I grew up the typical brainy kid: excellent grades, reading anything I could get my hands on. It was a creative writing class during my junior year of high school truly sparked the writing bug in me (Thank you, Mr. Lancaster, wherever you are!)
I only have one publishing credit, in a local weekly paper that promptly went out of business the week after my poem appeared (which I hope is a total coincidence.) No major awards yet, unless you count the “World’s Most Awesome Mom” certificate hanging on my refrigerator. My graduating class did vote me “Most Likely to Be Elected President,” but I’m not entirely sure that was a compliment.
When I’m not writing, I can usually be found spending time with the family, watching NASCAR, or rocking my best diva attitude during karaoke.
I chose a dandelion as my flower because they are bright, persistent, and can bloom absolutely anywhere!
My blog Write Wing Conspiracy can be found at marybmansfield.blogspot.com.
© All postings and intellectual materials on this page are property of Mary Mansfield.
February 29th, 2012 at 8:20 AM
Written for prompt #44 – Where the Rubber Meets the Road
Seeking an Answer
Her search for an answer
Took her beyond the edges of the map,
Down roads paved with more questions.
Grief is her companion on this trip,
A cumbersome stray dog
That never quite sheds its feral nature.
The murmur of reluctant voices
Pelt her senses,
Silent taunts that only cement her resolve.
The dense smoke of days gone by
Waft around her,
Seeping through her cracks,
Obscuring the view rushing by her window,
Masking her constant pain.
Grief invites her
To drink of his sorrows,
To lose herself in despair.
She refuses the distraction,
Continuing her search for an answer,
Still questioning how
The man who so easily entranced her
Could slip so easily from her life.
February 29th, 2012 at 8:22 AM
Written for prompt #43 – Where Have All the Flowers Gone
Swinging for the Stars
I wish I could go back
To the time when all that mattered
Was who could swing the highest.
In that magical seat of dreams
I would kick as hard as I could,
Swinging for the stars.
Today those seats hang empty
As I play at being an adult,
But I still kick as hard as I can,
Still swinging for the stars
March 1st, 2012 at 8:47 PM
Written for prompt #41 – Old Relatives
Tears of an Old Patriot
A patriot cries on heaven’s highest hill
And wonders if America remembers him still.
His nation, it seems, has lost its way,
A shining city plagued with urban decay.
Our people discouraged, the outlook looks bleak.
Our enemies see us as timid and weak.
The country is falling apart at the seams
As we witness the death of American dreams.
The government now is irreparably broken,
Ignoring the words that the people have spoken.
Our freedoms are fading, and some we have lost
For the sake of security, ignoring the cost.
He’s comforted knowing a new generation
Finds in his conservative stance, inspiration
To stand and continue to struggle, to fight
To protect precious liberty with all of their might.
He knows in his heart that our country’s best years
Are still yet to come, and he fights back his tears.
Let’s all come together and defend the Constitution.
The time is now here for a ballot-box revolution
March 1st, 2012 at 8:48 PM
Written for prompt #40 – And I Quote…Me!
Unvarnished Advice
“Don’t ask me a question if you’re not willing to listen to the answer.”
Sassy. Opinionated. Blunt.
You know how I am,
Yet you act so surprised
At my direct responses
To the latest crisis in your life.
Tact and subtlety
Are foreign tongues to me,
My stubborn adherence to integrity
A matter of pride, a part of my identity.
Truth is a stubborn thing,
And I will not dance around
In your veil of delusions merely
For the sake of your comfort.
I have no cruel intentions,
No malice toward you.
Honesty will prove
Much less cruel in the long run,
And my conscience remains
Untainted by a willing deceit.
Sassy. Opinionated. Blunt.
Perhaps the initials
Should have given you a clue.
March 1st, 2012 at 8:49 PM
Written for In Form Poet – Quatern
The Next Step
I strip the trials and pain away,
Tomorrow starts a brand new day
Of searching for a way to start
To mend my aching, shattered heart.
To keep my spirit from decay,
I strip the trials and pain away.
I’ve tried but just can’t be consoled.
How many tears can one heart hold?
How can I be brave, be strong?
I’m tired of singing that sad song.
I strip the trials and pain away,
Abandoning the old cliché.
If I can make it through this night,
I may just find the will to fight.
For strength to carry on, I pray.
I strip the trials and pain away.
March 1st, 2012 at 8:50 PM
Written for prompt #39 – Color My World
The Grays and Browns
I’ve wandered this barren land too long,
The landscape drenched in
The grays and browns of death.
Nothing grows here anymore,
Lost in endless winter,
No warmth in sight.
All things need nourishment,
But there is no sustenance,
Nothing vital and alive,
All is decayed, putrefied, emaciated.
If I remain, the same will happen to me.
The time has come for escape,
To cross the border to a new land
Where my heart can once again flourish
Rather than join the withered remnants,
Lost forever to the grays and browns.
