Current Events, Event, History, My Thoughts, Pinterest, Quotes, Writing

Notable Quotes Part One #pinterest #quotes #Canada150


Happy Canada Day all you Canadians. Today our country is 150 yrs old. This may seem a small number to some if you, especially in Europe. But to us it’s pretty awesome! ūüá®ūüá¶ūüéąūüéČūüéāūü•É‚̧ԳŹ
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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Event, Free Verse, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem: Free Verse – In Memory of Evelyn #amwriting #poetry #elegy


Credit: Amanda Eifert
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A few months ago a dear friend passed away at 98 years old. She was a grandma, my great godmother, and in these last few years, a genuine friend. I miss her very much and writing her letters to mail with a poem or small story. It was our thing and I visited her as much as I was able. The last time I saw Evelyn we visited a few hours in her room. Then,  I was leaving and I couldn’t get out the door to reach the elevators. Finally, I got to the elevators went out the front time and stopped. 

I looked back at the wonderful care facility she’d been staying in these past three years. She was in her own home until she was 95. I had this strange feeling that I woldn’t see her again. I gazed back deciding all I could do was hope that in a month or two, she would still be alive and well. I do wish one more visit might have been possible. 

She was a wonderful, outgoing, and opinionated person. She demonstrated great care with people and her hospitality is/was famous. She even drove big trucks and was a mechanic in her day besides working at the Woodwards Department store for many years. For much her life, she was a single mother. Evelyn had many talents, her cooking, her unpredictability, and a spirit that kept on shining and pushing through life’s miseries. 

R.I.P Evelyn. I’ve been trying to finish this last poem for you for a few months.  It’s taken me awhile to get right! I’m so happy you are with our Heavenly Father and no longer suffering in any way. 

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A monument falls, crumbles, 

Although, she was strong. 

An impenetrable force, 

A spit-fire, a trail blazer. 

You can press your hands against thick steel, rock, or concrete, 

Wonder how such monuments are designed, 

Buildings of beauty, fortified through time;

How could they fall? 

Then you realize that soft skin isn’t stone, 

And a woman isn’t a superhero. 

When you gaze into the past, into beloved photographs, 

You see how smooth marble crinkles, 

As fine lines, directions on a map. 

The most elegant calligraphy, 

Words muted in the unforgiving sun. 

And photographs appear in memories, 

The warming light of conversation, 

Over hearth: satisfying food and laughter. 

Yet, still I attempted to see how her puckered lips,

Were once plump, young, and beguiling.

Long gone are her cherubic child’s lips, 

Nearly a century ago. 

And flawless cream skin is marked, 

Lines settled in, can be followed, 

A pattern of an Autumn leaf. 

No monument left to be seen, no eyes sparkling, 

With a smile uniquely hers, 

Never to be repeated;

Only in whispers of genealogy. 

A monument stood and —

She was significant. 

Someone who was seen and not afraid to be, 

A grandma who paraded around, 

 In forty two pairs of shoes — probably more. 

Her body could be strengthened with steel, 

Knees and hips better off with fabrication; 

The real ones worn out. 

Do stone monuments feel the pain of lost children? 

Of polio’s grasp, sucking the life out of a small boy.

Of a little girl who passed away a whisper. 

And of one child who survived, 

A reader, a teacher, a traveller, a builder. 

One who is imperfectly perfect as her.

My godfather with his wife, 

My godmother, both I adore.

Yet, the stubborn cheerfulness, 

Of this monument lives on in her family, 

In her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, 

And beloved relatives and friends;

Partners who marked her life, always leaving early. 

Sisters and brothers, marrying others becoming new brothers and sisters, 

How she adored and missed all them all, 

Passing away before she could blink.

For the most part, she was unsurpassed in years, 

She mourned her family and friends gone first, 

But reunites with them now.

And when she fell, the monument’s pieces scattered, 

Although all feels lost,

She needed her relief in heaven. 

