Poem: Diamanté – ” Fire, Phoenix, Light, and Darkness” #poetry #amwriting #music 


“Just Like Fire” – P!nk

——

Fire,
Scorching, Singeing.

Destroying forest, Cleansing old, Burning all. 

Sparks inside me, embers glowing.

Remenants of yesterday dying.

Acrid smell, Burnt smell, Dusty death.

Blowing winds, Becoming–

Ashes.

——–

Fire,

Flaming houses, Fluidness catching, 

Interrupting life, Avenging crime, Lighting path.

Devastating the place called home.

Lighting the way back to safety, when enclosed.

Luminous candle, Glowing street lamp, Gleaming stars.

Beaming fire, Brighten’s with —

Light.

——

Ashes,

Grey silt, Smokey remains.

Leftovers, Burnt black-wood, Coughing fits of smoke.

From the ashes, rises the grand Phoenix.

Still the Phoenix becomes the fire.

Spreading fast, Blackening souls, Killing life.

Yet Heat, in Hearth, 

Fire.

—–

Phoenix,

Reddish feathers, Flying past, 

Wings spanning, Soaring fast, Exploring the sky.

The fire brings the smoke to rise in plumes, 

The smoke also signals rebirth — to live again.

Light of darknesses’ fire, Glistening stars, Gleaming flame.

Hope in , Glory of —

Light. 

—–

Light 

Beams of car,  Revealing dark ahead.

Unravels mystery, Untwists what’s false , Enlightens with knowledge.

Shadow has no place to hide from light;

Darkness loves the corners, from there spreads out.

Nightmares, Souls which quake, the Night black-tar, 

Gloominess, Depressing us all —

Darkness.

—-

Darkness, 

Twilight falling, Shaded black sky, 

Creeps inky nights, Blackening consistency, Opacity hides, 

Not a breath of light or air to spare;

Darkness in death, leads to despair without hope. 

Hiding from, Teasing our fate, Testing our limits, 

The end, the Very End, 

Death.

—-

Death,

Scythe wielded, bones rattling,

Soul gone, Decaying body, Empty shell left behind,

The dead will rise at the end of days;

But until then, those of light stay high above. 

Breath of freshest air,  No worries, No sorrow,

Peace of God, Faithful Promise Kept, 

Heaven.

—–

Fire,

Blazing inferno, Uncontrollably burning, 

Crisp hearts break delicately, Burnt hands have agony, Wild fire enrages,

Fire cooks, fire kills; the first discovery of man;

But fire is life and rebirth, death not the end. 

Renewing life, Forest regrowing, Animals returning,

Hopeful for, breath of —

God.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Day To Die #flashfiction #amwriting 


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——-

Source: Ian Kelly

——–

“Are you sure we have to take this helicopter tour?” Glenda asked her husband Ralph.

 “How can we pass up a chance to do a helicopter tour of LA half-priced?” 

“The pilot seems to fly jerkily. I’m worried he hasn’t enough experience and there were dents on the side of the helicopter.” 

“I’m fully qualified and have been flying since the Gulf War,” Eddie the pilot said offended.”You two have no idea the battles I’ve flown through.” 

“You’ve offended the pilot Glenda. You should apologize, you’re afraid of heights,” Ralph muttered. 

Suddenly, the helicopter went sideways before nose diving between high rise buildings. Both Ralph and Glenda screamed.

The helicopter landed on pavement with a crash. Eddie managed to somehow land the helicopter rightside up. The couple were surprised to be alive with only a few scrapes.

“Eddie are you alright?” Ralph asked, unbuckling his seat belt and taking off his cans.

 He shook Eddie but winced, a shard of glass had sliced into Eddie’s head; he was dead. 

“Ah Eddie, you shouldn’t have been up in that sky.” Ralph said sadly.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – La’ Tuine – “Paint The Sky With Love”


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie  for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge.


Paint the Sky
Source: Unknown

Paint the sky, it needs retouching soon.

For many ages, night tries killing moon.

Its her way, so you never feel safe; when —

Walking home, paint the sky with love.


Paint the moon herself; light needs less gloom,

Rid the clouds, which shape and form ruin.

Erase them; moon glows softly, romance blends,

Walking home, paint the sky with love.


