Three Line Tales: Fiction – Alice the Ballerina #amwriting #fiction #3LineTales


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


Credit: Kyle Head via Unsplash


Alone as daylight touches the morning sky, Alice escapes to her Wonderland — a private dance studio in the darkness; a dank car-pass off a dust-filled road where cars no longer drive. Now, it’s the place that stains her silken shoes with grime, and its musty interior makes her pulse skip and flutter. Alice’s limbs are fluid and precise as her body contorts, and her timing and rhythm are in-sync as the white-rabbit claps his paws; Alice bows.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: May 2018 Part One – Alice in Wonderland Themed #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Welcome to Notable Quotes May 2018 Part One. Hope you all had a wonderful day with your mothers or honoring and remembering them and their influence in your life.


My family took my Grandma for an early lunch at a restaurant. Her seniors residence was close to it, and it was a beautiful day to wheel her out in the warm weather and to have us all to visit.

Even both my brothers made it. Grandma had a small pizza, salad, and a Diet Pepsi. To you and I this seems like a normal take-our or eat-in meal, but menus in seniors homes don’t vary, so regular fare such as this, is a treat for Grandma. We picked her out a new outfit too. She misses shopping, and such as the food, the same clothes each week, all the time, can become boring.

We try to buy and find her things that make her place more homey and comfortable. So, she can still be her and feel herself, even though she has lost a great deal of control in life.

After, we brought grandma back to for her nap, we all went home for cake. It was my Dad’s 61st bday yesterday, as well. My brother purchased the gift and presented it all balled-up to my Dad. He’s not much for wrapping but, he did buy the gift this round. So, it evens out.

Dad is a runner and N bought him some socks for that and other athletic pursuits, and a new run shirt. I did tell him to pick-up a gift bag, but I think he ignored that part of the conversation.

Enjoy the quotes! They’re Alice and Wonderland themed! I think last month I had a post of the same theme, but these quotes are different ones. Some with neat illustrations.


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©Mamdibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 30/Photo Challenge: Free Verse – “A symphony Intrinsic” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


For NaPoWriMo Day 30 is: ” to write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinatingfact. It could be an odd piece of history, an unusual bit of art trivia, or something just plain weird.” I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’sPhoto Challenge.


Credit: Nicolas Bruno


We didn’t have smartphones, flip-phones,

No second lines or iron rotary phones.

Just a ‘can’ to yell back and forth,

Every kid in every neighbourhood had one,

And gossip was damaging;

Persistently strangling its victims.

But, we had no internet or wifi, no dial-up modem,

We penned epics in burnt-sienna cursive.

Our handwriting perfection,

As the pages stretched for hours.

Your morada -inked letters rumpled in my hand,

Holding the ‘can’ to my ear,

As morse-code clicks bullets at pigeons.

And we drifted near drowning in our childhood pond,

Too many words said, too many left unsaid;

Too many deeds done, too many left undone.

I never dreamed we’d split;

That pliers and scissors could strip string and wire —

That alone we were too weak,

To go beyond what our fathers said,

And the fears our mothers chided.

I didn’t know what we had together existed

But then, it was gone.

The water rose higher,

Warm water crushing breath;

Until I snuck out at night if only to survive,

To repair the damage wrought.

I forgot about technology,

The meaning of symbols or alphabets.

I climbed over your window sill,

I woke you with all those words,

The phrases I couldn’t keep inside.

Languages long lost but to us —

Centuries of unexpressed thoughts.

I listened as your morada-handwriting,

Echoed in silver-glitter when you spoke.

A melody that flew as butterflies,

Mediterranean giants with cobalt, crystal wings.

It was eons until everything bled-out,

Then, we were silent.

Lying together, limbs, lips, and laughter,

Bodies loving.

Saying all other words with sensation.

As the sky became serene, and sunlight filtered in,

And you traced my lips in awe,

I trembled and nipped your thumb.

For once we perceived the best tool for understanding,

Was to speak in person;

To converse, cry, yell, and observe–

Each other’s quirks and emotions.

The subtle signs we once knew,

Of sensuous appeal sublime and expressive.

Of rose perfume and musty libraries;

Of summer’s swimming and sunscreen,

Grass sharp and tangy in its freshness.

Your lips as berries devoured,

As forever lengthened our bones,

Made are skin supple, curved and honed.