And no one ever thinks that day will come, 

Until it crashes upon those left behind. 

Monuments fall, it happens every minute of every day, 

For every type of personality, 

To each person someday;

Special and authentically themselves. 

It’s okay to morn the monument’s empty place, 

To hunger for her caring advice, 

Her kind words. 

The silence is hard, her not being, 

In her home or in her room.

Now she’s aged, is dust of the earth, 

She is the ideal of herself, the creator’s perfection. 

Her life was imperfect, as we all are, 

It was shadowed by pain and misery; 

Yet her optimism always pulled her through it. 

Remembering her and taking comfort within, 

Her greetings to all those she meets again. 

The suffering and sorrow has ended, so do not cry your tears. 

For every monument is eclipsed, 

Heaven’s radiant light filters into the cracks, 

Rebuilds the rubble. 

Her figure of faith and grace. 

The love she had, that does not die, 

But multiplies in eternity, 

Waiting for her family someday. 

And for her her dear friends. 

 When we arrive, 

She’ll wonder what took us so long. 

Offering a piece of pie, uncooked fresh blueberries in a crust, 

With soft dollops of whipped cream. 

Her timeless love in cooking, baking, hospitality, 

Everyone was always welcome, 

If you weren’t, she’d tell you so. 

True monuments may appear hard and resilient, 

Underneath they are as the rest of us, 

They are frail and human. 

Time will catch up with everyone, 

And we pray we can meet our deaths, 

Mansions prepared in the sky. 

God the only monument, 

 Not our crumbled lives. 

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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Event, Flash Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesdays: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Living Small Dreams” #100WordWednesdays #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting this week’s #100WordWednesdays.

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Credit: Jessie Williams Via Unsplash

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Deep night and the darkness should seem mean, 

But in day time light exposes, reveals. 

The tranquil night holds me and conceals, 

I’m finding that black pitch, it redeems.

Souls in the day ashamed of life’s greeds, 

Broken, lost, but I’m more than what I seem. 

I’m like you, I have fond hopes and wild dreams.

More basic, I just want to have life’s needs. 

Water, food, health insurance, no delusions. 

Meds so I’m like you, not fearing night screams, 

Not having nightmares on cold streets mean. 

A homeless woman, battered, unseemly, 

Wishing for small things, a roof and hygiene. 

Wishing you’d help, want out of here, achieving —

Life where I don’t struggle but live small dreams. 

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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Children/YA/Family, Event, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, Music Review, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: The Cat Came Back #3LineTales #nonfiction #music #memories


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

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Credit: Timothy Meinberg via UnSplash

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If you grew up in Canada you knew who the children’s entertainer Fred Penner was. Everybody knows and loves Fred Penner and his singing of our favourite kid’s songs such as “The Cat Came Back.” I was thrilled to have seen him live from about ten meters away on stage at a TEDTALK’S conference where I live in 2013; his message — music can save and change lives! 

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“The Cat Came Back” by Fred Penner

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“The Cat Came Back” by Fred Penner

*****

Old Mister Johnson had troubles of his own

He had a yellow cat who wouldn’t leave its home

He tried and he tried to give the cat away

He gave it to a man goin’ far, far away.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

Now the man around the corner swore he’d kill the cat on sight
He loaded up his shotgun with nails and dynamite

He waited and he waited for the cat to come around

Ninety seven pieces of the man is all they found.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day
The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

He gave it to a man going up in a balloon
He told him for to take it to the man in the moon

The balloon came down about ninety miles away

Where he is now, well I dare not say.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

So he gave it to a man going way out West
Told him for to take it to the one he loved the best

First the train hit the curve, then it jumped the rail

Not a soul was left behind to tell the gruesome tale.

*****

But you now what?

But the cat came back the very next day
The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

Now the cat was a possessor of a family of its own

With seven little kittens till there came a cyclone

Blew the houses all apart and tossed the cat around

The air was full of kittens, and not a one was ever found.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

Sing it all again!

