100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Saved by A Song” #100WordWednesdays #poetry #amwriting


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.


Credit: Matthew Henry via Unsplash


On the path you get lost ’cause you can’t find —

Your way; no doors through the puddles find sway.

To open, reveal the road; thus, engraved —

With the direction, you’re hunting; rain blinds,

No better journeys exist than chill times —

Where your wet, but exhausted you find ways.

Though angry winds, with freezing sleet berate,

Wandering lost, you’ll burn in your mind —

Slippery trails, bricks steeped in sludge, than trills —

Of harsh winds chiming against grim sign posts;

Metallic melodies haunt, notes crescendo, thrill —

Calling to you, as you pray soulfully;

That your mind won’t panic, but think calmly.

Enlightened, finding Home through the rain’s song.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Heart Breaker #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Credit: Yinglan Z.


The volcanic crater was a disfigured heart. Chance thought it resembled his own.

“Where are you going?” Chance shrugged. “Going to work for a month.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, no one wants to be alone today, not even me. I could have any man I want, but I chose you.” Giselle’s lively green eyes gleamed.

It was then he noticed the name tattooed on her wrist, within an ombre pink heart. “Who the Hell is Robert, and why’s his name on your wrist?”

“I’ll tattoo what I like on my body.” Chance strode towards Giselle, tilting her chin up so she’d meet his gaze.

“Robert’s the guy you’ve been sleeping with? The one you promised to break it off with, I assume?”

She laughed, grasping Chance’s hand. “We got to talking and had too much wine. Now, we both have tacky tattoos, but you know well Robert’s nothing. I haven’t seen him in a month.”

“You said it was over five months ago?”

Giselle’s bottom lip quivered. “It was, but we ran into each other that once.” He could see her pale cheeks redden; she was lying.

“Robert can have you; I’m done.”

Her eyes flooded with tears.

“I know well your crocodile tears. Don’t be here when I get home, Giselle, never again.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Collage Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “Earnest but Deadly” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Collage Prompt.


Credit: MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie


Strange beauty,

Admired, rejected;

Reflected, introspective —

Burning out of control.

Lovely, sweet,

But if you touched,

Her hand —

You erupted in fire;

Flames her tears,

Couldn’t douse.

She’s earnest,

Desiring closeness.

A friend, a lover;

But some of us,

Are cursed.

To yearn forever,

And hurt those —

We wish to love.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved

Sunday Photo Fiction: Cracking Into Place #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


Credit: Dawn Miller


Danny’s back pulsed and ached. Pain like fire raced through his lower back and centered in his shoulder blades and neck. He had spent the day hauling wood chips for his cabin.

Strolling inside, he sorted through the mail, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back, praying the sharp pains would cease.

Anne peered up from the kitchen stove. “You have all the wood chips hauled into the shed?”

“Yeah, we’re set until summer. I pulled some muscles, though.”

“Hmmm, did you stretch before?”

“It’ll be fine after a hot shower.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “I hope so. You always make fun of my yoga, but it gives me flexibility and stretches my soar muscles. You should try a short video tonight.”

She flipped through the saved videos on the Youtube app on her phone, pausing at ‘Yoga for Back Pain.’ She handed Danny her phone. “Do this video and you’ll feel much better.”

“It’s fine, really.” He kissed Anne’s cheek, setting down her phone.

The next morning Danny attempted to get up, but he couldn’t raise himself into a sitting position, not even a reclined one. Whenever he tried, fiery pain shot through his entire back and shoulders.

Anne gazed at him half-awake, before sitting up. She guided his arms, upper back, and shoulders in ‘yogesque’ movements. The burning pain lessened with a few clicks and snaps as she stretched out his torso.

When his lower back cracked into place, Danny moaned. He sat up, than stood with ease.

Splaying out on her side of the bed, Anne closed her eyes. “Now that your back is good, you can make us both breakfast. I deserve breakfast in bed.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Chasing the Nymph #amwriting #flashfiction #prosepoetry


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


Credit: E. A. Wicklund


She was out of breath, a chestnut freckled nymph, tumbling through the woods. As if she were, Diana, running, eluding a square-jawed Apollo, and his torrential bed.

Her legs were short but supple, her body toned, but his strength was so much greater; his limbs thick with muscle earned in battle; height taller, hands quick, fingers nimble — but not such as hers.

She did not tarry, she hurried through the trees; their game played once, and forever. The catch and release continued with the nymph’s harmonious melodies. Her lute trilling, protecting her and luring him, precisely where she desired.

The nymphs laughter was as bells at dawn, signalling he’d caught her, and day turned to dusk as she coyly smiled and left. Her walk triumphant, his laughter all too knowing.

He dreamt of every time he caught her, tossing her up high as their lips melded. They met perpetually in their Grecian eternity, playing catch and release; it never became boring.


