#mantrabay

[vujime]

Shadows at play

#abstract challenge #starlight2travel #stewacai #tammyfeabakker #photographers on tumblr #boschintegral #mantrabay #explorearound #photos worth seeing #yellow #shadows

[magicwritingcommunity]

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard. Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s love name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura.. On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage. A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual. Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.” Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.” Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed. “Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot. Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors. Ten years earlier it was a beacon.

“I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.” Geoff again. They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like.... a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst...Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.”

Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

What a time and place to chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay Copyright Protected

#magicwritingcommunity

.

#writers on tumblr #mantrabay #submission #poeticstories #writerscreed #poetryportal #abstractcommunity #definegodliness #magic writing community #magic writing #writing community #writing

[destinationanotherworld]

Stream on indigo palette, noonday mallard green clad rock perch taunts eye

One of my photographs converted by peintre-stephane.

All rights revert to mantrabay

Description is all my own work

Thanks for viewing this post

(submitted by @mantrabay ! oh my goodness this is so pretty! thank you! sorry it took me so long to see this, i forget to check this blog's inbox. but hey, i love it all the same! - tony)

#submission #art #painting #mantrabay

[mantrabay]

Add A Little Colour Part 2

Photographs All My Own Work

Thanks to all my friends on Tumvrl for your invaluable support

Please enjoy mantrabay

[enchantedvistas]

Thank you for tagging me @jj9ssx9

rules: pick a song for every letter of your url and tag that many people Empire now - Hozier Ningen - 703goushitsu Cigarette Daydreams - Cage The Elephant Hurt - Johnny Cash All things Will Pass - Opeth Nordlys - Kalandra The 6th Gate - D-devils :3 Eat Your Young - Hozier Dreams - NF Video games - Lana Del Rey I like the way you kiss me - Artemas Silver lining - piri, Tommy Villiers Trebam te - LEA Afraid - The Neighbourhood Summer - Good Kid I'm tagging @xjackiethedevilx @emotionalsurgery @tulipanconpan @mantrabay @pacogabby @rabbithexrt @nakedinthecity @mayshamrock @chuprinin if they want to do it 🙃 ! And whoever wants to join! i just feel like im disturbing enough people already hahah

#i'll just copy your post text xD #bcs im also feeling like disturbing everyone... #music #i talk

[kneipho]

By @mantrabay

Jay A Pallen A Wonderful Sister And Friend.

On a silver moonlit pillow’s blissful patch I dreamt nirvana

verses for my sister Jay and our magic mutual bond, that

gem-laden treasure chest, that life support as ironclad rampart

for our twin psyche sparkle, an infinite reciprocal alignment

boldly mocking earthly distance.

This sleep-infused wee small hours tribute I reveal in

wonder world heaven sent passages below.

It takes a sibling to sense her brother’s needs

this day of days when futures are at stake.

School of excellence, end point graduation,

marks assigned by dons with cool detachment.

Ray of light, ray of hope, the twinkle in my sister’s eye

as she scours every moth-infested drawer

within her razor sharp remit.

Advocate sublime, curator, organizer and locator

of an infinite infernal swot.

To do on sticky paper, insight on forgotten file

and other motleys waiting to be culled.

Never fear, my sister’s instinct was seldom wrong on things scholastic.

This in and of itself a most sustaining factor in our lifelong bond.

Tattered lecture notes, well thumbed references,

random line on refill pad or prosaic jotter,

themes one should revise at countless intervals had Jay’s cognoscenti seal.

Fine friend, my sister, queen of cheerful intuition.

Jay, majestic and meticulous, with her photographic

sense of total recall showed her love as I did

without fail since her arrival on planet earth.

An instant early meeting of two minds has

enjoyed so many epic world adventures.

My sister’s voice has always been that constant solid rock through

years of titan toil and hard-won flair.

Midnight coffees we both shared in a crouch beneath

some floating arm light, without crib or cob.

Nostalgia flooding back in visual bursts at breakneck speed.

Guffaws and hearty groans abound at gaffes in early tests.

Canny probes, mouse trap phrases, deceitful hidden lure

setting off a wave of forehead wrinkles and squirm worm faces.

How my sister would pour scorn upon each cunning setup,

the demon ruse behind the brazen pry,

the snare that made a patsy of us all, novice and veteran alike.

Reflecting on times past together our prelude to

some golden mirror on the task ahead.

A final glance at tips from other students,

one final scan of teachers subtle hints, that final flick through memory aids of one kind or another knowing Jay would steer

each rough sea course with such aplomb.

Pulse rates hurtling over hurdles at the cusp yet

staunch sister fair wouldn’t disappoint or let me fret,

heartbeats on a Himalayan high would tranquillise upon

Jay Pallen’s mystic smile,

blood pressure readings might rumble rafters but we’re no

match for two relations who understood what friendship meant.

Despite her brother’s inner qualm, a glow ray beacon

oozes warmth.

Oh sister of iridescent star-bright lustre

one light peck might keep us both within each other’s orbits

as another passing out proceeds apace.

And wondrous sister Jay, loyal comrade, stood beside

her loyal brother in mutual awe.

Entirely my own work.

Genuine thanks to all who read this piece.

#tutorial #photography #music #quote #spoken word #contest announcement #written word #street art saturday #psa #art #submission #link #fan art friday #submission sunday #video #other #dance #audio recording

[magicdreamspoetry]

August Heartland Fare 10

Doe-eyed spring rapids

Rush reed iridescent gaze

Ear worm chants lambent rays

August azure arc awakes

Mystic marvel mantra makes

Photograph and piece mantrabay copyright protected

Dedicated to my wonderful sister

Jay A. Pallen

Thank you so much for reading and evaluating this post

#submission

[rains-of-words]

The eyes reveal much more than any word, sound, or even subtle body shift.

Let the other person’s optics be your cue to leave or stay.

Source : mantrabay to the best of my knowledge.

#submissions

[vujime]

Visited my university recently. Do I miss it? Yes I do miss. Not the studies though 😂

I miss the walks into the woods to reduce the stress levels. Now which remain high due to unsympathetic work culture. Anyways that is life.

#abstract challenge #starlight2travel #stewacai #tammyfeabakker #mantrabay #boschintegral #photos worth seeing #photographers on tumblr #green #trees and forests #trees #peaceful

[0riginal-sharing]

Tourmaline Birthstone Cycle Part 2

 October hushes

a cold snap, baldachin for

red, brown and gold leaf.

Indian summer waver, Indian rope trick

sent to douse earthen world shackle.

Bogus heat pump transience.

Polar air mass scatters migrant bird

on vibrant amber.

Ocean gust saline coated whisper

to autumn eardrum host.

Nightscape shadows rudely cut across

the afternoon event space

Photograph converted portrait and extended piece mantrabay copyright protected.

Thanks for viewing and assessment

#architecture #lake #art #forest #nature #sea #submission #flowers #b&w #city #landscape #model

[findyourother1]

This year’s winter issue will have the theme, “𝓂𝒾𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓇𝓈” to inspire you and your creations.

We’re accepting submissions for fiction, flash fiction, poetry, and visual art.

𝘕𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘦𝘵, but be on the lookout for updates on our home site and social media!

As always, there is 𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕖𝕖 for creators.

For full details about our guidelines, visit our magazine website.

ɹǝɥʇO ɹno⅄ puıℲ

Home // Twitter // IG

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[am-me-she]

Giving something your best shot doesn’t mean its your last if you fail. It only means there are better shots ahead until you win. Stick at it

Quote source : mantrabay as far as I know

[mantrabay]

The Road Ahead

( Night And Day Suite)

All My Own Photographs

I value your support

Greetings from mantrabay

#photographers on tumblr #made with tumblr #original photographers

[torrentialmonsoon]

Lost The Plot

As mirrors crack, some rainbow’s end solution lies in fragments on the floor, pot of gold starry-eyed schemes that are no more, a plot for all those dreams and those who dreamed them.

For those who lost the plot a final peace.

But all that’s left to broken vision mourners are the scars.

@mantrabay copyright protected

Madi's note: I am going through my messages and I forgot about this submission. I am sure it has been in my messages for years and I didn't come across it. Thank you @mantrabay! I know you still follow me here. Everyone else, give them some love!

#submission #poetry #spilled ink #creative writing #mantrabay

[kneipho]

Every Annual Pledge

Growth should be the ultimate criterion,

centrepiece and essence at the heart of every annual pledge,

for myself and other people who might gain from such commitment,

that monumental new year down the clock so aptly named,

global village stepping stone infused with razzmatazz,

celebrities whose sugar candy script is relayed world wide,

to captive audience transfixed, their eyes glued to

gauche routine pantomime,

imbibing endless fulsome puerile cant,

those once upon a time trite shibboleths,

lauded in the past so to speak,

now anathema by modern age yardstick,

Yet for me this is a golden opportunity

to reengage with distant relatives abroad,

to renew and revitalise acquaintanship,

to forge cast iron bonds in fine locations,

against a backdrop of stimulating habitats,

the debt I owe my influential sister, Jay Pallen,

has to be addressed without delay,

higher level generous support for those in need,

sustaining local business with original ideas

where and when I can,

initiative in concrete terms is key,

I will endeavour to diversify my brief,

make myself as interesting as possible,

embrace new hobbies with a will, cryptic crossword clues,

logic fill-in puzzles, hatha yoga practice, meditation,

focus even more when precious

matters come to pass as they inevitably do,

thoughtful discourse after deep reflection,

our existence on this earth in peril

where prompt gestures are required right now,

be rest assured I’ll tap the latent activist within,

I must revere the human eye as potent lense,

human mind potential gemstone vault,

imagination that multi-hued artistic brush,

creative hand sculpting lucid verse,

expect due diligence from me on all four counts,

foreign tongues are high on my agenda,

lame excuses will be given short shrift,

a roadmap for the linguistic bashful I’m bound to plot,

with fluent speech desirable denouement,

however long it may take,

nutritious food is something very vital for this writer

but extra colour, spice, zest must be added to his cupboard!

in this regard I may have been remiss from time to time,

rely on me to buttress resolutions with true valour,

harness my resolve beyond mere transient aplomb,

fire that inner gumption if the viral plague

of doubt by any chance should appear,

as, perforce, it often does when least welcome,

emphatic as I am in grand pursuit of broad horizons,

doesn’t mean that I’m an unfeeling person,

insensitive to warmth, kindness or romance,

but personal development a social obligation always beckons,

and as such a clear response shall be forthcoming

on my part to its portentous advent,

composite of variegated traits that lurk inside,

be they positive or flawed must at once

be subject to the harshest of critiques,

on an ongoing regular basis,

where performance may have lapsed

into crassness devoid of real meaning,

candid reassessment will be crucial in my quest,

irrespective of the challenges ahead one has to face,

I, mantrabay, organic chemist, essayist, poet,

computer buff, am on a mission,

catch me if you can

Photograph and literary piece entirely my own work

Dear Kneipho

Wishing you a heartfelt welcome back.

Thank you so much for reading and reblogging my hope rhyme and the accompanying picture.

#art #music #street art saturday #written word #submission #link #photography #tutorial #dance #video #psa #submission sunday #fan art friday #contest announcement #audio recording #quote #spoken word #other

[writingthestorm]

Inner Vocal Quiver.

As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,

putrid oil slick puddle,

the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring,

robotic elders who crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure whatever spark remains in those tiny rosebud cheeks before their prime.

Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of intertidal lakeland wetness gradients,

the callous douse of velvet purple algerita berries,

blighted by the stark timbre cloud forms

that recklessly pour bile on every genus.

The rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums, whose acrobatic tree to tree mirror ball exploits mock Isaac Newton’s legacy,

the kinkajou of tail grip fame who flaunt their tan glow wooly fur coat in broad daylight,

the dawn to dusk fennec fox, that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests.

A heartless milieu asks our clutch and clan to dwell in

alloy girder mousetraps, those pale decor rat infested tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.

Beyond belief we tolerate the nick and hoist pressure cooker elevator,

that transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,

those cotton garment dress code senseless

dragonfly stand-ins that hover in mid air.

The future bands of mutant stem cell rockers are duty bound to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling chimes,

when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fret board anthems

at crowd mosher mud fests,

where rivers of apocalyptic visions burst the bank.

If only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we

may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,

we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.

A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,

eternal life support for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage,

who‘d finally experience pure clutter free environments,

an eco world that values new born thirst for natural realms.

mantrabay Copywriter Protected

#mantrabay #submission