Your hands on five-o’clock’ shadowed cheeks;

Wistfulness and whispered prayers.

Sins of afternoons and mornings lost,

Of nights spent miserable and alone;

Because we did not sit face to face and talk.

Our greatest gift — our human bodies,

Machines of the grandest designer,

His ‘plans’ can’t be derived, copied or improved;

And all sense of confusion,

Streamed past as estuaries scurried into oceans;

Our pond overflows with fresh water.

Hands wrapped as ribbons, never letting go,

Hazel-eyes to azure knowing the way we are now, is much more —

We were never meant to be alone.

Forlorn in this age of deception,

Forlorn without guidance in the dim.

No ‘cans’ to listen or letters written,

We’re humans at time’s dawn,

Our voices a rhythm sanguine,

A symphony absorbed and intrinsic.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 24/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Elegy – “Mona Lisa’s Wish” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 24 the Prompt is: “to write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it.”

Also, combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.


Credit: WeHeartit.com


“In the 18th century the “elegiac stanza” emerged, though its use has not been exclusive to elegies. It is a quatrain with the rhyme scheme ABAB written in iambic pentameter.” – (Poetryfoundation.org)


Mona Lisa’s smile, hiding ‘neath veiled eyes,

Legs kicked back in fine stilettos she aches;

Another breath consuming smoke, she respires.

In her last moments, she did not awake.

****

Tissue-paper eyes, refusing revival,

Her last tar-filled breathe such relief — she smiled;

As she never had before, without guile,

No enigmatic curve, carved-out deep-lines.

****

Etched on fair-skin, no more mystery lured,

Last wine sipped with tales of yesterdays.

Before, her portrait immortalized her,

Defined her, as one — not her, with mild gaze.

*****

Bruised under-eyes, her laugh-lines were disturbed;

Never allowed to fade into obscureness.

On show — as if she was mere vanity,

She wished for no portrait, but kind words.

****

You wouldn’t get a crook’s relieved destruction,

It set Lisa free; made her drop the gun smoking,

So now, she’s in the graveyard tucked;

A crook ruined her visage, as she had hoped.

****

To not hear whispers, your ‘ooos’ and ‘aaahs’ said.

To be free of the glass, the Louvres had her trapped,

A part of her soul in oil, now too is dead.

She’s gone, coy lady, all in Heaven’s grasp.

****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 23/ 100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Nightly Rebirth” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesday


For NaPoWriMo Day 23 the prompt is: Today, is to “write a poem based in sound. The poem, for example, could incorporate overheard language. Perhaps it could incorporate a song lyric in some way, or language from something often heard spoken aloud.”

I’m combining with #100WordWednesday Week 68 by Bikurgurl.


Credit: Bikurgurl


The lights flick on tonight,

They echo amidst the streets.

Cars trailing exhaust as rubber grinds,

Zooming off into the night,

Stars blaring, their peacefulness overpowered by —

Flashing lights and strong voices.

Mixed together, some a cacophony,

Some a flowing symphony.

Girls laughing in the bathroom,

Slicking on gloss, smacking their lips.

Men’s voices rumble, lined up at the bar,

Gruff with meaningless discussion,

Jokes interspersed with loud laughter.

Glasses clink and drinks rush,

Pouring cranberry juice and vodka,

A whizz of ginger ale popping;

Scotch on the rocks knocking,

The suck of lemons from tequila shots.

Hoots, cheers, and whistles,

The whoosh of the puck in the net,

A slap-shot slams, a snapshot of time clicks.

Others banter, search for twilight patios,

Voices a “Mmmm,” as steak’s devoured.

Trendy appetizers, the crack of lobster shells.

Drinks raised ‘Slante,’ and with the beat,

The thump of the music a steady rhythm,

A driven rap-beat, a sonorous divas addition,

Soft-heated lyrics, a hopeful passage;

A shiver and, “Ah,” as favorite songs roll on.

The DJ keeps playing,

Sweat-slicked bodies brush past each other,

Hands sweep past bodies, and nobody cares,

In the sultry muggy air inside,

Or the warm sweet-air outside, night’s sigh.

No one can hear,

But the glimmer of voices are never hushed;

On the streets lit up,

Lights reviving a city, a nightly rebirth.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 21/Sunday Writing: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The Unmaking of A Dream” #amwriting #poetry #mythology #MLMM


For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “based on the myth of Narcissus. After reading the myth, try writing a poem that plays with the myth in some way.”

Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on the title The Unmaking of A Dream.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Narcissist so loved himself first,

Blond hair, chiseled jaw, self-love burst.

Down by the pool, his special place —

He dreams of his attractive face.

He can’t find one person with grace–

Enough to see, they’re not on par.

He’s been granted magnificence; his looks they compel,

Admiration from men and women; he loves but himself.

*****

Liriope his mother so gorgeous,

Son of river god, Cephisesus.

Brave hunter disdainful of love,

To proud to care for anyone.

Such was his vainness, he upset —

Nemesis; doesn’t regret —

His reflection, his greatest lust; adrift selfish and vain,

He resents sweet Echo’s presence, her heart aching, her pain.

*****

Some say the nymph she dwindled,

Echo Narcisse’s swindled.

“Leave me alone,” his haughty —

Tone made her stomach squirm, distraught.

She begged, she blathered, she touched him;

But he threw off her hands, voice grim,

She echoed his words; he was entranced in his visage;

No mirror, but a pool’s reflection made Echo livid.

*****

No, the rude hunter did not fade,

Nor waste away with longing gaze.

Echo did not wander until her —

Melodic voice was gone — unheard.

Stomping her foot in anger’s blaze,

She clutched Narcisse’s Hair enraged;

Drowning him in love-lorn grief; a pool of dreams his final grave,

Nemesis concurred, the hunter was best dead; self-love decayed.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes April Part Three 2018 (Special Edition) #quotes #pinterest #notablequotes


Welcome to a special 3rd Edition of Quotes for April, Yay! Enjoy!


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 19/Music Challenge: Poem: Lunes – “How You Speak to Her” #amwriting #musicchallenge #poetry #MLMM


For #NaPoWriMo Day 19 the Prompt is: “to write a paragraph that briefly recounts a story, describes the scene outside your window, or even gives directions from your house to the grocery store. Now try erasing words from this paragraph to create a poem or, alternatively, use the words of your paragraph to build a new poem.”

Also, combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge #24 Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s song, “Speak To A Girl.”


Credit: Alex Bocharov via Unsplash


Tim McGraw & Faith Hill – “Speak To A Girl”


“Cause that’s how you talk to a woman, that’s how you speak to a girl. / That’s how you get with a lady who’s worth more than anything in your whole world. / You better respect your Mama, respect the hell out of her. / ‘Cause that’s how you talk to a woman, that’s how you speak to a girl./ That’s how you speak to, speak to her.”


Talk to a woman?

To impress?

Respect her and listen.

*****

Speak to a girl? Find —

A lady,

Worth your entire world?

*****

Then, respect Mama;

Respect her,

Like hell, so you’ll learn.

*****

That’s how you love a —

Woman, by —

How you speak to her.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Interview with Blogger: Ana Daksina – A Writer with an Authentic and Artistic Flare for Poetry and Writing #interviews #amwriting #blogggers #poetry


Welcome to another interview. Today I’m interviewing the lovely Ana Daksina of California in the U.S. Her blog is called: Timeless Classics: Poetry by Ana Daksina.


Ana Dakinsa
Credit: Ana Dakinsa

1. Please Tell Us About Yourself, Your Writing Goals and What You Hope to Accomplish On Your Blog? 


Who I am is truly unimportant — for the purposes of poetry, I’m a willing hand with a pen in it (or these days, a mobile device with my thumb on it). All my work is channeled or inspired directly from my mind.

As for goals and hopes, I’ve often mused that the creative urge bears much resemblance to the biological urge for procreation. I have a sourceless but raging desire to spew as many fertile words to as many recipients as possible. I don’t, however, find I need to know what becomes of my poetry after it’s written and posted. 


2. What Is It Like Where You Live? When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging?


At this point, I am the quintessential poverty stricken artiste in a freezing garret. My garrett happens to be an unheated tent. I wrote my first poem at the age of nine, and have never looked back.

As for blogging, two-years ago, I released a web book on homelessness, which has been well received. In my precarious position, wobbling on the bottom rungs of our economic ladder, the acquisition of a laptop is difficult. Of course, one is needed to edit pages of writing and this is one of the worst hurdles to that accomplishment. I’ve not been successful in acquiring one to use on behalf of my poetry writing.(If anyone knows of A way to help Ana with this, please contact her here on here CONTACT PAGE.)

