NaPoWriMo 2017: Day 12: J is for Just Jacked

Copyright: antonioguillem / 123RF Stock Photo

 "Just do it," they said

So I just jumped in

And married that jerkoff Jack

Who jumped in the sack behind my back

With every Jenny, Jodie and Jane

And every John, Jim and Joey too

Jack just wasn't picky

About jumping in the sack

Sometimes he jumped in with two or three

Or maybe he was joined by four or five

Jack just enjoyed the horizontal jive

"He's just sowing his wild oats," they said

But I just kicked him out of my bed

I'd just as soon hit the sack alone

Than to have the joint jumping every night

Jiminy Crickets, a girl has to get some sleep sometime!

That jerk Jack can jump in someone else's sack to get his jollies

~Just Wanda~

 

30 Days of Haiga 2016: Day 24: Bunny Love

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Original Image

Copyright: teresaterra / 123RF Stock Photo

Words by Wanda Psycho

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie 

30 Days of Haiga 2016: Day 23: Dust

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Original Image:

Copyright: shamain / 123RF Stock Photo

Words by Wanda Psycho and The Real Cie

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie 

OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 30: By the Light of the Moon

Image by Beverly Tan

Waneta Gerard reacts to Carlene Washington-Baruch's confession regarding her relationship with Waneta's undead brother, Willy

By the Light of the Moon

Zoraida Robles is a fool

But some of what she's saying rings true

She says that you and my brother

Have become lovers

That you are breaking the rules

It is fact, the young necromancer revealed

I cannot disguise how I feel

It was not my intention

To defy all convention

But my love for your brother is real

The Counsel brought Willy to Uncle and me

To see if we could help his spirit take leave

His soul is trapped by a spell

Cursed within his corpse to dwell

Moving only when the full moon sets him free

The voice of his soul I could hear

To me he is so very dear

I was present when he rose on that night

Moving through icy embers of the moonlight

The breeze came through the window so clear

Then it hit me like a hand 'cross my head

It's only his body that's dead

He's been kinder to me

Than anyone else ever could be

While I love him, I can never feel dread

I love your brother so very well

For him I'd endure any hell

They smear my name with mud in this town

Into the puddle I'd step and drown

Before allowing my feelings for Willy to quell

Dear girl, I said, I understand

I'll help in any way that I can

But make no mistake

They'll burn you at the stake

If they learn you have an undead for your man

Now I must think of a way

To keep the young sorceress safe

Though short in her sight

Her intentions are right

I can't decide if she's foolish or brave

~Wanda~

Note:

This poem goes with a story that I began creating after our Real Cie told me about a strange dream she had. 

The story takes place in a dystopian post-apocalyptic society in which magic has replaced technology. The protagonist is Carlene Washington-Baruch, an apprentice necromancer. She and her uncle Lester Baruch agreed to assist soldier named Willy Gerard, who, along with Carlene's parents, was killed under suspicious circumstances. Les raised the orphaned Willy as his own son in years past.

Les insists that the town counsel bring Willy's body to his home, as Carlene senses that his soul is still attached to it and there is danger of Willy becoming a revenant unless he can be assisted through magical means. While his body is in safekeeping with Carlene and Lester, Willy's spirit begins communicating with Carlene and they form a forbidden connection.

Lester and Willy's sister Waneta are sympathetic to Carlene and Willy's plight. However, the couple have many more enemies than friends.

The story is in its formative stages. Something about the prompt and the picture triggered this poem.

Cie and I just started a blog for the story, By the Light of the Moon, which can be found here.

OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 16: Ondina's Paradelle

Image by Beverly Tan

Ondina's Paradelle

O Stormy Sea, wash over me

O Stormy Sea, wash over me

Take this shipwreck of a life

Take this shipwreck of a life

To a parallel dimension

Where I may meet my love

I crave his delicious kisses

I crave his delicious kisses

Although I know him not

Although I know him not

I long for him with all my soul

Only his love can save me

Sounding with a crunch, I hear footsteps approaching

Sounding with a crunch, I hear footsteps approaching

I hide away my dream from wicked souls

I hide away my dream from wicked souls

I have not abandoned you, Beloved, remember your Ondina loves you

In her shadow you may rest, until she can return

Long not, Beloved, know your Ondina may return with delicious kisses

Take my life, crunch all wicked souls, have rest with him

Hear her footsteps sounding, approaching to a parallel dimension for you

Where I may meet my loves in shadow, hide away from my abandoned soul

O stormy sea wash over me, until she remember although

Crave, only his love can save this shipwreck of a dream 

~Ondina Rvaga Zecor~

Notes: 

The Princess Ondina is a character in Team Netherworld's serial/novel in progress, Fetch. The story is a paranormal romance with sci-fi elements which honors the late H.P. Lovecraft, as well as other writers of the Cthulhu Mythos genre.

I'm not sure about that last stanza, but my brain just short-circuited. I can do no more!

~Wanda~

The Design is simple:

Stanza 1: 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4  

Stanza 2: 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8

Stanza 3: 9, 9, 10, 10, 11, 12

Stanza 4: 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 

For the most difficult piece of this poetic puzzle, the final stanza of the paradelle does not repeat like the preceding stanzas, rather the final six lines must contain every word from the first three stanzas, and only those words, again using them only once to form completely new lines.

OctPoWriMo 2015: Day 12: Dream Time

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Asleep

Beautiful dreamer

Come to me

Dream of being together

Eyes closed as you wander

Free to become who you are

Gone are the ties that bind you

Heart beating steady in your breast you breathe

Into the night your soul roams, come to me

Just as you are, just as you always should be

Kiss me softly in the light of the full moon now

Let me love you as I long to, as you long for

Make me happier than I ever imagined being until you came to me

Night folding us in its dark embrace as we draw ourselves together

Only our love matters, our love will last for all time

Precious moments found together under cover of the night sky

Quickly now, before the dawn tears us apart again

Realize the longing within both heart and soul

Sweetly soothe away the sorrows within us

Try to hold each other close

Undying love, unending embrace, unstoppable

Victorious are we together

Xenic we are

Yearning hearts

Zoneless

~Wanda~

Notes:

Xenic:  of, relating to, or employing a culture medium containing one or more unidentified organisms

I thought it would be fun to do a poem which consecutively used all the letters in the alphabet and counting, first up and then back down.

Love Waiting to Bloom

Love Waiting to Bloom

I can hardly get dressed

Cause I don't know what to wear

My heart's fit to bust

Whenever you're there

My mind's in a mess

Whenever you visit

Need someone to kick me in gear

Cause I just can't get with it

My world's in a spin

I'm not even sure I exist

You trump everyone else

You've got me all in a twist

I've got to level with you

You're at the very center

Of my solar system

I'm afraid I'll burn up if I enter

Your sighs are like music

That I long to hear

I'm afraid I'll get hurt

If I get too near

Please give me a sign

If you care for me

I'm standing off to the side

Just waiting to see

Can there be something

Between me and you

Or will my heart be shattered

Before it's all through

Please handle with care

My sad, fragile heart

It would be all too easy

To tear me apart

I want you so much

But I have to know

Do you want me too?

I'll wait and see what you show

~Wanda~

Written for Team Netherworld's WIP, Fetch.

