Event – Mandibelle16

Poem: Free Verse — “ The Storm” #amwritingpoetry

“ I have a lot to say,” to tell a story of one night,

The howling of the wind, a moaning tale of rain falling from the sky.

And in the dusk we walked for miles,

Before the sky opened up and we lay wrapped around each other, beneath solid pine trees.

We could not see through the drenching down pour,

And, we forgot the aching sense of loss serious storms always bring; we huddled together both cold and shivering.

Nature is wonderful, but also humbling and wild.

Not by voice or foot could we escape the storm, until the sun rose.

Then, that forlorn midnight feeling left us and the rain ended.

In the morning brightness we two laughed and chattered, two soaked survivors,

And, carrying our backpacks we left the place we had been huddled;

Soaked to the skin, we still shivered.

But the sunshine didn’t forget us, and as morning passed into mid-day we dried,

Little by little we felt warm again.

Then, we reached the copse, a place of renown we met many memorable years ago.

A thicket of glory, and we sighed, sitting on a damp blanket, the food in our back packs a delight.

We were overwhelmed but happy, having survived the night’s cruelty.

And now, in a thicket of trees, and in a burst of afternoon light,

We ate our sandwiches ravenously.

We gorged on chocolate granola bars,

We ate dripping peaches, all to satisfy hunger soul deep.

When you’ve been lost in the forest it’s a chilling experience,

You forget what it is to be blessed with warmth and delicious food.

Yet, we conquered the storm that night, beneath the pines, and left our fear behind; my hand in yours always.

And after conversation we headed home from the copse, not quite knowing where to go.

We wandered the thicket through the greenery, through both beauty, and fright,

No wild wolves, no crying coyotes, nor bunnies running from them.

So now, down a familiar path home we stride,

You are not worried, nor am I; we are together for as long as there’s time.

Maybe longer, maybe long enough to visit the copse again in strange bliss.

To hold all our memories together with kisses.

That is the story of one cold dreary storm that ended in the glory of the copse,

A time that was a vivid memory, a time we’ve never forgotten.

Somethings are memorable, forever remembered; this is one of those times.

Poem: “She Cries” #amwritingpoetry

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.

Poetry: “A Christmas Poem” #amwritingpoetry

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

#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.

Guest Post: Poem — “A Two Faced Landscape” By Christine Bolton and Charles Robert Lindholm #amwritingpoetry #guestpost

Credit: Frida Aguilar Estrada via Unsplash

Checkout this wonderful poem by Christine Bolton and Charles Robert Lindholm of the blog — The Reluctant Poet.

“A TWO FACED LANDSCAPE”
*****

The Shifting Sands
Of The Desert
Have No Empathy
For The Confused
And Unprepared.

An Arid Expanse,
A Two Faced
Landscape,
Masking
The Truth,
And The Hidden
Dangers Ahead
With An Alluring Beauty.

Misunderstood,
Layered And Complicated
She’s Loved,
Yet Unloved Too,
A Lover To Some
And The Devil
To The Foolish.

Unsurmountable
Obstacles Exist
For Those
Who Never Learned
Her Secrets.

Arduous
Exhausting
For Body And Soul
A Cage-Less Prison
With No Escape.

For The Proud
And Disrespectful,
Burned By The Sun,
Victims Of Thirst,

Who Are Buried
By The Shifting Sands,
And The Wind.

*****

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