greed – Mandibelle16

#OctPoWriMo Day 3: Poem — Free Verse — “Beauty and Chaos Collide” #amwritingpoetry

For OctPoWriMo Day 3, the prompt is beauty/chaos/feelings with the option of writing from an art journal. Form is free verse.

Credit: J.J. Shev via Unsplash.

There’s beauty in chaos, beauty in life,

It shines glorious, shocks, and bites.

There’s pain and there’s sorrow, as if it’s easy to give in;

As if it’s easy to quiet one’s mind — chaos erupts, spills over.

I can’t solve your riddles, jagged secrets, and infinite lies.

In’s and out’s, twisted games lacking delight,

I remind you: I was created to be myself.

That hiding within pliant peacefulness emits a crowd of truthful words discouraged —

Unheard against your wailing in the night, snickers of greed.

More truth, no falsehood, more truth, no games — rotten fruit overripe — you break all the rules;

You climb fences, build pathways leading astray — lie the day away.

If you want to live, you’ve got to surpass mere survival,

The chaos of idols, giants of liars, dabblers of the occult;

Leave it all behind let the wretched flee — forget all misery.

Survive, and swim, survive and swim,

Forget ruthless spirits, criss-crossed spiteful perception,

Forget and let live, no more nightmares, dystopian rule.

I was ne’er a tantruming princess living in fear,

You created that, created a woman, damaged her spirit, brought forth a broken girl.

And her words simple or complex are worth a thousand of your lies;

Truth existed before falsehood, truth the elder wins.

So, go leave, respire night’s shroud of malevolence elsewhere — expire somewhere else;

Your way is a ditch, Christ’s way is salvation.

His way is my home, my way home;

Now, fly away darkness, return to your lives amiss,

Liberty waits in the skies, in the serenity of day,

Wings shield me, hate disperses, and sickness fades.

Three Line Tales: Poem – Bop – “Golden Haze” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting this week’s #3LineTale. The Tale became an entire poem.

Credit: Sharon McCutcheon via Unsplash.

“Gold” by Imagine Dragons

Now you’re blessed, so confess all your lost dreams,

Diamonds, emeralds your curse, tearing your seams.

How do you know it’s all real, that you still feel?

How do you cry, when you’re numb and reeling?

Too much gleam of Ag, shallow and false,

You heart doesn’t thump; Midas stilled its pulse.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.

Such appeal of golden apples faltered —

You can’t eat metal, push away your faults;

Hide your cursed shining touch, voices hush —

No more lies; who now can you even trust?

Everything you graze turns to gold, gold, gold.

You’re a statue bathed in it, no old —

Friends by your side; ruler of cold and stale.

No wine and meat, it’s as ash chewed, inhaled.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.

Hollow, bathing in liquid gold streaming,

Trying to define it meaninglessness.

Your void in life, as you fade down the corn maze,

A woman hopeless, in a smokey haze.

Life’s no dream when your touch destroys all inane,

You’ll not escape — greed’s your ever-long shame.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.

Day 19 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Blank Verse – “Mythology Not Lost” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday.

———

———-

” I moan with pleasure.

“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.

“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.”

― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

———

There are those who believe the Greek gods left,

Went away, didn’t return, disappeared.

Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war,

There was no longer, because these gods were,

Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —

Tolerated for a while until the —

God who is the God, decide that they,

Need find another place to play, beyond —

Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then,

Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin.

They had always been there, but now they —

We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —

The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses,

We’re invisible, ethereal, just air.

It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’

But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —

Quality that means that in some form they’re —

Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul.

But these gods were but mythology so they,

Faded as much mythology does.

Legends of all kinds and all cultures who

Have been, before and after them, or so —

I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —

Things in town, at dinner talking with —

My dad, about life, and school and then,

Beside us was this old man; and his eyes,

We’re blue and twinkled, he had such,

Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —

Talked to his friends, other gods he said.

Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,

To me they were all invisible; he said —

Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king.

As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —

All blended into humans, they had their —

Special places where they could go, greeting —

Their old friends and eating what gods do.

He ate panini, talking loudly,

Today it was Aphrodite, he also —

Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food,

Gods required, and an extra plate lay,

Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son,

Apollo, had been there, eating with him.

