Fiction, Flash Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction/Taleweaver:  The Down Pour #flashfiction #taleweaver #amwriting 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver #137 on the theme of opening and what that word could mean. Also, thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting Sunday Photo Fiction September 10, 2017. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Min peered at the downpour outside her front window. The rain added to the river’s violent movements beneath her house. 

When she and her son, Sam had moved here, Min hadn’t thought the river below them was dangerous. She’d believed the quiet river had brought her serenity. It’s gentle babble once opened Min’s mind to dreaming. 

However, later that night the river water was at the bottom of Min’s house. She groaned when water began trickling in over the wood floor and carpets. 

“We have to leave now,” Min told Sam, “The water keeps climbing and if we leave it too long we’ll be trapped on the roof.” 

Sam tried his mom’s cellphone. “The cell towers are down so we can’t even call for help. We shouldn’t have stayed, Mom. We should’ve left days ago.” 

Min rubbed Sam’s shoulder before they both grabbed their pre-packed bags rushing out the front door. They had no choice but to wade through water that was hip deep. They sloshed down the bridge/walkway created between all the house’s built above the river. 

When Min and Sam had reached higher ground away from their neighborhood, they sighed collapsing on cots in a school where some of the city’s refugees had began gathering. The river water had been up to Min and Sam’s neck before they had been able to climb uphill, away from the bridge. 

Thank God they had taken the opportunity to leave when they did. Having a moment to spare Min stepped outside and prayed her thanks beneath the open sky and endless rain. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Quadrille – “Far Too Real” #poetry #dverse #photochallenge


Thanks to Bjorn from #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting a prompt about writing a poem asking questions only. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo Challenge. 

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Credit: Mark Harless

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Lady of the forest, 

Your thirst is quenched? 

You’ve found ambrosia waters? 

Supped on nectar sweet? 

Diana, Huntress, do you —

Wander meadows, 

Before ether sleep?  

Are you alert —

With bow, arrows? 

Drinking so deeply, 

Your body flourishes, 

Wild flowers? 

Bathing in Gaia’s silence? 
Wondering where, 

Your people went? 

Knowing they’re Mythology;

And you’re far too real

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Beauty, dVerse, Fiction, Friday Music Prompt, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Wrapped Refrain, Writing, Writing Challenges

Music Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “Those Pink Sunglasses” #dverse #poetry #musicchallenge 


Thanks to Lillian of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for the September 12, 2017 prompt onto use the words rain, reign, rein in a poem. Also combining this prompt with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie last Music Challenge with the song “Pink Sunglasses” by Miranda Lambert. Going for the triple threat with Bjorn’s Bjorn’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub prompt on using an extended, well known metaphor without “like” or “as.” I’m going to pick up on Miranda Lambert’s metaphor of “pink sunglasses” which I think very much overlaps with wearing “rose colored glasses.” 

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Credit: Pinterest.com

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Miranda Lambert “Pink Sunglasses” 

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Rein in your white horses, the Queen of Pink’s going to reign 

She’s pretty classy, kind of sassy, in a bubblegum way. 

All around her is dreary pain, 

She doesn’t blink or feel the rain

Pouring down, plastering her —

See-through t-shirt, guys inferring, 

More than needs saying about her — bright pink sunglasses worn, 

Her way to see the world, the old rose glasses cracked, ignored. 

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Pink is so much better, forget about rainy weather, 

Giggle, leave behind the tragic, drink pink champagne whether —

You’re sad or too glad, pink masks —

Ironies, truth is, life is glass

It shatters far too easily, 

Rose lenses dimmed as pink’s appeased. 

Cause you can buy plastic pink sunglasses to view the world, 

For $9.99 they’re so easy to replace, cheap pearls. 

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Appearing in my pocket when I go anywhere ’cause —

There’s power in plastic pink shades, curing the bad that was. 

Put them on when people are mad, 

Wear them when you’re feeling quite sad. 

Ignore naysayers without the pink, 

Bringing rude negative thinking. 

These pink babies don’t shatter or crack, if they do buy more —

Best placebo I’ve had while out loving life exploring. 

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Don’t care about the truth, reality is annoying

I’ll pass by you dancing ’cause without pink, life quickly destroys. 

Addicted to living with thick —

Sweet sugar coating of plastic. 

Through the pink I see what I want, 

And I do whatever and I flaunt. 

Rose glasses go away, pink is brighter, it doesn’t fade, 

My shades, wearing them I reign unafraid, I’ve got it made 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Free Verse, Health, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – “It’s a Fact of Life” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW September 5, 2017. 

Excuse the length. I saw the photograph and it fit my poem well. Since I’m still two weeks behind I don’t know that it matters 🙂 

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Credit: Artycaptures.wordpress.com

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When I visit here, 

It’s a fact of life. 

Blood drawn with tiny needles.

Some days they sting, 

Stringing out two seconds. 

Other days, the needle doesn’t register. 

