fighting – Mandibelle16

#MayDay 17: Article — Batman, Spider-Man, and the Everyday Hero #amwritingnonfiction

For Day 17, the prompt is Batman and Spider-Man.

Credit: Google Images

Heroes:

In the Dark Knight series, Batman appears to us tortured, his eyes hallow, body aching with misery because he can’t fulfill his calling. He was a hero but then he needed to be Gotham’s enemy, to be the horrifying ‘newspaper scandal’ of a savior turned evil. He had to lock himself away from Gotham, and transform into the Dark Knight (Christian Bale).

Spider-Man (Toby McGuire) was younger upon discovering his abilities after a spider bite on a university field trip. He didn’t have Bruce Wayne’s money nor Batman’s notoriety. His Uncle was shot in front of him and his bestfriend’s dad (his second father) transformed into his worst enemy. Later, his best friend became another foe due to a misunderstanding.

Nonetheless, heroes as Batman and Spider-Man have boundaries and rules to abide by in society such as not killing all bad guys but delivering them to the police if possible. They also have super powers and helpful technology such as the bat mobile and Spider-Man’s web shooting ability. They’ve weaknesses via character flaws (hubris), their friends, and family members, and girlfriends in particular. The enemy can take advantage of them through these flaws and people.

Heroes bear a weight because society is dependant on them to save the common man, woman, or child from villains. The problem is saving everyone, even the innocent, is not always possible. Societies and the media’s opinions can be unmerciful towards heroes — think of Spider-Man’s boss at the newspaper. There are also consequences to heroes such as Batman and Spider-Man saving so-called ‘evil people,’ as these persons practice despicable malice towards others.

As well, Spider-Man knew that with great power came great responsibility. Batman realized to serve as a hero was to transform into the enemy; to arise a hero in better days. I don’t know who’s your heroic preference, but despite people’s love of comic book and movie heroes, there’s a problem in expecting humans — even with super powers, to save everyone in Gotham, New York, or your home city.

Although we desire heroes to fix all our issues, we’ve been provided many skills to save ourselves and others from obstacles. However, we can’t always perform these tasks, nor can we save the ‘mini empires’ of the lives we live.

Sometimes we crash and everything we’ve worked for ends in ruins and we must arise and keep living despite. Even if we blow a work project, a homework assignment, or get in a fight with loved ones or superiors, the everyday person must learn self-reliance too.

Such as heroes like Batman or Spider-Man, people must keep attacking despite failure in life and face incredible challenges. Think of Batman’s fight against Joker (Heath Ledger) or Spider-Man’s battle against The Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe). We have to keep trying in life despite incredible odds.

We can also look to ‘everyday heroes’ in public knowing neither of us alone can bear the burden of a broken society. There will always be heroes, monsters, and villains and we can only do our best to protect ourselves.

Sometimes we’re an onlooker to evil, other times we’re as a broken record scratched again and again, fighting our same old enemies (sometimes nemesis’ — deserved retribution). Conversely, we act as heroes to kids, to those we work with, or are friends — even to people we don’t know. Not all heroes or heroines fight on-screen or via comic books.

Despite people’s attempt to become similar to a dignified Batman or courageous Spider-Man, somedays we win and others we lose in life as they do. Super heroes are the everyday man or woman epitomized. Myself, I look to prayer, to God alone who is the glory and savior of all people, the end to misery — even for Batman, Spider-Man, and villains too.

#NaPoWriMo Day 26: “Growing Aches” #amwritingpoetry

For NaPoWriMo Day 26, my own poem from a few weeks back.

Credit: Bruce Mars via Unsplash.

I am weakest (so you say),

That is when your strength defines me.

When I’m meekest and I ache and hurt,

When everyday problems snowball, regular sickness amplifies.

When I was used to doing whatever,

More than I’ve been in a long time ever.

Now, I fall into the pit,

Can’t reach out, the water swallows.

