Food/Recipes, Health, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Senryu - 5,7,5 - 3 verses - 17 syllables, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo Day 15/ Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “Sickly Fog” #3LineTales #poetry #amwriting 


OctPoWriMo Day 15 is a Prompt on fighting the urge to throw up. Also, combining this prompt with #3LineTales from Sonya of Only 100 Words

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Credit: Kira Aud Der Heide via Unsplash

——

5,7,5

Fighting to write, hands —

Aching, mind floats without food;

Words feel too vital.

—-

Glass corners, eyes tired, 

Hands cut, sharp letters,

Indigo tip sticks. 

——

Head spins, stomach turns, 

Pause — stomach needs sustenance;

Mind clears sickly fog. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, Lune - 5,3,5 or 5 words, 3 words, 5 words, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo Day 13/Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Little Pieces” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


For OctPoWriMo Day 13 the theme is art or creativity and metal health. I’m combining it with #3LineTales from the Prompt by Sonya of Only 100 Words

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Credit: Brian Minear via Unsplash

———

Gazing at me, you say —

“Your mind’s broken.” 

You can’t see channels leading, 

—–

Art, and creativity, imagination flinging, 

Paint onto canvas, 

Words curling into life’s sadness.

—-

Intelligence that shattered glass ceilings, 

Reaching, now we’re, 

Little pieces, glued together vividly. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Elfji - 5 lines, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Health, History, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, OctPoWriMo, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 9/Saturday Mix: Poem – Elfjies – “Smoke Baby” #amwriting #poetry #Saturdaymix 


For OctPoWriMo Day 9 the Prompt is based on the words “tapping the ash of her cigarette,” and what memory or story pops into our minds. Also doing the Saturday Mix Prompt from Sarah (Weejars) of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie using a poem form called an Elfje

—–

Credit: Ariel Lustre via Unsplash

“An ‘Elfje’ counts as five sentences.
Line 1 – One word. This word symbolizes a colour or feature. The word symbolizes the atmosphere.

Line 2 – Two words. These are something or someone with this colour or feature.

Line 3 – Three words. Giving more information about the person or the object. You describe where the person or the object is, who the person or what the object is, or what the person or object is doing. This sentence usually starts with the word ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘it.’

Line 4 – Four words. Here you are writing something about yourself in relation to the person or the object. This sentence is your conclusion.

Line 5 – One word. This word is called the ‘Bomb.’ It is the essence of the poem.” 

——-

Hawksley Workmen – “Smoke Baby” 

———

Regret, 

Fingers clench, 

Her mouth casually, 

Pulls her cigarette,  smoke trails —

Lingers.

——-

Ash, 

Builds atop, 

Deftly tapping cigarette, 

Ochre eyes simper, crushing —

Cinders. 

——–

Lips, 

Pouty, defined, 

Pursing them prettily, 

Tossing peroxide mane, whispering —

Promises. 

—-

Words, 

They’ll not, 

Be promises kept, 

Her words as cinders, 

Burn. 

——

Night, 

Ends quickly, 

She disappears, gone —

You’re broken, smoke-heavy —

Regrets.

—–

Away, 

Far gone, 

Hips swaying, curves,

Bouncing, as she chuckles, 

Devoid

—-

Thoughts, 

Of her, 

Sweeping through mind, 

Shadow of sleepless night, 

Altering. 

—-

Perception,

Of beauty;

She’s no defeat, 

Just reeks of cigarette —

Ashes.

—-

Forever, 

Remembering her —

Two-pack habit, 

Makes you and me, 

Gag.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, Current Events, dVerse, Health, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weaver: Poem – Bop – “I’ve Enough” #poetry #taleweaver #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers #176. The Prompt is what it is we want in life. Also, thanks to Bodhirose of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting open link night. 

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Google Free Image

——-

All the things I want, do I really need? 

Do I need more shirts, more heels, is that greed? 

If I made my sum of money wanted, 

Would it ever be enough? Life’s haunting  —

Me to spend more cash, not to save some more;

Could having more money make you poorer? 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

——–

If I was perfectly healthy, I would lose, 

Freedom over some of, my time; I’d choose —

A job with variety, nice colleagues, laughing, 

Not working casually from home alone, aghast —

At how much harder it is with details, 

How precision is difficult, I rail —

Not often, but when I’m tired, frustrated, 

When my short term memory is flustered. 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

——

Yet I’m able to focus on writing —

My dream; building my talent’s exciting

I’m able to write, home or a coffee shop, 

Or to binge watch Netflix when I’m feeling, 

Energyless and downcast, mind reeling. 

Wishing I had my blessings and wasn’t ill, 

I desire my full health, yet I’m fulfilled. 

All I want, need, matters not –I’ve enough. 

——

©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 🙂 

——-

Credit: Artycaptures.wordpress.com

——-

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. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Animals/Pets, Beauty, Fashion, Fiction, Food/Recipes, Health, Lune - 5,3,5 or 5 words, 3 words, 5 words, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weaver: Poem – Lunes – “A Day Shopping” #taleweavers #poetry #shopping #amwriting 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting August 26, 2017 Tale Weaver prompt on shopping

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Shopping Loudge Unsplash
Credit: Loudge via Unsplash

——–

Much is proffered buying, selling —

Various types clothing, 

Makeup, perfume, jewelry, and scarves.

——-

If the price’s too rich, 

We’ll window shop, 

Try on Channel, Dior, anyways. 

——-

Perhaps we’ll wait until they’re —

Sales in stores, 

We can afford buying from.

——–

Buy what we love quality and —

Better priced, classic —

Natural fabrics, Aubrey Hepburn styles. 

—–

Maybe we’ll test perfumes floral, 

On papers, wrists, 

Apply thirty facial highlighters glimmering.

—–

Perhaps we’ll find the right —

Shade, skintone for —

Foundation that’s wonderful, covers perfectly. 

——

Maybe we’ll smother ourselves in —

Silk scarves with —

Rainbow colours; every size, shape. 

—-

Trying on high heels our —

Legs appearing long, 

Gorgeous, aching feet all night. 

—–

What about something delicate, silken —

To sleep in;

Matching five-inch Jimmy Choos. 

—–

Silk blue sweaters, wool coats, 

Little black dresses —

Hugging curves; cotton-stretch v-necks,

——-

Knee-high leather boots winter’s —

Calling; gold sandals —

For summer’s heat, beach vacation. 

——

Rose-gold necklaces polished, tangled, 

Pearls rings gleaming; 

Nail polish, pink blush, lipsticks —

—-

Matte or moisturizing, sparkling, holographed. 

Moisturizer, anti-aging —

Serums with Retinol, Vitamin whatever. 

—–

How about we stop driving —

Home; explore the —

Market, pet the dogs, purchase —

—–

Crisp baby carrots, fresh corn.

Peaches and cherries; 

Blushing nectarines, just-picked raspberries. 

—–

Homemade wine, high alcohol content —

Breath in reds, 

Touch of tartness, sweet white —

—-

Rieslings; homemade tequila or moonshine, 

Slushy strawberry margaritas. 

Apple-pies warm, mince-meat pie —

—–

For Dad; with shortbread that —

Melts slowly on,

Our tongue, gourmet chocolate gelato. 

—–

Dog treats for ‘good dogs,’ 

Organic peanut butter —

Grandma’s homemade raspberry jelly too. 

——

How about honey straight from —

Bee hives dripping, 

Into hot tea at night.

——-

They’re various heavenly delights,

But only so —

Much money in our pockets. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Relationship, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: A Thousand Was Not Enough #fiction #amwriting #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Dev Benjamin via Unsplash

———-

Scattered in vivacious colors, a thousand was not enough, but would’ve a thousand paper cranes healed you, done anything? I guess they weren’t for you, they were for me, to keep my hands busy as your eyes glassed over and the pain meds kicked in; they stopped me from crying out from asking, why you didn’t even try to heal, for you, for me. I leaned over your bedside the paper cranes around us and you gave me a half grin with your dimpled cheek, somehow there when all other reserves of flesh were gone; then you were gone before I could  memorize your last smile. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Free Verse, Health, History, Interior design, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Sing me a Melody” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #poetry 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday’s on August 16, 2017. Poem for Oneta Hayes of the blog: Sweet Aroma

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Credit: Bikurgurl

——–

Sing me a melody, 

Write me a song.

Songs of celestial glory. 

Of love that’s deep sweet. 

Save me from the dark, 

Inner demons disguised. 

Write for me, 

Crystal clear notes,

Ones angels simply respire. 

Sing me a melody, 

Calm and serene. 

Of the cereulan blue sky, 

Of hope in eternal life, 

And time past misery. 

Sing notes cascading, 

Sung lentement with —

Unbending trust; 

That those in “[D]arkness

Have seen a Great Light.” 

Sing me a melody, 

Tear drops on cheeks. 

Of joy, deliverance —

Of liberty, and grace. 

Sing harmoniously, 

Or in a caphella. 

With light’s pure —

Luminescent brilliance —

Never snuffing out. 

Sing me a melody, 

As light as air that trills. 

Glimmering with sunbeams, 

Ringing with care for hope. 

Simg of vivacity, 

Surpassing the dark of night. 

Sing me a melody, 

Of healing that restores. 

Sing songs of bravery, 

Of endurance. 

Songs overcoming shadows, 

And landing in the dawn.

Sing me a melody, 

Bring me sweet relief. 

Among beauteous architecture, 

For all those times gone by. 

Sing me a melody;

Surrounded by the skills, 

Of artists and writers 

So profound there work, 

Sings me alive. 

Sing me a melody, 

For all I wish for is peace. 

In sleep to hear, 

Sonorous songs. 

Transcendent, complex, 

Yet, utterly simple as —

Those words that say, 

“Be still.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Peddling Back to Life #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to the lovely Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 8th, 2017 Edition. 

——-

Credit: Dorothy

———

Mike peddled with little effort yet his face was dripping sweat as a hot candle dripping wax. Each peddling motion on the tandem bike was agony.

“We have to stop, Tommy.”

“Nope, I promised you we’d get you fit.”

“What if I don’t want that? And why hills?”

“Hills are the best for doing intervals which burn fat better.”

“Who cares?”

Tommy frowned. “I care because I’m your brother.  I realize you’ve been depressed, that finding the right medication has caused you significant weight gain.”

“I also know antidepressants make you extra hungry and that eating makes you feel better since Beth’s death.”

Mike halted the tandem bicycle. “Don’t ever talk about her.”

“I will, someone needs to tell you the facts. The Doctor phoned you and I answered your phone, thinking it was important.”

“I was right. The Doctor’s concerned your blood pressure has skyrocketed. He says you’re quite obese and that if you don’t eat well and exercise you’ll get diabetes.”

Mike growled, turning to glare at Tommy behind him. 

Tommy shoved him. “The Doctor told me so I could help you. Beth chose death so your healthy daughter could live. Tira is two and being raised by her grandparents. That isn’t right.”

“I’m in no shape to raise, Tira.”

“That’s sad. Remember your therapist said, in our family session, that most of your problems are set behaviors, that can be altered? Depression isn’t to blame for everything.”

Mike shook his head, disagreeing. 

“I’ll help you, Mike. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Todsy’s day one, right?”

Tommy grinned, “Yep, and stop whining. I’m doing most of the peddling, not you.”

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Basic Trimeter, dVerse, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Trimeter – “Beach Life” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry #dVerse 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Also thanks to Frank Hubeny of Poet’s Pub #dVerse prompt doing a poem in trimeter. 

———

Credit: TJ Paris

——–

Out on Kayaks arrived on beach, 

Where topaz sea foam ocean waves crashed.

Topaz turns Santorini blue soft

Calm waves shallow bring us, into shore. 

Shedding life jackets and wetsuits left, 

Zippers released quick; swimsuits worn, 

Nothing but comfort for us here now. 

We lie on white sands relaxed our — 

Bodies tired, cleansing breath respired.

After hours paddling through far out —

Seas where the ocean waves fought us hard.

Tangling our fingers we absorb sun-

Light; we dry out and sleep, towels, 

Our beds as we’re dead still, post kayake —

Slumber, sunglasses cover poppy —

Eyes in drugged sleep; we’re contented souls, 

The soothing lull of tide rhythm of —

Our beach life desired most until, 

We’re forced to return to our home. 

To the city, our condo precious

Tranquil and never unloved but; 

For moments we lay here at peace our, 

Lives restored by kayaking and such, 

Lazy naps in ocean sands adored. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.