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. 

 

Current Events, dVerse, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “Sounds of Sleep” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Writing Prompt #218 on night sounds. 

Also, I’m combining the prompt with #dVerse WhimsyGhizmo Poet’s Pub Quadrille Prompt on freefalling. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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Plush, toasty, 

Huddled mass, 

Bedsheets cotton crumpled, 

Furnace’s ember glows. 

Sky clouds, 

Dreamy veil. 

Screeching cars,
Transposed. 

Train whistles,

Downy soft knit throws,

Tangled knots. 

Nightmares, quandaries, 

Thunder roars,

Rain lashes out, 

Dishes clinked,

Crickets laughing. 

Duck tapped silence, 

Drifting — no wings, 

Lethargic before, 

Free-falling awake. 

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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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©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. 

Current Events, Free Verse, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Travel, Works Published, Writing

Published Poem: Free Verse – Spillwords.com – “I’ll Fly Away, Oh, Glory” #published #audio #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to the ever gracious http://www.spillwords.com for publishing my new poem called “I’ll Fly Away, Oh, Glory.” The chorus lines are borrowed from the song “Fly Away” for by Gillian Welch and sung by Allison Kraus on the Oh Brother, Where Art Though? movie soundtrack. It’s an awesome movie too! 

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Credit: Fernando Brasil via Unsplash

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©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

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Much is proffered buying, selling —

Various types clothing, 

Makeup, perfume, jewelry, and scarves.

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If the price’s too rich, 

We’ll window shop, 

Try on Channel, Dior, anyways. 

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Perhaps we’ll wait until they’re —

Sales in stores, 

We can afford buying from.

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Buy what we love quality and —

Better priced, classic —

Natural fabrics, Aubrey Hepburn styles. 

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Maybe we’ll test perfumes floral, 

On papers, wrists, 

Apply thirty facial highlighters glimmering.

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Perhaps we’ll find the right —

Shade, skintone for —

Foundation that’s wonderful, covers perfectly. 

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Maybe we’ll smother ourselves in —

Silk scarves with —

Rainbow colours; every size, shape. 

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Trying on high heels our —

Legs appearing long, 

Gorgeous, aching feet all night. 

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What about something delicate, silken —

To sleep in;

Matching five-inch Jimmy Choos. 

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Silk blue sweaters, wool coats, 

Little black dresses —

Hugging curves; cotton-stretch v-necks,

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Knee-high leather boots winter’s —

Calling; gold sandals —

For summer’s heat, beach vacation. 

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Rose-gold necklaces polished, tangled, 

Pearls rings gleaming; 

Nail polish, pink blush, lipsticks —

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Matte or moisturizing, sparkling, holographed. 

Moisturizer, anti-aging —

Serums with Retinol, Vitamin whatever. 

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How about we stop driving —

Home; explore the —

Market, pet the dogs, purchase —

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Crisp baby carrots, fresh corn.

Peaches and cherries; 

Blushing nectarines, just-picked raspberries. 

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Homemade wine, high alcohol content —

Breath in reds, 

Touch of tartness, sweet white —

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Rieslings; homemade tequila or moonshine, 

Slushy strawberry margaritas. 

Apple-pies warm, mince-meat pie —

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For Dad; with shortbread that —

Melts slowly on,

Our tongue, gourmet chocolate gelato. 

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Dog treats for ‘good dogs,’ 

Organic peanut butter —

Grandma’s homemade raspberry jelly too. 

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How about honey straight from —

Bee hives dripping, 

Into hot tea at night.

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They’re various heavenly delights,

But only so —

Much money in our pockets. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Beauty, dVerse, Fashion, Lauranelle - aba bcb cdc ded efe fbf ggA(1)A(2), Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem – Terzanelle – “For the Love of Pretty Shoes” #amwriting #shoes #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Kim881 of Poet’s Pub #dVerse prompts for the prompt about fabulous shoes.  

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Credit: Pinterest.com from Etsy.com

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Ivory lace and pearl ribbon, pretty shoes I love, 

Flower of delicate lace on folded silk peep toes;

Jewels, silken straps, elegant wedge most beloved. 

Black lace, four-inch gold heels, length of legs to behold

Fluffiest white bed, a blue corsette, soles bright pink, 

Flower of delicate lace on folded silk peep toes. 

Burgundy patent red heels with red wine, wink! 

Malbec sliding down your throat, cheese, bread, chocolate! 

Fluffiest bed in blue corsette, soles bright pink. 

Glorious silver sparkling shimmer mocking

Until I wear them graceful on stilts, platforms slim. 

Malbec sliding down my throat cheese, bread, chocolate. 

Tall black boots, supple leather hugs my calves –winners!!

Knee-high boots prized, heels sturdy yet in winter slip, 

Until I wear them, graceful on stilts, platforms slim. 

Divine pieces of art, solve vexing mishaps, 

Ivory lace and pearl ribbon pretty shoes I love. 

Knee high boots prized, heels sturdy yet in winter slip;

Ivory lace and pearl ribbon pretty shoes I love. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix/ Writing Prompt: Poem – The Garden’s Bloom  #amwriting #fiction #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Prompt of a garden that I’m combining with the MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie prompt for Sunday, It’s All in The Title. I have chosen the theme of moonbeams. 

Also on a totally unrelated topic, check out Why Erotic Matters? on a guest post in Kristen Lamb’s blog. She has so many amazing and helpful posts for writers. So follow her and if you’re romance kind of writer this article is perfect for you! 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt

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Most children do not come into this world as the child named Alize did. She was sparked into being on a quiet night a town know one knows the name of. The town was filled with judgements people. It was rigid old-fashioned place where people easily frowned and found the worst in each other. 

The waning silver crescent moon was supposed to reveal her thin form that night, but a Gardener named Tarise, had been praying for years for a daughter. She whispered her prayers in hushed tones, so nosy neighbours outside of her thin cottage walls would not taunt her. Many a person in the town would laugh at her wishes for a child. They knew as Tarise knew, she was barren and no medical or naturopathic cure would aid Tarise; especially since two husbands had, in the town’s opinion, rightfully divorced her because she couldn’t have a child. 

But still Tarise prayed each night; she had faith. 

It was a surprise when the waning moon did not show that night in an almost starless sky. Instead around midnight, a blazing     orange moon, round and full, heard the prayers of the Gardener. Luna felt empathy for Tarise and her sorrows. She quickly waxed to become a full bright-moon only for that night, to answer the young woman’s pleas. After this night she would return to her waning state. 

The moon whispered mystical words in a seance with Mother Nature. She paused in her pregnant state, murmuring incantations with nature in a language time has forgotten. Luna’s magic with Mother Nature’s blessing planted giant green seeds in Tarise’s garden. Then the moonbeams faded into dawns tangerine and azure sky. 

Although the seeds the moon and Mother Nature planted, were buried deep beneath the earth, the seeds sparkled and began glowing once planted. Their glimmering verte light was present in the day as Tarise worked in her verdant garden. They were particularly visible at night when the sky’s were ink black but for the silver sliver of the moon and the stars distant glimmers. 

One night the Gardener could not sleep. She kept tossing and turning unsure what was bothering her peaceful rest. She went outside towards the glittering seeds in her garden as she had most nights since the shining green seeds first appeared. Tarise was baffled as she was every night, by the intense greenish-light. 

She carefully walked through her garden on a stone path she knew by heart, then stopped and stared at the seeds, noticing they had risen above the ground and that vines and leaves protected a small round sac. She realized the giant pod was responsible for the shimmering green luminiesnce in her garden whatever the time of day. 

The town’s people who walked by her cottage gave her harsh words when they noticed this light, calling her witch. However, she quickly explained it was special garden lighting. Not being extremely educated or practical, many of the town’s people believed Tarise’s lie or walked away giving her their usual perturbed gaze. 

 The Gardener wisely left the seeds in her backyard to bloom, anxious to see what the pod would become. It was her habit to go outside in the middle of night for hours to perceive what changes had occurred to the sac increasing in size. 

In the day the pod was completely obscured by vines, roots, and leaves. But on one specific night, the pod had risen from the ground even higher, supported by thick roots. The vines and leaves had left most of the pod uncovered to absorb the moon’s radiant light. Tarise realized it was mainly the moonlight that caused the pod to flourish. 

She stepped nearer to the pod, stroking it’s transculent outside layer that she knew was hard as a diamond. At the same time, the pods outside was incredibly soft, covered in small hairs that were akin to rabbits fur. To the Gardner’s surprise and joy she saw a small child, a fetus forming within the pod. Up close, and in the pods glowing light, the baby’s details were clear. The pod served as a giant womb. 

Moreover, the shell was transparent enough that Tarise could stretch her hands to to touch the baby’s tiny fists and feet through the sac. She stood transfixed as the fetus kicked and turned. Tears dripped from Tarise’s tired eyes. She knew her prayers had been answered. Her wish for a daughter had come true and somehow God had blessed her with a baby from nature’s own womb since her own womb could not conceive. 

Every night Tarise spent more hours watching her daughter grow in the transculeng pod. In the day, the baby was hidden by fiolage, but at night, as the months passed by, the Gardener cared for her child the only way she knew how. She cared for her as she would with any of the plants in her gardens and flower beds.

 She watered the pod twice each night noticing how thirsty it was sucking up the moisture. She fertilized around the pods roots, to aid the baby’s growth anyway she knew how. She also researched and read her Grandmother’s old journals on gardening full of superstitious rituals to safely make plants grow. 

The Gardener chose the name Alize for her daughter and one night as Talise sat observing the pod a giant cracked formed and the tiny cries of her daughter could be heard. Tarise jumped for joy and waited anxiously as the podsplit open and Alize was born, a perfect baby covered in aloe and plant juices. She could tell by the scent, that aloe was the key ingredient. The roots cradled the baby who had slid out and Tarise picked her up to calm her wails. 

Alize had bright emerald eyes and a great deal of matted strawberry blond hair. Her eyes were odd for a child just born, but Tarise didn’t care if her daughter was similar to every other newborn. Alize was both wonderous and healthy and the plant she was birthed from continued to feed Alize when the Gardner took her outside three times each night. 

The night she was born, Tarise gently washed the baby in plant-based babywash and softly rubbed her matted strawberry hair until it was clean. She covered Alize with cashmere blankets swaddling her as she slept nearby in a bassinet, next to Tarise’s bed. 

As well, Alize was a deep sleeper. She quickly bloomed and grew into a typical human child. Her green hued skin faded when she refused to continue sucking on the pod’s juices for sustence. She easily began eating fruits and cooked vegetables, ones that were soft or blended until Alize had teeth and began to eat whatever the Gardener ate herself. 

Tarise smiled as her beautiful girl as she became a toddler with auburn-hued hair. Her cherubic cheeks and her wonderful laugh were all Tarise needed to feel elated. Alize’s miniature beauty was astonishing and the color of her hair had also been the color of Tarise’s last ex-husband’s hair. This meant the town’s people couldn’t accuse her of adultery or having loose morals. Instead, they ran her ex-husband out of town with his new wife, for leaving his pregnant ex-wife for false reasons. 

As a child, Alize had a great adoration for things both grotesque and lovely. She loved wriggling worms in dirt but also caring for plants such as her prized bright purple orchids. The Gardener fashioned Alize a doll from her favorite movie, “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” She loved the doll and never left anywhere without it until she was at least twelve years old.

Alize continued to grow, both in beauty and knowledge of caring for plants and nature. Tarise taught Balize well how to make tflowers blossom and not to water them too often. Tarise taught her not to let plants burn in the sun or wither in frost. What the girl didn’t discover herself about greenery and flowers, Tarise tirelessly shared. She taught Alize to read and write so she could buy and borrow books learning more about gardens, herbs, and botany. Alize eventually knew more than Tarise herself and even the knowledge from that Tarise’s Grandmother’s journals taught. 

They both planted and tilled and worked their hands raw, until one day Alize and her mother created what they called their own Eden. However, a gate of hedges mysteriously formed at front of the garden, a gate they hadn’t planted there. Once Alize and the Gardener entered their ideal garden and saw with awe that truly what they’d been driven to make was paradise, they never returned home. Both Alize and her mother disappeared into the garden, past the gates, never to be seen again. 

Charming Alize and the wise Gardner, Tarise, were both blessed by the moon and nature. Luna gave them both an eternity in paradise. Such magic is available to all those who hope and search forever first. And hope as we all know, springs eternal. 
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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Poem – Quadrille – “Knock on Wood” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #taleweavers 


Thanks to Lorraine of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting her last Tale Weavers Prompt. Bravo Lorraine you will be missed. Her prompt theme is superstitions. I’m combining this prompt with Bodhirose from Poet’s Pub #dVerse open link night. 

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Credit: Patrick Fore via UnSplash

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Knock on wood,

What if the expected —

Won’t be? 

Knock on wood,

Vulgar spirits disperse, 

Snake slither down. 

Knock on wood, 

We’re all superstitious, 

Chase back wickedness. 

Knock on wood, 

So, life remains sweet. 

Knock on wood, 

Never laugh at the Fates, 

Your string’s taut. 

Knock on wood, 

As did our — 

Grandparents of old.  

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The Impression That I Get” – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, dVerse, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Bop – “Another Wonderland” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt. For the prompt I have chosen the theme “a trip behind the looking glass,” the male Z name “Zenith,” the female Z Name “Zephira,” the instrument of a “mandolin,” the scent of “vanilla,” and the verb “surrender.”  Also, I’m combining the Prompt with Grace from Poetic’s Pub #dVerse on boarders

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Credit: Diogo Costta

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Mirror divides, boarders in this place from next,

She’s a second Alice, in blue, much perplexed. 

Her name, Zephira, born in distant lands. 

Fingers graze looking glass, ripples expand, 

Beyond here she knows lies Wonderland where —

She’ll meet talking creatures, rabbits, hares. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life. 

She’s read of Alice’s journey; though glass,

So she enters, vanilla an aroma that lasts; 

Invades her lungs as she breathes it in, 

This new reality, chance to explore freedom. 

Not to be forced to surrender to life’s —

Hypocrisy, marriage games played with spite. 

Alliance (loveless) to wealthy prospects, 

Zephira forgets, enticed with perspective. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life. 

Notes of the mandolin strummed lead her bare feet, 

To places wondrous where flowers her greet.  

Rising high, to top of mountain peeks, finds, 

Zenith, who’ll not control her, so she shines. 

Zephira surrenders to him, her choice glad, 

Holding hands in boarders of Wonderland. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.