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

Louder Miao (Miaoooo!)

Louder (Miaoooo!)

Little quiter

Quiter miao (Miaoooo!)

quiter (Miaoooo!)

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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Event, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Sonorous Voice” #amwriting #3LineTales #poetry¬†


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

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Credit: Paulette Wooten via UnSplash

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Mood settles down, crowd whispering, 

Taking the microphone, 

Sees phones glowing in darkness. 

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His sonorous voice ooos, flows, 

Cascades in waves, 

Crescendos — crowd sings each word. 

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Shivers down our spines, melodic —

Voice raised profoundly. 

Clarity resounding, lyrics in hearts. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Event, Fiction, Friday Music Prompt, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Shakespearean Sonnet - iambic pentameter abab cdcd efef gg, Writing, Writing Challenges

Music Prompt: Poem – English Sonnet – “Whisky in The Jar-O Please” ¬†#amwriting #musicchallenge #poetry¬†


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Friday’s Music Prompt: “Whiskey In the Jar” performed by Metallica. 

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Credit: GQ – Best Way to Drink Whiskey – http://www.pinterest.com

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Whiskey In The Jar” sung by Metallica 

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Up the Cork and Kerry Mountains to find, 

Captain Farrell, money in vault to hide. 

Highway man with pistol and rapier, 

Sending him home for the devil to take. 

All his money in saddle bags hidden, 

To home for the highway man hard ridden. 

Said she would love me, never would she leave, 

Molly in bed; man there, now dead bleeding. 

Still to her chambers, go I, highway man, 

Drunk; money to mask and Molly to take. 

Captain Farrell riding up, shooting guns, 

Aiming both barrels; now in prison flung. 

Wish for Molly’s chambers to romp, yet she —

deceived; more, whiskey in the jar-O, please ūü•É 

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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Event, Fiction, History, La' Tuine - A, B, C, D -last lines all same rhyme for each stanza 9,8,9,8 syllables, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Wrapped Refrain, Writing

Day 26- NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “Under the Same Moon” #poetry #AtoZChallenge #NaPoWriMo #future


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write about wondering what “future archaeologists, whether human or from an alien civilization, will make of us . . . exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist.” Thanks to Michael of last week’s Tale Weavers from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie¬†who provided a prompt about the moon.¬†As well for A to Z Challenge for a GoodRead’s quote the letter today is the letter¬†W.¬†


The Moon
Credit: Michael – MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie

” . . . All that is now / [a]ll that is gone/ [a]ll that’s to come / and everything under the sun is in tune/ but the sun is eclipsed by the moon.

“There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it’s all dark.”
‚ÄĒ Roger Waters


Gazing into the future, ‘neath a pale moon gleaming bright,

Hard to believe, people who were, saw the same moon’s shining light.

They had houses, electricity.

So many ethnicities.

It’s different now, the gene pool changed,

Those who look unique all estranged.

All look like us, all brown eyes, dark hair, and medium skin too.

I can scarce picture blond, red-haired, green eyes, or eyes so blue.


Genetic defects they called them, so now we’re all plain, the same,

It’s weird to think, they dyed their hair, all colors, none went gray.

How was it to be individual,

Not for the whole good — sacrificial.

What makes a person now is,

Incredibly different knowing this —

Society of people who fell as those before left their cities,

Frames of what once was, rusted metal, not all that pretty.


Their language full of slang, we cannot pin down lingiustics,

Cannot find words, spoken globally, their lyrics I sing.

But their music is strange, listened —

To some and our technology it fits.

Technology they had weird, but we —

Discover strange things, sound gleaned.

Words not understandable but melodies clear and bright,

 Music is forbidden, I sing in secrecy to ancient tunes light.


Some days we watch their stories, their films, when the moon is round.

My favorite days, those brilliant plays, words with lovely sound.