March 1st, 2012 at 8:51 PM
Also written for prompt #39 – Color My World
Sweet Temptation (A Gift for Snow White)
Do not be afraid,
My dear,
I mean you no harm.
I am merely
A poor grandmother,
Stopped to rest
On my way home
From a magical orchard.
You see,
My child,
Inside the gleaming
Crimson skin
Of this apple
Lies a secret:
Magic lives
In its juicy flesh.
I can tell,
Sweet girl,
From your graceful carriage
And genteel manner,
That you were not born
To toil in servitude
In a dark cottage
Such as this.
Do you really believe
That is all there is for you?
I thought not.
Your dreams,
The wishes your heart makes,
Can all come true,
If you only
Take a bite…
March 1st, 2012 at 8:53 PM
Written for prompt #38 – Hey That’s My Line
Urgent Clocks
Our insistent alarms
And the first rays of sunlight
Send us scatterings like cockroaches,
Chasing the who
the where
the when,
Propelling us forward
In our agitated race for survival.
We forget our need to
S l o w D o w n,
Breathe,
Enjoy the now.
March 1st, 2012 at 8:54 PM
Also written for prompt #38 – Hey That’s My Line
The Ability to Dance on Water
The first blush of love
Can set aside our rational minds,
Voiding the laws of physics.
We float through the heavens
And dance across the waters
With no sense of consequences.
However, when reality intrudes,
It often brings gravity along as well,
Sending us crashing back to earth,
Leaving us drowning in heartache.
March 6th, 2012 at 2:21 PM
Written for prompt #45 – Nothing to fear but fear itself.
Broken Girls and Unheeded Warnings
I ignored the well-meaning advice
From friends and family.
They didn’t understand.
They didn’t know him the way I did.
We were in love, and love conquers anything.
In his arms this broken girl
Found salvation in a dream come alive,
A balm to ease the pain of a chaotic life,
Unaware the path I had chosen
Only led to more chaos.
Seductive words from his forked tongue
Slowly weaned me away
From those friends and family,
Leaving me wandering
Coatless through the wilderness
With only him to save me.
His sweet words soured over time,
Turning derisive and cruel,
Stripping away my sense of self
Until all that remained was
A drained vessel to be filled
With more woolly logic,
More twisted illusions,
His viselike grip on me
Suffocating in every sense of the word.
The dream deteriorated into an nightmare,
Days carefully calculated to avoid his wrath,
Nights waiting to see what torture
Lie in store should his temper rise again,
Perhaps another verbal assault
Spiraling into something more physical,
Unwanted invasions of my deepest self,
Lying awake wondering
If this was the night when the
Cold metal of a kitchen knife
Would slide between my ribs
Turning white sheets to crimson.
By the time enough fragments of myself
Had returned to identify the danger,
I was nearly incapable of escaping.
I almost didn’t.
I’ve watched her grow from
Chubby toddler into gawky adolescent
Into a young woman who could be my daughter,
A beautiful but broken girl
Whose steps mirror my own path.
I know his embrace eases that broken feeling,
Brings a fullness to her life she’s never known.
Today I am a much wiser woman
And can see the warning signs,
She thinks no one understands;
I understand far more than she,
Knowledge forged in an abuser‘s shadow.
She shapes her life as he prefers,
Days carefully calculated to avoid his wrath.
She is already slipping away
From the friends and family
Offering advice I know will be ignored.
I find I cannot admonish her.
I can only pray she learns
Before repeating all my mistakes
And walks away from him
While she’s still capable of escaping.
March 25th, 2012 at 9:30 PM
Written for prompt #48 – In the Shadows
Joy and the Magic Man
Over the years, Joy’s name
Seemed to fit her less and less,
Her spirit eroded by
A river of responsibilities,
Once supple skin scarred
By the acid touch of time,
Myopia pushing aside
The artistic visions of her youth.
She almost did not recognize him,
Black hair lightened into gray,
His slower steps assisted
By a cane that mirrored her own,
Nothing to gauge that he even saw her,
Much less remembered
The time when she was “his Joy,”
Back before she had developed
Any acumen at the craft of love.
He had been her Magic Man,
An alchemist whose tender touch
Turned her tears to drops of gold.
He sprinkled her life with wonder,
A belief that life was larger
Than she ever dreamed possible.
He taught her how to embrace freedom
In a sensuous dance of hearts
Uninterrupted by the outside world,
Two artists in love feeding
On the creative juices of the other,
Stoking a fire that overtook them,
Consuming and eventually leaving
Only smoldering embers discarded
In search of the next inspiration.
She set aside her brush
And oil paints long ago,
Arthritic hands and withered dreams
Unable to give shape to her visions,
But as she sweeps past him
On that cold January sidewalk
In her sensible shoes and sturdy coat,
Shadows of Joy and the Magic Man
Float in the fog of yesterday.