It was a fact of life,

I had to visit here each week,

For the first six months. 

Then, every other week, 

Now each month the rest of my life. 

It’s a fact of life, 

So I don’t pay much attention. 

Facing away when the needle grazes, 

The same ‘good’ vein. 

Blueish-purple in my left arm, 

Silver-violet threads of blood vessels. 

Some months these needles bruise, 

Leave my skin raw and red; 

But If I’ve someone skilled,

There’s a slight indentation. 

Each month —

Babies crying concertos. 

An ominous feeling in the air. 

They’ve no choice —

But to know sharp pain. 

A poke stinging eternities of fire, 

For a wink in time. 

Wailing and —

The waiting room patients’ sigh. 

Then silence follows, 

The miniature massacre. 

Everyone checking, rechecking watches, 

Pulling out phones. 

Waiting for that sickening needle, 

Shuffling in seats,

Legs crossed and uncrossed. 

Glossy magazine pages turned, 

With frequent frustration. 

Toddlers running,

Mothers trying to calm them, 

Hushing their lively squeaks. 

I’m used to having blood drawn, 
Turning my head, 

Focusing on some object, 

Or a distant thought. 

There’s persistent pain as the needle pulls, 
My blood into the tube. 

Six to nine tubes today, 

Blood annexed for annual work. 

These tests burn —

Worse than the tattoo artist’s etching. 

Sketching out the black lines, 

Worse than her needle, 

Grazing repeatedly, 

Skin with vibrant colours. 

Back and forth movements, 
Calming and hushing,

Knowing what to expect and where. 

Conversation, music soothing, 

Then, the artist is done. 

Her needles leaving, 

A work of art behind. 

But the blood test needles ache worse. 

Similar to the last flu shot,

Some years not felt at all.

Other years a poke that —

Throbs all day. 

Despite praying the pharmacist,

Will slide the needle in,

Not deliver a death blow. 

Droplets of bright blood plop, 

To the stark white floor. 

She laughs, this never happens. 

Her mouth turns downward, 

Because you grimace, 

Squish your eyes shut counting the seconds;

Until the hurt dulls. 

She wonders why you wince, 

Why you’re so sensitive.

Says the swelling will fade, 

You’ll live, 

It’s a fact of life. 

It’s a matter of proper training, 

Slipping any needle in gently. 

Not jabbing and mincing, 

A persons veins or muscles. 

Yet still, a fact of life. 
But I remember being six and crying,

Fighting my mother, 

She was angry. 

Because I saw the needle, 

And refused. 

Today, the blood test needles are thinner. 

Adults can ignore them, right

Grit their teeth while the bloods, 

Ripped away, into a tube. 

It’s a fact of life. 

That some things are sharper and dig holes deeper, 

Than blood tests, flu shots, or tattoos. 

There is greater pain flowing from our insides,

If only the hurt could be drawn out as blood. 

If happiness, no worries, and no obligations —

Was all that remained behind. 

If only —

The tattoo artists colours, 

Garunteed you with fantastic health. 

And flu shots didn’t speak of fragility; 

Only the best humors in our blood. 

Gossamer strings supporting dreams. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Fiction, Interior design, My Thoughts, Poetry, Senryu - 5,7,5 - 3 verses - 17 syllables, Three Line Tales, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “At Home” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Niv Rozenberg via Unsplash

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Tiny houses they’re —

Everywhere cause bigger —

Places cost too much.

—-

Because you cannot —

Tow your mansion off to,

Beaches or camping.

——-

Because you can go,

Anywhere, being comfortable —

When feeling at home.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Books, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Pinterest, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes Part One September 2017 #pinterest #quotes 


Happy mid- September! I hope life is treating everyone well. I have always loved the fall although I also always miss the summer,the festivals, outdoor markets, the sun high in the sky at 11:00 p.m. I miss sipping sangria, cosmopolitans, bellinies, and Caesars on the patio at various bars and restaraunts. My favorite thing where I live is when bars and restaurants make their patio larger in the summer months. It’s a temporary thing but it’s fun.   

Autumn has its own remarkable beauty and hopefully nice weather until at least mid- November. But we’re not always that lucky here. Anyways, today’s quotes are Harry Potter themed, them returning to school in Fall as most kids and University students do.  J.K. Rowling was/is a wise lady. 

Cheers,

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Credit: www. Pinterest.com 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Actor/ Actress, Children/YA/Family, Current Events, dVerse, Fiction, Free Verse, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Super Women” #poetry #amwriting #taleweavers #dVerse 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver Prompt #135 in Princess Charming, a female heroine saving Prince Charming. Also, thanks to Grace of Poet’s Pub for hosting open link night. 

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Credit: Google for Reuse

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They say that, 

Real heros have capes, tights;

Uniforms and Bat lights. 
They shoot webs, 
Like spiders but from, 

Their palms. 

Flying and leaping, 

Over tall buildings. 

Their technology is —

Top of the line. 

