Tag: night

Poem: Free Verse — “ The Storm” #amwritingpoetry


I. Dimitroff via Unsplash.

“ 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.

Mandibelle16. ©️ (2026) 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: “ 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: “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 — “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 — « We Drift Down This Shallow Road.”#amwritingpoetry


Credit: David Becker via Unsplash.

We drift down this shallow road,

Golden rods flow and the worlds still.

In fields of wheat pollinated-yellow,

I sneeze, wheeze, still the sight’s breathless.

The world’s a crescent moon in inked-night,

It wanes and we’re quiet a moment.

We’re a flash of starlight and fluorescent colours bold,

Aurora Borealusis brushed with night of silver and gold;

We lay in silence, until the world’s bathed in tranquility.

Higher we go into the atmosphere,

Catching drops of Jupiter in the creator’s lense.

God the creator, my comfort, intelligent designer:

Still, ever-present in this day’s dreary woes.

In sleep we imagine, in lieu of dancing through comet tails,

Recalling laughter, grass waving, the rain sealing our jagged wounds.

We shout when it falls, let it rush unyielding, dense until we’re soaked,

Until we wash away judgement; today’s nobodies business but our own.

In this evening of rain and celestial magnificence,

We’re soaked, standing head’s raised beneath a starry night,

Van Goghe’s painted scene, a photograph of light blazing.

We shiver, we’re inside the car, changing to flannels,

Snuggled in perception, claims, and lies; this moment is ours.

And God knows the truth, that even under the glamor of a midnight sky,

With stuttered breath,

We gaze on silent stars, the multi-colored Aurora Borealis.

My friend, you and I can trapèze across the world,

Avoiding the pull of destruction and madness.

Fly with me to a succulent gardens, ever fragrant, and fields of golden wheat.

Others, of prairie grass, a playground set, where we sing, “Bring me home.”

“Bring me home — your broken souls,” wild cries euphonious.

A snap of light, we snuggle in our sleeping bags, pillows plump against each other.

Here we’re gentle in serenity, an hourglass without sand,

Unafraid, the storm music steely against the roof.

Consistant jewels of raindrops never ending as the night progresses,

The fields of wheat thirst, as do we,

And in the end, we’re all satisfied.

©️Amanda_ME. (2020) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “Stream of Little Light” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Dave LZ via Unsplash.

There’s this little light, and it spreads.

My heart rate rises –hope beats for a second.

Then, the walls close in, trees bend to frighten,

Branches scrape chalkboards.

But, a stream in the woods is lit, though it’s a haunted ink-sky;

Waters sigh, circle ’round ankles,

Feet balance on rocks, pebbles of every size.

Sliding on wet rocks as we wade in the stream;

Above it’s madness, the ‘sleepy hollow bridge.’

Caws of the ravens, swipe of the sickle swift;

Treading the stream as sunlight seeps in;

It’s okay to breath.

Then, the dank closes in, no comprehension,

The rush of water drowns.

The stream rises over thighs, waist;

It murmurs and shouts, trickles higher; the ravens’ caws grate.

Blue veins, a map on my wrist pulse,

I can’t make sense, I’m not sure why?

The macabre swirling of truth converges–

Yet, for a second that little light beams still.

Desperate hands tread water, reach for an intangible shore;

The horseman closes in.

Amidst flaws, discouraging murmurs, I struggle to be,

To tread despite the undertow.

I’m trembling sick as the stream converges,

Fierceness lost, lack of clarity, ignorance weighted on all sides.

I’m stuck in muddy banks, murmured words —

Blindness as the stream swallows, the sickle sweeps.

Clarity and stability must reside,

But more words scratch, prickly-pear bushes, and poisoned ivy.

If a little light can’t climb into the recesses of my mind,

I’ll collapse, I’ll tumble into instability, the recesses of night —

No sunshine to shimmer.

Sinner I be, lost in the hollow woods,

Or perhaps, Alice in the worst Wonderland.

But if I hold onto effulgent light,

To a serene dawn, that light radiates marvellous.

Let me wander that shallow stream,

I can’t swim the deeps now.

Leave vitriol, misunderstandings,

For when my hands can tread.

For when the horseman has been bested,

His sickle bent and ruined.

When the stream isn’t flooded and the recesses of loss,

Have become a pathway lit again by little lights.

For not one alone has to prove themselves,

Judgement is for all, those lost in the woods.

And those who wake on shore,

A little breath of light remaining,

©️ Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Jeffries Sonnet “ Chandelier Sky” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ for hosting photo challenge.

Credit: Google Images

Like a chandelier from cherubic light,

Hung the stars on that lustrous ink night.

Cloud pillows lifting dripping starlit jewels:

Vibrant taffy drops of stalactite —

From dense caves hung; where no light ever lit —

Stars luminous spark where fish flit and duel.

Fingers trail cupping sea water, air cool.

Moonlight preserving ocean calm — the dense night.

Monsters of the deep asleep, there’s no fright.

Even waves crash ‘gainst cliffs in renewal.

And the silent hiker pauses in awe,

Eyes aglow as the skylights soft shimmer.

Stars flash as bulbs, tide lulls hiker’s quick pulse,

Despite daylights thorns, night settles dulce.

©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#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.

©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.