Three Line Tales: Red Against the Dim #3LineTales #poetry #amwriting


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales four weeks ago.

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Credit: Alex Iby via Unsplash

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Awash with gray, sea roaring,

Lone figure misunderstanding,

Nature mimicking a downcast mood.

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Crashing cymbals against the shoreline,

Warm red coat,

Brilliant cherry against the dim.

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Cocoon cozy thaws ice inside,

No longer threatening,

Waves soften, gentle hope blossoms.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Three Line Tales: Enough #3LineTales #poetry #amwriting


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales three weeks ago.

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Credit: Scott Umstattd via UnSplash

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It was a fine meal until Mark threw his cutlery down shouting,”I’ve had enough.” I didn’t know what he meant and didn’t think we had marriage problems as we had a date night each week, talked in the mornings and evenings, and throughout text messages all day. We’d been married ten years and my eyes teared up at Mark’s unexpected outburst; he brushed a tear from my cheek and whispered, “I’m not done with you silly, just your cooking.”

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©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: The Promised Land #3LineTales #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting last week’s #3LineTales.

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Credit: Tobias Keller via Unsplash

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We leave at dawn, the horses saddled and well rested. The gleaming morning light shines upon us and I feel blissful, as if there’s certain hope that wherever we end up it’s going to be providential; it’ll be a land with milk and honey. There has to be a divine reason we were forced to leave our home, why our friends and neighbors burned it to the ground, and why we must rebuild are life in obscurity; God would not dessert us now amidst the endless wilderness, would He?

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: The Journey to Nowhere #3LineTales #amwriting #fiction


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

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Credit: Patrick Wittke via Unsplash

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Whitney’s mane is downy faun combed smooth. Her coat is the softest chestnut against my skin and I pull my sore body onto her saddle; I bury my hands in the warmth of her coat. Whitney let’s out a slight whinny instantly recognizing my scent as I rub my face in her mane and scratch her ears; I dig my knees into her sides and she leaps forward, continuing the journey to nowhere.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.