There is a time of day when the lights’ fade and the music stops playing. When the writer’s ink drys, the typing ends, and all you can do is lie in bed and wonder why things are the way they are and why you’re heading down a certain road? Wonder why you chose what you thought you chose and why sometimes your heart thumps a strong tempo against your chest with certain people; or, why other people cause you to withdraw? How something simple becomes something huge and conspicuous.

    Doesn’t matter if you’re well-dressed or wearing thrift tops. Whatever you wear, whatever kind of beer or wine you drink, life hits you and sometimes returning from exile (from dark places in life) feels impossible — even though its not. There’s always hope, you only have to ask for help, to reach out, fold your hands, and prey; Jesus cares. Jesus knows. And, you’re not alone and somewhere, somehow, your friends, and family care too. There’s always someone you’re loved by — you’re always on someone’s mind.

    Credit: Monica Seevra Courtesy of Unsplash.

    I know this truth sounds too easy, as if life’s some fairytale but everyone has choices. Some decisions aren’t easy but even difficult ones can have fantastic results. It’s like you’ve just discovered a street of fun little shops full with one of-a-kind goods while wondering in a foreign city. As if you’ve found a secret unfrequented beach. It’s being next to someone you love even when they snore or watch hockey reruns 24-7. It’s hot chocolate with Baileys after a long walk in the winter snow. It’s your dog sitting on the paper you’re trying to read both annoying and cute anyways. These are tiny moments of euphoria and hope in everyday life.

    Whatever you’re facing, however, grim the situation you’re involved in, there’s a way out and a way up. There’s a light beaming and although life might seem foggy and difficult you’re significant and loved anyways. There’s a reason you’re where you are in life and why you’re trying to conquer certain goals or problems.

    You’ll have to work hard to accomplish goals and you’ll have to fight tough. But there’s strength in work whether that’s getting out of bed, playing with children, laboring over a computer screen, in meetings, or climbing a construction site. Learning is vital and knowledge is key. Whatever you think and whether you participate or choose to observe an event or activity you can learn tons from diverse experiences.

    Additionally, you also have to know when to stop and turn from certain paths in life. Knowledge (new or old) is something you carry with you along with the support of loved ones, colleagues, and friands throughout a lifetime.

    Credit: John Towne Courtesy of Unsplash.

    If you’re stuck, never believe it’s the end — believe me when it’s the end you’ll know. Until then, remember you’re still in it, you’re not lost, and you’re doing better than you think. You’re growing and developing stronger — you’ve so much value just being you.

    ©️ Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: Free Verse — “The Lady Plays Chess” #amwritingpoetry #amwritingpoetry


    Credit: Jachym Michal via Unsplash.

    You’re skating on thin ice, the prick of a knife,

    A delusion or an illusion.

    A miracle or a diversion, immersion in fantasy,

    Or, plain hope staring you in the face, reaching with both arms —

    Don’t let me down, don’t let me fall,

    Don’t let me fade into collusion.

    On every square I’ve moved my pawns,

    My bishop is placed, my rook set;

    The queen is prepared to wreck, whispering her secret plan.

    The king’s trapped, a space or two to go,

    Maybe, he slips through the cracks, other times he falls, and the river of cards before him flips — he folds.

    All chips brushed away with ease when you’re betting it all,

    The river floods, the pawns play tricks, her highness the Queen trembles.

    Dreams and reality spin together, no one knows whether these choices are real,

    Is this more than a game? A bet?

    There’s a subtle splintering when a betrayed heart fractures,

    A deep psychological ache, fog that chokes before it clears.

    The night sky is stunning, the auora-borealis effulgent,

    Pink, green, white, stars shimmer across the ice-sky, winter-white snow.

    Take my hand, don’t let go.

    Take my hand, bring me home, for the manger sends hope — as do friends,

    In December’s dreary darkness, when I’m weak, unsure, I’ve still within me the Holy Spirit.

    Yet, your eyes crinkle, her eyes a memory;

    You’re here to protect, because I can’t serve all masters, and in one master we all trust.

    And even if in trying I crack and tumble (the queen or the pawn),

    I’ve strength yet in an invisible truths, in visible words.

    And wherever she is, my mother smiles; she knows too —

    All pain has not been for naught — she’s my rock.

    Yet, I’ve subtle protection in the dim, not but one source,

    I’ve not yet drowned in this fixed game.

    For nights I was safe against his shoulder, I sighed;

    Safe, time ticking by.

    My heart soars with possibility, months or years away,

    I’ll never be her, but a twilight of rest provides a tomorrow.

    That in the darkness, I could protect and be protected, despite the denseness of fog, those howls in the night.

    A child’s laughter lingers,

    The lady reformed, steps up and aspires,

    Pray for her, my loved ones in the sky,

    That she chooses wisely despite.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 31: Poem — “Beneath the Harvest Moon” #amwritingpoetry #fiction


    For OctPoWriMo Day 31, the prompt is to write about light, dark, and shadow. Our lives are filled with all three and we learn to embrace all three.

    Credit: James Peacock via Unsplash.

    The moon rose high,

    Harvest orange–tang.

    A hazy summer,

    One that would forever,

    Alter history, as the moon waned.

    A midnight stroll,

    To erase a soul-sucking sadness.

    And your hand flexed in mine,

    We pushed past the veil that clouded over,

    The Autumn oder of decay.

    Anxiety creeping through our veins —

    What’s this place?

    But, you squeezed my hand,

    My head lay on your shoulder,

    And all despair shrivelled.

    We gazed at the fire-moon,

    A lunar crescent guiding,

    Providing lustrous celestial hope.

