#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.

Poem: Free Verse — “Share the Burden” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Everton Vilo via Unsplash.


Let Me Carry Your Burden” by Keith Urban & Foy Vance


It’s a fractured world, none but Christ know,

How to free a struggling flit of meteorite.

So, dear ones, let’s carry each other’s burdens,

Let’s comfort each other while we morn.

Let me aid you through adversity, your problems,

The frigid mountains where you tumble.

So, few stop to help, to free a mind of weight,

Two heads out-do one.

And a friend means you’re not isolated,

That you’re not alone — that you’re capable;

That you’re not trapped and can relieve someone else’s burden too,

So, carry your friend’s burdens without revenge or judgement;

Without hypocrisy, self-obsession, or greed.

Perceive their point of view, their guilt, their indecision;

Let their suffering mean more than yours even for minutes.

Sometimes you don’t know —

A smile, a hug, hand holding, soothing words —

Minute actions can rebuild entire worlds,

Worlds once destroyed in your loved one’s eye.

So, if I carry your burden, will you carry mine?

Together we won’t fall apart, sucked into a black-hole’s blight.

We’ll hold each other, no competition, just mutual support.

I’ll care for you because it’s right and good,

Because friends aid each other’s hurt —

Because you’d do it for me in one beat of your heart,

And without reluctance I’d sacrifice for you.

I can’t hold the weight of my burdens alone,

So while we help each other,

Lord carry us — for few or none can solve a society of frazzled minds, and cracking hearts.

Aid us as we traverse in life — that we’re never alone,

Our burdens held in Heavenly arms.

While your heavy heart’s mine to keep,

And my burden’s is your’s, no sucking undertow.

Our combined burdens God bears,

Together we manage, storms, frustrations —

A world caught in deepest darkness;

Absurd pain and hallucination.

Thus, with God we manage,

The master of all human forms.


©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

#MayDay Writing Prompts: Poem — Quatrains – “Best Friends” #amwritingpoetry


For May Day Writing prompts Day 2, the prompt is you and your best friend.


Quatrains – abab, abba, ccdc, dddd, 8 syllables per line


Credit: Briana Tozour via Unsplash.


Bestfriends forever keep their pace —

With you; such blessings are fine friends.

Gab with them all face to face,

Or, talk, text, write letters, press send.

I’ve always had a few great mates;

They’re similar, and our interests blend,

Friends aid each other, dream, share, mend.

They’ve good times and celebrate,

Mates go beyond great times, they bend–

Sacrifice; share current trends.

They’ll warm your home, ambience grand;

You’ll forget tiffs too — by days end.

So, keep your friends near, understand —

They’re your second family dear, and —

They’ll be here when life’s tearful, sad;

Stellar light-rays in day’s gone mad.


Bestfriend” — Queen


©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 16: Poem — Sonnet Italian — “Enough For Me” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 16, the prompt is to choose a “person, place, or thing you love, and praise it in the most effusive way you can. Go for broke with metaphors, similes, and more.” (I’m praising, but I think it’s not overkill — changing the prompt as we’re permitted, I think :).


Credit: Helena Lopes via Unsplash.


Italian (Petrarchan) Sonnet – ABBA, ABBA/ CDC, DCD, (Octave and Sestet. Sestet can have various patterns, especially in modern Italian sonnets.


Darling memories for those I love still,

Stuck in shadows, both real and dreamlike.

All that was fine stolen without respite.

Still, I gaze into the past, and I’m thrilled,

Blessed with your presences; and I’m still,

Lingering in the mist, occasions, wishes built;

Joy-times, wit, argument, life ever-filled.

For such flawed lustre, some might pause, standstill;

Weep, cherish past gifts no matter there faults.

Clocks tick in sorrow, forget numb anguish;

Remember family, close friends, never languish.

Though nothings perfect; life was ample,

And slanted critics are destroyed with praise —

Life before was forever enough.


©️ Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

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.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “A Journey’s Friend” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #MLMM


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting this past edition of FfftAW. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix Opposing Forces. This past prompts opposing pairs were: unite and divide, and hope and hopeless.