Shape the moon, may she wax and wane soon,

Carve out her circle; flee now doom.

Dark clouds fading, artist’s rendering,

Walking home, paint the sky with love.


There is a whisper of dawn, orange looms,

But still the night enfolds us in gloom.

Night is long hours, be not so scared; when —

Walking home, paint the sky with love.


Such noises I heard, frightening booms,

Lightening crashed, and didn’t end soon,

I waited it out, dreamt of morn’s blooms,

Walking home, paint the sky with love.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part Eight – Nineteen-Years Later


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


 

A Mixed Bag

Sam peered at Tom, the brother he hadn’t seen in almost nineteen-years. “You look the same Tom, you’ve weathered the years better than me.”

Tom snorted. “We’re still nearly a mirror image of each other. We’re also in the same place we were nineteen-years-ago. How could you betray your own brother?”

“You were working for the Russian’s Tom with Garig. I had to shoot you, leave you in prison — it was my duty. But you didn’t die.”

Tom snickered. “You’d like to have me dead wouldn’t you? Things aren’t exactly as they seem Sam. Now where’s Chad?”

Both brothers heard the back exit door slam and the fire alarm go off shrilly. Tom pushed past Sam; he tackled Marrion and Chad.

Tom put a gun to Chad’s head and threw Marrion to Sam. He shoved Chad into a life boat which began descending.

“I’m not your son,” Chad said, his voice weak from blood-loss.” Someone shot my tattoo. I’m not a nuclear bomb anymore. Leave me alone.”

“Chad, I know you’re my nephew. It used to make me so angry that Sam shot me almost fatally and I went to prison.But I escaped and I’m here now to help you.”

“I didn’t realize how undercover Sam was nearly nineteen-years ago. He didn’t understand how deeply undercover I was and am.”

“Garig put that chip in your tattoo making you into a nuclear bomb. Garig’s the enemy, he always was; though he tried to make me appear to be.” Tom said.

“I don’t trust you. . . ” Chad muttered. He’d lost so much blood he was surprised he was awake. Tom put new gauze on Chad’s gunshot wound and wrapped bandages around his body, enclosing the wound securely.

“Here,” Uncle Tom said. He handed Chad a chain necklace of the family crest.”We’re a loyal family Chad. I would never betray my country, or my ancestors.”

“My friends are waiting Chad. My higher-ups will ensure Sam and Marrion get to where we’re going. Together we need to defeat Garig once and for all. I want to come home.”

Chad, as usual, found himself fading into unconsciousness.


Please read Part Seven Here.


 

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Inspire Me Monday Linky Party #96 | Mostly Blogging


Come share a link. I shared Rosema’s interview if you haven’t read it🙂

Welcome to the Inspire Me Monday Linky Party for August 29, the last Monday of August. We are so glad you decided to join us! Weekly Wrap Up Tuesday: Guest author Amin Ghale, the author of my second-highest ranking post of all time, 5 Free Tools to Help You Easily Improve Your Keywords, returns to guest post with 5 […]

Source: Inspire Me Monday Linky Party #96 | Mostly Blogging

Interview With Rosema Gonzales


Welcome to September and the third month of my bi-weekly interview series. I’m excited to share with you an interview of my good friend, talented writer, wonderful person, and wise woman: Rosema Gonzales from the Philippines. You can explore her blog at the following link: A Reading Writer .


Rosema
Rosema Gonzales

1. Rosema, Please Share With Us Some Things About Yourself?

I am my blog’s name: A Reading Writer. I read and write and in-between, eat cake and/or drink coffee.

I currently work for a small Public Relations firm as a Public Relations Associate and also a Public Relations Writer. I have a degree in journalism and I dream of becoming a news writer someday; a bonafide journalist. Although, I feel this goal could be a bit impossible, realistically speaking, but who knows?

When I’m not working, I’m blogging and writing. My blog, A Reading Writer , is my fortress and it has changed my writing-self dramatically. I used to only write book reviews and thoughts on books I was reading (wanted to read). Now, I write both poetry and fiction. I never thought I could write poetry or fiction until I joined the WordPress course: Writing 101, last year. Writing 101 changed my perspective on my writing abilities.