    For awhile we forgot affliction,

    We meandered in the dark.

    On the horizon, the pale morning called;

    Sparrows shrill and sweet.

    Murmured prayers beneath our breath,

    You and I, delicate wisps;

    Connecting for mere hours.

    Your hand gentle against my cheek,

    A last memory of serenity.

    Then, our lives scattered and came undone;

    But, each year the harvest moon,

    Retells a story,

    Two lives surviving.

    Hands grazing,

    Alive despite destruction,

    Lost memories floating in time.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 29: Poem — Octain Refrain/Double/High — “Trains of the Past” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 29, the prompt is “what stories do you have about railroad tracks from your childhood? Write for ten minutes exploring the tracks.” The poetry format is an Octain Refrain. Abbac / cabA Abbad / dabA

    Credit: Ashley Richards via Unsplash.

    You walk, you wander, hands out distracted,

    You ponder life’s questions, words unsaid.

    One shoe in-front of the next, your head —

    Down, thinking: “Don’t step off the track,

    Or, you’ll fall and break your back.”

    The railway tracks go for miles, detract —

    From dust, pebbles, sky’s blank-grey; huge black —

    Trains, steam hissing, iron rockets that sped.

    You walk, you wander, hands out distracted.

    You walk, you wander, hands out distracted,

    Time interlaces, train rides where shredded,

    Memories, rail-cars people hustling spread —

    To present planes, replacing trains cast,

    In time, coal shovelled, train whistles pulled.

    While you balance on railway tracks hold,

    Steady, look! Envision more than wood paths.

    Labor, men hammering tracks to here led;

    You walk, you wander, hands out distracted.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 28: Poem —Lannet — « A Beach Journey Still » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 28, the prompt is choices or a journey. The type of poetry I’m using is called a Lannet, which has 14 lines, 10 syllables per line. The Lannet has NO END-LINE RHYMING SCHEME. Only internal rhyme is allowed. There is no sIambic form, pentameter or tetrameter (etc.) for a Lannet.

    Crédit: Salvador Martin Yeste

    We grow, there are journeys tred, then ceased,

    To trail diverse paths, rest and sip life.

    Never near such nonsensical places worn,

    Rather, amble in sunlight’s glimmer.

    Laugh, near frothy tides, sigh —

    Be free of burdens in sand, gleaming lakes.

    SPF50, beach toys, volleyball;

    Time to peruse a light book — content.

    Where do we fumble to when rests end?

    Why do we hold close the ethereal?

    Or, we can just sunbathe, hear waves crash;

    As kids build sandcastles, loved ones chat.

    Serve cold beer, pop, sandwiches, ice-cream;

    We embrace each moment wrung — life loved.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 27: Poem —« Christmas Tree Delight » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 27, the prompt is about your favorite time of year. The poem type is a Decuain. There are 3 set choices of rhyme scheme: ababbcbcaa, ababbcbcbb, or ababbcbccc.

    Credit: Алсу Ягудина via Unsplash.

    I love the Christmas tree tall, limbs prickled —

    Pine; gleaming lights strung on branches bared.

    An angel with her star sits atop it.

    Hapless, limbs flung out Jim Shore fine-carved;

    Sweet manger scenes arranged with fair —

    Amounts of crystal angels, glass globes red.

    Balls, stars, and ribbon sparkle light glares;

    Beneath the tree, presents gleam all wrapped.

    Aroma of food, squares cheese, sausage, sit;

    Euphoric, yet the family photo twists.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 25: Poem — « Forgiving in the Dark » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 25, the poem is about making or breaking the rules. The type of poem I’m using is a Bop sonnet.

    Crédit: Carrie Shea via Unsplash.

    Sometimes there’s a riot, rules are broken,

    When they don’t make sense, when a life’s stolen.

    You can’t remould people into something they’re —

    Not; people aren’t actors, words mislaid.

    When the real and the fake’s masquerade,

    How do you know what’s real, what’s not fact?

    When anger rises and you should forgive,

    How do you for better, for worse live?

    *****

    Too many people pass before their time,

    Too many die barely having survived.

    Have lived years to few, some years too many.

    I’ve felt old before my time, not any —

    Creativity left within, no hope,

    But, I still give — I do not to mope.

    I beg for true-home, no invaded space;

    Voices turned cruel, lies from fake faces.

    When anger rises and you should forgive,

    How do you for better, for worse live?

    *****

    Some words are not said wisely, but some —

    Are truth; need ascertainment in sun.

    Some words are powerful, some ruthless;

    Write, but to some what’s ‘right’ is truthless.

    I surmise, I can’t ever please falsehood,

    I’ll throw-out lies, to dark I’m worthless.

    When anger rises and you should forgive,

    How do you for better, for worse live?

    ©️ Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 24: Poem — LaJemme — « Healing » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 24, the prompt is on something you’ve always wanted to do, but haven’t allowed yourself to do it, yet. The type of poetry is called LaJemme — 5 stanza, some 10/10/10/10 syllables, some 8/8/8/6 syllables. All iambic pentameter. The 4th syllable of each line rhymes with the end word of the next.

    Crédit: Alwin Croon via Unsplash.

    I’d love to see Paris, Italy’s pearls;

    There’s a world out there that I’ve not seen,

    Art I still dream, perceive un–whirling;

    Fashion some deem gorgeous, some un-esteemed.

    I’ve outlasted pains, without gain;

    Known that life’s vain, passes too fast.

    Fallen in gaps, tried still to recast;

    Stuck in vile games — traps.

    What helps the most — I’m not lost!

    Where ever I’m tossed, I’ll still thrive,

    I’m still alive, though accosted,

    I’m with great cost striving.

    Still at night, in the torture of echoes,

    I lie awake, think of real, imagined sins.

    I know forgiveness, still vanity aches;

    Let me outlive — rewrite the narrative.

    I’d love Santorini, some world —

    Time with those loved; knowing all times concealed.

    Places without whiney imps, no weapons hurled.

    Grant me quiet grace, time for time to heal.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 21: Poem — Quadrille — « For Ice-Cream » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 21, the prompt is on taste. The words related to this are: Delectable, Tantalizing, Explosive, Creamy, Bitter, and Sour. The type of poem is called Quadrille with 44 words.

    Credit: Alana Harris via Unsplash .

    Each vacation he’d squirm waiting,

    Jingle his allowance,

    Ask his Dad for ice-cream,

    Traverse a gravel-road.

    Amble from the campsite

    To a tiny store for —

    Chocolate, Gummy-Bear;

    Tiger-striped, Cookie-dough;

    Mint-Chip, Maple-Walnut.

    Down the gravel-road sauntering,

    Eating indulgence.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 23: Poem — Troolan — “An Awkward Life” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 23, the prompt what you are grateful for, and how gratitude shows up for you in life. The poetry type is Troolan, with 4 quatrains that begin with the same letter — the rhyme scheme is abab.

    Credit: Facebook

    I’m grateful for this awkward life,

    Each second of rich delight.

    Memories, days of hurtful spite;

    Creative flight — resilience.

    I’m blessed to have family near,

    When life was murky, and rough.

    When I’ve cried, experienced fear;

    Chattered with mom, time ne’er enough.

    Movies and popcorn with brothers —

    Dinners with family, and friends.

    Youth, adulthood with grandmothers;

    Choir heard with Dad sung blended.

    Somedays I’m grateful for quiet,

    Some the gusto of discovery.

    Others, I’ve suffered silently,

    Guided through faith, recovering.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 22: Poem — Acrostic — “Life Goes On” #amwritingpoetry #mentalhealth


    For #OctPoWriMo Day 22, the prompt is, to “open of your favorite books, and write a poem on the first word or phrase that pops out at you, begin there.” My chosen poetry type is Acrostic.

    “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” 
    ― Robert Frost

    (Source: https://quoteinvestigator.com/2018/04/01/life-goes/)

    Credit: Alexander Henke via Unsplash.com.

    L — Life’s full of challenges, and you’re doomed either way, to try again, to fail or thrive; life can be lived in many ways, but shouldn’t be wasted.

    I — In many situations we try to improve ourselves, but improvement takes time; learning is forever.

    F — Failing hurts, and isn’t easy. It’s repercussions can be brutal, but also make one feel alive, and pushes a person to do better. Failing can cause us to reconsider our lives.

    E — Every time we attempt to out-do ourselves or others, we forget that not every activity or conversation is a race. Life‘s meant to be lived and to be loved.

    *****

    G — Games are only fun, if everyone knows the rules and plays by them — if everyone agrees to them. Playing games with people’s heads, hearts, minds, (etc.) is never right; be straight forward with others and don’t damage them.

    O — Only spend time with people and places that help you and help others. If other people are toxic to you, and you can’t work out your problems, it’s time to let them go, and move on. A new view does wonders too.

    E— Even though we ignore people who harm us, it’s essential to still treat people humanly. We might not like them, but we should still care and respect them as human beings, as sentient individuals.

    S— Situations of all kinds arise in life, and it’s my firm belief that if we have faith, and keep going, we will be guided through life into better situations eventually through God’s grace and love.

    *****

    O — Often, we can help ourselves feel better by taking care of ourselves, through showering, grooming, dressing up or dressing comfortably; we can walk and or exercise too, around the house, park, or neighbourhood.

    N — Not everyone fits a mould. We can achieve a ton by resting, and letting ourselves, loved ones, employees, and others, sleep-in. Not every body has a ‘morning-person’ schedule or an ‘evening-person’ schedule — all people are diverse.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 19: Poem — “Repairing” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 19 the prompt is about being in the present, but this kind of turned into the subject of repairing. The form I’m using is called Synchronicity — “8 (or more), 3-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. It has no rhyme & is written in the 1st person with a twist. The twist revealed in the last 2 stanzas.”

    Crédit: John Tyson via Unsplash.

    The lights dim, no lightbulbs glow,

    He stands on ladder fits in bulbs,

    Silent.

    *****

    Anything else you require —

    Fixed? He’s here in the moment;

    Patching.

    *****

    We all repair what we can, but —

    Still, yearn for nothing to shatter;

    Sighing.

    *****

    Let our homes be pretty, pristine;

    Let them not require such repair,

    A joke.

    *****

    Reality’s that most everything —

    Breaks; becomes brittle, needs mending,

    Quickly.

    *****

    And, sewers repair with needles;

    Doctors with instruments, medicines —

    It helps.

    *****

    Electricians fix wires, construction —

    Workers roads, buildings, many things —

    New, old.

    *****

    And, even new things degenerate,

    We attempt to apply Band–Aids;

    Soothe wounds.

    *****

    Sometimes this works, skinned knees heal;

    Other times blood seeps, water drips, flows —

    Over.

    *****

    Mom’s heal their children,

    They murmur gentle words, they sing;

    Kiss scrapes.

    *****

    Ultimately, humans discover,

    Themselves stuck, un-mendable;

    So still.

    *****

    Requiring a doctor, or —

    Repairman; neither heal or,

    Fix all.

    *****

    In the end we’re dust, but in life,

    We strive; in finality;

    Breathe last.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 18: Poem — “Date Night” #amwritingpoetry


    For #OctPoWriMo Day 18, the prompt is on rejuvenation using the Diatrell 1/2/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/2/1, but unlike an ethere, has a set rhyme pattern of abbcbccaccbcbba.

    Credit: Matthieu Huoy via Unsplash.

    Proved,

    Perfect,

    Makeup set.

    Lipstick-lined, filled;

    Pursed, and apple-red.

    Their car’s cleaned of filth;

    House organized, no more spills.

    She in flared-dress; he in dress shirt smooth;

    Driving past fields of canola, city lights brilliant:

    Tonight, mom and dad have ‘date-night,’ thrilled.

    Kids in bed, playing games at will;

    Parents smile without regrets.

    Hands held tight still —

    Dinner set;

    They’re blessed,

    Soothed.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 20: Poem —Nove Otto — « Sensation » #amwritingpoetry


    For Day 20, the prompt for OctPoWriMo is on exploring touch and how things feel. The poem type is called Novo Otto 9-lined poem with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic). The rhyme scheme is as follows: aacbbcddc. 

    Crédit: Shaiam Ramesht via Unsplash.

    Grit on the bottom of Adidas shoes,

    Photographs on scrapbook pages glued.

    Peacock feathers indigo, jade —

    Silk-pink dresses, sewn with care.

    Soft-blankets, velvet puppy hair.

    Glittering gold necklace’s displayed;

    Trickling juice from ripe squishy pears.

    Lovely-long hair lustrous bared,

    Heartfelt words on walls honor engraved.

    *****

    Sunny picnic in the park adored,

    Grass sharp, volleyball spiked without score.

    Forearms bruised, aching in pulse abhorred;

    Gurgling, laughter, baby-feet on sand,

    The world on your shoulders stands.

    Plush mattress to rest with dreams instore,

    A grimace of pain, ankles both strained.

    Wind on skin as teary-eyes betray,

    Song, story, rhythm played with encore.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    Three Line Tales: Fiction — A Strong Gale #amwritingfiction


    Thanks to Sonya for hosting #3LineTales, more like 3 paragraphs this week lol.

    Credit: Marian Oleksyn via Unsplash.

    The mountains were an ominous pewter.”Woh, there girl. It’s fine, I’m here now.” Jenna filled a bucket with oats and Geneva the horse ate as Jenna brushed the mare’s coat; she led the horse outside then rode her into snow-covered fields.

    Later, the heightened gusts of wind against Jenna’s face ached as she fought the gale and returned to the stable. As she cared for Geneva, the wind slammed the stable gate back and forth and Jenna headed towards it when her boots slipped from under her; Jenna’s head hit the floor.

    Geneva,concerned for her rider, neighed resoundingly and bucked in her stall. Jenna awoke with blood stark on her fingers from the bump on her head, but she tottered towards Geneva anyways and buried hear cheek in the horse’s snow-colored mane.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 14: Poem — “Truth in Light” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 14, the prompt is based on people’s thoughts about truth. The poetry form’s Villanelle. It has 19 lines, and the poetry rhyming scheme is aba aba aba aba aba abaa.

    Credit: Markus Winkler via Unsplash.

    Truth is older, truth’s the most lustrous light,

    Darkness never understand’s truth’s bite.

    Still, what’s right illuminates, flares despite.

    We can’t comprehend truth’s ageless fight,

    Sincerity past lies and beyond fits;

    Of those captured in the draw of twilight.

    Still, deeper lies the draw of what’s righteous,

    Of people laughing, enjoying time‘s flicker;

    Marvellous evenings of time shared in firelight.

    With our family and friends; truth calls despite,

    Shadows of mayhem, nightmare’s densest pits;

    And God saves, wraps each soul in soothing light.

    When we lose sight, sensing only life’s dim blights,

    Hold to loved ones, Holy faith ever-lit.

    Never let daylight blow-out; hold on tight.

    In shattered dreams of memories we write,

    Gazing forward, even when life’s unfocused.

    Unafraid we reach, clash in starless nights;

    Our souls clutch verity, lies die in fright.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 17: Poem — Free Verse — “The Wedding Dance” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 17 the prompt is about wild rhythm and a little magic. The form I’m choosing is Free Verse.

    Credit: Анна Хазова courtesy of Unsplash

    Wild rhythm a dance floor full of all ages,

    A contagious tempo for those young and old,

    For, children hopping and prancing without care.

    Grandparents tapping their toes, crinkled-grins,

    Tottering, remembering old patterns learned.

    Kids of all ages surround, their rhythms invented, creative with giggles.

    The luminescent bride, the dashing groom grasping hands;

    She tucked close to his side, first dances passed.

    The groomsmen in vests, and ladies in rose gowns, all having the most brilliant times.

    Music loud and amusing through the party and without,

    Wine and highballs as the rhythm melts.

    Toasts to the the new couple, to their happiness and cheer,

    Parents teaching children dance-steps of long ago;

    Grandma and Grandpa swing-dance feet-light, for as much as their bodies can take;

    Clapping their hands as their grandchildren whirl.

    Bridesmaids bopping with groomsmen,

    Then, chuckling as line-dances progress to country music sounds,

    Swing-dancing and two-stepping, tangos and fox-trots.

    Swaying back and forth, the wild rhythm crescendos as the party jumps ‘up and down,’ arms flailing all about;

    Friends and family clap, a time of excitement, long remembered fun.

    How the wedding guests move without care, with eloquence —

    So too, with awkward movements unplanned.

    Whirling dance-steps, midnight snacks, the wedding party’s last stand;

    The night lingers, the bride and groom sway —

    As close together as possible.

