alouette, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Food/Recipes, Health, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette –  “Papa’s Hands” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge prompt. 

——–

Credit: NEKNEERAJ- MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——–We sit at home eat,

Soft pasta with meat. 

Mama taught me to make food. 

I was a child small,

She yelled and she called —

Me  — incapable and rude.

——

They weren’t angry words. 

But words of fear learned. 

Didn’t want to test Papa, 

She wanted perfect, 

He wanted perfect.

None desired his open hand. 

—–

At such a thing as,

Messed up pasta.

A girl couldn’t help, she learned — 

To make it right or —

Face rage for bad food. 

Mistakes, not to make, she yearned. 

——

But no one’s perfect,

And she preferred.

To leave home with her husband.

With two small children,

Became immigrants. 

Living with hope in new land. 

—–

Shops in a district,

Cultural foods listed. 

Buys groceries for family. 

As do her neighbours.

Here are diverse words.

By leaps she sees life expands. 

——-

The whole family’s glad,

No one’s smacked or mad. 

Homeland missed but no regrets. 

She holds her baby, 

Of two, to her face.

Smiles and says, “I’ve no regrets.”

—–

Her child won’t have to —

Cook or be perfect. 

Or be slapped to the floor, 

 By Grandpa who thought, 

It’s how girl’s learned; not

That his hands bruised and abused. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Beauty, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Fiction – The Myriad Storm #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Sunday’s Writing Prompt Challenge. I’m still playing catchup from NaPiWriMo and A to Z,  a month later. Oloriel has given us some detailed names of colors to use in a story of some ‘peculiar ‘ kind. 

——-

Credit: Oloriel – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

———

Amaranthine clouds covered the sky as nighttime faded suffusing the morning with clouds of titian and vermillion. Jacob gazed up looking for the curulean sky, he’d even settle for a griege sky. But against all hope the curulean sky never arrived and erythaean red mixed with aubergine llfusing with a sickly viris blackening the sky and ocean. 

The vibrant erythaean red came with a warning Jacob the fishermen could not ignore. The quote his great- grandfather used, that his Grandpa used, and his dear father also mimicked, flickered through Jacob’s mind: “Red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky at mourn, sailors be warned.” 

The ocean was churning now, a deep dank lovat and zinnobar. The waves crashed against Jacob’s tiny boat. He felt most insignificant in the myriad of colors he’d witnessed this dawn and in the vastness of the angry ocean. A crack of lightning had Jacob jumping, hurrying to bring the fishing boat to harbor before the storm came closer. He pulled on ropes and adjusted his sails, steering the boat towards land that appeared close but was too far away. 

He mumbled ‘Hail Marys’ and hoped above hope, soaked to the bone, as the ocean threatened to capsize his fishing boat. Then, brilliant xanthic lightning hit the boat and Jacob bumped his head, falling unconscious the waves battered his ship. 

The next thing he knew, he was lying on a sandy beach, his boat mostly undamaged sitting further up shore. He didn’t know how he or his boat had managed to survive but he gazed up at the clear azure sky and thanked God for his good fortune. His favourite color was a sunny azure blue it meant tranquility and a good day’s catch. It was quiet hope being strengthened after the horror of a storm. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Blank Verse - unrhymed Iambic Pentameter, Current Events, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Health, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix: Poem – Blank Verse – “Addiction Nightmares” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Saturday Mix Prompt. The prompt is to write a Homeric or Epic Simile. 

———

Credit: Angel Jimenez via UnSplash

——-

He lived his life did, what he could, but could —

Not find a way to escape the demons. 

He could not escape his addiction; the —

Monster sunk his teeth into him when his, 

Guard was down; he would feel wonderful, 

Healthy, good, then he felt it’s teeth gnawing. 

The biting, the teeth claiming his flesh, would make, 

His skin itch until he wanted to tear it, 

Off; running for the bathroom where he hid, 

His medication, the pills he so craved. 

Wanted to quit; to never take again, 

But the monster clawing down his back would, 

Never stop; not until he claimed him for–

His own; made him demon too, who hits her, 

His girl; who loves him, though hallucinates, 

Of the Hell monster,  he lives in terror of, 

He wakes from Hell to find his family, 

Has deserted him; he’s alone breathing; 

Trying to forget the demon who would start, 

Eating him alive soon, making his temper —

Rise and his fists fly as he imbibes too, 

Craving the second monster who is the, 

Only way to handle the greater, 

The worst monster, the devil hiding. 

Evil itself repeatedly gnawing, 

Trapping him in Hades, stripping his —

Soul; so he feels that he does not exist;

For anyone, but to grind and lash out. 