When I’m not writing or blogging, I have a thirst for reading. Mitch Albom is my  favorite author. I love all the novels I have, which Mitch Albom wrote, but it would take too long to name them all :D)

When I am not reading I am drinking a cuppa of dark coffee and wishing I could be eating cheesecake!😀


2. When Did You First Start Writing and Blogging?

Technically, my first post was published on August 28, 2014, close to two-years-ago now. My first post was only the beginning of my ‘existence’ as a blogger. My ‘real’ more than existing as a blogger, began when I joined Writing 101 in September 2015. For me, this course offered by WordPress, somehow signaled the ‘rebirth’ of my A Reading Writer blog.


“My ‘real’ more than existing as a blogger, began when I joined Writing 101 in September 2015. For me, this course offered by WordPress, somehow signaled the ‘rebirth’ of my A Reading Writer blog.” – Rosema Gonzales


3. What Does Your Writing and Poetry Mean to You? Why Do You Write and Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation?

For me, writing is like breathing with words. No one can survive without breathing; that’s how vital writing and poetry are for me. My motivation and inspiration can come from anywhere. I had a writing piece which was inspired by a garbage truck once. Seriously! But the majority of my poetry and fiction are written while I’m riding the bus. I think my brain churns more when I’m commuting. Reading and music also inspire and motivate me, and have recently given birth to some unpublished poems, too.🙂


4. Do You Find There Is A Time of Day You Most Enjoy Writing?

Hmmm. As I said before, I usually write on a bus so it’s either early morning or at night when  I write. Although, I think there is something about the silence and darkness of night that inspires more creative pieces as compared to when it’s daytime.


“For me, writing is like breathing with words. No one can survive without breathing; that’s how vital writing and poetry are form me. My motivation and inspiration can come from anywhere.” – Rosema Gonzales


5. Do You Have Any Current Writing Projects or Any Hopeful Writing Projects?

If hosting a writing challenge is a project then, I would say my most recent project called:  Word-High July has been my focus. #WordHighJuly featured thirty beautiful Filipino words as word prompts. Many poets and bloggers have written impeccable pieces inspired by these Filipino words such as halakhak, a noun which means loud uninhibited laughter, or kaulayai, a noun which means a pleasant and intimate companion. In terms of future projects, I’m dreaming of publishing my own poetry book in the future.


Below is an example of an image and word prompt used in Rosema’s #WordHighJuly writing challenge:


Pleasant Compnanion


6. Have You Published Any Of Your Writing Or Are You Planning to Publish Works of Writing In The Future? Can You Briefly Describe Your Publishing and Writing Process?

All my written works are published on WordPress only for the moment. It’s part of my future plan to publish them soon maybe on my own, because scouting for a publisher is a tough task. I’m still building up the courage to finally, begin writing my own book. 

Because I’m not even one step towards publishing my work beyond my blog, I think I’m not a good writer or blogger to describe the process of publishing my writing. HOWEVER, I have great blogging friends who have successfully published their books and I’m sure they will willingly help people who like me, will eventually need tips on the entire publishing process. I have been reading some online material about self-publishing. So, I have gathered a ton of information there.


7. What Is Your Writing Process Like?

I have an erratic writing process. I write anywhere and anytime, because story ideas sprout unexpectedly. There are times for instance, when I am just walking and I come across someone who I don’t know and a poem is born! It’s an unpredictable process so I always have my phone handy because it’s my stockroom for poetry and fiction.


” I have an erratic writing process. I write anywhere and anytime, because story ideas sprout unexpectedly.” – Rosema Gonzales


8. Do You Prefer Certain Areas of Writing or Reading Styles and/or Genres?

I prefer reading in bed. I’m a certified librocubicularist.🙂

When it comes to reading genres, I love Young-Adult, Mystery, Thrillers, Contemporary Literature, Historical Fiction, Poetry, and Faith related books.When it comes to writing, my most chosen genre is Romance; love, and more so, unrequited love. I also write realistic fiction and about tragedy. My blog friend Mel, of In Media Res has been joking about putting a death toll counter in my blog. HAHA. I’m close to considering it !


9. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers?

First, I must say write for yourself not for anyone else. It is blissful to have many people follow and read your work, but it is unusual to have many followers and readers as a writer or blogger starting out. So, do not be discouraged by a lack of other people reading your writing; write for no one but yourself.

