50 ways to say “looks/seems like”


50 ways to say looks/seems.

World of Horror

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Maydays: Book Spines Poem – Free Verse – “A Prince and A Cook” 



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Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #MayDay prompts. Today’s prompt is about books.

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A Passion for Narrative, to tell a tale, 

One taking place during Ragtime, to no avail —

A Tale of Two Cities, who didn’t get a long well, 

The Prince ruled both with Machiavellin swell, 

He didn’t see how easily Things Fall Apart, 

Neither was he there in the America When the Eagle Screamed depart,

He thought of Sons and Lovers, a life snuffed out,

Measure for Measure time left in the dust despite his shouts,

He’d never been a good man, taking care of Midnight’s Children,

He believed all people were Dog Soldiers, cannon fodder broken, 

He didn’t know the baggage, The Things They [people] Carried,

The Prince cared only for war and power, sometimes Faking It, days varied.

Difficulties being commander when you’re too fat to be master, 

Bought his cook a book Cook Yourself Thin Faster.

She had A Scarlet Letter and was surprised by the book, to have the dictator eat better.

The cook dreamt of tales told, of The Aeneid, Virgil’s words enticed her,

She swore this would be The Last Summer, she cooked The Prince his meals,

Inside her a voice screamed, Have A Little Faith; she believed that voice real, 

Reading in her spare time a biography of Steve Jobs, unsure if he was a modern prince or a genius, or both.

The cook hadn’t decided yet, but she didn’t like Job’s attitude, it made her him loath, 

She preferred stories about wonderful creatures imagined such as The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe,

Where good conquered all with a Lion’s roar, and reading away she silently strode.

Can You Keep A Secret? She’s leaving tonight, leaving The Prince to fend,

In this modern world, searching for a place where her broken heart stitched with a letter ‘A’ mends.

The Prince sits alone in his castle, soldiers having deserted the pen, 

In the modern age, a war fought with words, reminds him of his life’s Renaissance,

So he penned The Thirteenth Tale, the papacy rejected,

The number thirteen being evil, and so The Prince remained lost and dejected.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Last Call


Thanks to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. Today’s moral is: “Nothing good ever happens after 2:00 am.”

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http://www.resourcesforsunglemoms.com

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“There you are,” Jason the guy Emma had been flirting with said.

Jason brought Emma another couple of drinks and they talked and laughed. Emma was entranced by Jason’s magnetic grey-blue eyes and attractive face.

At last call, Jason began to kiss Emma and after that, the rest of the night turned into a blur.

Emma awoke naked in Jason’s bed the following afternoon. 

 “Hey Emma.” Jason said beside her, “Did you have a good time? I know I did.”

“I don’t remember,” Emma said feeling sick. 

Jason kissed her forehead. “Just a little something I put into your drink to help you relax.” 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.