Double-hurt, such a good day then —

Did I overdo it?

I tried, to make a goal; to do just that.

It’s hot, hazy, beautiful outside,

But, the sunshine’s too bright,

Cars revving, pumping music; my ears pulse, some pain.

Am I an older person, in a 30-some body?

I try to be positive, today I cannot.

But I suppose, I must take time to heal,

That little flares, must be sealed to avoid a violent storm.

The process slow and agonizing, but I wait for tomorrow’s fun.

I wait, and I know not for what —

To be at that place where I can be independent,

Help more people and forget the ache — rocky roads tripping, ankle snapping,

Yesterday was as lost as today.

Now, I’m upset that I couldn’t do what I set out to do.

Oh, the plans of mice and men they say.

They’re rather meaningless in the scheme of things;

When health is mostly everything, because it connects to so much more;

And what was once given, is now, lost.

But, I will smile anyways;

I will push beyond these cracks and snarls in the dark.

I’ll find the suns jewels even if it’s an eternity spent aching to smile,

To return to a world of vivacious delight, despite.

#NaPoWriMo Day 19/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Haibun — “Forest Thoughts” #amwritingpoetry #amwritingfiction

For NaPoWriMo Day 19, my own poem. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.

Credit: Mindcore

The words were caught in Genevieve’s throat, and she couldn’t let go. It was as if a force shield quivered, blocking her. She couldn’t push through and recoiled when her attempts sputtered. She shoved and stumbled through the bubble walls. Finally, there was nothing stopping her speech, tears that wouldn’t stop as she trembled with nerves. Her and Gage had had another messy fight. She was left tearful and scatter brained.

Genevieve brushed poppy hair from her eyes. She twirled a strand and repeated the words. “I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. Someday soon, everything will be alright.”

She ached, exhausted, as her thoughts slipped and tossed. What was her opinion worth if Gage didn’t respect it? If her thoughts meant nothing as sand swirling into the wind, words lost. Then, past inklings of Gage’s kindness trickled into her mind. It wasn’t only his fault, it was hers too.

She blinked as water droplets splashed her face. The sky opened and nature healed her, soaked her clothes through. She knew her wounds would no longer bleed, not for a long time. She could handle Gage; she could handle ‘them.’

In retrospective she realized that the pain of silence after fighting was necessary. That mulled over words and nights of blank introspection had their purpose too. As Medusa’s locks turned to snakes, so Genevieve’s thoughts hissed and slithered. She might be a Medusa sometimes, but Gage didn’t care; they were each other’s monsters.

Near home, she curled on the old oak in the copse, thinking about how much time people wasted in anger and regret. Like she, most people said nothing at all, when the most significant words were so simple.

Genevieve thought about how grudges and long held hurts were nothing more than dust –ashes. But, they were meaningless in the scheme of life because, life wasn’t about who’s right. It’s not about words misread and mis-said. Life was about not wasting time upset over details.

She clenched her hands, then breathed deep as she drifted a moment, and shivered. The downpour hadn’t been cold but her teeth chattered now. She’d walked off from Gage sometime ago, needing time in the copse to think.

Then, a sting on her cheek made her jump; the mosquitos were out. Behind her the sky was grey tinged with coral. The night creatures’ scurried in the dark and Genevieve sighed. The cool air was medicine and she inhaled it, no matter that she had to wrap her arms around herself.

She hummed, and thought more about the words she hadn’t said, and the ones she had said to Gage. The words that hurt, and that said the wrong way caused pain. You could turn the maybes and what if’s around in your mind, and even though no one should say certain words — people made mistakes; her and Gage worst of all.

She shuddered again as the night air cooled more. Genevieve headed home from the copse, and the sky darkened to starlit-navy. Hours after their fight she recognized it wasn’t about what was said; it was about what a person’s actions proved.