Credit: Priceless Joy


If we explore and don’t lose hope, street ways —

Will open, words will not divide; doors clear.

For we can’t avoid pain that stings and sears,

On cobbled streets as we meander astray.

But the trail home unites into new pathways,

It’ll heal your woes as fresh wounds too teach.

Some roads aren’t level, they’re beaten; don’t retreat.

Alleys lead to tattered souls, forgotten strays.

Each path comes with reasons, some dire purpose.

There’s an illusion that hearts untended —

Don’t require hands to forget hopelessness.

Let strangers both wander and reverse,

Tell the tales of your lives, share stories deep;

A friend is no loss, journeys require them.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#November Notes Day 20/ Sunday Photo Fiction: A Wreck of A Marriage #flashfiction #amwriting #music


For November Notes Day 20 the prompt song is “Wreck of the Day” by Ana Nalick. I’m combining the prompt with Sunday Photo Fiction (SPF). Hosted by Alastair Forbes on November 26, 2017.


Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alastair Forbes


“Wreck of the Day” by Ana Nalick


Tessa had been in a bad mood all day and wished she hadn’t agreed to go sailing with Thomas. He had no idea that she had walked in on him in her own bedroom, not once three years ago, but many times since then — including yesterday.

Tessa had loved Thomas since she was thirteen and had never realized he was a serial-cheater until five-years into their marriage. Then, she’d discovered she couldn’t have children. Signs of Thomas’ frequent mistresses became glaringly apparent thereafter. Jewelry she never received, expensive shoes that weren’t her size, and pieces of expensive and foreign left in their bed.

Each time Tessa had seen him and another women, she stopped loving Thomas a little more. She’d been desperately close to the coffin of hope too many times. Every time she had walked in on him, she got in her BMW and drove as fast as she could away from the wreck of the day. She’d disappear and Thomas never asked where she’d gone.

When they arrived home to the comfort of their home after sailing, Tessa slammed the bedroom door on Thomas’ face.

“Sleep in another room.”

“Tessa, what’s wrong, love?”

She ignored his pleading tone. “Pack your stuff up when I’m at work, you’re moving out. We’re also getting a divorce. You’ve been cheating on me for years and I’ve walked in on you and various women, one too many times.”

Thomas stomped away and Tessa fell into bed. It was finally quiet in her head and her heart felt at peace for the first time in eight years.


“Driving away from the wreck of the day

And the light’s always red in the rear-view

Desperately close to a coffin of hope

I’d cheat destiny just to be near you

If this is giving up, then I’m giving up

If this is giving up, then I’m giving up, giving up

On love, On love

*****

Driving away from the wreck of the day

And I’m thinking ’bout calling on Jesus

‘Cause love doesn’t hurt so I know I’m not falling in love

I’m just falling to pieces

*****

And if this is giving up then I’m giving up

If this is giving up then I’m giving up, giving up

On love, On love

*****

And maybe I’m not up for being a victim of love

When all my resistance will never be distance enough

*****

Driving away from the wreck of the day

And it’s finally quiet in my head

Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed

And if this is giving up, then I’m giving up

If this is giving up, then I’m giving up, giving up

On love, On love.”

*****

— “Wreck of the Day”by Ana Nalick


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

‘Rewind Interview’ with Writer, Blogger, & Poet Ryan Stone #amwriting #interview #nonfiction #poetry


Welcome to another ‘Rewind Interview =” in my now weekly interview series. Ryan is a talented Australian poet, extremely amazing, so I’m excited to reshare his interview with you both on my own blog and now on the Go Dog Go Cafe. The Cafe is a writer’s hangout and you can even submit your work there for publication. Here is the link to do that here: Go Dog Go Cage Contact Page.

Originally, I was doing this as a bi-weekly feature, only on my own blog. So in order to do this as a weekly feature on both my blog and on the Cafe, I’m going to be sharing some ‘Rewind interviews” as I think these writers are equally due recognition on both sites. Just to mention, since this is a ‘Rewind Interview’ some of the info might not be current.

Today, I’m excited and pleased to share with you the talented writer, poet, and blogger Ryan Stone of ‘Days of Stone’. Please visit the link provided to read more about Ryan and read his superb poetry.