He calls me granddaughter and one day —

The old man gave me a small piece of his,

Panini he loved, saying it was ‘good.’

Said it was in my blood, so I ate and —

The amazing delicious panini,

Became a hunger inside me for more and —

More, until I no longer visited the,

Restaurant with my folks or my friends,

But to eat with the old man and our kind.

Who no longer rule, but have special spots,

In restaurants such as this, where myth,

And reality meet, somehow they reform.

Because at tonight’s feast I find them all,

Gods, goddesses, of mythology lost.

——–

——-

Poem: Free Verse – “A Congested Mind” #poetry #amwriting

——–

They call it the unknown,

The future lying before you.

No matter if you’re psychic,

No one knows what happens.

There are varied scenarios,

Ways it could play out,

But truly we don’t know the future.

It’s a mystery creeping forward,

And it pulls us along on our knees.

Whether we go willingly,

Or go kicking and screaming;

Time marches in to the beat,

Of father time’s own drum.

****

I don’t know what’s coming,

I know worrying won’t help.

I think sometimes I try to give advice,

Reassuring myself in kind.

There are bright possibilities,

Hoping people become,

More kind than they are mean to each other.

Pray people look-out for each other,

But sometimes I think society is self-centred.

I admit to such fault and others too,

But I’m still fearful;

When I think of a year or two ahead,

I’m afraid what if it’s not the right plan?

Experience deftly taught me,

Plans are dim outlines of reality.

Mostly, life goes where it goes,

And God only knows where or why.

Leading us through dark valleys,

Into trenches with piercing bullets flying.

Into classrooms with screaming kids,

A gunmen on the loose.

He leads us through to people,

Whose power makes one nervous.

How even democracy isn’t safe —

A tyrant could rule all.

Maybe the world will surprise me,

But I fear for the little person.

*****

My own personal fears weigh heavy,

Though others bear pains greater.

Of lawyers and cases,

Of corruption and crime.

Those crimes we deem terrible;

Those crimes brushed under the rug.

Greed and all those other sins,

Abhorred but freely ignored.

Though I can never say what’s worse —

My own flaws or imperfections,

Or those I’m faced with.

Stress shows through cracks,

Egg yokes running.

No one likes raw eggs except in cookie dough.

The future is overwhelming.

But at least they’ll still be cookie dough,

And I don’t know why —

I’m particular and observant.

Why I know it’s better to be alone,

Than be truly alone with another.

Why I wait for that spark,

Why I wait for the morning dawn.

A smile in his eyes which is genuine,

Wherever he is.

But maybe happiness is a puppy,

Paws following me on the hardwood,

Barks at random sounds.

The glory of a puppy skidding down —

The off leash trail and wheeling;

Turning around to jump on me,

To pick her up when she’s tired.

*****

My bones are stiff and ridged,

My dreams fall to despair.

So many books and writers,

And not anyone can compare.

How to rise above the masses,

Or fill your own niche contented.

But perhaps one could be something —

Success in small moments.
Afraid and weighted,

Need to cry, tears unshed,

Because disease is cruel.
Even if Heaven is the end of the tunnel,

So many words are left unsaid.

The timing of it all, does it work?

I feel alienated,

Though I try hard to keep the connection,

It’s all in your planning Lord;

So must I say, your will be done.

——-

Poem: A L’Arora – “The Wanderer Who Yearned”

Thank you to The Daily Post for the prompt words Natural and Struggle.

wander-the-world — http://www.thechangeblog.com

A wanderer navigates far on her journey,

She traipses from stars luminous in ink darkness,

Across natural hill she can’t not climb,

In lush valleys sleeping, dreams whispering in,

Travelling far, in-between, in the world down below,

Knowing not peace; restless she artfully treads,

Breathing the life, new civilizations she learns,

Tracing the moon, it dips to to her hands; she treads.

