Three Line Tales: Nothing Is Green #3Linetales #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3Line Tales: 

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Stephen Wei

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1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air. 

2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.

3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Photo Challenge:  Poem – Ninefold – “A Ruined Wedding Dress” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge.

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http://www.creoflick.net

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Her dress floats on water, foam and tulle froth.

Hair braided, done-up, style for a doll. 

Jasmine perfume wafts with her kite.

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She wonders why she’s sitting here, chair —

Afloat, with her on it; and she’s perturbed, 

Caught between a woman and a girl in —

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Wedding dress; she flew far, with spirit.

No pastor to bind her to God and man, 

She grins at her ruined lace dress soaked. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Petrarchen Sonnet – “When Autumn Falls” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt on the changing of seasons into Fall and how it influences our thinking.

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Credit: Mara Eastern with permission.

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Leaves begin to change, butterscotch yellow, 

The reds and oranges blaze into being.

I’ve even seen dark purple plum seeming, 

To alter green from summers pleasant glow.

Sunlight fades to shorter nights, cold wind blows.

Shorts and sandals packed, sadly left dreaming.

Of gorgeous nights spent breathing warmth, now seeing —

Prayers streaming to God, please yet keep the snow. 

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Favourite season, feel comfortable walking, 

Strewn leaves, scented decay and pleased —

On the porch still sipping wine and talking.

No sunburns now, most loved fashion season, 

Fancy boots and shoes; snow please stop stalking. 

Always unwanted, snow comes, lace knocking.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Self-Healing and Caustic” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.123hdwallpapers.com

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The darkness conceals, filthy misdeeds. 
Hidden weapons, malovelence.

Daggers hidden in tips of boots,

Removed from suit coats, in suit linings revealed, 

To silence my heart, and I think it’s the end.

But my heart keeps beating, a hard steady beat;

I hear it alone, only in my ears because everywhere else —

There’s dead silence; but in the silence, 

My heart is a drum, banging out the beats of life and renewal, 

The thump thump, the tempo which will not end.

You’re too generous to stab me in the back,

So it must be in my chest, through the organ which loved you. 

Now my blood spills, but my heart keeps up a ‘Lub-dub,’ 

Waiting for a death which never arrives. 

There is only the sound of my blood pooling in silence.

Yet, I’m only pained by the horrific sound of nothing, 

My heart is strong and I struggle through,

Only to find I have not what most call life’s blood. 

My veins weep venom, for I run on poison — not blood.

And the vitral having leaked into ventricles, 

Pumps throughout my body, 

My own sickly blood healing me and —

Killing my lost love, a murder; 

All those exposed, the blood is poison for.

I’m overcome by sadness as I’m lying here, 

Heart beating, but I should be dead? 

But I’m still going strong with my blood self -healing.

A poisonous farewell I give to everyone I lose.

 I’m unaffected by a dagger aimed, 

Didn’t conceive of my body regenerating.

And my blood in the open — it ends lives.

I rise and into the night fade, as if I never was.

Tears leaking down my face, caustic themselves. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Unshedlike Shed #flashfiction #amwriting #fall


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Phylor

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Matt never talked about the shed in his yard. In the past he’d been rude about it, if I asked him. But I’d never seen the shed door half-open before.

He gazed at me steadily as he often did now. One day five-months ago I caught him staring at me and he blushed.

Now, he’s trying to tame the wisps of hair from my face, but neither of us had made a real move. 

 “Why is the shed half-open?” I asked.

 “The basket in the shed door, it’s for us. We’re going on a fall picnic,” Matt said proudly.

I blushed, “Where are we going to have the picnic Matt?” 

“In the shed, Aubrey.” 

“But we’re not allowed in there remember? Your Dad said never.” I reminded him.
“It was one of my Dad and my Mom’s favourite places when Mom was alive. I told my Dad I was taking you on a picnic and he told me to clean up the shed for you; Grandma helped with the decore.” 

I grinned.

The shed was rustic-sheek, painted in soft ocean-toned colours. There was a loft up top with a queen mattress, thick white cotton sheets, a navy duvet, and several accent pillows.

There was a huge white window with a navy cushion to read on. The shed even had a small kitchen with mini- appliances and a metal and wood island for two, along with a washroom with a matching tiled shower.

I gazed at the ash wood floor as the sun danced across it and back to Matt.”This is amazing! You did all this for me?” I asked overwhelmed, tears slipping down my cheeks.

That’s when Matt took my chin in his hand and kissed me. It was the first of a lifetime of kisses and memories in our unshedlike hideaway. 

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My apologies. I think this piece is a bit long, but I can’t seem to cut more right now. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.