To battle the demon, his addiction, 

And no one can help him, they’ve given 

Up all hope; so one day he thought he would, 

Give in let the monster finish him. 

Bind and seal the deal, his soul in hell for, 

All eternity and he was going, 

To jump when he saw —  a light, awoke; 

In the room of the addictions unit. 

At the hospital and the nurse tells him, 

“It’s okay it’s been a month and you’re —

Dreaming again; it’s a wicked —

Nightmare and not your reality now.

Keep clean and the monster, he’ll leave soon, 

Then, you’ll be free as you’re here and —

Remain aware; when you leave stay far from, 

Put those drugs, the alcohol behind. 

And soon you must embrace your new life, 

Make your apologies and live.” 

The man sighs almost crying, so —

Happy the demons are distant dreams. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Fiction – Your Flamhsures are Showing #fiction #amwritimg #taleweavers 


To begin with I want share with you an amazing blog post from the writer Kristen Lamb. I would have rebogged,  it was not able to so here is the link to one of her latest posts called Shame, Shame, We Know Your Name — Or Do We? Shame in Fiction. If you are fiction writer it’s a great piece on how shame motivates most characters in many stories and novels. Also follow her blog: Kristen Lamb Author, Blogger, Social Media Jedi for practical and honest advice on writing. 

——–

Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weavers writing prompt. Today’s prompt is to write making sense of ‘Nonsense’ and use the word flamhsures in a poem or story as a verb or a noun. 

——-

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Michael 

———-

“You can’t go to school with your flamhsures showing,” Mina told her young son Todd. 

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. For an eight-year old he had become too cool for his parents. It seemed to Mina that kids were growing up so fast these days and that it was a shame they were. 

Mina watched Todd from the front door as he walked to bus to attend third grade. She sighed knowimg how embarrassed Todd would be as his flamhsures were still visible. 

She knew the other kids would make fun of Todd at school for this so Mina quickly walked to the end of her driveway yelling: “Todd come back here a moment. I need to ask you something.” 

Todd turned his head a moment and rolled his eyes at Mina. She dreaded the day that lay before him. She knew Todd arrive home upset and tearful. Mina wondered if he would still let her comfort him or if he would run to his room and yell at her after his bad day. 

In some ways he was no different than his father Thomas when he was in a bad mood. Mina loved her husband but when he was upset he could be cold and distant. She was afraid that their eight-year old had inherited these traits as opposed to Thomas’s better traits. He was a good Dad and a good husband but just as Mina, Thomas had his faults too. 

When he dropped by home to have lunch with her Thomas excitedly told her about his newest project as an architect and she told him about the latest painting she had been commissioned to do. She also mentioned Todd and his flamhsures showing. 

Thomas smiled, “Todd’s a big boy. He’s almost nine and he has to learn somethings for himself. He may have a terrible day because he didn’t listen to his mother but tomorrow he’ll know better because he’ll have learned.” 

Mina sighed covering her face with her hands, “It’s difficult to think of him as more than the little guy he was such a short while ago. He is still so young and it bothers me that that kids can be so mean to others kids.” 

Thomas comforted Mina holding her close and kissing her softly before heading out the door and back to work. Mina watched Thomas leave, perturbed when she saw his flamhsures were visible too. He didn’t hear her call out as he was already on his phone and back in work mode. 

When Todd came home from school he ran in the door smiling. Mina approached talking to him with care, “It looks like you had a good day Todd? What did you do at school today?” 

Todd rolled his eyes, “Oh the usual. Some math, some writing, gym, and recess. We played soccer at recess I like playing soccer.” 

“That’s good maybe you want to play in the spring and summer again?” 

“Maybe,” Todd says shrugging. “Can I have a snack? Some cookies?” 

“Only if you have some fruit with your cookies. Did anything bad happen today, Todd?”

“Not really, Mom.” 

“Well, I was just wondering because when I called you back from the bus it was because your flamhsures were still showing and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed at school.” 

Todd giggled, “Well I didn’t really notice but then some girl pointed it out and I thought I would get made fun of but then two other boys said their flamhsures were showing too and everyone laughed. Then all the boys made their flamhsures show and we all decided to play soccer.” 

Mina giggled, “Well I’m happy to hear that. Let’s hope your father has a similar good story. He came home for lunch and his flamhsures were visible too as he went back to work. Let’s hope he isn’t embarrassed either.” 

Todd laughed eating his cookie, “Things like that don’t bother men, Mom. Look at me I’m a man and I survived. Dad will be good too.” 

Mina tried to hold back her laughter, “So you’re a man now? Not my little guy, even at home?” 

Todd grinned, “Yep, I’m a man.” 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, Fiction, Friday Music Prompt, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Music Prompt #3: Poem – Bop – “All Day and All Night” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s music prompt based off of Lady A’s new song “You Look Good.” 