Second, I you cannot compare yourself to other writers. Other writers maybe talented but you are talented in your own way as well. Such as fingerprints, each author has their own individual perspective and niche in the writing world. So, be yourself; find your own voice and style, then improve on it.

Lastly, I believe you should always be the first person who believes in your characters, in your poems, in in all your writing. This advice, I often give myself, and is a lesson I’m still trying to learn.


10. Is There Anything Else You Want To Share With Us, Pertinent to Writing or Yourself?

Honestly, I’ve only just found my true writer-self. I think, this year is the first, I’ve finally embraced creative writing. My focus before this year, was on writing straight news, real-life nonfiction, becoming a genuine journalist. Now, I am loving what I’ve been discovering about myself through creative writing.

As well, it would not be possible for me to have had such personal growth through writing, if I did not have a great bunch of supportive and loving writers in the blogging community on WordPress. I would like to highlight the need for a friendly, honest, and interactive writing community.

Bloggers and writers (online and in general), need to be kind enough to read the work of the writers who read your own posts. Let’s be supportive enough to correct grammar mistakes or provide tips on how a writer can improve on his or her work. Leave thoughtful comments on other bloggers and writers posts.

I know life happens and we do not always have a lot of time. But if we have the time and make the time, we need to somehow harness the power of our words to encourage our fellow writers. High praises are not always needed, you can also give constructive criticism or disagree with what another writer wrote. What’s important is to let writers know how their work affects you, how you feel about their work.This is helpful, to all writers.

Writers should be the first to realize completely, the power of their words. I hope we can agree to use words to create an encouraging community. Let’s not underestimate the power of our comments. Comments on a writer’s work can change lives; I’m proof and I can testify to the truth of comments changing my own life and writing.


“I know life happens and we do not always have a lot of time. But if we have the time and make the time, we need to somehow harness the power of our words to encourage our fellow writers. High praises are not always needed, you can also give constructive criticism or disagree with what another writer wrote.” – Rosema Gonzales


11. Please Share With Us Some Pieces Of Your Fiction And Poetry:

“Writer’s Note”

No one,
nothing,
can take
my words
away
from me.

Break me,
confine me,
curse me,
abandon me,
my lines will bleed more
surely.

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.


I would also like to share my first-ever fictional piece from Writing 101:


Thanks so much Rosema for filling out interview questions and writing them with your heart. It always comes through in your work, fiction, poetry, or talking about your favourite books. I’m encouraged you will make wonderful strides in creative writing and in your career aspirations.

Dreams are always possible, sometimes we only have to believe they can be a possibility!

Once again, here is the link to Rosema’s blog: A Reading Writer.


Many thanks for reading along in this bi-weekly interview series. If you would like to be interviewed and share about yourself and your writing aspirations, please let me know. You can reach-out to me through my Contact Page.


 

 

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Team Trust #flashfiction #amwriting


Thanks to Nortina S for hosting Moral Monday’s. This week’s moral prompt is: “There’s no ‘I’ in Team.”

——-

http://www.reference.com

——-

The Panther’s high school volleyball team were playing a vital game. If they won the match, they would make it into provincials.

“Come on Jackie,” her teammate Aimee cried, “Serve the ball right into that Amazon’s face.”

Jackie set-up her serve and slammed the ball to a player named Stacey on the opposing team. Stacey missed bumping the ball and her Amazon teammates criticized her meanly. 

Jackie’s next serves against the Amazons were down the left line. An Amazon player named Lauren, began pushing her teammates out of the way to ensure she got the pass-up. Her teammates were angry she was in their space and began squabbling. 

Jackie and Aimee from the Panthers smirked. The Amazons were deconstructing from the inside. Their bickering and distrust of each other ensured they would lose the game. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Cascading Etherees – “Sleep Walker”


Thanks to Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie for hosting.


Water Girl Brook Shaden Photography
Brooke Shaden Photography

Resplendent woman in her ivory gown,

Treading downstairs in sleep, not knowing,

Dreams guide her graceful body through,

A darkened house, unaware —

Their mama walks in sleep,

Following her story,

Playing out in,

Dream –

Scapes.


She’s,

But a —

Waif as she,

Opens the front,

Door, padding barefoot,

Unto the beach, squishing,

Sand between her toes, walking,

To the ocean’s shore, where waves pull,

Lantern in hand, believes she’ll become,

A mermaid, as she wades in waters deep.