    Then, the dancing ceases and they’re away, last glass of champagne;

    The guests thin, one or two stranglers remain.

    Waltzing slow as if the night and vivid music might shatter time;

    For a moment, the tatters of wildness cease,

    The lights flicker, away to hotel rooms, away as the wild music ends;

    Love endures, and the vibrant celebration dims.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 16: Poem — Mirrored Refrain — “Jewelled & Unrequited” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 16, the prompt “is about turning things inside out and upside down. Painting the sky purple, the grass pink and everything else any color you want. Allow yourself to get creative, paint a scene with your words . . .” The form of poetry I’m using is called a Mirrored Refrain:The rhyme scheme is as follows — xaBA, xbAB, xaBA, xbAB.

    Credit: Altinay Dic via Unsplash.

    Rain danced on pearlized cement,

    Diamonds pink, huge as grapefruit melted;

    Rain fell in rays of gold un-delighted,

    An amber moon cried blue-tears frightened.

    *****

    Rain danced on pearlized cement,

    Tissue-paper flowers drowned relentless;

    An amber moon cried blue-tears frightened.

    Rain fell in rays of gold un-delighted.

    *****

    Rain danced on pearlized cement —

    As emerald grass glowed in blue-sunlight;

    Rain fell in rays of gold un-delighted,

    An amber moon cried blue-tears frightened.

    *****

    Rain danced on pearlized cement,

    In jewels everyone lost love unrequited;

    An amber moon cried blue-tears frightened.

    Rain fell in rays of gold un-delighted.

    ******

    ©️ Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.,

    #OctPoWriMo Day 15: Poem — Jeffrey’s Sonnet — “The Storm” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 15, the prompt is about changing perspective: “Perhaps nothing is entirely true, not even this.” ~ Multatuli.”

    For, the poetry form I’m choosing a Jeffrey’s Sonnet: aabccb, (b)ddeffe, (e)g, (g)e in iambic pentameter.

    Credit: Fuu Je via Unsplash.

    I can’t see the light, as the storm surrounds;

    I can’t see the veil, pierced while brilliance scorns.

    So, stay close during this ominous night,

    Stay near as the stars implode and bleed,

    Where caustic answers don’t sting and impede.

    I’m but human with a dash to much spite,

    I wish with forgiving words I could right —

    Wrongs; my eyes close, murky sickness dwells, forms.

    So, let the world sing final tunes forlorn —

    Let, the robin swoop in sunshine-sky warmed.

    And, let the day not weep, leaves on trees tearing,

    As nature cries, twigs, and branches bare.

    Let dawn’s sun not burn, let twigs not score;

    Leap, rush into the aurora — jump blind,

    Keep forging freedom, a kite un-resigned.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 7: Poem — Triolet — “Growing Pains” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 7, the prompt is on growing pains — “He who learns must suffer.” -Aeschylus. Triolet — 1,4,7 repeated; 2,8 repeated; ABAabAB, 8 syllables each.

    Credit: Caleb Woods via Unsplash.

    When I was four, pain shot through —

    My legs each night as arrows sharp.

    When I was four, pain shot through;

    I grasped each calf, ’til stabs withdrew.

    Tears rolled down chubby cheeks unmarked,

    When I was four pain shot through,

    My legs each night as arrows sharp.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 11: Poem — Rispetto — “On Muses” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 11 the prompt is write a “letter to your Muse asking the best way to hear them, work with them, and how to work in the creative stream.” Using the form of a Rispetto with the form in iambic tetrameter (6 syllables) with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd.

    Credit: Hannah Grace via Unsplash.

    I don’t care for muses,

    Such fickle floozies.

    But, words given, fired deep;

    Where mind, creation seeps.

    I think there’s solid hope,

    In gifts given, spoken —

    Refined by all writers,

    Refined by time, spite;

    In a room owned, lighted.

    *****

    We’ll write forever for,

    Rights to write; daily norms —

    That should be ingrained in,

    Everyone living.

    Creativity, gifts —

    We receive and insist.

    Write of life good, mistakes;

    When you can’t think, relate.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    Fiction: Just In Time #amwritingfiction


    Credit: Caroline Hernandez via Unsplash.

    She woke in the middle of the night as the heat turned off and shivered. Anika’s PJ’s were thin and worn through but she loved them. The pants were purple with cat-faces, and her top darker purple with one giant cat-face.

    She was 10-years-old and afraid of school tomorrow; the kids at school bullied her. She and her family weren’t from ‘around here’ and their hair and skin was lighter than most other students. A girl twice Anika’s size named Wanda, hurt her most.

    She sighed in bed and held the covers tight against her body. Her sister Charlotte who was nine, slept beside Anika, as she turned over in bed as her PJ pants tore.

    “What was that?” Charlotte sat up half-asleep and rubbed her eyes.

    “Just my PJ’s, mom will have to fix them. My other pair are too small. Do you have any old ones?”

    Charlotte patted Anika. “No, mine gave out when I fell running up the stairs. Mom won’t buy us PJ’s now, it’s almost Christmas. She told me she can only repair them so many times too.”

    Anika nodded and flicked on her lamp. She peered at her time-piece — a special gift. “My watch has the date on it. Today’s December 18th, so in a few more days we’ll get Christmas presents.”

    “That’ll be fun. I’d like jeans and a pink top too.”

    “Oh, me as well.”

    “Really, Anika what color shirt?” Charlotte pulled the covers up over them both.

    “I like pink, but maybe light-blue’s better? I want a new hat and mittens for when it’s cold outside like today, in purple with lots of stuffing.” Anika and Charlotte jumped.