That was a truth; perhaps, one beyond words. It was a realization that fear of the worst brings all humans to their knees, but that there was still hope. It was possible for all those tainted fights to fade, for partners to reunite. She peered around the dim as she trudged through the wet grass. Genevieve was un-afraid, she’d visited this copse many nights. She breathed in cedar, and the dampness of rain. She took her soggy hoodie and tried to squeeze out water. She pulled it tighter.

“We’re okay now.” She said it aloud because it was real. It wasn’t a faint hope as before. It was conceivable. She was no longer a medusa, but had discovered a self-confidence. Confidence that overcame her doubts, her pain of Gage’s words.

Genevieve had thought her walk private, until a rounded squirrel ran in front of her and stopped. He was wet too, but didn’t seem to care as droplets shook from his fur. He cocked his head towards her in the moonlight.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleep up high?” The squirrel chirped and scuttled closer. She reached into her purse, and the squirrelly froze waiting to see what she reached for. She tossed a small carrot, and the squirrel clenched it; he devoured it. After, finishing his first treat, the squirrel scuttled closer. She moved a second carrot around in the air like an old chalk-pen.

“You see, squirrel. The worst happens, and then in the thick of it, your mind opens, and everything’s okay — everything’s okay. Those past fights, bitter words mean nothing. All these fears you have burn away. Whatever the past, it’s no longer relevant. Trust me squirrel.” He chirped in demand, and she knelt babe held out the carrot. He nudged it from between her fingers and bundled it away as he scampered up the nearest tree.

She clutched her purse and stretched as grayish clouds slid over the moon As she neared the path to the cabin porch. Her fight with Gage was done. Genevieve thought about how sometimes, the world spun too fast, how time sped. But, she knew Gage would forgive her and she forgave him too. She shivered but jogged close as the cabin came into view. She emerged from the copse a new woman.

When she reached the top porch step, she halted. Gage lay half asleep on the porch swing. He had waited for her. Her hands shook as she sat beside him, and covered them both with a thick blankets from a storage bench. She’d pulled off her soaked shoes and sweater, the rest of her was half dry.

Genevieve snuggled into Gage’s shoulder. As sleep claimed her she thought about how life was a mosaic of possibility. It altered and spun into a world that never ceased to amaze. It didn’t matter that sometimes it ached. It mattered that for seconds, the aches ebbed to nothing but her and Gage asleep beneath the stars.

Asleep on the swing they rest,

Thoughts of hurt drift in peace found;

Heals the deepest wounds.

Poem: Free Verse — “A Land of Peace” #amwritingpoetry

Wrote this a few days back. Edited it this New Year’s Eve. Sorry, it couldn’t be happier, but I hope you perceive the wish for that which is peaceful.

Credit: Seth Macey via Unsplash

I hear the blunt of your hammer,

Your riffle as it clambers;

If only to block out the ruckus,

While I’m tucked in flannels.

The world spins and stammers,

Your barrel it twirls, the gun’s reloaded.

I’m a maid of ages,

So, bring home my man, prisoner of war.

Life in medicine-hands, he’s grave and damaged.

No one plans life’s intense dramas, when they’re a blood-bath.

Bullots locked and loaded,

Zipping through air in motion slowed, air ripples —

As a surgeons hands riddle, shells from a civilian caught fleeing —

From a soldier he knows not, from a war he caused not;

From a visage of war, he’s not committed to fighting.

So, bring home my man, he’s the prisoner wounded,

The civilian in shackles; although, you’d never recognize their weight.

He’s the media image — the child crying enamored —

Of a wrinkled photo, the last of his mother.

Or, a soldier’s son’s tears dripping rivers,

Afraid and stammering, the stream of saltwater.

His sister caught snitching, but a morsel to spit-out.

And they’re all dying in masses,

But we peeped through fire-ball wreckage,

Rusted 3rd-world problems to obscene to believe.

We couldn’t perceive a media of glorified killers; crosses blunt ashes.