Ryan Stone Image
Ryan Stone

1. Please Tell Us About Yourself? 

The blood of the Irish runs deep in my veins but I’m an Australian born and bred. I was raised in a ‘man’s land’ of karate, fast motorbikesheavy metal guitars, and football with Aussie rules.

My love of reading and writing was not readily accepted. Instead, I was forced to indulge my interests under my bed covers by torchlight. But the poets Seamus Heaney, Kenneth SlessorWalt Whitman, and Maya Angelou  — all have a way of asserting themselves in my writing.

Although I have no real love of uniforms, I’ve worn a few in my life so far: the combat fatigues of a soldier in the field and driving a battle tank; the torn black denim of a metal guitarist; and the turnout gear of a firefighter. I’ve been a rank-and-file cop, a detective, and a member of a plainclothes special duties team. When all the uniforms are stripped off, I like to think it is the writer who remains.

I have no formal credentials, only an observer’s eye and an insatiable appetite for books. I’m rough around the edges, but the right turn of phrase will stop me dead in my tracks every time. I love MetallicaTed Kooser, and with equal passion, my closest friend in the world, my German Shepherd (don’t tell my wife).


 “When all the uniforms are stripped off, I like to think it is the writer who remains . . . the right turn of a phrase will stop me dead in my tracks every time.” – Ryan Stone 


 2.  When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging?

The first time I considered my writing to be writing, was towards the end of high school. I was blessed with an incredibly passionate English teacher who managed to channel a teenage boy’s angst and anger into something less destructive. When one of my poems earned me a kiss from a pretty girl I had a crush on, I knew writing was something I’d stick with.

I’ve never been much of a social media fan. But I reached a point where I became sick of waiting several months for editors to respond to my poetry submissions; I turned instead to WordPress. Along with all the great writing and posts, I’m able to read from other writers.

However, I’ve developed a wonderful, supportive group of friends, and readers, who offer feedback and advice in a much shorter time frame than editors. While I still submit to poetry journals, my year of blogging has given me a huge amount of enjoyment and satisfaction.


 3. What Does Poetry Mean To You? Why Do You Write?

To borrow from my favorite quote by Anton Chekhov: Poetry isn’t being told the moon is shining – for me, it is being shown the glint of light on broken glass.

I love the way a poem can capture more than a photograph, can carry an image or emotion over time and space, and let me experience someone else’s worldview for a moment. I also like the way reading one of my own poems years after it was written can transport me back to a previous ‘headspace,’ for a moment.


” . . .Poetry isn’t being told the moon is shining – for me, it is being shown the glint of light on broken glass.” – Ryan Stone (borrowing from Anton Chekhov)


4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation To Write?

Nearly all of my poetry begins while I’m running with my dog through the rain forest beside my house. Usually, a thought, a memory, or an observation takes root and nags at me until I jot it down. Sometimes, an unusual word or phrase will catch me the same way.

My dog has developed his very own here we go again’ face which he pulls each time I pause during a run so I can tap out a note or two on my phone.


 5. Do You Find There Is a Time of Day You Most Like To Write?

Predominantly, I write at night, when my boys are asleep, and the house is quiet. I am frequently awake into the small hours of the morning and find my 2:00 am mind is quite adept at slipping out of the shackles my daytime mind imposes. During these hours, I can most effectively explore and develop the notes I jot down during the day.


Writing Night Ryan Stone
Credit: Andrew Neel via UnSplash 

” I am frequently awake in the small hours of the morning and find my 2:00 am mind is quite adept at slipping out of the shackles my daytime mind imposes.” – Ryan  Stone


6. What Are Your Most Current Writing Projects? 

I have two fantasy novels I’m working on at present. One is about a princess who becomes a pirate queen after her parents are murdered, the other is about an orphan boy who becomes a magician and later, a king.

Both novels began as short stories which expanded and grew during a couple of National Novel Writing Months (NaNoWriMo).  As well, both novels are over hundred-thousand words and in need of serious revision. As with everything, time is a killer.

Poetry wise, I’m writing a chapbook with one of my closest internet mates (Ajay) who lives in India. It is loosely based on flowers and cultural differences. I’m currently editing a collection of my Senryu (5-7-5) poems, with the intention of self-publishing a small e-book of one-hundred Senryu poems, in the next few months, unless a publisher comes along sooner.


 7. Have You Published Any Writing or Are You Planning To Publish Works Of Writing In The Future?

I’m fortunate enough to have had many poems published in a number of online journalsprint anthologies, and poetry magazines. I never thought anyone other than my mum would enjoy my writing and rarely submitted my writing anywhere until recently.

A few years ago, I wrote a poem called “Unburied Hatchet,” which I thought had a chance of being published, so I submitted it to a couple of places and was rejected each time. On a whim, I sent it into the monthly competition in Writers’ Forum Magazine (a magazine in the UK to which I subscribe).

I was blown away when my poem won first prize and £100 (quite a lot of money with the Australian exchange rate being what it is). That first win gave my confidence a much-needed boost and I’ve been submitting ever since.


“I wrote a poem called “Unburied Hatchet” . . .I sent it into the monthly competition in Writers’ Forum Magazine . . .and was blown away when it won first prize and £100.” – Ryan Stone


8. Can You Briefly Describe The Process You Went Through To Publish or Are Going Through To Have Your Writing Published?

All my publishing to date has been by submission, so I’ll talk about publishing by submission. Whether it’s a print journal, online review, magazine, blog, or something else, the rules are always the same:

  • Read the publication first, to gain an idea of what style of writing they publish. While it doesn’t hurt to offer something fresh, I usually have a fair idea of an editor’s likes and dislikes before I submit.
  •  Read and re-read the submission guidelines before you hit sendAn improperly worded subject line can be enough for an editor to discount the submission without even reading the poem. Some publications request everything in the body of an email, others prefer attachments. Decent editors are inundated with submissions which meet their specific requirements and most, won’t waste their time with substandard submissions.
  • Take rejections gracefully. Analyze any critiques subjectively and apply critiques if you think they are warranted. BUT DON’T GIVE UP – submit, submit, submit. There are a million homes for poems out there and because a poem isn’t right for one editor or magazine certainly doesn’t mean it won’t be a prize winner for another editor or magazine. While I’m realistic about my own writing, I generally look at rejections as a case of a bad fitnot a bad poem.

 


 

 9. What Is Your Writing Process Like?

Almost exclusively, my writing begins as a note or two on my iPhone (often while I’m running) and later develops on my iPad. My writing environment is incredibly vital to me and the Mac/iPad writing program — Ulysses — puts me in an excellent creative ‘headspace.’ I tend to write the first draft quickly once idea forms and then I’ll put it aside for a week or two, before returning and revising a poem over and over and over…

I am incredibly fortunate to have found a brilliant first reader. She’s an amazingly talented poet in her own right as well as possessing editing skills second to none. For some reason, I’ve yet to understand, she seems to enjoy my writing and conversation and has nurtured and developed my poetry to no end. My first reader’s input is a huge part of my process in developing a poem from initial idea to finished piece.


“I tend to write a first draft quickly once an idea forms and then I’ll put it aside for a week or two, before returning and revising a poem over and over and over . . .” – Ryan Stone


10. Do You Prefer Certain areas of Writing or Reading Styles or Genres?

When I’m reading a novel, it is usually fantasy and almost always a seriesStephen King’s Dark Tower collection is a favorite, as are Game of ThronesMagicianThe BelgariadLord of the Rings, and Bernard Cornwell’s Arthurian books.

I also play a great deal of electric guitar which draws me to music biographies as well, anything rock or metal is fair game. Additionally, I love short story collections: Italo Calvino takes first prize there, and I read as much modern poetry as I can get my hands on.

Originally, my love of poetry was nurtured by Maya AngelouKenneth SlessorJim Morrison (The Doors), and Jewel Kilcher. When I first discovered Ted Kooser a few years ago, my own poetry made a huge leap.

Kooser’s book, The Poetry Home Repair Manual, was full of ‘Aha!’ moments for me. Most recently, I’ve lost myself in the brilliant Buddy Wakefield and Richard Hugo’s: The Triggering Town.


 11. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice For Other Writers?
 

I’m not really big on dishing out advice, as everyone writes uniquely. What works for one person, won’t always help another person; but I can certainly share what works for me.

  • The important thing is to write, write, write and keep writing. It doesn’t have to be good. I have loads of writing which will probably never see the light of day; however, once the first jumble is out of my head, the writing that follows is much better.
  •  I don’t edit my first draft as I write. I write it all down and worry about cleaning it up later. If I’m only editing a word or two, then I’ll delete and replace. If I’m editing a whole line or large section, I cut and paste in a new version – v1, v2, v3, (etc .) and keep each version in the same document. I find it’s much easier to revise without the fear of losing words or ideas I may want to later reinstate.
  •  Once I’m happy with a version of my work, I put it aside for a few days and return to it later with ‘fresh eyes.’ I find it much easier to spot weak pointssticky spotsdoubled up words, bad rhythm, (etc.) when I’m reading it fresh.
  • The poem is more important than the truth. When I’m writing a poem based on an actual event, I find it easy to place value on a thing because its memory is significant to me. Often, I don’t want to let the thing go from the poem. This can become a weak point as the particular thing doesn’t make the poem better and doesn’t hold the same value for the reader. Once I let the poem dictate what to keep and what to cut, rather than trying to stay one-hundred-percent true to my memory, my poetry comes together far tighter.

“Once I let the poem dictate what to keep and what to cut, rather than trying to stay one-hundred-percent true to my memory, my poetry comes together far tighter.” – Ryan Stone


12. Is There Anything Else You Would Like The Share With Us Which You Think Is Pertinent To Writing or Yourself?

An honest first reader who will tell me what works and what sucks without worrying about my feelings is worth her weight in gold.


 13. Can You Please Share With Us Few Links Of Your Favourite or Most Loved Pieces?  
*****
“Unburied Hatchet”
by
Ryan Stone
*****
Axe
Credit Markus Spiske via UnSplash
*****

Until I saw those wasted hands,

brittle as chalk, I hadn’t thought

how fast the years make ghosts.

*****

I heard them once called brawler’s paws.

For me, they were always more:

cobras, poised to strike.

*****

But his brawling days are gone now;

I could kill him with a pillow,

if I cared enough to try.

*****

Thin sheets press tightly to a bed

more empty than full, his body broken

like the promises of childhood.

*****

Haunted eyes betray last thoughts

of a dim path, spiraling down.

He hopes to make amends.

*****

“Forgiven?” he croaks,

barely there, as always,

and I’m wishing that I wasn’t.

*****

With the last rays of day as witness,

I turn my back with purpose

and hear the silence roar.

*****

In a late-night bar, I catch my reflection

swimming in a glass of bourbon;

but I’m staring at a ghost.

*****

First published in Writers’ Forum Magazine issue 163, April 2015 – first place

 


Please Find More Links to Ryan’s Writing Below:


Thank you so much to Ryan Stone for doing an interview for me. I appreciate his time answering the interview questions a great deal. I would love to interview you too. Please let me know if you’re interested in sharing yourself and your writing on my blog. You can reach me on my Contact Page.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer/ Open Link: Poem – Ottava Rima – “The Captain’s Tale” #poetry #flashfiction #dVerse 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Thanks to Bodhirose of #dVerse Post’s pub for hosting Open Link Night. 

——–

Credit: Louise – The StoryTellers Abode

——–

Down rocky hills on the English shoreline, 

Boat approaches with much mirth, captain’s yet drunk. 

Went for night’s sail, didn’t return on time. 

Calls to his mates, “Don’t want to end up sunk.” 

Night full of cheer, where the faeries danced fine, 

Captain bewitched drinking their wine, he fronts. 

Close to the shore, doesn’t want to hit sand bars, 

Then, he’ll visit bar, hair of dog, ale large. 

——

A big glass, to tell his midnight tales had, 

The lads laugh harder each time all the more. 

Of preposterous adventures said glad, 

Magic, faery dust, few know the old lores. 

So captain begins anew, of past stands, 

Against faeries who became his friends old. 

Of the the faeries his grandmother knew, 

How with them they’ve celebrated through. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.