And we find little toys, scrapbooks, phones,

While in the distance the guns drone.

Each man, each woman a soldier,

Controlled by who knows? With no souls.

No hope as those gone far ago had, of a war ending soon,

Gazing into the future, we lived under the same moon.


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Animals/Pets, Current Events, Event, Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales:  The Good Shepard #3LineTales #flashfiction #amwriting  


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

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Credit: Gemma Evans via UnSplash

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Oh, little lamb so marked for slaughter, with downy wool and bleating softly. Why do you release your life so easily, so innocent, not knowing you are meant to eat. Oh, silent babes, I understand now — it’s not you who die but the Good Shepard who lays down his life for his sheep; his flock he knows and marks them well, his own blood the price paid, the enemy felled

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¬©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

A L' Arora, Event, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 5 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – A L’Arora – “Steps To Eternity” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


For Day 5, the¬†NaPoWriMo¬†poetry prompt is ” to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be¬†a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often.”¬†The accompanying¬†A to Z Challenge¬†today starts with a GoodRead’s author’s quote, with a name beginning with the letter¬†E.


Forest Pathway NaNo
Credit: http://www.combiboilersleeds.com

‚ÄúI’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.‚ÄĚ ‚Äē Emma Goldman


*****

Down the path of foliage, between all the trees,

It’s where I find my space, my home sweet home.

There’s something about crisp green leaves,

Wet after the rain, while the dew clings, not letting go.

With road passing through, steps to eternity,

Enthrall me in summer’s breath, the scent of the morning,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Tree branches entwining, limbs gripped with passion,

Used to the presence of parallel lovers.

They’re completely attached, unwilling to let go,

Nymphs holding fast, enraptured with each other,

With the road passing through, steps to eternity, 

Absorbing the thrill of the mid-summer fairy dance.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Some brilliant reckless person crafted this road,

Travelers speeding through trees, guarding the sacred path.

Some pause knowing they’ve discovered sanctuary,

Freedoms breeze, they’ll stop to admire the sentinels guarding.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity,

A place where verdant nature, holds a secret prosperity.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

For hours I’ve wandered through lush trees,

Delicate roses growing, shadowed by dripping leaves.

Overcome am I, by epic beauty, of roses sweetly pink,

Crushing them in my hands, to absorb the memories.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity.

Inhaling the fragrance of aspiring life, in roses soft,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security. 

*****

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Current Events, Event, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Fiction РThe Eyes of What Now? #taleweavers #amwriting #fiction #IdesofMarch 


Thanks to¬†Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie¬†for hosting last week’s Tale Weavers. The theme is the a tale on the lighter side of things.

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Credit: Gary Larson

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Steve walked into English 311 wearing a toga and a gold spray-painted crown of leaves.

Dr. Lawerence, their English Professor, laughed at the front of the room along with some of the other students.

“Why is what Steve wearing funny?” Ambrose asked Jen, “Its not like this is some party.”

“I think it might have something to do with Julius Caesar. What about you?” Jen said dryly.

“The play we’re studying?” Ambrose’s asked. His friend, sitting behind him tittered. “Shut up, Dan,” he said.

Dan kept laughing, “How can you be reading Julius Caesar in¬†English 311 and not understand why Steve is wearing that getup?”

Dr. Lawerence overheard his student’s conversation. He chuckled, ” ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ Ambrose. Remember what I said in Monday’s class?”

Ambrose shook his head, “Eyes of what now?”

The student’s around Ambrose and their professor laughed. Jen sighed. ” Caesar was assassinated on the ‘Ides of March.’ The seer in the play told him to ‘beware’ of it, but he was still stabbed and killed.”

“I thought Brutus murdered Caesar? Now you’re saying a seer did?”

Dr. Lawerence peered at Ambrose concerned, “Are you sure you want to major in English Literature, Ambrose?”

He looked up and shrugged. The professor sighed and returned to the front of the room. There was always one in every class.

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©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.