Of people left bawling as the bugle was calling —

Oh, bring home my man,

He is lost in bombs crashing, the stitching of wounds,

Tumors, fractures, and a machine gun’s destruction;

Stomachs bloated hungering, and cataracts gleaming.

Smoke-ridden eyes granted sight, now horrified —

To realize their home’s a wasteland of dreams.

Oh, bring home my man, he’s lost and he’s broken.

The terrors too much, pain scarred soul-deep,

And his child is weeping, no control is frightening.

Oh, bring home my man from your war of terror ageless,

Be you pagan or Christian, Muslim, or Jewish;

You still war with Aries and feed Jupiter innocent flesh.

Oh, bring home my man, no more cause him anguish,

Not the dreams of a ‘silent night’ lost.

Not another year ridden with gun’s reloading,

Gun’s we’ve packed centuries,

To a place mermaids once swam.

The memories paper-bag brown, curled;

Worn like faded leather; a letter disintegrated.

A story once told,

Where three sisters met,

As poppy red blows in lands long forgotten.

1st world woes, claim to expose,

3rd worlds implode, and no one knows;

Root of the evil, that grows and grows.

So, carry home my man, let his feet not in Opium fields drag.

He’s healed your wounded, your dying;

Now he knows he must leave, lest forever he sleep;

Support his weight, his shoulders slumped —

With night terrors, violent streams of woe.

As the new year comes upon us,

Think not of war’s carnage, let all children —

Of every age in existence,

Live in a land of peace.

Never a gun’s bullets ricocheting;

Never a nightmare, but a life of opportunity;

A day without weeping, words tucked —

In the pocket of a heart that beats, not bleeds.

Notable Quotes: October 2018 Part One #notablequotes #quotes #pinterest #poetry

Welcome to officially Autumn/Fall, maybe Winter or Spring? Here, in Alberta, we never know. Yesterday was November blizzardy, today is a warm fall day from say, in late-September. And next week, we are up in the double-digits (Celsius), which is more early September weather, not late-October.

So, in this weather battle we either freeze as yesterday, or are boiling hot. There’s no in-between and the thermostat’s confused. But, I’m told its an El Nino year so we should have a warm winter for the rest of season (burst out laughing).

nature red forest leaves — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Otherwise, I’m still doing a bit of freelance writing and proofreading. I’m looking to eventually have time to work on a final draft of my novel to submit it. I went to a writers conference for in August and had a successful pitch, and I would love to submit it to that agent/publisher. But currently, writing/editing time for my novel is a dream as I spend much time starting up my Steeped Tea business and getting into a routine. Also, I am looking for a great apartment in a certain of the city near to my friends and family.

I never thought after my health problems that this could be a possibility. I need something small right now, and I’m hoping to pick up more freelance work that pays decent, even if its administration, and to support myself as securely as possible until I can work more hours, and buy a place with money from my disability settlement, last year. I’m shocked to be at this place in my life, to have some kind of independence. I know it will be harder than home and more expensive for sure, but I’m still excited. Almost, as if I’m 23-years old again.

So, that’s life lately, and I hope you guys enjoy my October quotes. The first set is a bit late in coming.

Credit: Pinterest.com

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Mental Toughness Quote — Credit: Pinterest.com

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#OctPoWriMo Day 7/ Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Bop – “ Courage to Thrive” #amwritingpoetry #SundayWritingPrompt

For OctPoWriMo Day 7, the Prompt is unsent letters. I suppose this could be an unsent letter to myself.

I’m also combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on a collage and quote.

“Courage Does Not Always Roar, Sometimes Courage is the Quiet Voice at the End of the Day Saying I will try again tomorrow.” — Mary Anne Radmacher

Courage is a voice that defies dread nights,

Beats obstacles with endurance, not might.

It’s the tears that drip down cheeks in tissues,

To be tossed, as a calm relief finds lift.

Courage is wisdom, despite naysayers;

Those disbelievers those jaded players.

Courage whispers, keep on going, you’ll thrive.

So past cracked wood and rusty nails I jump;

No matter, with each step forward fear thumps.

My mind scatters as the bumps grow louder;

But, I must keep walking, fears gasped aloud,

For I can’t be afraid I must cartwheel;

Beyond worries circling thoughts as I bleed.

I’m not scared; I know what I must do and not —

Slay Grendel, those demons eschewed, that rot.

Courage whispers, keep on going, you’ll thrive.

It’s a talent, knowing when to back down,

When angels morph into monsters to drown.

It’s not their whole, but apart of them lost;

Yet, the battle-lines are drawn — so I cross.

Past lush greenery, sunlight blazing high,

Into newness, uncertainties despised.

Courage whispers, keep on going, you’ll thrive.

Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “The Fighter” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge #SaturdayMix

Thanks to Nekneeraj of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix opposing forces. This week’s opposing pairs are: whisper and shout, and humid and dry.

Credit: CityVarcity

“And Though She Be But Little, She Was Fierce” – William Shakespeare, A MidSummers Night Dream (Act 3: Scene 2).

“The Champion” by Carrie Underwood Ft. Ludacris

I’m no faceless void, I’ve been granted reprieve to barriers break,

Discovering my mind, my body healing slow now awakes.

I’m trying to live in short moments,

Dreams won’t fade, no shouts or groans;

No weeping or fearing fierce blows.

Nor shivering in a cold few know,

A champion, I can fight my foes,

They but perceive whispers of woes;

Woes experienced by those who know not how a mind shatters;

Of lost clarity, aching sickness that still batters.

*****

It’s a shock when you notice healing; when your hurts lessen,

When you’re not forever jaded, aching or questioning.

You forgot life’s joyful details.

Skills, hopes, your ability maimed;

Daily routines to avoid what hurts,

Became your normal to subvert —

But now, your reborn hopes anew;

Seeing the lost isn’t askew.

Whirling in hope’s return, less chocking humid shame and pain,

Released from your cocoon, joy-de-vivre once more regained.

*****

All you who are broken, whether trapped or quivering afraid,

Gaze to the Heavens, your family, your friends, unashamed.

They’re your rocks, they carried you;

Don’t forget them, their aiding through.

Remember it’s okay to need —

People’s help, when your hurt, demeaned.

To need is to serve when unseen,

Brittle and dry or slow healing.

You’ve a purpose; nothing’s impossible, suffering’s a strength,

Keep pushing, keep living, keep yearning, keep praying; hope waits.

*****

Life’s never stagnant, we’ve all ‘ups’ and ‘downs;’ no one’s quite safe,

From changes, illness, or heartbreak; but keep achieving great.

Accomplishments can be little or —

Leaping giant steps towards doors;

Those that open — those we must pry,

That we knock, break down as we cry.

Be thankful for what you have, but strive —

To live your life joyous and alive.

Keep knocking down doors, but help others survive their drought too;

You’re no faceless void — I think you’re fierce; vibrant fighter through.

*****

Three Line Tales/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Lunes – “Come Morning” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales #SaturdayMix #MLMM

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thank you to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix JUNE 16, 2018 with her Same But Different Prompt. The words we must find synonyms for include: shoe, sweep, wash, sky, and duck.

Credit: Mark Dalton via Unsplash

Sandals pace across the dock,

Mango sunset floods;

Sails enfolded, bodies weave below.

*****

Avoiding knife-words, brush past,

Conversations shouted, our —

Voices spitting, rocking the vessel.

*****

Now night’s atmospheric stars collide,

Dusk’s blush flushes.

Come morning, sails glide devoted.

*****

#NaPoWriMo Day 6/Music Challenge: Poem – Cascading Etherees – “One Good Reason” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #MLMM

For Day 6 of NaPoWriMo, the Prompt is: “to write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks. That could be a poem with very long lines, or very short lines.Or a poem that blends the two. You might break to emphasize (or de-emphasize) sounds or rhymes, or to create a moment of hesitation in the middle of a thought.” Also, combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Prompt Challenge with the song “A Million Reasons” by Lady Gaga.