Cross-posted to Team Netherworld's poetry blog, Dark Hearts Love Too

Also used in a fic at Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

The Brothers' Cookie Quest

Angus (L) and Malcolm Young, late 1960's

You cannot tell me that these guys never used the "who, us?" expression to their advantage

The Brothers' Cookie Quest

Tiring greatly of waiting for chow

Though he feared a foot to the brow

The elder of two brothers

Gave a boost to the other

To reach the cookies they were craving right now

~Wanda~

Prompts used:

Mad Kane's Limerick-Off

OTP Prompts (BROTP in this case)

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 23: Luck of the Draw

Luck of the Draw

Mania

Hypomania

However you want to call it

Burns magical through the synapses

Every moment unfolds

The greatest story ever told

Magical moments where you think you can fly

You feel so high

Wondrous burning that you never want to end

Like being at a party where the music never stops

Like being the hero of your own amazing movie

Being

Hyper-being

Fire burning

World turning

Every bit of news is good news

Nothing can go wrong

When the song in your head is wild

Real wild child

Every moment is hot

And you

Are just too

too

too

cool

It's like cocaine

It sets fire to your brain

The rain is made of diamonds

Your heart is full of soul

You can do no wrong

This song

And every song

Is your song

Heart beats wild

Real wild child

But when the chandelier comes crashing to the floor

You need to run damage control

But everything has gone to hell

Your brilliant mind reveals you to be

The butt of the joke

When you see yourself clearly in the mirror

You know that no-one could love you

You are the ugliest thing

Not the belle of the ball at all

Just another loser

Lost in the illusion

Brought on by mania

But now the party's over

You're home with Mother Depression

And she's one hell of a bitch

~Wanda~

Notes:

If you were lucky enough to draw the Bipolar Disorder card in this life, this poem needs no explanation.

The Prompt:

And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it. (Hat tip to Amy McDaniel for the idea!)

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 22: Cloudy Skies: A Pastoral Haiku

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Cloudy Skies:

A Pastoral Haiku

Sky is overcast

Through the melancholy day

I wish it would rain

~Wanda~

Notes:

I wasn't feeling the shepherdess and field thing. I was struck by the sky today. It was nothing special, just overcast, one of those skies that does that annoying. "I'm gonna rain on you--no, really, I am!" thing all day. So I got to the point with a Haiku about the sky.

The Prompt:

And now for (as always, optional) prompt! Today is Earth Day, so I would like to challenge you to write a “pastoral” poem. Traditionally, pastoral poems involved various shepherdesses and shepherds talking about love and fields, but yours can really just be a poem that engages with nature. One great way of going about this is simply to take a look outside your window, or take a walk around a local park. What’s happening in the yard and the trees? What’s blooming and what’s taking flight?

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 5: Riffin' on Em

December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886

My teammates are going to hate me--today's a bit of a cheat! Here's the exercise from NaPoWriMo:

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is a variation on a teaching exercise that the poet Anne Boyer uses with students studying the work of Emily Dickinson. As you may know, although Dickinson is now considered one of the most original and finest poets the United States has produced, she was not recognized in her own time. One reason her poems took a while to gain a favorable reception is their slippery, dash-filled lines. Those dashes baffled her readers so much that the 1924 edition of her complete poems replaced some with commas, and did away with others completely. Today’s exercise asks you to do something similar, but in the interests of creativity, rather than ill-conceived “correction.” Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it! (Not sure where to find some Dickinson poems? Here’s 59 Dickinson poems to select from).

Here's the original:

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –

The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’

And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

Here is my revision:

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes 

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs 

The stiff Heart questions was it He that bore

And Yesterday or Centuries before? 

The Feet mechanical go round 

A Wooden way Of Ground

or Air or Ought Regardless grown

A Quartz contentment like a stone 

This is the Hour of Lead Remembered if outlived 

As Freezing persons recollect the Snow 

First Chill then Stupor then the letting go 

A fun exercise. Still, I feel as if I had a bit of a cheat, being the one to take this prompt. Jessica, for instance, had a much more challenging go of it with her amazing Blitz poem!