They’re stoic, tough, 

Bantering, 

Male bonding and showmanship.

Strong shields guard,  

Robatic armour too. 

Glowing hearts of uranium, 

And flying suits. 

Hands pulsing lasors. 

With green hoods, 

Piercing arrows. 

Strength that’s incalculable

They’re ages old, 

Hundreds or Thousands. 

There human or from, 

Other dimensions, worlds. 

Becoming angry, 

Mean and green. 
Are blinded but powerful. 

Yet few will notice, 

Female superheroes, 

Their tough outer layers. 
They’ve a solid insistence, 

For the good of mankind. 

They sacrifice as a —

Black Widow or a mutant, 

Causing storms. 

The Mockingbird or a Scarlet Witch.

The Wolverine’s friend, Rogue. 

Women know, 

How being gentle, 

Is as mighty as Thor’s hammer. 

How sensitivity with honed, 

Physical skills, 

Has an authentic glory. 

Not understanding, 

Why men keep warring. 

Even though —

They know they must. 

So, they do too, 

Wonder Womans and —  

Super girls, 

Their skirts shorter. 

Slipping into —

Dark corners, 

To hide their tears;

Heroic tears 

As in a man’s world —

Most men don’t recognize, 

The first Wonder Woman, 

In their life, 

Gave birth to them. 

Nurtured them, 

Their superpowers hidden, 

To be the best — 

Moms. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “Winged Hope” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 29, 2017. Also, thanks to Paul Scribbles of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting a poetry prompt on magic

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Credit: Jade M. Wong – FFftAW

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Art bleeds, 

Nobody’s seen before —

Winged ring,

Mortally wounded.  

Some kids arrows —

Embedded. 

Forever trickling,  

Whenever someone’s — 

Dying. 

Knives, gunshots wounds. 

Whether they’re sick —

On pain medication. 

Or dead in sleep.

Winged circle bleeds, 

For generations. 

Weeping blood,

For death is —

Constant. 

Yet in darkness, 

Gleams old magic, 

Hope’s recourse, 

Heals. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Octain Refrain/Double/High - Abbac/cabA Abbad/dabA, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Poem – Octaine Refrain – “Sweet Peaches” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for writing prompt #217. I have chosen to use the topic a walk in the forest, the male nam Uyeno, the female name Ulestra, the fruit a peach, the color cerise, and the sensation shiver

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Credit: Ian Baldwin via Unsplash

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Wondering in the forest, found sweet peaches

Away from the brilliant lights, the gasoline —

Cars running down pedestrians unseen. 

Away from advertising, such harsh cries —

Selling products, various foods tendered. 

My pockets are full and I’ve my own splendour. 

I, Ulestra, have what I need supplied.    

I don’t want to bicker with faceless vendors, 

Wondering in the forest, found sweet peaches

Wonderimgin the forest, found sweet peaches

I’ve no love but for what nature she brings, 

Other days I’ll shop, enjoy frivolties. 

Those who want my peaches they come to me,

Cerise and sunrise peaches for a fee. 

My massive dog, Uyeno, stops thieves’ sting. 

Loud barks, I shiver but I’m safe rendered. 

Wondering in the forest, found sweet peaches

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Nature, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Touch Too Mad #amwriting #Wonderland #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF on August 27, 2017

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Credit: Dawn M. Miller

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“What’s this new game we’re playing?” Alice brushed back her hair. 

“You’re all out here with teacups balanced on chair legs. What’s going on?”

The White Rabbit checked his pocket watch. “It’s time for tea, right now.”

The March Hare laughed, “Such an interesting game. Good thing the Door Mouse is on hiding in a teapot.”

Alice stomped her foot.”Really, explain yourselves!” 

She heard a maniacal laugh. “Oh, Hatter. There you are. I was getting worried.”

The Mad Hatter bowed, “Yes, my girl, you’re right on time. Now where is your pistol?”

“Pistol? I’m twelve! What do I need a pistol  for?”

“To shoot the teacups and what’s inside them,” said the March Hare.

“This is even crazy for you guys. Wait! What’s inside them?”

The Hatter removed his favorite silk hat. “Oh, you’ll love it! We shrunk them down, put a drop in their tea.”

“What have you done, Hatter? Rabbit, you need to tell me immediately.”

The White Rabbit removed his pocket watch and vest. “We shrank the cards, three hearts, of course.”

The Mad Hatter laughed, “The best part isn’t the cards it’s the Queen.”

“The Queen of hearts?”

“Yes, Alice,” said Hatter. “Do you know what cup she’s in?”

Alice’s eyes grew round. She cringed as the March Hare took his first shot missing. Then the Mad Hatter shot his pistol shattering a tea cup. 

He handed Alice his pistol.”Here you are now. Only two cups left and a fifty- fifty chance you’ll hit the queen.”

Her face went white. Alice starred into the Mad Hatter’s crazed eyes and swallowed. 

When did Wonderland become so insane? 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.