Credit: NeOnBrand via Unsplash

“A Million Reasons” by Lady Gaga

To many reasons to move on, but —

I pray, let the skeletons reside.

There isn’t — much choice, but I bow,

I’ll say the right words — better.

There’s a single word,

One hope to stay;

Just one reason,

Only one,

Even,

Though —

****

I’ve,

Several,

Reasons to —

Walk away, flee —

A Hundred-Million —

Reasons to quit — the show, no —

More worn out yelling, but —

A definite reason; I’m —

Begging you — proffer your best words,

One good reason — I won’t storm away.

***

You’re giving me, a Million reasons —

To hate you, I should escape you — safe —

In these black caverns — but I’d still —

Believe one ‘true’ reason or —

One argument you bled,

I’d unpack, curl beside —

You here; not split —

In pieces,

I’ll not,

Fall —

****

Just,

One good —

Reason as,

I bend and pray:

“Lord, show me the way.”

Give me — your best reason,

I’ll clasp your hand, ignore —

Those million’s of reasons that —

Screech, tell me to walk, but I pray; no —

No worn-out words — one good reason to stay.

#NaPoWriMo Day 2/Sunday Writing: Poem – Free Verse – “Healing Hearts.” #MLMM #poetry #amwriting

For NaPoWriMo Day 2, the prompt focuses on “addressing two “you”s in a poem. Such as taking an existing poem of yours or someone else’s, and rewriting it in a different voice. The point is to play with who is speaking to who and how.

I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing prompt from March 4, of unlikely partnerships/friendships/relationships etc.

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

“Jar of Hearts” – Christina Perri

“Who do you think you are?

Running around leaving scars,

Forget my jar of hearts,

Forget, how I hurt others to survive.

You’re the one who shattered my heart,

Was eternal brokenness your master plan?”

“Who do you think you are —

I know who you are.

You’re the one who’s scarred,

Pumping blood to atrial veins.

A heart of stone it needs no blood,

It can’t memorize my tears that flood.

So who do you think you are,

Leaving the crevices of scars.”

“Who do you think you are?

Thinking you can hide,

You’ve but, heartbreak to impart,

Once more,

My heart throbs, died part by part.

The ice inside your soul,

It’s the chill that winters holds.

Woman who judges,

Who froze out my love.”

“Put down your bloody jar,

Peer beyond the freeze.

Absorb the fire of blood that frees,

Beyond to hearts that live,

That love, that ache, that feel;

That desire to take-on life despite.

Who do you think you are?

Quitting when love got hard.”

“I won’t stop my hands from pumping,

I’ll defibrillate my self.

I’m fighting to survive,

Collecting jars of hearts,

Because hurting them dulls,

The wound you gave me is relentless,

It’s leading me to death.

So, blood will meander in rivers,

Until my heart is healed;

I can survive on my own.”

“I’ll make your stone heart ‘real,’

You’ll become a living human being.

Forget the ice inside your soul,

Forget the sharp knife in your gut twisting.

Leave behind your jar of hearts,

All those shattered souls you boasted.

My lubs, against your dubs,

They’re a power beyond your skills.

You’ll wake from slumber,

Amazed to finally feel,

Not to break others to love!

To heal our twin wounds.”

“My beating heart it’s aching,

“Why did you cut it out twice?

Why does healing ache the most.

A throb that scars and burns,

Was I such monster that I couldn’t see,

Pain apart from hope’s generosity?”

“Who did you think you were?

No more collecting jars of hearts,

My heart can heal yours.

Our scars are deep wells,

But together they’re better.

Better than two hearts alone,

Together we can let time lighten,

Deep cuts; time will bind our wounds,

And reveal a hope for the better.”

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