#OctPoWriMo Day 18/FFtAW: Poem – Bop – “Vapid Princess” #amwritingpoetry #flashfiction


For OctPoWriMo Day 18 the Prompt is Once Upon A Time. I’m combining with Priceless Joy’s FFftAW Flash Fiction Challenge.


Castles, fairy godmothers, glass slippers, and enchanted roses. When you hear the words “once upon a time” these items might be what it brings to mind. Say those four words aloud and it might make you anticipate something magical, something ethereal, something beyond the ordinary. When was the last time you experienced a once upon a time moment?



Princess fair, you primp gold hair, unaware.

So caught in your image, you disparage,

The court gathered in hallway ambling.

Waiting for your attention, gamblin —

Their worth on your grace, pithy attentions;

Lashes flutter blank, fish-like retention.

Vapid princess you’ve no heart nor valor.

Vast over land with ship, you’ve no courage,

To taste the sea with the crew or emerge,

Into the bright waving your fan, vapours —

On hand, when you faint from paltry labors —

Few; you’re endurance floats away too soon;

Your characters a feather lost — you swoon.

Odd pupils, diamonds coal-zirconium,

Void smile, lips titter brash, without meaning.

Vapid princess, you’ve no heart nor valor.

A victim of aristocracy, raised —

Without the wisdom to think and weigh;

Rights and wrongs, only to oversee whims.

Fancies of a doll’s head, which sways and sins.

Punishes for nothing; rewards work not.

No soul here — she was taught to vainly rot.

Vapid princess, you’ve no heart nor valor.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Credit: Priceless Joy
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#NaPoWriMo Day 16/ Tale Weavers: Poem – Bop – “Snake Oil Please” #poetry #amwriting #taleweavers #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 16 the Prompt is: “to write a poem that prominently features the idea of play.” I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt about Making Sense of Nonsense in which Adder’s Milk Snake Oil is the focus.

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Genuine Snake oil

Guaranteed Cure-All

Rub it in, take a spoonful each morning,

Infuse it in your tea.

Guaranteed Success and Instant Relief of all and any disease you might have.

——

Snake oil how absurd; think it will me cure?

Ma, can I go outside, do you concur?

Must I remain in bed? Same old card games;

I’ve played Spades each day, now I long for rain.

To jump in puddles, to soak myself wet,

Not to cough, wheeze — I hear snake oil’s the best.

It can heal the deepest wounds and relieve —

My greatest foes, both my lungs that less breathe;

Each and every day, my breath it thickens,

Other cures you give, they’re all pain ridden.

I want to go outside, play marbles and run,

Fast and hard, race the other boys for fun.

Let me free to shoot cans, snake oil can do that;

It will let me live my dreams at last.

Mom, do you hear me? Boil it in my tea.

Rub it on my chest, the soles of my feet.

I’ll no longer cough-up red, then I’ll soar;

My devotions are all read, so I implore.

Just pour it down my throat, then I’ll breathe,

Fresh spearmint air; snake oil for me, please.

—-

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Radiant Victory Flags #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Credit: J. S. Brand


There’s something about the harbor that has always comforted me. White puffs of clouds float in the morning while people come in deck of their yachts and sailboats, stretching their arms. The air here is magic, it clears your lungs and relieves tense headaches. It relieves soar muscles and is gentle and refreshing across your face. I wave to some of the locals I know from the bench, sitting across from the dock.

I had come out with Lady for a jog down the trails and chose to linger and admire the sky as it turned from black-amethyst to peaceful blue. Lady detest’s stopping mid-run but her eyes are fixed with mischief on a white bird, standing not far from the shore. She keeps trying to go in the water, although, I warn her not to go.

Finally, Lady decides she’s had enough. Her instincts overcome her obedience and she splashes into the sea, wading out to the white bird. She stops a meter away, preparing to pounce. Then, she is running and yipping as the bird chases her, nipping at her tail. She races back to me, whimpering. Suddenly, the white bird takes flight unfurling her wings like the sailboats in the middle of the sea, releasing their giant sails as radiant white victory flags.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 21/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Burn Brightly Sun Flower” #photochallenge #poetry 


OctPoWriMo Day 21’s theme is nothing remains the same. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Photo Challenge. 

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Credit: Denise Kwong
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Burn brighter burn free, 

Life has rich possibility. 

Burn brighter blaze paths. 

You can go wherever you must, 

Let your soul live, although your experience lacks. 

Be an inferno and burn skyward, 

With every broken breath; 

Endurance is key. 

As the most golden sunflowers, 

Shine sunny with ease. 

Life doesn’t mean your always strong, 

It means at times your delapitated,

Destroyed, fire burning out. 

But you can rise up, rebuild, 

Don’t hide in your space suit,

Embrace the sunflowers, eat their seeds,

Be free of your worries and breath. 

You form the mountains, 

The ones you must climb. 

You know the source of your eternal flame, 

You’ll find the emotion, your heart strength, and soul power, 

To carry on when you must. 

So that even when you’re shattered,  

There’s light in your embers; 

Fire stirring in yesterday’s cinders. 

And you’ll rise up and quiver, 

As the flames reach higher; 

Although your afraid of being scorched, 

Of never rising completely, 

Burning brightly is passion to keep pushing forward. 

Your life is more than tranquility, 

Its a bonfire of fortitude and one long day from now, 

Your soul will flutter into eternity; 

Your inner flame, your blessed soul, 

Lives on by faith, cascading passed a finite world. 

Past stumbling rocks, 

Toil that made you sweat. 

Past your fears and tears, 

Beyond to embers reigniting —

Without end. 

Burn fierce little girl, the world is yours, 

Burn fierce little boy, you’ve many choices. 

First, burn brightly in freedom to play and be young, 

Love with passion, 

With a smile as sunflowers young. 

Beam full of laughter, 

Fueling your inner fire. 

Burn fierce and discover —

Quiet fires run deep, 

But will never snuff out, 

Into nothingness. 

With the depth of soul fire, 

Flames extinguished rise, 

Are as lively wild fires, 

Magnificent sunflowers. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem- Bop – “The Waves Call — Forget” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Louise – The Storyteller’s Abode

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Forget all your cares come play in the sand, 

Forget the whole world, your work, all your plans.

The day’s a sunny bright yellow sapphire,

Lemon drops in the sky, lay back respire. 

The air here is fresh, ocean salted breaths,

 Ponder the waves, forget life’s a mess.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

Life can be a barbed wire fence keeping out,

Trapping  you within the cluttered house. 

When you try to get out, take the fence down,

The barbs of your wall pierce your hands– you frown.

Watch the tear drops, the blood drops compile, 

Regrets; tears burn tomorrow’s hope with ire. 

So escape the fence, leave the caged prison,

Yonder lies the beach, waves rise, spark freedom.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

You don’t have to impress anyone here,

Close your eyes and nap; read a book, dear. 

A story well known or a new one found;

Floppy hat, sunscreen, ice cream downed

Hear the gulls cry, squish toes in the sand,

No need to be aware, just understand —

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

First Line Fridays: Heat Panic #FLF #fiction #amwriting


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FLF.

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Credit:Thomas Shelberg via UnSplash

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Three hours into the desert [Sandra felt the jeep’s] engine choke and buckle, rolling dark smoke into the pale blue sky.

“Are you kidding me?” Sandra asked her husband Jim. “We’re going to the Grand Canyon something people do all the time from Vegas and the damn Barbie jeep breaks down? Don’t they maintain these things, check that they’re working before they leave us in the open desert?”

Jim gazed at his wife his eyes half closed. The temperature was a sizzling 45 degrees Celsius and growing up in Toronto’s cold winters meant he didn’t handle the heat well. Sandra’s harping made Jim feel that much worse, sweating prufesly in the leather seat beside her. 

“Jim, Jim? Are you even listening to me? How long is it going to take for them to send another jeep? Why is everyone else so mellow about this? It gets cold in the desert at night and what about the snakes and scorpions?”

Jim groaned out load and Sandra gave him a dirty look. “Sandy, its hot right now,” he mumbled. “We’ve no air conditioning and if it gets cold soon that would be great for everyone. I’m sure the tour company will find us soon. Our jeep’s Barbie pink as you say.”

“Oh and could you calm down? You’re frightening the elderly couples,” he said whispering into Sandra’s ear as to not offend the two couples nearby. 

Sandra gave Jim a weird look then continued yapping. The tour guides who had been on the radio the last hour with their company were now glaring at Sandra as they too sufferered in the heat and from her constant questions. 

The older couples had it the worst, Jim thought. No one wanted any of them to undergo heat stroke since the temperature  seemed to affect the four of them the most. Sandra’s constant complaining wasn’t helping the matter. 

“Simmer down, lady,” one guide told Sandra,”This happens sometimes. Another jeep is a couple of hours away, if you can control yourself until then.”

Sandra didn’t care, she kept talking. 

Jim was surprised when a lady in her seventies, named Meg, smacked Sandra’s face hard. So hard he could see the red outline of the woman’s hand on Sandra’s sweaty cheek. Sandra was so shocked she didn’t say another word except to ask for a bottle of water every couple of hours. 

Megan winked at Jim and said: “Nothing like a good smack in the face. I think the heat was getting to your wife. She seems to be okay now that I smacked her and that she’s drinking water instead of talking.” Jim laughed bumping fists with feisty Meg.

“Okay?” Jim asked Sandra later. 

“Yeah good now, just a little panic attack I think. The heat was getting to me.”

Jim laughed at this stroking Sandra’s back. 

The evening sky in the desert turned from twilight into glittering black with giant stars. All eight people in the jeep sighed with pleasure as the blistering heat cooled and they were awed by the fantastic celestial bodies. 

When another pink jeep arrived the next morning, no one complained about the heat or Sandra. Both problems had been eclipsed by the perfect temperature and the starry night viewed under them. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 27 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/SPF: Poem – Triolet – “Taste of Spring” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is a “challenge . . . to write a poem that explores your sense of taste! This could be a poem about food, or wine, or even the oddly metallic sensation of a snowflake on your tongue.” Also thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting Sunday Photo Fiction. For the A to Z Challenge, today’s GoodRead’s letter is the letter X. 


SPF Tree, Vines
Credit: John Brand

“I could recognise his soul in mine as much as he could find me in his. Our sole existences seemed to have been for this very moment when nothing else mattered.” X. Williamson (Distract My Hunger)


They air outside was warm, the taste of spring sprung,

Lilacs on my lips, flavor of crisp leaves.

In the garden, scent of spring on my tongue.

The air outside was warm, the taste of spring sprung.

Inhaling soft florals, fragrance in my lungs.

Breathing in and out, tastes chase what I’m grieving.

The air outside was warm, the taste of spring sprung,

Lilacs on my lips, flavor of crisp leaves.


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Day 19 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Blank Verse – “Mythology Not Lost” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Anjo Beckers Photography

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” I moan with pleasure.

“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.

“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.” 

― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

———

There are those who believe the Greek gods left, 

Went away, didn’t return, disappeared. 

Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war, 

There was no longer, because these gods were, 

Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —

Tolerated for a while until the —

 God who is the God, decide that they, 

Need find another place to play, beyond —

Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then, 

Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin. 

They had always been there, but now they —

We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —

The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses, 

We’re invisible, ethereal, just air. 

It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’

But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —

Quality that means that in some form they’re —

Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul. 

But these gods were but mythology so they, 

Faded as much mythology does.

Legends of all kinds and all cultures who 

Have been, before and after them, or so —

I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —

Things in town, at dinner talking with —

My dad, about life, and school and then, 

Beside us was this old man; and his eyes, 

We’re blue and twinkled, he had such, 

Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —

Talked to his friends, other gods he said. 

Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,

To me they were all invisible; he said —

Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king. 

As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —

All blended into humans, they had their —

Special places where they could go, greeting —

Their old friends and eating what gods do. 

He ate panini, talking loudly, 

Today it was Aphrodite, he also —

Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food, 

Gods required, and an extra plate lay, 

Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son, 

Apollo, had been there, eating with him. 

He calls me granddaughter and one day —

The old man gave me a small piece of his, 

Panini he loved, saying it was ‘good.’ 

Said it was in my blood, so I ate and —

The amazing delicious panini, 

Became a hunger inside me for more and —

More, until I no longer visited the, 

Restaurant with my folks or my friends, 

But to eat with the old man and our kind. 

Who no longer rule, but have special spots, 

In restaurants such as this, where myth, 

And reality meet, somehow they reform. 

Because at tonight’s feast I find them all, 

Gods, goddesses, of mythology lost. 

——–


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 9 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Ninefold – “The Fight for Air” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #amwriting #100WordWednesday


Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is a nine line poem of any form. For A to Z Challenge were looking for a GoidReads quote beginning with the letter H (first or last name) and the picture below comes from Bikurgurl for #100WordWednesday.

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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I can’t say what my first thought was as I sunk below the surface, because it was mostly a string of four-letter words” —Rachel Hawkins

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I’ve always been scared to swim in lakes, 

Who knows, what’s creeping below? 

Something skims my leg, I shriek loudly. 

Yet I wonder if I’m feeling fish, 

Or if I’m imagining some creature,

Whose bite, takes me below the surface.

Then I’m struggling, lunging for air, 

If only I can make it towards —

Luminious eternity shocks. 

——–


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved