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. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “The Shire”  #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. 

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Credit: J.S. Brand

——–

 Up to The Shire, 

Rounded doors. 

Tall ones warned, 

Lintel’s short. 

Beams are low, 

Pantry’s full; 

Bread, jam, wine. 

Safe from intruders. 

Into our Shire home, 

Scrolled furniture, 

Comfortable repose. 

Sweetest resting place;

Don’t force us, 

Come out. 

Adventure’s dangerous; 

But my blood, 

Pulsed madly, 

So I went. 

From The Shire, 

Then life, 

I lived well. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Beat Feet – Life Of A 1950’s Woman  #amwriting #3LineTales #fiction 


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

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Credit: Clem Onojeghuo via unsplash

——

I’m anti frantic today which is a wonderful, that man at the department store was really laying on the apple butter; I almost went ape, I’m a married woman you know. At least the ankle-biters are all in school now and I don’t have to deal with their bash ears, but I need to beat feet so I can meet the ladies at church, we’re having some used clothing sale of clothing in good condition to raise bread for the homeless. Some reporter from the paper is here too writing a book and he took my picture by the Reverand’s truck; I wish he’d beat feet, I’m a busy woman. 

——

Please see Fifties Web here, for all definitions of the fifty’s slang terms used (in bold). 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: Fiction – Her One #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. 

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Credit: http://www.pixebay.com

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(I truly meant for this to be Flash Fiction, but the story just developed. Sorry about the way – over word count.) 

Grandma June huffed at Natalie, her granddaughter visiting her at home.”You’re not getting any younger, you’re thirty-eight. You can’t barely have babies anymore!” 

Natalie rolled her eyes at Grandma June,”Gran, I’m an elementary school teacher. I like going home and not having to worry about kids.” 

June sighed,”It was that man, you were supposed to marry. He’s a thief and stole your heart; I’m right aren’t I?” 

Natalie ignored June’s question. She hated when her Grandma or anyone, talked about Christopher. She’d never admit he was her one. 

He had been since she was in grade ten and Christopher an attractive senior in high school. It was when he had first asked Natalie out. They’d broken-up, having had incompatible lives with Christopher away at university soon after. 

Then, seven-years-ago, they’d ran into each other and started talking and dating again. Natalie had convinced herself this was finally it. Sadly, a few weeks before the wedding, Christopher had disappeared; the memories were agony for her. 

—–

Two-week’s later, Grandma June called Natalie up to invite her to a wine and cheese night she was hosting for her neighbours. She had tried to decline but June was adamant Natalie attend. 

She arrived at her Grandma June’s surprisingly lively wine party, in jeans and a white t-shirt. She had barely bothered to apply makeup as Natalie had come from the gym and was worn out. 

“Oh you came,” Grandma June said excitedly, approaching Natalie as she let herself inside. She hugged June and kissed her cheek, as June poured Natalie a large glass of red wine and filled her plate with bread and cheese. She winked at Natalie and left her alone in a small sitting room to rest before joining the other guests. 

“Natalie?” A deep voice said. She turned on the sofa towards the sitting room door. Christopher’s voice shocked her, she had almost doused herself in red wine. His familiar timber filled Natalie with great pain. She peered up at him feeling raw, as if he’d only left her yesterday without explanation. 

Tears began dripping down Natalie’s cheeks; she was crying and couldn’t stop herself. Christopher immediately sat down on the sofa beside Natalie and pulled her close; he wiped her tears away with his thumb. She tried to jerk out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her move. 

“I’m not letting you go, ever again,” Christopher swore.”I can’t explain much about why I had to leave you, only that I didn’t have a choice.” 

Natalie shoved him hard, “You have nothing more to say, nothing at all?” 

Christopher was noticeably upset, “I told you I worked as an IT consultant. But I could never tell you or anyone who I worked for until recently. I worked for Special Forces in the army and I was called out to a job. It’s the only thing I can’t about. The job lasted years, and I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone. We saved countless lives, but it was awful what I did to you and being without you. I’m sorry.” 

Natalie rubbed her swollen eyes, “You’re a liar Christopher. You could’ve mentioned something, anything. What do you want now? To stay for a while and then leave?To rip me apart again?” 

Christopher buried his face in his hand, before gazing up at her: “I’m out now Natalie. I swear to you I work for regular businesses now, nothing to do with Special Forces or the army. I’ve no more secrets other than experiences of war and blood. I came back here for you, I even moved into a house on your Grandma June’s street. I hoped somehow, you and I could be together again. I love you.” 

Natalie made a sound of frustration. Emotions of both anger and feeling relieved assaulted her. Despite her anger at Christopher, Natalie knew inside, there would never be another man for her but him. 

To Christopher’ surprise, Natalie moved to sit in Christopher’s lap and be closer to him, to breathe in how delicious he smelt. 

“Marry me now and we can do whatever celebration our families want later. I’m still mad at you Christopher but you’re it for me. I’ve always loved you and always will. If you can be with me and never leave me like that again, I can forgive you.” 

Christopher nodded at Natalie, saying: “I promise.” He held Natalie tightly and kissed her lips hungrily

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the sitting room door and Grandma June walked in, a smile on her face. June’s boyfriend Nigel was with her and so was the local United Church minister. 

Natalie looked at Christopher, “Did you do all this?” 

Christopher shook his head, squeezing Natalie tight and kissing her cheek. He pulled out a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring set from his pocket. He slid the engagement ring on Natalie’s finger, and Grandma June handed Natalie a ring which had been her Grandfather’s wedding ring. 

June smiled at Natalie and Christopher, a gleam in her clever blue-eyes. All was at it should be, she thought as her and Nigel witnessed her granddaughter’s wedding ceremony. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: A Million Times Better #3LineTales #nonfiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Sony of Only 100 Words, our gracious host of #3LineTales:

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Credit: Jennifer Pallian via UpSplash

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Everyone either loves or hates fruit bread and more often than not, this stiff and solid rock like cake which sits in your stomach as if you’ve ingested a stone, is detested by many people. No matter the tradition or reason we bake/eat fruit bread at Christmas, it is a custom many of us wonder about; I can honestly say, however, there is only one fruit bread in the world I love because it tastes wonderful and is nothing like any fruit bread I’ve ever tasted before, or will ever taste again. 

Grandma’s fruit bread wasn’t like traditional loaves of fruit bread because it was soft and tempting as I believe, any kind of bread should be; inside her bread was sugared and candied fruits much like traditional fruit bread, except my Grandma’s fruit bread was melt in your mouth and we used to toast a small slice or two for breakfast during the holidays and have it with becel; the buttery, sweet, soft bread was delicious and makes me hungry thinking about it; Grandma’s fruit bread was not traditional fruit bread — it was a million times better.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Books, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories

Collage Prompt: #Fiction – Alice Series – Wild and Untamed #amwriting #aliceinwonderland #alicethroughthelookingglass


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt.

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MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Alice was home from school. She hated boarding school, but she hadn’t had a choice. Her father had insisted his daughter have the best education a girl could have. This meant school was not merely academics as it was for boys. Her boarding school was an all girls boarding school and a great deal of focus was put into “the finishing school” aspect of education for women. 

She needed to learn how to be a proper hostess and wife; those were the ideals of the Victorian woman. She needed to be the angel in the house, the moral compass of her household. 

Alice spent countless classes based on the proper religion for an English girl. The God her school taught about, was an an angry God; judgemental and all powerful. He didn’t seem particularly forgiving. But she was told doing her duty as woman would make God happy. 

Alice and her best friends Margaret and Prudence, often liked to cause trouble. They played tricks and sometimes skipped their more tedious classes. The girls were often punished with rulers smacking their hands soundly until they couldn’t feel them. Or writing lines of verses from The Bible until their fingers were too numb to write or days. 

 All in all, the school couldn’t punish Alice and her friends how the would’ve punished other girls. Her and her friends were daughters of enomoreous patrons of the girl’s school. 

That being said, Alice was excited to go home for the summer. She thought fondly of her childhood, her dreams that always wandered to her childhood fantasy world Wonderland. 

——

When the carriage dropped her off, Alice approached her home with a bit of trepidation. Her mother had been angry she had left flowers all over the headmasters office. The man had almost had a heart attack and Alice had laughed and laughed when she heard what he discovered. Bringing her suitcase with her, she opened the front door. 

Suddenly, the house started to move in various directions from the front entrance.  Staircases opened from every way, along with doors leading to God knows where. 

Alice had a peculiar feeling, she was travelling back to her childhood world. Staircases continued to rumble and groan as they moved. Leaving her suitcase, Alice jumped onto a staircase leading to a familiar giant golden door knob with a large decorated keyhole underneath.

Suddenly, the door knob sneezed. “You again. I thought I’d seen the last of you.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“Alice, yes? I remember. I had a cold last time you were here too; although, you’ve grown since then. Thinned out too, you were a bit fat for awhile, all that bread.” 

She gasped, “Excuse me, the ideal woman these days, has a round body with childbearing hips, my teachers told me and my mother agrees. And you aren’t even real. I’m dreaming.” 

“I wish the staircases would stop moving and the rest of the house weren’t so confusing. I have no idea where to go and I really was looking forward to a nap, ” Alice complained. 

The giant door knob sneezed again. “No Alice, I know you and you know me. You know us all. It’s been a while and you’ve blocked us out. We tried to visit, but you convinced yourself we were all childhood dreams, despite having been to Wonderland twice.” 

“You do play delightful tricks at school, I must say –you, Margaret, and Prudence. You should’ve brought them along . . . Then again, they wouldn’t believe Wonderland is real either. They don’t believe in magic, but you do. Oh, you deny it Alice but you do believe. You wouldn’t be back here if you didn’t,” the door knob lectured. 

Alice stomped her foot, “You’re not real.” 

“I am indeed, open me. Better yet, have some of that bread you like so much, in your left pocket first; it should do the trick.” 

She gasped and frowned when she put her hand in her pocket and found the delicious bread. She nibbled on the edge. Alice hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She took a bigger bite of bread and sighed with pleasure. 

“Not too much,” the door knob cautioned. She sniffed and raised her nose at him; she had shrunk in size considerably. Carefully, Alice turned the icky runny door knob nose, she needed no key. She stepped into another world; wiping her hands on her skirt, before gazing up in shock. 

—–

Alice truly was in the Wonderland of her youth. It appeared to be the same as she dreamt it to be. A path lay in front of her and she saw her body had become small. The grass and foliage around Alice was lush and towered over her.

She started to think of her old Wonderland friends when she came upon a catapillar on a large mushroom.”But you’re a butterfly now,” she said to the catapillar without thinking. 

The catapiller sniffed at her and took a long drag from his hookah. “Who are you? Have you figured it out yet? Time does pass. My great-grandfather spoke of you. Time doesn’t move so fast here. He’s out flying about and I’m waiting until I can fly too. Why have you returned?” 

Alice blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I went through a doorway talked to a door knob, shrank, and now I’m here. It’s not a dream is it?” 

The catapullar laughed, taking another drag. “I assure you. It’s all quite real. There’s a pathway going that way,” he pointed to his right. “You should go there. It leads somewhere important.” 

“I see it’s a dock and we’re below it. It’s so large. Should I go below it in the sand? Or should I grow larger and go ontop of the dock. It’s quite big when you’re only six-inches tall.” 

The catapillar laughed,  inhaling his hookah promptly after . “There you go insulting those of us only six-inches tall again. Do you have bread in your pocket to grow taller?” 

Alice searched in her right pocket, “No bread but I think the mushroom you are laying upon has one side which will make me larger. Alice ate of one side which made her shrink more, than climbed up the mushroom to eat off the other side. She grew until she was her normal size again. 

“Curious and curiouser,” she said. “This is all too familiar. I hope there’s no seagull who thinks I’m a serphant ready to eat her young.” 

“You can say that again,” the catapillar said smirking. He bowed his head as Alice walked off, having shoved a piece of mushroom in her right pocket for future use.

She walked ontop of the dock until there was nothing but a short stairwell leading to a row boat in the sea. She recalled this moment in her second journey to Wonderland. But there should be a sheep somewhere she reasoned. 

On que a sheep appeared and they both rowed off into the sea, but it wasn’t really a sea. Alice thought it was more like a river. The sheep said: “Bahhh,” then smiled at Alice.”Hello Alice have you learned to feather yet?” 

“Oh, that’s a rowing term. I understand now. Same with catching a crab. I was so young then, sheep. I reached for those rushes remember? They’re still look and smell lovely. You can never catch the most beautiful ones, they are free.” 

The sheep bleated and sighed. “Do you ever think, Alice, that beauty is not meant to be tamed or kept?” 

“It’s a curious question coming from a sheep. But I think beauty should be left to exist and shine. You’re saying I should leave the lovely smelling rushes alone?” Alice asked. 

The sheep sighed again. “I’m not talking about rushes. You should pay attention Alice. That school you go to and those Victorian norms and rules of society, do you think they’re all correct? Do you believe everything you are taught without question?” 

Alice wrinkled her forehead and thought. “No not really. My bestfriends don’t either. It’s why we play tricks, skip classes, it’s why I sit in class bored. I do not want to be a proper woman, a tamed or kept Victorian housewife with her brood of children. I don’t want to think God is always angry and mean; I think he’s benevolent too.” 

“Ah, I didn’t think you agreed with your education. I think in the future things will be better, only wait and don’t grow-up too much. Don’t forget Wonderland –we’ll see you when you dream. We need your wildness, Alice.”The sheep bleated again and Alice instantly, woke up. 

She was riding in a carriage to her house for summer vacation. She attempted to remember her dreams. Alice swore she dreamt of Wonderland vividly. But all she could remember was a sheep telling her to stay wild and untamed. She grinned thinking of the tricks she played at school. She wasn’t a tame women yet; never if she had her way.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories

Poem: Free Verse – “Vines and Truth” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.dreamstime.com

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If you’re trapped in this reality, 

The words you hear will never betray.

If you’re trapped here, 

You’ll never say the words,

You meant to tell me.

Soul words, which climb, 

 As vines through your lips.

Vines that keep growing, 

Whispering the language,

 You grew-up bilingually,

 Conversing and spelling.

The words you only say with friends, 

And the silly ones your family made up,

Nick names, pet names, 

The names a lover calls;

The words you speak,

 When you tell the truth, 

And the words you catch yourself saying, 

When you’re outright lying.

—–

Did you dream you could hide, 

So many secrets and so many tombs.

Bury us beneath words,

 With no proof, no truth;

Does anyone know real?

In the land of typed phrases, 

Spellcheck, and autocorrect,

 Are our words even ours?

When you can change the words,

 To mean and say, 

Precisely, what you want them to say,

When your body language, tone, 

And emotions cannot be seen,

What hides obscene and unseen?

——

And when I see such stunning eyes,

And they carry me away;

When your voice hits me there,

 In the bottom of my heart.

The growl on your lips, 

The tilt of your hips.

A glass of milk, brings tranquil sleep, 

More gentle vibes and vines invisibly, 

Through my mouth to yours.

As plants do crawl and sprout, 

So do we affect someone else.

And you wonder how can you build,

An Alice in Wonderland lost yourself.

With so many vines,

Caught on your tongue,

Like a hydra with far–

 Too many heads to chop off,

Vines as heads keep growing, 

No fire can consume the lies, 

Covering the truth. 

——

Find out, what is life here? 

There– with them? 

Or someone else? 

Listlessly browsing, areas meant, 

To be lonely and free, at a cost, 

Or joined together birds of a feather;

If “Hope is a thing with feathers,”  

As dear Emily Dickinson wrote;

Please fly to the safest and softest place.

And let’s lay unmoving, 

As vines wrapped around each other.

Not worried about our tomorrow’s,

Or finding more secrets;

Let the truth be our lips meeting,

Let the truth be in feeling our eyes, 

Engaged over cheese, bread, and wine later.

Sitting on the couch,

Wrestling with your dog;

Watching our favourite shows,

Until sleep calls,

In a world where no one,

Can be trusted completely, 

Where there are too many,

Half-truths and white lies.

Assure me at least,

You mean the best, and try,

To say the truth, as vines —

Wrap us together into,

The pitch dark night, 

Tangled tight.

——-

©Mandbelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Writing 101: Poem – Etherees – “The Mark” #everydayinspiration


Today’s prompt is to use a quote to begin our writing.

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The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.  – Samual Smiles

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Such goals we have to not miss the giant mark, 

To accomplish though we faulter and–

Find ourselves falling of the mark short.

My gaze has set upon the hill,

My determination —

Evident and, 

Perspiration,

Relevant.

Crying, 

March.

—-

I,

Will not —

Let failure,

Tarnish my–

Intent to triumph,

Strength, running through my bones,

Sweat upon my brow and I, 

Reach for that set goal growing still,

Never going to give, can’t alleviate —

The pain I meet, my struggle with heart.

—–

There is no distance I won’t go, no path–

My sword won’t clear the way, lashing through,

Knowing my own virtue isn’t,

Worth a mercenary,

Heart of one who cannot,

Taste the wine which is,

His life’s blood met, 

Breaking bread and,

Fighting on,

Life is, 

Tough.

—-

Goal, 

In my, 

Grasp I, 

Keep winning,

There is no place to —

Wander of path I’m kept, 

Focused on the prize before —

I am confused by life’s debris,

Keep up the challenge, the struggle,

Never fear, blessed angels fight with you to end.

—–

No weakness in my lungs, battle cries are —

Rung; an invading army charges through,

Not pierced by arrows or swords of,

Finest sharpest metals mixed,

Alloys fit to strike wrath,

Life is a fight won, 

It’s hard to breathe.

Even stabbed we,

Triumph.

At last, 

Rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rughts Reserved.

Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Flash Fiction – Her Name Isn’t Susan. #Maydays



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Thank you to CL Kaley of new2blogging for the #Maydays prompt a coffee break fantasy.

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http://www.fallseven.ca

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“Ahhhh, coffee. I love it. Would you like some?” Peter asked the woman. He didn’t remember her name.

“I don’t drink coffee, thanks Peter,” Sally said her throat feeling raw.”I could use some water, or orange juice if you have any?” 

Peter peered into his fridge. It was bare. “Um, Susan, I have cranberry juice is that alright?” 

“I guess. And my name is Sally, Peter.” 

“Oh. Uh. Sorry Sally, I drank a lot last night.” Peter said.

Sally shrugged. “Whatever Peter.” 

 “Actually, you’ve been calling me Susan since your third beer last night. I kept correcting you every time but you kept calling me her name. Who’s Susan?” Sally questioned.

Peter appeared nervous. “She’s no one. Just an old girlfriend.” 

“Ah,” Sally remarked, “I understand now. Got any whole wheat or multigrain bread for toast?”

 Peter wasn’t listening. He drank his coffee remembering the morning Susan left.

——

“Where are you going?” Peter asked Susan.

“I’m leaving Peter. I’ve had enough. I can’t take this anymore.” Susan said. She had all her possessions boxed up and had hired a mover to load up the furniture she purchased.

“You have to have seen this coming.” 

“No, we had one fight and now your leaving me?” Peter asked.

“It wasn’t one fight, it was many fights over three-years. You never understood. It always came down to the same thing.” Susan remarked.

“What, what did it come down to?” 

“You Peter. It came down to you. You always did whatever you wanted, demanding I tag along. When it came to doing what I had to do for a work event or visiting my my friends, you never showed up.”

“Time and time again, you told me to quit my job. That I shouldn’t be spending so much time working or visiting my own friends.” Susan said, “I’m not putting up with your controlling behaviour anymore.”

“But. ..”

“No, Peter. I have a life. My own life. I’m tired of explaining things to you.” Susan said frustrated.

Peter was speechless as the movers came, taking the furniture Susan bought, and all of her things away. 

When Susan and the movers left, Peter felt the gnawing emptiness of his condo.

—–

” Peter is there bread for toast?” Sally asked. 

“What?” Peter asked lost in his head.”Oh no, sorry haven’t been grocery shopping this week. There’s cereal?” 

Sally sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll drink my cranberry juice and be on my way.” 

“Leaving so soon? Want to. . . ” 

“No, Peter I’m fine. I don’t think I can handle being called Susan again.” Sally remarked.

When Sally left, Peter remembered the emptiness he felt without Susan. Sally reminded him, he was a failure with women. Peter returned to bed to sleep off his hangover.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Writing

Poem: Etheree – “Close.” 


  
——–

So

I go,

And I try,

Understanding,

You won’t give me up,

I’m an addiction — drugs,

Because I deflect questions,

You’ll return, again asking me,

To join in your slumber, these adult games,

To play until twilight and let love,

Breathe life into my hallow lungs, seduce.

—–

These twists and turns we tumble down, in a place,

You’d never remain if you only said,

Join me for a bite, break bread — taste,

Swallow, glasses of Malbec,

Wine with a bite, just right;

Dinner, and a walk.

Conversation.

Know me well

Before,

Bed.

—–

Few

Of You,

Know how to,

Liberate girls,

From thoughts that burn,

Making a woman’s mind,

A confusing place to be,

Relaxation and some talk,

Cease, winding of the wheels spinning; laugh.

Slow the pace, be merciful gent,

Appreciating, discovering, 

Not only for bodies, but minds must mingle well.

—–

Luxuriate in breathing in her soul, herself.

Listen well and inform about yourself,

Slide into stolen glances lost,

Powerful bonds caught, connect you.

Lips licked before a kiss sought,

Arms at length hold fast,

Minds connect so,

Enthralling,

Remain,

Close

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.