Fiction, Interior design, My Thoughts, Poetry, Senryu - 5,7,5 - 3 verses - 17 syllables, Three Line Tales, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “At Home” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Niv Rozenberg via Unsplash

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Tiny houses they’re —

Everywhere cause bigger —

Places cost too much.

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Because you cannot —

Tow your mansion off to,

Beaches or camping.

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Because you can go,

Anywhere, being comfortable —

When feeling at home.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Lists, My Thoughts, Nature, Pinterest, Quotes, Writing

Notable Quotes: May 2017 Part 1 #quotes #pinterest


Happy May. Hope you are all loving spring and the coming of summer. It’s a busy month for me, how about you? What’s new? Whatever is happening, here are some more quotes for your thoughts. 
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Event, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Flash Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Published Work, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Finish Off Fridays: Home #amwriting #flashfiction #finishofffridays 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FOF.

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Credit: Lorraine – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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“Clementine anxiously waited for the 5:40 out of the city, wondering if he would be on board.” It head been two-years since she’d seen Philip. He’d been sent out to fight the Nazis in France. She’d faithfully written to him but Philip hadn’t been able to send many letters back.

After the harrowing footage she’d seen of soldiers fighting on the beaches of Normandy, Clementine wondered if her Philip would be himself; how could he? The train arrived and she continued waiting. 

Seconds later Philip was holding her so tightly she couldn’t breath. He cried into her neck,”I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I had no doubt you would,” Clementine whispered back, stroking Philip’s hair as his tears dried.

It was almost as if he’d never been gone; in each other’s arms, they were both home.

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Phillip Phillips – “Home” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Ottava Rima - abababcc, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Rondeau - aaabba, aabR, aabbaR, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Poem – Ottava Rima –  ” Beach Drive” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #1920’s


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff – Fields for hosting FF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Can you put my pieces back together?

Make me whole again? I long for —

Air rushing against chrome, driver moving —

As fast as full throttle can go more

Fill me with people; fix my engine too. 

Put some diesel in the tank go for —

A day trip with your hands on the wheel,

Switching gears, we drive until I’m healed.

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Let’s go for a drive, to the seaside,

Find some entertainment on sandy beaches. 

Let the girls wear their Jantzen suits glide,

Into lake shallows, splash each other, each

Laughing, cloche hats tight; stockings gone beachside,

Honk my horn –it’s time to go; don’t screech —

My tires, they’re full of air, we’re driving fast,

Back in the days, driving was a pastime

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*Jantzen – swim suits more like swim dresses from the 1920’s made out of a stretchy thick jersey, not wool as many previous swim suits were made from.  Jantzen jersey swim dresses were stretcher than regular jersey material. 

*Cloche hats – swim caps with a strap under the chin to hold them on a woman’s head and worn in the 1920’s. 

See Sun, Fun, and 1920’s from the blog Vintage Dancer. 

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© Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Story Continuation Prompt: Fiction – ” Uncle Jerry’s Photograph” 


Thanks to Wandering Soul who hosts this challenge. You are supposed to write one or two more sentences to make a three line story with the prompt sentence. I tend to get inspired and end up with an entire story, jammed into two too long sentences. So I’m linking to her blog with my story inspired by the sentence: ” The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it.”

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http://www.denofgeeks.com

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The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it. I knew the photo was of my Grandpa’s brother Jerry, who had shot himself in the foot to get out of WWII. He had only been in France a week and spent most of his active duty attempting to make himself throw-up daily, so he didn’t have to fight but could remain in the infirmary. But Jerry’s Captain realized what Jerry was up to and put him back with his company to kill German soldiers.

Sadly, it wasn’t beyond Jerry’s cowardice to hide behind other soldiers in his squadron,  or use them as shields. I doubt Jerry’s company minded when he showed them  a German soldier had shot him in the foot; even though his squadron knew Jerry had shot himself to get out of fighting in the War. It wasn’t as if many soldiers hadn’t thought of shooting their own foot to escape War’s reality, but most of them knew their country needed them and took their duty as a soldier with pride.

Jerry’s fellow soldiers were glad to see ‘useless’  Jerry gone. He hadn’t made any friends and most men knew being Jerry’s friend meant he would desert you when you needed help; infact, life expectancy for members in Jerry’s old company went up when Jerry was sent home with a permanent limp.

Jerry told absurd and utterly fake stories about being a War hero when he returned to his family’s house in London. Jerry had even stolen a poor dead man’s medals to make it appear as if he had been recognized by England, Primeminister Churchill, and the Queen, for defending his country. 

But Jerry’s family didn’t believe his stories and doubted he had sacrificed himself to earn such high honours. Jerry’s family knew his personality, the cowardliness and cunning that always lurked behind Jerry’s every action. 

War was awful and terrifying, but Jerry’s father who had fought in WWI and Jerry’s permanently wounded brother Clancy, who fought in WWII, believed Jerry should be doing his duty back in France. Soldiers were being shipped to the beaches of Normandy and neither Jerry’s father or Clancy thought the slight limp that Jerry most likely gave himself, should stop a soldier from doing his duty.

 Jerry eventually left home during the War, wandering the roads in different towns, lost and afraid that death would catch up with him because he had avoided it in France. In the shadow of a pale moon, a bomb flew from the sky one night, and Jerry met his end in England, near his family’s home. 

Both Jerry’s father and brother Clancy, at last we’re proud of him. The bomb from a German airplane had hit Jerry and not another person or a building full of civilians. Jerry hadn’t intended on being the bombs target, but his family felt they could remember the cowardly man with a bit of pride now.

 Jerry’s photo, Grandpa Clancy said, should remind us Grandchildren to be brave and not use others because we are afraid, as Uncle Jerry had done in his life. Grandpa Clancy’s Grandchildren knew what true sacrifice was when their Grandfather showed them the stump that was once his left leg. 

Clancy had never bothered with a prosthetic limb. His leg stump spoke volumes to a generation who did not realize what a sacrifice so many men had made so their children and Grandchildren could be free from men such as Hitler and his Nazis.

Clancy had loved his brother. The part of Jerry who was a scheming coward, Clancy had never been able to understand. Scared or not, a man has to do what a man had to do, especially during a War. Clancy was cheered that in death, his brother Jerry may have been brave.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Writing

Poem: Quatrains – “Fight and Fly”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt fight.

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Flying Birds
http://www.pinterest.com

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Troubled pearl, thoughts awhirl,

Spinning fast, life makes you hurl,

Never stops, never just right.

Make your own moments, win that fight.

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Sifting sands go through my hands.

Spheres off beaches, white grande.

Dreams of blue water, clear and dense,

Without sharks, that makes sense.

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Sharks of land so much sicker,

Make a woman fear as life flickers,

Red red roses, blood dripping down,

Trickling lifelessness without a sound,

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Daggers thrust in open hearts,

No one goes far, not able to start.

Words of fear and words said in haste,

Looks like living, isn’t chaste.

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Tricked clever, by events out of control,

Lessons learned from life’s list of roles.

Talking quietly, whispering secrets;

Who needs those words — awful secrets.

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Blazing eyes go forth and vent,

Tell me the way to happiness, invent —

New ways to find strength, and flight

Don’t you know the best way, fight.

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Hidden hands, bowed in prayer,

Why is life so utterly tinged, `beware,`

Go the way angels do, dive in blue skys,

Flutter with purpose, learn to fly.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.