——-


Credit: http://www.loveisalanguage.com

——-

Lady Antebellum – “You Look Good” 

——

You are the fire in my veins in this old, 

Noisy bar, my movement, steps foretold, 

Before I ever meet you face to face, 

We move ’round each other tightly embraced. 

Dance floor our Haven sparks zing and our lips —

Meet and you moan, no we’re hip to hip. 

Baby you look good all day and all night. 

Spinning me on the dance floor with such ease, 

Tonight is a night I feel, we’ll both be pleased. 

Holding me so close we brush against lust, 

Back and forth, taking me home, a must! 

Cab is slow, we want to be alone, 

With each other and love’s unquiet love moans. 

Not too fast, just take it nice and slow, 

The sunlight reigns but we will not let go. 

Baby you look good all day and all night.

Will you call? The waiting game is played, 

Three nights and I’m aching, you remain, 

First in my thoughts so finally I call. 

You’re not there, then you are, my problem solved.

How about a repeat, how ’bout a lifetime? 

Let’s be us, baby yours and just mine. 

Baby you look good all day and all night. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Synchronicity Poetry - 8,8,2, -- surprise ending last 2 stanzas, Writing

Photo Challenge: Poem – Synchronocity – “Art Hell” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. 

——–

Credit: Kyla @ Deviantart

——–

I’m a vivid monument, 

I’m his lover cruelly tricked, 

Just art. 

——

Result of magic powerful, 

A priest with such evil intent,

Wounds me. 

—–

For I had thought the toxic paint,

That burned my skin would kill me,

I wished.

——-

I only pass out the priest laughs, 

Eyes glinting, evil smile, tells me —

“Enjoy.”

—–

For this was my punishment,

Tempting our ‘leader’ with my love, 

Trapped now. 

—–

Not quite alive, not quite so dead,

My man, the leader, loves artwork, 

He stares.

—–

I wonder if he recognizes,

A shadow of his beloved gone, 

Each night. 
—–

He comes with pain others cannot —

Ever see; I could’ve been his, 

Soft place. 

—–

Never can I speak, the priest’s curse, 

Ensured silence, a spell took —

My voice.

—–

—–

I pray to God help me find —

My love jumps as my voice cries,

Returned. 

——

Becomes aghast, furious, 

He thinks me a dream I tell him,

The truth. 

—-

Our stories, our love, a life —

We’d planned and he listens,

With tears.

—–

Then such rage summoning priest,

Who is forced to repair me from this, 

Art hell.

——

I’m taken from between life and —

Death; restored to my former self, 

I’m saved.

—–

My hero never gave up on —

Me; didn’t believe I ran, now 

We’re us.

—-

Priest I have no knowledge of, 

My guy, our leader was enraged, 

Priest dead? 

—-

Or suffering hell as I?  

Two years in art trapped, lost; 

Now free.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Food/Recipes, Health, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

First Line Friday: Fiction – Robbed of Peanut Butter #amwriting #FirstLineFridays


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Friday’s First Line Friday. You can look for my Friday Music Prompt tomorrow!


 

Peaunt Butter
Credit: Rosanna Davison Nutrition

His world had been comprised of hastily constructed philosophies, which upon close examination, had failed him and promptly collapsed. 

“Peanut butter,” he gasped moaning at the delicious taste of the product his mother had refused to feed him as a child. 

“How can you have not tasted Peanut butter, Charlie? You’re thirty-nine years old and have been living on your own for twenty years. Didn’t it ever occur to you buy it, just once, to see what it tasted like?”

Charlie looked at Dana his mouth a gap,”This is mind blowing. All my life I thought Peanut butter would kill me. My mother convinced me my throat would swell, that I would die on the floor gasping for air if I ate it. But I’m fine. I’ve been eating it all day and it hasn’t made me sick  or made me have trouble breathing. My mother was a liar!”

“She was just trying to protect you, Charlie. You did say she saw a kid die from being exposed to peanut butter when she was in school. It’s why they don’t allow it public schools. Your mom should have let you try a bit of Peanut butter first to see if your body reacted,” Dana remarked.

Charlie shook is head and sighed with pleasure. “I’m going to be eating Peanut butter for the rest of my days, for all those years I was robbed of it’s taste and smooth texture.”

Dana laughed,”Careful Charlie, there is a lot of calories in peanut butter. You don’t want to ruin your physique.”

“Who cares. I swear I’ll go to the gym if that happens.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Current Events, Health, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing Challenges

Tale Weaver: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “What If You” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt. The prompt is to come up with a ‘what if scenario and write about it.’

——

Credit: Francis E. McDonald


What if you were on the streets and had no family,

To take you in? What if you were awfully ill?

Had no health care insurance or will —

To live? ‘Cause no one cared, not really.

Disappearance might seem easier,

You think your absence won’t ever be missed.

Better for others, if your life’s dismissed?

Not in the way; without friends, eyes keeping,

Watch on you: We must help those who live ‘What If;’ too —

Many people fall through the cracks,

Cannot afford medication to live,

Or wander streets, hungry, with poor hygiene.

We all must care because the neglected need much,

Are valuable humans, who require our hands.


© Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

 

Children/YA/Family, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Fiction – First Time Two Stepping In Front of a Crowd #amwriting #nonfiction 


Thanks to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s prompt on doing something for the first time. 

——-


——-

When I was in university my friends and I enjoyed going to country bars often. If you ask many woman they will tell you how country singers, male or female, have a kind of talent you can’t fake. They have genuinely wonderful voices as most of them can sing with nothing but a guitar. Moreover, a country song is the best song to dance too whether it’s an upbeat tune or a tear-jerker ballad to slowly dance along with. I was and am also a big fan of line dancing, it’s a lot easier to catch onto than two stepping for me.

 I have always had trouble two-stepping because I find it difficult to keep in time — despite playing piano for ten years. Several times I remover thinking I finally understood the rhythm of two-stepping and than the next time my friends and I went out, I’d find I could no longer do the correct steps. Maybe I had to be drunk too do it? I’m not sure but usually I faked it as best as I could. I can do some basic two stepping moves — some simple steps, turns, and twists but I always ended up messing up the rhythm and stepping on my partners feet. My biggest fear was being pulled onto the dance floor alone with a guy, forced to two step in front of a crowd as some of my girl friends had had happen quite a few times. Not surprisingly, however, the best two-steppers can make a terrible dancer appear as a decent one. 

On one occasion I was out at a country bar with a bunch of girl friends and the night was winding down. The last energetic set of songs were being played by the DJ and a hot bartender who had been giving me eye all night , pulled me onto the dance floor twisting and turning me, even picking me up and making me squeal. I was embarrassed because I knew I sucked at two stepping. Had it been a slow song at least I could have gotten by with a simple waltz and faked two-stepping. 

Instead, I was at the center of attention in the bar being thrown into the air, swished off the dance floor, spun, and turned by this bartender who was an amazing dancer and always kept us moving to the right rhythm. We remained dancing for about three songs and even though I kept messing up, the bartender only laughed and kept moving me in such a way that my mistakes were not obvious. It was exhilarating and dizzying as we moved speedily from one end of the dance floor to another, back and forth, than again. 

Finally I had enough as the upbeat songs became slow dance songs and the bar was emptying out as last call had passed much earlier. Everyone around the dance floor clapped as the bartender escorted me to the place he was tending bar. He winked at me and poured me a drink before we clinked glasses. A minute later the bartender was called away and I slipped out cabbing home with my friends who teased me knowing I hate being the centre of attention when I’m clueless. It might have been nice to talk more with the bartender, but we had all drunk a lot and were falling asleep in the early morning hours. 

Having to do something like that in front of a crowd, something I was terrible at, was a first for me. But a sexy bartender and his amazing two stepping skills saved my inept dancing in front of a lot of people. As it was, I’m pretty sure most of the crowd was too drunk to note my missed steps and my high heels on the bartenders poor feet. 

——–

“We Were Us” – Keith Urban featuring Miranda Lambert

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Bop – “Tin Man of Dreams” #dreams #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this photo challenge. I missed this one, as is was from two weeks ago. 

——

Credit: Matt Dixon

———

Yesterday I heard him move, silent tin man, 

Rusted, squeaking hinges, yet light spans.

A tin man with no heart inside his chest, 

His hallow metal barrel chest detests, 

The emptiness he feels without his heart, 

A  lit heart on his head instead restarts

Tin man full of dreams, rusted metal parts.

He may feel brittle without movement, 

Stuck in a cupboard, his joints need soothing

Some oil to grease his soldier-like steps, 

To urge his metal mouth to smile more yet.

But he still sits hidden, you wouldn’t know he, 

Has never stopped lighting his space pleased

His heart is not of darkness, but sun beams, 

Edison’s gift, fairy’s magic, lights streaming

Tin man full of dreams, rusted metal parts. 

Rusted limbs matter little, but a boy, 

Loves this enchanted robot, mystic toy. 

He cleans him up, oils his joints perfectly

The robot smiles, glow growing immersed

New feelings, memories lost, but at last, 

He’s a night light, child’s toy, great love amassed. 

Tin man full of dreams, rusted metal parts. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.