NaPoWriMo: Poem – Earth – Etheree- “Caretakers Beware”


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And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s prompt comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who also suggested our prompt for Day Seven. Today, Gloria challenges us all to write a poem in honor of Earth Day. This could be about your own backyard, a national park, or anything from a maple tree to a humpback whale. Happy writing!

For more information please see NaPoWriMo. The poem form is Etherees, repeated, and turned upside down, and written as they are.


Mother Earth
http://www.fitfitmagazine.nl

Calling her Mother, created in beginning,

Adoration is hers, our provider,

Gods hands formed, but yet she falters,

He said be her caregiver,

Taking more then we’re meant,

Using her until she —

Is broken, torn,

We gouged,

For fuel,

Earth.

—-

Child,

of her,

Beginnings,

Forgetting our place,

Nurture her as she,

Nurtures her caretakers,

Ignorance destroys beauty,

Creator so lovingly beheld and,

Let us name earth’s creatures — disappearing.

Don’t forget, protect earth, greed consumes her.


Through thousands, perhaps, millions of years past,

She’s shifted and shook, born massive waves.

Mother’s rage, brings disastrous tears,

Volcanoes spewing lava,

Mountains losing their face,

Forests, fires, and ash.

Tornado wound,

Earth torn

Lost.

Our,

fault true,

Had we not,

Eaten forbidden,

Earth would be perfect,

Sin infects entire world,

Blame ourselves for her eruptions,

Our Forefathers, corrupted nature complete.

Earth’s damage repair, or she self-destructs.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


 

 

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How to Make Boring Story Parts Exciting


Great Writing Tips

Kristen Lamb's Blog

Golden Goose

Image by DonkeyHotey/Flickr CC

This is another guest post by blogger and copywriter Alex Limberg. If you have followed my blog in the last couple of months, you have probably come across him, namely because the Stockholm’s Syndrome sets in faster when you drug the candy 😀 .

Once again, I’m going to gently nudge you into the direction of his free ebook about “44 Key Questions” to test your story; it will help you make your scenes tight and compelling and detect any story problem you might have. This time, Alex is showing us a very interesting recipe to keep every single part of your story interesting. Take it away, Alex!

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Uh-oh! It’s showdown time.

In your heart-stopping thriller piece, Tinky the milkman has just found out who poisoned Lady Chatterbee’s canary. Now he is driving to the ash grove for the faceoff in the old mill.

View original post 1,682 more words

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Not Ready for Kids


” Look at the girl in that back seat signing to us,” Eve told Adam, pointing. ” How cute, she must be bored from the long car ride.” Adam scoffed.

” What is it with you and kids?” Adam asked Eve, ” You love my bratty nieces and nephews  and now you adore some little girl in a passing car’s window?”

” What’s wrong with liking kids? Your sister’s kids are well behaved and they like me as much as I like them.”

“Do you have to talk about kids? Can’t we be childless adults in our thirties? I feel as if you’re suggesting we should have kids.” Adam told Eve, appearing wan. 

Eve began to laugh boisterously.”It’s not funny,” Adam said trying not to smile.

“It’s hilarious Adam. You’re the only kid I can handle right now.” Eve said rubbing Adam’s arm.”Maybe, when you stop getting us kicked out of the bar, we can think about children.” 

“Eden, the bar we went to last night?” Adam asked,”I don’t remember drinking that much. . .Wait a minute! Who are you to talk Eve? You’re the one who kept buying me drinks last night, temptress.” 

Eve smiled. “Nope, I guess we’re not ready for kids.”

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Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

3Line Tales:  Dogs and Death Flowers.


Thank you to Sonya from 100 Words or Less for hosting this week’s prompt.

Kazuend

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 1. My dog used to burry her nose in flowers, when she walked outside in Spring and Summer; it was the loveliest moment to witness her absorbing the scent of flowers with her sharp sense of smell; the flowers must have smelled pleasing to her, a fragerent blossom she adored, because the dog would leave her nose buried in the flowers for longer then was necessary to simply check-out a smell; she loved how flowers smelt.

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2. A unique talent this dog had was helping me choose the perfect perfume; whenever I received a new magazine in the mail, I would open the flap of the perfumed pages and hold them out for her to smell one page at a time; it got to the point where the dog would expect to do this every time a new fashion magazine came; she could tell if the magazine was one for her to smell and decide if a perfume smelt heavenly, disgusting, or somewhere inbetween; if she liked the scent she would sniff the page, smelling the scent for a while before walking away; if the scent was bad she would smell the page and sneeze a few times right away; and if the scent was only okay, she would smell it, wait a while and then sneeze once; true enough, the scents she sneezed at were never scents I purchased or liked.

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3. I’m not sure what kind of flowers these are, they are beautiful and ugly; they speak of springs presence, of hope, and renewal, but I’ve always had this issue with little white flowers, inherited from my Mother; flowers that remind me carnationd, which are small are similar to these flowers pictured, remind me of death; Grandpa Wilson had them on his casket when I was eight-years-old and when my Dad would bring these flowers home for my Mom, she’d sigh and say, “death flowers;” years later, Dad took the hint and now he brings Mom roses on special occasions.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.