Wanderlust a vise; no peace yet, no worry,

In the sky’s plashless flamingo pink, fire orange stark;

Tranquility masked, in the eyes of young and old; she finds —

Wisdom in their tongues so foreign, not to her akin;

Grass, scented sharp and fragrant; an afternoon’s soft pillow,

She shares not, a fear of ‘what’s out there;’ no dread,

Roaming each day, hopping off trains, nothing her concerns;

Inscrutability of the world hails; she goes wherever, not knowing dread.

In Paris, she didn’t bother climbing the Eiffel Tower leery,

Of crowds, and people overwhelming; she’s a lark,

Free spirit, sweet melodies trailing; requires space to fly, to find —

Her life abroad, journeying towards the sun as it sets in Berlin.

Abundance of pints in Germanic territory; laughter she borrows,

A smorgasbord of people, faces to greet before bed.

Memories composed in songs of the moments; she burns —

Companionship,she’s persuaded; singed remnants in bed.

Through Italy and Greece she did not falter, clearly —

Used to travelling trails, which ever road ingenuity sparked.

Nothing, exquisite as midnight’s blackness, in her mind,

The ruins of Ancient Greece in Athens alight; interlude in Santorini.

Riches of Rome, what need has God of golden sorrows?

A few nights idle, in soft hotel bed; relaxation as she read,

Of home, the place she missed the most; yet she yearned —

Struggling within; wanting more of the world, of new places read.

Climbing the Alps; mountains so high, a drop shear;

Below the air, not but wind, as she embarked.

Her mind in the beaches of Spain white; now resigned.

Searching forever, not to discover, real truths in the wind,

Traversing, strong, full of vitality; healthy to the core.

Until her ankle, tottered over, with a sprain and scratches bled.

Relishing in the Netherlands, a peaceful place to learn.

Sleeping in, and delighted to pause; until scratches never bled.

Of Nova Scotia’s Atlantic ice cold waters clear,

She gazed on architecture as Europe’s in Quebec, and parks,

Of pristine nature, trees, and flowers; but nature’s blind,

To the tumult of thought occurring inside her; she’s on a tailspin —

To Australia’s Opera House in Canberra; heart sore–

Journeying in the Outback; most treacherous place led,

By tour guides; and journeying in Melbourne earned,

Photographs caught on Instagram; further travels led.

Down to the Dominican, all inclusive; drinking slush and beer,

Reacting as she roamed where Inca’s lived, Mexican landmarks,

Insider herself, she perceived a need to still her being, and find,

Her place in a multicultural earth; her home, she grinned —

Such knowledge absorbed; little she knew, remaining ashore.

Determining home, in the vast open prairies she once fled,

Traversing infinitely; it was a greed which no longer in her burned.

Home in her heart; she soars, a new trail found, where she before fled.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Earth – Etheree- “Caretakers Beware”

img_1070-3

And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s prompt comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who also suggested our prompt for Day Seven. Today, Gloria challenges us all to write a poem in honor of Earth Day. This could be about your own backyard, a national park, or anything from a maple tree to a humpback whale. Happy writing!

For more information please see NaPoWriMo. The poem form is Etherees, repeated, and turned upside down, and written as they are.

Mother Earth — http://www.fitfitmagazine.nl

Calling her Mother, created in beginning,

Adoration is hers, our provider,

Gods hands formed, but yet she falters,

He said be her caregiver,

Taking more then we’re meant,

Using her until she —

Is broken, torn,

We gouged,

For fuel,

Earth.

—-

Child,

of her,

Beginnings,

Forgetting our place,

Nurture her as she,

Nurtures her caretakers,

Ignorance destroys beauty,

Creator so lovingly beheld and,

Let us name earth’s creatures — disappearing.

Don’t forget, protect earth, greed consumes her.

Through thousands, perhaps, millions of years past,

She’s shifted and shook, born massive waves.

Mother’s rage, brings disastrous tears,

Volcanoes spewing lava,

Mountains losing their face,

Forests, fires, and ash.

Tornado wound,

Earth torn

Lost.

—

Our,

fault true,

Had we not,

Eaten forbidden,

Earth would be perfect,

Sin infects entire world,

Blame ourselves for her eruptions,

Our Forefathers, corrupted nature complete.

Earth’s damage repair, or she self-destructs.

M	T	W	T	F	S	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

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