However, imagine my delight six-weeks ago (in December) to find that our most dignified platform — WordPress (yaaaaay!) not only permits mobile editing but has developed an app to facilitate it! I wrote my first post the moment I discovered the WordPress App on my phone.


“I have a sourceless but raging desire to spew as many fertile words to as many recipients as possible. I don’t, however, find I need to know what becomes of my poetry after it’s written and posted.” – Ana Daksina


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Credit: Simson Petrol via Unsplash – Ana’s Unwritten Poetry and Ideas 🙂 

3. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Keep Writing and Blogging? Tell Us More About Why You Write? 


I can’t seem to help my damn-self, to be truthful about it 🙂 Also, blogging online is much easier, blue-ballpoints pens are a b*tch. As Ana writes on her About Page on blog site:


“The power of rhythmic words . . . brings us [and her] into closer contact with all that is deepest, highest, and finest in each of [ourselves].” She also writes to provide ” inspiration to continue offer[ing] the world all [she has] to . . . offer it.” As well, she hopes that in blogging and writing, that her our “heart[s our] mirror[s] of [hers] and that [people] realize how beautiful [they truly] are.” – Ana Dakinsa


4. What Are Your Blogging Habits? What Do You Enjoy Most About Writing? Is There A Particular Time of Day You Like to Write Most? 


A blog is like a baby — one thinks about it all the time, checks on it constantly talks to it frequently, and cheerfully burps it after meals. In short, you have nurture your blog as you would a child. All in all, I feel that writing, in itself, its ecstasy, so I keep to writing. Extremely late at night, I find the wavelengths in my mind quiet and clear. The transmission of words to screen sharpens for me then, and I write my best work.


“All in all, I feel that writing, in itself, its ecstasy, so I keep on writing.” – Ana Daksina


Ana D JEMDOT Deviantart
Credit: JEMDOTS via Dievantart.com

5. Are Your Working on Any Specific Writing Projects? Do You Have Any Published Writing or Poetry? 


I recently completed a seven sonnet series based on different reasons to be thankful. Also, I have been given the heads up for a couple more similar series on other subjects that are soon to come through for me. 

I’ve been published over the decades in isolated publications all over the world. Unfortunately, this life has featured sufficient upheaval, in that my records of these publications are now lost (along with my first 1500 pages of other writing). I’ve also published a chapbook of original poetry called, Didn’t We Dance, which is now out of print. It was released by Artaud’s Elbow, North Beach, San Francisco when I was in my twenties and second-generation Beats were still gathering at the Spaghetti Factory for live readings.

Also, I’ve written a web-book called, The New Holocaust: Homelessness in America and What We Can Do About It. This book was given beautiful page-long reviews by both Rebelle and Namaste and is creates compassion in over thirty-six nations. (MAKE SURE YOU CHECK THIS BLOG SITE OUT! AMAZING!!!)


6. Can You Briefly Describe Your Writing Process? 


  • Wait for the right call.
  • Grab my phone
  • Move the thumb on the keyboard as fast as it will go, taking dictation.
  • Done! Rarely is there a need for me to edit my poetry. A typical sonnet completes itself in five to fifteen minutes.

I live breathe, eat, and sleep poetry. The rest is incidental. 


“Also, I’ve written a web-book called, The New Holocaust: Homelessness in America and What We Can Do About It. This book was given beautiful page-long reviews by both Rebelle and Namaste and is creates compassion in over thirty-six nations.” – Ana Daksina


Ana D Celeste Horrocks.jpg
Credit: Celeste Horrocks via Unsplash 

7. Do Your Prefer Certain Writing or Reading Genres? Is There Anything Else You’d Like To Share With Us?


After my writing is complete, I’m left with poetry in about as many voices and styles as the English language is heir to. So I often reread those.

Oh, hell yes! There are two hundred poetic and quotational rants on my site which would make a beginning… but you can check out my blog to read those! Here’s the link again: Timeless Classics.


8. Do You Have Any Favorite Blogs? 


I do love almost every WordPress offering that I come across, but I do have a couple of favorite blogs:


9. Can You Share With Us A Few Links For Your Blogs, Some of Your Favorites? 


Because of the great variety of voices in which I speak through in my poetry and other writing, a truly representational sampling would comprise the extensive listing of works. Here, however, are a handful that readers might enjoy: 


This is The Passion . . .

By

Ana Daksina

(Free Verse)

*****

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Credit: Ana Daksina 

*****

this is the passion
... with which the deafening beethoven
pounded his piano
the passion
which saw gandhi 
saw the hunger strikers 
dwindle away into just skin and bone  
this is the knife-edged, unfulfilled passion 
which set christ to writhing on the cross 
the passion of life 
which springs up through cracks in the cement
and endures the footsteps of the passing masses
this is the howling 
which followed the early ones 
into the lions' dens 
over the prairies 
across the bulwarks behind the lines of the enemy camp 
which spiraled down with each kamikaze 
and finds its home underground 
in the deep damp woods or city sewers 
howling 
among the workers 
of all the past, present and future 
resistances 
of the world
this is the knowledge 
guarded with the suffering silence 
of untold generations of plain humble wizards  
unrobed, ascetic 
free in their bondage
wand'rers of air 
the burning liquid rolling in waves through their veins  
the burning 
of human torches 
who have yearned to be free 
and who would not be silent 
because the words rose up 
and spilled forth from their tongues like honey 
the draught 
written of all through the ages 
requiring a pure vessel 
for its ultimate 
volatile 
essence
this is the passion, this  
must be the passion  
nothing can stem its flow  
not my four year old kid's hippo slippers 
not the cold heavy metal  
of all the machinery of all the world 
not my own tender smallness 
not the desire for something to eat or drink  
in this godforsaken place  
where i happened to be
when this happening found me 
not even the shortage 
of paper at hand 
since it after all 
can still be scratched 
in the dirt
this is the connection 
this is the substance 
this was the message they all tried to get across 
this is the desire 
for the life that was ours before time began and  
could be again 
this is the intoxicating  
possible 
vision 
this is 
and always has been 
the passion

*****


Here’s Some More of Ana’s Wonderful Work!



Thanks so much to Ana for filling out the interview questions and sharing with us all your wonderful and authentic artistic flare, and perspective on poetry and life. I’ll see you soon for another writer or author interview.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 20/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free Verse – “Ember of Glory” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM #TaleWeavers


For #NaPoWriMo Day 20 the Prompt is: ” to write a poem that involves rebellion in some way. The speaker or subject of the poem could defy a rule or structure that’s been placed on them, or the poem could begin by obeying a rule and then proceed to break it.

Also, combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie TaleWeavers Prompt “exploring the concept of longing. What is it you long for? Health, holiday, freedom, love, understanding, acceptance.”


Credit: Robert Lukeman via Unsplash


These cubicles, they’re full —

But outside there’s fresh -air and freedom.

A world to explore, to engage to the core,

Outside these thin walls is liberty.

No more work burdens to bear,

So, the mountains and city steps I’ll climb.

And these cubicles, I’ll slice them full of holes,

Tacking up scenic pictures to inspire my soul.

Nature’s vibrant purple-skies as storms roll in,

Waterfalls that crash, and streams that gurgle.

Cars that absorb the grind of the rocky-road,

Spring zipping through the highways on four-wheels.

All in all, I’m forlorn, for the wide-great outdoors,

Scented pine-needles and decaying earth.

Wings of bubble-bees as they hit the breeze,

And flutter into pale-pink roses.

I’ll knock down these walls with hammers and saws,

Because no architect supposed workers crave sunlight.

No builder thought windows were essential to breathe,

That these gray walls, dense recycled air —

Aren’t places for humans to exist;

To flourish and grow, to be creative and problem-solve.

They’re the prisons where we labor to earn —

The visage of sunlight on rippling waters.

Oceans crashing against rocks —

The flow of rivers down the banks,

And the hustle of people as they swarm live-festivals,

Scamper for cool beer and watermelon.

When we peer to the ceiling, we’re searching for the sky,

So, you can call security, but either way, I’m escaping.

The green-grass is sweet and calling to me;

My heart beats for the tides’ ankle-deep caress.

And a tangerine sunset, it lives inside me,

The ember of glory that leads the way,

Through the dull-dread of each dreary workday.


©Mandibelle16. (2018).All Rights Reserved.