©️Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Olaf’s Thoughts #amwriting #3LineTales #flashfiction


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


Credit: Jacco Rienks via Unsplash


Olaf lifts his head as the droplets wet his snout and soak into his umber hair. He snorts searching for that sharp scent; a mildewy-humid aroma that hangs in the air ensuring tomorrow will be sweltering. Olaf moos as above him the brilliant azure turns a threatening purple-black onyx; then, it arrives, not droplets but sheets of intense downpour that soak through his coat, massaging his soar muscles. He flicks out his tongue, lapping up the rain that is life to him such as the sweet verdant grass that nourishes his body, providing both serenity and security of life.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Beyond Words or Woofs #amwriting #flashfiction #dogs #homelessness


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—-

Credit: Fandango


The trails meander through the river valley park where the city erected unique benches made from verdant trees felled to create park pathways. At night Paul and his four dogs inhabit a particular bench. They rest their tired legs and pant joyfully, cooling off from the hot humid summer days, during the night.

However, in the winter the dogs huddle against Paul, absorbing each other’s heat. Paul doesn’t have much in his tattered backpack. Only a oversized bottle of water, a bag of dog food, a couple of protein bars, and thin blankets for the dogs. But one night the ice creeps up frosting Paul’s beard. It’s -45 degrees Celsius outside and the homeless shelters are full.

Despite layers of clothing Paul trembles and his teeth chatter; he can’t sleep in this miserable blizzard. He’s terrified the dogs will freeze to death — they’re his family and all he values in the world. He covers them, wrapping them in blankets before spreading the sleeping bag across them all. Their fur is frosted over and he keeps rubbing them with his gloved hands to keep their bodies from stiffening.

Suddenly, a light shines, blinding Paul in the treacherous cold, then his body heats as if he were sitting out on a beach in Mexico on the perfect hot day. The dogs peer up at him from the white sand, wagging their tails. Paul and his dogs have moved on and exist in a place beyond words or woofs. They’ve left cruelty behind.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/Saturday Mix: The Decayed Farm House #amwriting #3LineTales #SaturdayMix #flashfiction


Thanks to Sonya from Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also thank you to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week her Double Take homophones are: band – a musical group and bannedforbidden; cent – one hundredth of a dollar, scent – an aroma, and sent – dispatched.


Credit: Thomas Shellberg via Unsplash


A person can catch the voices of yesterday in the stars where the decayed farm house sags, where a band sings, playing the fiddle, and the scent of bread lingers with rotting wood; King George pennies are scattered on the floor, one cent coins forgotten with a monarch dead, no longer minted with the current Queen, Elizabeth II.

The prairie nights of old linger here, where joy and sorrow blend with relief, moving from a run-down house banned, deemed unsafe by housing inspection; a gleaming modern farmhouse replaces it nearby, but the old one is left to rot with a sense of nostalgia from the farmer’s elderly father.

A person can picture the dances and parties, dead relatives and friends sitting around the table, the young boys sent out to chase the horses who’d escaped the field, into the neighbors pastures; the past clings to this house as it does to the stars above, both from a time long forgotten.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Published Poem – Spillwords.com – Free Verse “Don’t Burn Out All the Lights” #amwriting #poetry #spillwords


I am pleased to have another poem published on http://www.spillwords.com. Check them out, they are amazing to collaborate with. Here’s the poem: “Don’t Burn Out All the Lights.”


Credit: Spillwords.com


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved

Sunday Photo Fiction: If Animals Could Talk #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. Meant to have this out for last week, but I couldn’t edit it in time.


Credit: Alistair Forbes


“Jasper, come here.” Daisy nuzzled against him and he purred. She wagged her tale then let it slump.

“What’s wrong?”

“Same old. I’m not a house pet anymore. The family won’t let me inside.”

“The outside is good. You taught me the family running our animal sanctuary are nice so they must have a good reason wanting you to live outside. Those hunters shot me and would’ve skinned me if the family hadn’t found me first.”

“I like the family, Daisy, they feed me raw meet and sometimes, live rabbit. Also, they let me run in the field and I always return home.”

Daisy leaned against Jasper. “When the family found me I didn’t trust anyone. The human, Greg, threw me out in a garbage bag, in the trash. I chewed my way out and the boy, Matthew, found me. ”

Jasper stretched. “So, what’s the problem. You have Matthew and you have me. We’re all part of our pack.”

“Well, I used to be an indoor dog in a warm house. Sometimes Matthew let’s me inside his room, but he’s not home a lot.”

“I’ve always live outside. It’s better sleeping beneath the stars.”

“Yes, but you’re a cheetah, Jasper. I’m a dog. Matthew said I was a Dachshund. I love snuggling with the family as much as I love snuggling with you, but I’m not used to the cold.”

Jasper laughed. “I forget you’re the size of a small cub. I’ll keep you warm, Daisy. I think the family keeps you outside for me. Even though your sad, I’m glad you’re here so I’m not alone. I even saved you raw meat.”

“Oh, boy!” Daisy almost fainted, salivating as Jasper dropped a raw steak in front of her.


©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.