~Wanda~

Healing the Wounds Afflicted by Reason

Healing the Wounds Afflicted by Reason

Image Source

I

Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine

Having to know the essence of everything

Takes away its beauty

Let it be what it is

Let yourself feel what you feel

Don’t overanalyze everything

It is what is

You are what you are

We are the product of our yesterdays

We are becoming our tomorrows

Don’t be so quick to discount what can’t be put into words

Let it be enough to let it be

Copyright: tuvi / 123RF Stock Photo

II

In the end, everything dies

Stars become stardust

The most beautiful blooms fade

Their petals drop away

In the end what matters most

Is the sustenance they gave to their fellow beings

Counting the bread and wine by autumn’s gain

Is the best of measures

Image Source

III

“O, know, sweet love, I always write of you”

These words were already written in your heart, my friend

Digging in with golden talons

As you tried to deny that which was tattooed upon your soul

An offer of kindness

Became a desire for kisses

What you deem wicked

What you decry as x-rated

Is only the expression

Of your heart’s zeal

To heal

The beautiful, broken being

Left crushed against the rocks of time

~Wanda~

199 Words

Prompts:

Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine 

–

 Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith by Mary Oliver

*************

Counting the bread and wine by autumn’s gain 

– 

Poppies on the Wheat by Helen Hunt Jackson

**************

O, know, sweet love, I always write of you 

– 

Sonnet 76 by William Shakespeare

Heart Fragile Like A Flower

Image Source (and poem inspiration): Cee's Photography

This is a blog worth watching

Heart Fragile Like a Flower

Some things are so beautiful

That even if you realize

They have the potential to hurt you

Not through any conscious volition

But just by being what they are

You can't help but love them anyway

Your heart is fragile like a flower

You loved the beautiful iris

Even though you once believed it could make you sick

You loved someone who gave you the gift

Of saving your life when you were young and troubled

Someone who seemed strong

But broke your heart by being made of glass instead of stone

You are fragile like a flower

And that makes you beautiful

And better than the many harsh things in this world

Even though it also makes you terribly vulnerable

Even though it makes it all too easy

For you to be crushed

I love you Cie

~Wanda~

Wanda's notes:

Cie told me that when she was a little girl, perhaps three years old, she contracted the flu. When her mother said that Cie had caught a virus, she thought of the irises growing in the yard by the house where they lived. Cie believed that smelling the irises made her sick, but she didn't blame them. She still loved them. She believed that just because their pollen made her sick didn't make them bad. It wasn't their fault.

Cie's bipolar disorder seems to have onset when she reached puberty, although she may have had it all her life. She was bullied very badly in school. As a troubled teenager, she started self-harming. On the radio, she discovered music by the band AC/DC. The music made her happy and the fact that the band members seemed to be somewhat outcast types themselves made her feel that she wasn't alone.

Cie developed quite a crush on AC/DC's frontman, Bon Scott. But she always felt that the band's founder, Malcolm Young, was a kind, comforting personality. She felt that he would welcome rather than reject an outcast like her. He had a friendly face and an accepting attitude. She liked those things about him.

When Bon died, Cie was crestfallen. But she continued following the band. The more she learned about Malcolm, the more she liked him. She found it admirable that he took it on himself to call Bon's mother after Bon's death so she would hear the truth from a friend rather than from the news. Malcolm always said this was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but he did it anyway. This is only one example of the kind of fundamentally decent person that he always was.

Cie related to Malcolm's struggles with depression and alcohol addiction. She admired the fact that in spite of these issues, he always kept his obligations to his family and his band mates. She also admired him for being monogamous in an industry that encourages Bacchanalian attitudes. 

Cie has said over the years that she wished she could have found her Malcolm Young; meaning someone who would be decent and faithful, warm, intelligent and interesting, sensitive, gentle, and with a bit of a wacky sense of humor. 

It also didn't hurt that he had killer eyes, a cute face, and a shy, humble demeanor, although he could be something of a pit bull when challenged or if he saw a threat to someone he cared about. Guys like him certainly are few and far between, and any woman lucky enough to have one should hold on tooth and nail.

When Cie found out that Malcolm was not only terminally ill but the essence of his personality had been wiped out, it devastated her. She found herself wishing that she could (her words) "Put him in my pocket and keep him safe." 

Perhaps stemming from her desire to heal and protect Malcolm, Cie found herself feeling a physical desire for him as well. I'm not a psychologist, but this makes sense to me. She was horrified at herself, because she has always been the type to respect a person's marriage and would never consider being a home-wrecker. She expressed her (very raw) feelings in this wonderful poem. It's a painful read; you can hear her heart break. But it's also excruciatingly beautiful.

Dear Cie, I am truly saddened to hear of this horrible thing happening to such a good person. Please don't beat yourself up any more. You are feeling pain because you feel love. That's the hell of it. However, there isn't enough love in this world. We must take it where we can find it. You found it for this person, and even though he doesn't know you in the flesh, I think that he can feel your love on some level and it may bring him comfort, which he desperately needs. I truly believe that.
I hope that maybe my humble poem will show you that someone is on your side; you are not alone, my friend, although I know you feel that you are.

Love,

Wanda

He wasn't very big, and he was genuinely a nice guy. 

But fucking with him was a bad idea, because he would bite back if attacked.

As they say, it isn't the size of the dog, it's the size of the fight in the dog.

In the end, it was no human assailant or even the demon from the bottle that took him out.

It was something that looks like this:

This is fucking scary, because nobody understands how to stop it from going awry and destroying a mind and a life.

This disease (Lewy body dementia) is particularly scary because there doesn't tend to be any way to predict it. Malcolm Young's family seems to have a history of cancer and heart disease, not dementia. It tends to strike younger people (average 50's and 60's) than Alzheimer's. Malcolm is 61.

Cie says that this diagnosis was a bigger punch in the gut than hearing that Malcolm had cancer or even that he'd committed suicide, because it destroys the personality, not just the body.

So, to recap for the rude person asking if this is now the Malcolm Young blog, maybe it is, at least temporarily. What's it to ya? He deserves at least that much respect, and our teammate deserves to express herself, including bleeding out her soul if that's what she needs to do.

Wanda

for

Team Netherworld

OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 29

Copyright: zimmytws / 123RF Stock Photo

Nothing and Nevermore

It was love of a kind

But there was never any consuming bliss

The honeymoon was simply a nice thing to do

At least I didn't walk into it blind

Neither of us felt euphoria

The joy pictured in movies

It was a romance born of logic

We liked the same things

I wasn't bewildered when it ended

He was annoyed

But there was too much grief

All we did any more was fight

So we packed it in

And we packed up

Went to court

Amicably filed for joint custody

And divorce

~Wanda Psycho~

Word Prompts:

Love

Bliss

Consuming

Blind

Honeymoon

Feeling Words:

Euphoria

Joy

Bewildered

Annoyed

Grief

Wanda's Notes:

My poem is a bit of an antithesis to Thalia's beautiful poem about a couple who finally gives in to the love that was there all along. Mine depicts a love that never was there. It's the true story of my own marriage.

Why marry someone you don't feel passion for?

I don't recommend it, but it seemed to be the right thing to do at the time.

My ex husband and I maintain a civil relationship although our children are grown.

OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 9

Image Source

That Kind of Girl

Have you heard the word?

They're talking about her all over town

They say that Wanda is that kind of girl

She's that tenacious kind of girl

Wanda will keep on keeping on

She's that stubborn kind of girl

She'll stay the course even after she's been berated and belittled

And if you ask her why, she'll tell you:

"Because--just because."

Have you ever heard of anything so stubborn

As to continue doing what you've been told is a waste of time?

It's not that she's got that thick a skin

You can make her feel like giving in

But she's got willpower

She's audacious--simply audacious!

~Wanda Psycho~

Phrase prompts:

 

Stay the course

 

Keep on keeping on

 

Because… just because

 

Word Prompt

 

Continue

 

Tenacious

 

Stubborn

 

Willpower

OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 8

Copyright: audiohead / 123RF Stock Photo

The True Madness:

A Set of Acrostics Addressing Extremist Attitudes

Full Moon 

Freedom is one of those words that people like to bandy about

Until they are confronted with thoughts different from their own

Love between two people of the same sex, for instance, or

Liberal political agendas

Madness sets in when those who close their minds to

Opinions other than their own

Opt to try and destroy the one they've deemed their enemy

Negotiation is the furthest thing from their mind

Moon Madness

Madness prevails in today's troubled world

Obstinate fixation on a set of twisted values

Oppressive values that leave no room for variation

Not values designed to protect people from harm

Moral depravity is decried

Atheism is said to be the worst of immoralities

Deism speaks to me more than atheism

Nonetheless, I believe in freedom to believe or not

Extremists would take away the freedoms of others

Satan may be something whose existence could be argued

Sadism, however, certainly exists

Creativity

Certain factions would like to limit creativity

Reactionaries want to ban certain literary works

Evil has its roots in ignorance

Absolutist ideas never served any population

Terrorism exists on many levels

Ignorance and intolerance are twins

Vain hopes of controlling even the very thoughts of others

Ignite a passion for power in the souls of those with small minds

Terrorism is not only guns and bombs, it is also

Young people whose minds have been filled up with hate for others

Water

Wish upon a star

Ask the heavens to bring peace; however

Take it upon yourself

Ending hate must be your primary priority

Reactionary agendas never served any population

Nostalgic

Nostalgic wishes for bygone eras

Only soothe those who fail to realize

Some things look better when they are behind us

Tragedy has existed throughout history

All times have had certain aspects needing improvement

Love has always been the answer

Greed has always been the deceiver

Ignorance has always been the match

Catching the tinder of hateful ideas afire

Impulsive

If you think it might be empowering

Meeting with terrorist organizations

Plotting to destroy those who do not follow your agenda

Undoing anything that does not suit your narrow view

Laying waste to those that you would subjugate

Strewing dead bodies wherever you set foot

Incinerating the homes of those you call enemy

Vandalizing, terrorizing

Evil is the only word that can describe what you are

Dynamic

Death comes to every being

Yet why be in such a hurry to dispatch another living soul?

Nothing gives you that right

Atrocities are being committed every day

Murderous individuals

Ignorant ideals

Cruelty reigns supreme

Bold

Be the change you want to see

Only sow kindness

Let others be who they are

Dream of and create better days

~Wanda Psycho~

Wanda's note:

I am not trying to target any religion as bad or wrong. I am targeting extremist attitudes. 

In my time in this world, I have met kind people who are Christian in the truest sense; they want to behave in the pacifist and loving manner modeled by Christ. I have also met people calling themselves Christian who are anything but; their souls are rotten with intolerance and hate.

 I have also met kind and tolerant Muslims. Following the 9-11 attacks, I listened to a talk by a man who stated that the Greater Jihad is the war fought against one's own lower impulses; the lesser Jihad is acts of war within the world. Such acts of war, he stated, were to be in defense of one's homeland; not attacks against other nations. 

The actions of ISIS are horrific, and I was certainly dismayed to learn that people from the U.S. have seen fit to join in aiding this terrorist organization. I feel that these misguided souls are seeking some sort of glory in a world where it is difficult to feel that one's actions have any meaning. However, I most assuredly do not feel that the members of ISIS represent the beliefs of the majority of Muslims. I would say, in fact, that the opposite is true.

I have come to identify as a Buddhist; however, I by no means claim to be an expert or adept of any kind. I haven't yet been able to achieve full vegetarianism, for instance. However, I have become more conscious when I do eat meat about choosing meat fro a source where the animals are treated humanely.

Nobody is perfect; however, if we all try, even a little to take more right action, the world can become a better place.