Waves brush her thighs, makes her gown sodden, wet.

She doesn’t realize anything is wrong but —

She keeps wading into the ocean,

Despite, the cold and water,

Trying to suck her down,

She keeps walking,

Knowing that,

Reward,

Waits.


Waist,

Deep she,

Kicks off from,

Sandy bottom,

She floats, her lantern —

Lights the way, as water comes,

Up to her waist and past her —

Chest as she swims, dreaming she has,

Her mermaid’s tale, joins her sisters in —

Ocean, she greets them, soaring in the waves.


From the house, a small girl watches, mama sink.

Tears roll down, soft cheeks; mom doesn’t return.

“Stay away from the ocean girl,” her —

Grandma always warned them.

Mama needed freedom,

Didn’t actually die.

Daughter knows she,

Swims in deep,

Peaceful

Now.


Girl,

Is sad,

But knows her –

Most loved mama,

Goes to happier place,

To ocean’s froth, she’s free.

Gran cooks pancakes, strawberry —

Sauce and whipped cream; mama’s favorite,

Girl watches with delight how mermaids play,

Sees Mom flip jade tail, waving to her girl.


©Mandibelle16 (2016). All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

Three Line Tales: You Gave Me Your Time Piece #amwriting #fiction #3Linetales


Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

——-

Rachel Crowe

——

1. You gave my your time piece, a silver heavy object, you kept in your suit pocket watching it often as time tick-tocked away; you were healthy, smiling, said you needed me to keep your watch close. 

2. You gave me your time piece and I did not understand why at first; it was only a silly pocket watch and it ticked and it tocked as you feverishly slept in bed, growing sickly, pale, thinner, and telling me your time was coming.

3. You gave me your time piece, I knew what it meant now; we’d no children to pass it onto, we were both so young; yet, here I am, holding your ashes in an urn and as I throw them into the troubled ocean, it occurs to me in the silence –the time piece stopped ticking. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse –  “Words Which Can’t Be Snatched” #amwriting #poetry #badday


http://www.publicdomainpictures.net

———–

The walls close in, I cannot breath.
Sitting inhaling between my legs, 

My breathe is short, my throat constricted.

I will not play the victim, 

Though anxiety and stress, 

Isn’t something I handle well because —

A sickness lives and hurts me. 

It’s not clear to everyone, 

You can appear and sound well, 

Yet, be caught in the Guinea Pig’s wheel, 

Some kind of rotating Hell. 

Release me from prison, I’m praying for help, 

My God, my God, I feel alone. 

A need to get this pain off of my chest, 

I can’t breathe, feel asphyxiated. 

Such tears redden my eyes, blank and bloodshot;

A blue so grey, it’s the eye of the suffocating storm. 

You think it’s safe, but a dark madness comes fast, 

Shaking you off your feet.

Turning you to mush, dust, particles of air.

Aren’t we all atoms, building cells — at a smaller level? 

What makes it so such atoms making cells form a being, 

A pin cushion to be stabbed? 

While cells of blood splash unto the floor.

Forsake me not, 

Terrible days come out of nowhere. 

I cannot think, I have no words.

Head pounding, a drums beat, 

I think I might throw-up. 

Careless words written, make me ill,

Shake my foundation, 

Take away my control.

You have no clue how I feel. 

After all these years, you believe you’ve solved me?  

You’ve only picked a lock, in a chain of locks locked.

But you hurt with your writing — why didn’t you ask? 

You’re shaking my world, I have no strength, 

I’m not in the place you think I am. 

You rock my foundations, I’m not doing well. 

Answer me this, how could you think

Fatigue such as mine goes away, by blinking? 

You haven’t solved the riddle, 

You cause me great problems.

And a horrible day doesn’t end, 

Tone of voice, sets off tears again.

You don’t treat me like an adult, only a child —

Because I’m forever screwing up.

I want out but, how do I escape? 

For I find I’ve built, my own prison. 

And you tighten the chains, 

Until breath and blood flow flicker out, 

Until everything which matters blows apart.

Until in the sky, floats clouds, sunbeams radiant, 

And the Eagles take me flying on their backs.

And I escape to poetry, 

Such words which can’t be snatched. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved