Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “A Story of Change” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the SWP, a collage prompt.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Twisted,

Fractured due to —

Difficulties life wrought.

Damage cracked; leather skin, lips torn,

He aches for sleep, to wash, and renew himself.

To slay his hideous demons,

They haunt him, every step.

No rest, he’s too —

Twisted.

*****

Life once,

Satisfied; free —

For him to chose his trails,

To beam in personal glories.

Life’s pinnacle, his wild dreams, finally,

Found fruition; until he fell,

Soul keening in ash.

No desire for —

Life once.

*****

Vivid,

Morado hues;

As yesterday’s wrongs haunt;

No escaping his palled fears.

Thinks he can’t measure up as he once did.

Bitter life’s high-points cost him dear.

Voice silenced, will fading;

Ashamed; his pain,

Vivid.

****

Balance,

Distorted as —

He slurps canned food, silver —

Cutlery from his Nan, most sold to live.

Survival his concern, laughter gone;

He’s wilted, rose petals of dust, a ghost;

No will, no path, hope to —

Restore life’s old,

Balance.

*****

To God,

Man weathered prays,

Forgetting God hears, listens —

To fervent Hail Mary’s, begging for —

A chance, an opportunity.

To find life beyond dusty roads, his bike;

Seeking grand possibilities.

To have life flourish once,

More, reaching to —

To God.

*****

Sweet rain,

Soaks him fast.

A shower well needed,

He’s determined for renewal.

Trims off his wild beard, foam heals;

Now, his plans are clear; he blossoms.

Back home she’s thrilled; he’s here —

Returned; her own —

Sweet rain.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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100 Word Wednesday: The Beginning of Us #flashfiction #100WordWednesday #amwriting 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Zachary Staines

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Hungry! Need food. Opening the fridge door I notice the shelves are empty. I sigh agitated, but leave my apartment, renting one of the bicycles nearby. I’ve half of a grocery list on my phone at least.

Walking inside the store I wrench on a cart out and begin shopping for fruit.  I mutter to myself checking off the items on my grocery list and adding others. 

“Ouch,” I hear, “Nice aim.” 

I gaze up from my phone. Crinkled azure eyes, mussed brown hair, and a killer smile greet me. I blush when I notice he’s checking me out, rubbing his injured shin. 

He holds out his hand while standing up. “I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you.” 

I shake his hand. “Sherise. Sorry, about your leg.” 

“Oh, I’ll live,” he grins. “Do you want some company? I’ve just got to pay for the milk. Wait here.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.” 

A grin with crinkled eyes. “I want to.” 

Five minutes later Ryan is back, pushing the cart. He makes jokes as I fill it with my grocery items. He insists on driving me home, placing my rented bike in the back of his SUV. 

I smile now thinking back. That day had been the beginning of us. 
——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.  

100 Word Wednesday: Poem -Free Verse – “He Flew” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays 

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Credit: Nicolas Picard

———

Doing tricks, 

On his skateboard, 

Young boy. 

On banana board, 

Travelling fast, 

Down paved roads. 

Swerving before cars, 

Smashed him. 

On the Merry-Go-Round, 

Flying off, 

Into the afternoon sun. 

On ground, 

Never crying. 

More stitches;

He didn’t mind. 

Snowboard, 

Flipping, turning, 

Off half-pipes. 

Black diamond hills, 

Rushing towards. 

Bright-white powdered snow. 

Matress softening, 

Terrible falls. 

Breaking legs, 

Collar bone, arms. 

On his bike, 

At the skateboard park, 

Flying as a new robin. 

Wings wavering, 

Into unforgiving air. 

Didn’t care if he, 

Landed on his head. 

Concussions, 

Some awful, 

Even with a helmet. 

Bruises deep purple, 

Fractures, sprains —

All painful. 

Wherever he went, 

Whatever he did, 

He flew. 

No one ever, 

Expected him, 

Not to. 

He should’ve been, 

Born with wings, 

But he wasn’t. 

He flew, 

Just the same. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lune – “Memories Endurance” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Meghan Yabsley via UnSplash

——–

Remember, we used to bike, 

Far out towards, 

Soft blue-green temperate ocean tides. 

——-

Miles down the highway to —

Meet dawns arrival, 

Sunlight glazing higher and higher,

——

Until fresh morning air greeted,

Breathing in salt; 

The fragrence of memories endurance. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Finish Off Friday’s Flash Fiction: Speechless


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Finish Off Friday Flash Fictions prompts:


finish-off-plant
Credit: Lorraine

women-in-red-dress-and-umbrella
Credit: http://www.paper4pc.com – Woman Dress Artwork Image #1

When Mark and Pat renovated their [home,] they discovered an old bicycle hidden under the [back deck]. 

“I wonder how long it’s been down here?” Mark said removing the bike from the remains of the deck. He washed off the grime, finding a cheery red bicycle beneath.

He was sure the bicycle would ride well once he oiled the chain and made a few repairs. He had spare bicycle parts somewhere in his garage.

When he tipped the bike over he found a small pouch hidden under the bike seat. Opening the bag, Mark removed a picture of a brilliant red head.

“Come see Pat,” Mark called to his wife. Pat came running, although, her husband was annoying her.

” It’s a photograph of modern art, Mark.The colours are vivid and the style of the woman’s dress is recent. Where did you find it?”

“In this pouch, underneath the bicycle seat. How can that be?”

Instantly, the clean red bicycle began to glimmer. A portal opened up and the bicycle disappeared into the vortex, the photograph soon to follow.

Mark and Pat were speechless.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Selfies As Life Passes.


Thanks to Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting Echoes of My Neighbourhood.

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 Someday, I will take pictures of my neighbourhood as I walk. It is not the prettiest right now. It has been a light winter in Alberta. There has been little snow and cold days. In fact, a day or two ago it was twelve degrees Celsius, that’s nearly shorts weather up in Canada lol. But, on my walks I keep forgetting to take pictures, even though there is no snow, and their is a bunch of litter about, as you see with spring temperatures.

For now, I’ll take you through “selfie” moments in life:

—-

 

My Sixth Birthday
 
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A Warm Summer Riding My Bike
 
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A Bit of a Jump to When I Was Thirteen.
 
——-

 

Teaching Vacation Bible School with my Friend, at Fifteen
 
—–

 

High School Graduation, shy of Eighteen.
 
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At the San Diego Zoo, soon after Graduation.
 
——-

 

At my Brother’s Graduation at about Twenty-One-Years-Old
 
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Out for Some Drinks, maybe. Twenty-Two-Years–Old.
 
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At Las Vegas – twenty-five-years-old
 
—–

  

Outdoor Photo in. the Rivervalley. at Twenty-Eight- Years -Old.

——-

 

Summer 2015, Thirty-Years-Old
 
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Recent Selfie, Thirty-One is four months away.
 
—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Dogs of Our Lives 


In the home I lived in growing up, we always had a dog. The first dog was Spunky, a Chihuahua-Terrier Cross, who lived until she was seventeen-years-old. She was mostly blind by that time but she managed and we picked her up to take her down the stairs. When Spunky was younger, she would sneak out our front gate. She was tiny enough she would try to slither through the gap between the gate doors. Then my Mom would say, “where’s Spunky?” And we would search the neighbourhood for her. She liked to wander and could easily have been picked up and taken by anyone because she was so friendly and unassuming. 

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Spunky
 
 
Spunky
 
 
Spunky

When Spunky died we didn’t have a dog for two or three years. But we did get visits from some of the neighbour’s dogs. My one brother was followed home by a dog we called ‘Hugo,’ when he was biking. Later, it turned out the dog belonged to a lady who my Mom ended up working with in Student Accounts.
—–

  

  

Hugo and My Brothers
 
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Sorry that photo is facing the wrong way, I don’t know how to fix that on WordPress. After a few years, we started looking for a new dog. We wanted a dog bigger then Spunky, one who was medium sized. But it is hard finding the perfect dog for your family. I think my family has a thing for runts. Spunky was a runt and so was her successor, Nikki. My Dad drove us all to the neighbourhood pet shop Grrrranimals, when I was seventeen. He showed us Nikki, a faun coloured northern dog who was getting picked on by her fluffier white brothers. Nikki was an American Eskimo – Terrier cross but she had the personality of an Eskimo dog. Unlike Spunky who wandered off, Nikki stayed in the yard, or in the area of the yard most of the time. She always knew how to find her way home, even when my family moved houses. She loved to run with my Dad and she snuggled with me. We took an embarrassing amount of pictures of Nikki. I guess she had such a personality we couldn’t help but adore her.

 

Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
Aw, I’m sorry the pictures are all sideways. If anyone knows how I can fix this on WordPress please let me know. This last picture of Nikki is my favourite. She loved that giant stick and whittled it down to a thin stick with her aggressive chewing. Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks to Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting Echoes of My Neighbourhood.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Gram’s House


” Look what I found?” Tia cried, from her Grandmother Ida’s attic.

“What? I can’t believe people use to ride bikes like this, talk about instability” Shauna replied.”What are you doing up in Grandma and Grandpa’s old attic anyways?”

” I was just look in’ around” said Tia, “I love to see Grams but she’s ninety-three and starts to repeat herself after a couple hours. Glad you came with me this time, where is Grams anyways?”

” Taking a nap in her room,” Shauna replied, “She’s doing really well for her age. I think that bike has got to be older then Grams, it must have belonged to her Grandparents or something.”

“It seems pretty sturdy, the pedals still turn, and nothing is rusty. I think we should take it down to the front of the house and ride it. I don’t think Gram’s would mind.”

” Okay,” Shauna said and both sisters managed to maneuver the bike downstairs to the front drive. Shauna helped Tia up on the bike and held a hand to her sister’s back. 

Suddenly, there was a buzzing sound and a flash of light. Both sisters blinked in wonder to see their Grandmother’s house not in it’s dilapidated state but painted white with blue trim.They examined their clothes, shocked to find themselves in 1930’s dresses. A woman came out of the house and put her hands on her hips. 

” Who might you be? ” cried the young woman, “I’m Ida Sinclair and what are you doing with my Great Uncle’s bike.” Shauna and Tia were flabbergasted.  Somehow they’d gone back in time to when their Grams was a young woman. 

” Well” Tia replied, “that’s hard to explain, but we’re relatives who have come for a visit. . .”

“You talk strange,” said Ida, ” But I guess you can come in for tea, and tell me all about yourselves. I do seem to remember you two from somewhere.” Tia and Shauna carefully, put the bike in the front yard and went to join their young Gram for tea.

” We’re going to need that bike to get back later,” Shauna said. 

“No, I don’t think we’re going back Shauna,” Tia shrieked, as the bike disappeared before their eyes.

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!