    They heard a thump outside their door and scrambled out of bed; they opened their bedroom door.

    “Who’s there?” Anika’s whisper was overpowered by the furnace turning on again, but both girls heard footsteps creaking. “It’s too early to be Santa. Did someone break in?”

    “There’s no Santa, Anika.” Charlotte muffled a laugh and shoved her. Another thump and a few bumps sounded behind them and they gasped.

    Behind them stood a beautiful woman, her eyes sparkling in the lamplight. The woman put her finger to her glossed lips, signalling both girls to be quiet.

    Anika and Charlotte jumped in wonder and the woman put her finger to her lips again. “Shush.”

    She pointed to their bed where a few shiny packages lay. “Shhh, don’t wake your parents. They’ll have gifts when they wake too.”

    Anika stared in awe at the woman; she dressed with elegance and had a kind face. “You’re not Santa Clause and it’s not Christmas, yet.”

    The woman put her hands on her hips, her eyes raised to the ceiling for a moment. “I’m different from Santa , and your mom and dad knew you needed new Pj’s and a few things, so I’m here to drop them off.”

    Charlotte squeeled and Anika peered at the woman. “How did you get in? We were at our bedroom door before you were here, weren’t we?”

    “That’s a secret Santa and I share.” The woman winked and pushed her hair back; she pulled on her gloves. “Now, open your packages and I’ll be on my way. I’ve lots of other clients who need help. Thank your parents in the morning, but keep quiet now.”

    Both Anika and Charlotte nodded and turned to the presents on their bed. They watched as the beautiful woman closed their bedroom door and disappeared with a wave.

    They tore open their packages trying not to crinkle the wrapping paper. Each received new PJ’s, an outfit for school, mittens, hats, and warm scarves for the cold winter.

    Both girls tried to be quiet but squealed when each pulled out a planner and pen to help them keep track of their chores, school work, and other things.

    Both girls put away their stuff and in the morning, hugged their parents hard, thankful for the gifts the lovely woman had left.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 13: Poem — Pantoum — “ Be Brave” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 13, the prompt is thinking outside the box: “The boxes that hold us can be many: work, gender, clothing, sexuality, family, religion, etc. Boxes can be so comfortable that coming out is terrifying and even painful sometimes. But the freedom is worth it.”

    Poetry form we’re using is called Pantoum: A series of quatrains rhyming ABAB, the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain. Each new quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD. The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the last quatrain, and third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming ZAZA.

    Credit: Adam Winger via Unsplash.

    Peak outside the life you’re living,

    Don’t box yourself in small spaces.

    Pretending the world doesn’t spin;

    You’re not confined by those straight-laced.

    *****

    Don’t box yourself in small spaces,

    You’ve so much in you worth sharing.

    You’re not confined by those straight-laced;

    Let life mean something, start caring.

    *****

    You’ve so much in you worth sharing,

    Help people see, let yourself shine.

    Let life mean something, start caring.

    Don’t be scared to step-out, be kind.

    *****

    Help people see, let yourself shine,

    You can share faith, share having hope.

    Don’t be scared to step-out, be kind,

    Keep striving despite hearing ‘nope.’

    *****

    You can share faith, share having hope.

    Despite darknesses bitter cry,

    Keep striving despite hearing ‘nope;’

    Break through, those who you despise.

    *****

    Despite darknesses bitter cry,

    You’re a beacon to those broken.

    Break through past those who you despise;

    Never ashamed, be a fire stoked.

    *****

    You’re a beacon to those broken,

    You’re a light-catcher unafraid,

    Never ashamed, be a fire stoked;

    Have faith, grace, don’t relent — be brave.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 12: Poem — Zanila — “Playground Games” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 12, the prompt is what “liked to play when you were little.” Form is a new one for me, called the Zanila form with 4 lines per stanza, abcb rhyme scheme, and a syllable count of 9/7/9/9 per stanza.
    Minimum 3 stanzas.

    Credit: Yosin Hosgar via Unsplash.

    In the sandbox, sand flung in air;

    Sand in kids’ eyes, flushed-out.

    Reaching for the next bar, ne’er falling;

    Swinging on monkey bars, hands prepared.

    *****

    Climbing rocket ships straight to the top,

    Sitting on the peak, orange bars;

    Yellow metal ascended, stopping —

    Only to peer below, dirty sand-lot.

    *****

    Then, the merry-go-round spins, whirls furious;

    Taking turns to spin it.

    Jumping back on all curious,

    How quick can we go? Feeling nervous.

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 8: Poem — “Travelling Alone” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 8, the prompt concerns pushing boundaries. The poetry form I’m using is called a Diamanté, which is seven lines long. The first and last lines have just one word. The second and sixth lines have two words. The third and fifth lines have three words. Lines 1, 4, & 7 have nouns. Lines 2 & 6 have adjectives. Lines 3 & 5 have verbs.

    Credit: Jaao Ferrao via Unsplash.

    Cities,

    Enchanting; bustling,

    Venturing through old,

    Downtowns, parkways, tiny shops;

    Walking through narrow,

    Cobbled streets,

    Alone.

    *****

    Habits,

    Normal, Easy,

    Marvellously exciting; curiously —

    Alone; travelling afar unaided.

    Walking, traversing, absorbing,

    Cultured society;

    Downcast.

    *****

    Dinner,

    Solo with,

    Myself, ingesting tasty,

    Cuisine, and observing others;

    Then, meandering home,

    Boundaries pushed;

    Alone.

    *****

    Shoes,

    Wandering a —

    Foreign and unknown —

    Land; difficult but wonderful.

    Terrifying, lonely, friendless,

    Sacrifices, maybe

    Rewards?

    *****

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 9: Poem — Loop Poetry — “Press On” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 9, the prompt is based on ‘your head and your thoughts.’

    The prompt style is Loop Poetry, which are couplets mixed with 4 line stanzas, where the last word, first word scheme is maintained in the stanzas. It can also be used in the couplets. Rhyme scheme is ab, cc, defg, hh, ii, jklm, nn, oo.

    Credit: Ruan Carlos via Unsplash.

    If each thought paid dollars and cents.

    If you could buy food with just cents;

    If you could love anyone,

    If you’d more time with anyone.

    ****

    There’s too many if’s and but’s,

    No use recollecting them.

    Each thought or memory saddened,

    That you could or wouldn’t receive —

    ****

    All that your heart desired most.

    All of the life you dreamt most.

    Go over each memory dear,

    Go spend time with each person dear.

    *****

    You can peer back to each day with,

    Simple wishes, you could live more;

    Exist in moments of elation,

    Improve where you disappointed.

    ****

    So, with fearlessness you can fight,

    So, don’t forget your past won fights.

    As yesterday has long passed on,

    As today you conquer — press on.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 10: Poem — Tyburn — «The Way Through » #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 10, the prompt is what you want/need to let go of, or what still triggers your memory when you think of this thing. The poetry form used, is a new form for me called a Tyburn, which is a six line poem consisting of 2, 2, 2, 2, 9, 9 syllables.

    Crédit: C. Boyd via Unsplash.

    I’ll lose–

    Sight of

    Hate; but,

    You’ll still–

    Hurt me; despite my solemn forgiveness,

    You’re insane, a touch unstable too.

    *****

    But, I’ve–

    One less,

    Day lost–

    Suffering.

    Despite all, the Holy Spirit —

    Dwells; I’m free through instability.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    #OctPoWriMo Day 6: Poem — “If You Could” #amwritingpoetry


    For OctPoWriMo Day 6, the prompt is steps in life/goals/inner drive. The form today is Con-Verse with an: aa,bb,cc,dd,ee rhyme scheme and a syllable pattern of : 7,7,8,8,9,9,10,10,11,11.

    Tell me little one what you’ll —

    Be when grown, finished school?

    What do you want to do with your life?

    Do you want kids, a husband?

    Do you desire trips in Europe?

    Australia or Asia’s lures?

    What are your goals, who pushes you forward?

    What drives you to keep singing your life’s song?

    If I could tell you how to make it, I would.

    But, I’m lost in valleys misunderstood.

    ©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: Free Verse — “The Pathway: Take Flight” #amwritingpoetry #mandibelle16


    She wrote words of a feather, lightening bolt letters,

    That swam and evaded, went right and left.

    She sketched patterns of leafy-green,

    Each leaf unique, together a fortress of trees.

    And, she lept and skipped, singing rhymes with others,

    Jump rope and titters, then, kickball — a rubber ball bounced into new innings.

    And, she cycled trails of mushed grass, dusty trails that her family meandered together,

    Past the bushes, down hills, then up, hiking or biking to bridges, crossing the river valley alive with breeze.

    Zipping past black- berries, hidden orange-red bird-berries,

    The kind sparrows get drunk on, banging into windows in fright.

    She developed into a writer, and she’d bury herself in books, adventure and romance,

    Epic, dystopian, literary works, each word a pathway of networks followed and considered.

    Her letters curled in handwriting, the kind they no longer teach,

    Curves and swirls laced, until handwriting and printing bound to each other.

    She still holds her pencil wrong, and the teacher’s used to shake their heads,

    But, she laughed, once you learn to write it’s to difficult to change habitual patterns.

    Then, one day, she was caught in the dark, where the bushes scratch scarlet;

    The darkness tried to make her and her lover, abandon all hope.

    Destructive imps, with nothing on God’s light;

    Nor the kingdom of Heaven, they’ve not but dark deeds, no peace, and no priority.

    So, go now, leave what you lack, forget darkened hallways, return to stunning light —

    The sun’s a bright lipstick orange, the sunshine shower’s refreshing,

    The fields wet with dew, fresh-cut.

    So, smile after the fight, after hardness develops in your body, enough to stay the course — fly free;

    Then, feel your body soften and regenerate in faith by lantern light.

    Thus, the art in her hands grew, the words started pouring, and after lessons tough-fought —

    She twirled and gasped tasting enchanted fresh air, no longer alone.

    Then, he grasped her small hand & held it for life — she squealed in joy;

    Such power had saved them, Heaven’s light & Son.

    And, prayers shook their bodies, before they wandered forth to continue the story,

    Down life’s trails, down a new adventure, & the Alice inside quieted.

    Jesus filled them, and the chance to live enthralled;

    Laughter, and conversation, the power of touch.

    Such a simple thing, but when your eyes finally open, then you’ve everything because you’re no longer blind;

    So, survive full of grace, through the opportunity to experience everything,

    And, in such blessedness prosper — as they both did & in new life took flight.

    ©️Mandibelle16. (2022) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: “She Cries” #amwritingpoetry


    Credit: Tom Caillerac via Unsplash

    She cries because she can’t make sense,

    The pieces in her life won’t fit together — there’s no denying it.

    She cries because she feels insignificant in the scheme of life,

    Because once upon a time someone promised her things,

    But, they don’t understand her sorrow; though, it’ll fade with tomorrow.

    Do you choose not to comprehend why she’s miserable?

    Yet, she cries, try to understand,

    Of all the things humanity’s connected to, —one of the worst reactions is tears.

    She cries, and your little girls,

    The ones who are tough or soft as doves, they’ll cry too.

    Not only to tantrum or make a scene, they ‘ll cry because something hurts,

    It aches inside their hearts and even parents can’t fix everything.

    She cries, it’s not the worst thing,

    It’s not on purpose, even if she’s emptying a vault of tears.

    But one day soon, she’ll smile, and if she cries it will only be for joy.

    And, a month of holding back tears,

    Will turn to doe-eyed glamour and grins.

    And, you’ll understand that often, the emotion found behind tears calms,

    Leads to smiles and freedom filled serenity.

    So, we cry not to improve our moods, but to bathe in sunlit happiness.

    Then, to forget our tear droplets left in pain.

    And, for as long as we can, we grin, and a confusion of tears ends.

    Mandibelle16. ©️ (2023) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: Free – Verse/“Poppy Red” #amwritingpoetry


    Credit: Javier Canada

    In a world where we we wake up and wear poppy red,

    I’ll be happy instead of upset.

    In a world where we can wear pink,

    I’ll cuddle up in my sweater and not overthink.

    The bad guys take on too many forms in life,

    And, we can’t solve everything with the edge of a knife.

    In a world where we can survive in wondrous color,

    I’ll promenade the park where it’s safe with my lover.

    I’ll hold his hand and he’ll hold mine,

    We won’t end up too hurt, too resigned.

    And, with secret glee we’ll saunter through trails in the valley,

    Thankful for a world where children have food, homes, and beds gladly.

    Where we don’t need to worry that they’ll be provided for too,

    No more bad guys making our little one’s cry over lost balloons.

    And, we’ll all wonder the attack on our flowers, vivid blooms in rain smashed,

    And where in a dependable world we’ll be able to relax, not break into pieces of glass.

    Oh, how lovely to wear ruby again when those that are monsters stop dead.

    When pink is lost to their sight and we enjoy sweet times, and ignore tomorrow’s possible dread.

    Let the broken times remind us to beware,

    But most of all we know whatever color we wear —

    Whatever hue we lose — we’ll regain, and that might clarify magnificent truth.

    We won’t promenade around lost, life will be cathartic, marvellous, sweet as fruit.

    And, in any tone or highlight we’ll survive; oh, what a day to thrive.

    When we’ll wear and feel whatever color we choose to try.

    When we’ll grin, pleased with the effervescence of a warm summer night,

    No pain, no sorrow; hearts filled with delight.

    From a sensational night where we can sing whatever we like,

    And the poppies sing, once hidden, now in full flamboyant fields planted bright,

    They explode into brilliant glorious red triumphant insight.

    Wake me to such glory;

    Flowers painted wild, their thirsty petals here to tell a story,

    Wrap me up in the Savior’s glory,

    Here at last, cuddled in hues and tones, we’ll survive to share how soft the poppy petal feel,

    How in magnificence the poppies glow and in fantastic red tones of sunlight, us they heal.

    ©️Mandibelle16. (2025) All Rights Reserved.

    Poem: “ Starry Sky” #amwritingpoetry


    It’s hard to find the way to say, get over them, get onto us;

    And, every time I think life begins to make sense,

    My seat falls flat like a cardboard bench.

    Try to understand now, try to work all the problems out,

    Tell me right or wrong, wrong feels like a knife;

    A sharpness I can’t rid my body of.

    So, listen to to me now, I’m a luminescent falling star —

    Maybe, we both are.

    How do we make sense of us and catch life’s bliss; I don’t know.

    But, I never let the world unfold, you told me not to, so —

    One day we’d be free to love, to grow, to find hope,

    But, now I think, the ink isn’t dry, and all I can do is blink, think, think,

    Because we’re not free, not ever,

    Only for bits and pieces of time.

    The past haunts, a lonely chant,

    Oh, little Savior, born so soon,

    Save us from our self-made wounds.

    Teach us somehow, how to be more than we’ve been in the present hour,

    Teach us to fight to the last drop, & without a hop,

    Discover our place in this giant world, for a few moments, where life doesn’t ache.

    Where love is times ten, where we watch our remarks, because sometimes words wound,

    At most, don’t boast, let us swoop down as eagles safely;

    Although, I’m certain we’re blue birds and all we can do is flutter slightly.

    Twitter and fly “softly home.”

    So, be my gentle home, and I will be yours too.

    A hushed place sometime, other days full of the titter of laughter.

    A noisy spectacular ball of light where our aches fade, and we settle relaxed.

    When after a fight, we resolve, and that’s how it goes;

    Grace after yelling, at the end of the battle.

    Kisses thrice, I’ll see you through,

    So, take my little hand, choose me.

    I choose you,

    No matter the black holes forming, collapsing in the starry sky.

    Mandibelle16. ©️ 2024.All Rights Reserved.

    “Sonnet” — “Dark Words“ #amwriting


    “Don’t start, not now.” Our dark words worn, rusted.

    “Don’t hate me ‘cause . . .’ a shriek, a shout, whispers.

    I despise it when we’re too proud, when nobody wins,

    When we fight, but we need to move forward.

    Nobody told me we would have to battle,

    I thought love was easy, something you,

    Slip into with lushness; but it’s a fight.

    It’s sweet adoration, it’s engaging.

    Let’s leave our spat behind, remind ourselves —

    Why we first found hope, love that expanded.

    Away with our black thoughts and nightmares,

    No more biting words; if you nip me,

    Do so ‘cause we’re playing as lovers do.

    Remember that we’ve beautiful words too.

    Mandibelle16 (2024).©️All Rights Reserved.