Basic Trimeter, dVerse, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Trimeter – “Beach Life” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry #dVerse 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Also thanks to Frank Hubeny of Poet’s Pub #dVerse prompt doing a poem in trimeter. 

———

Credit: TJ Paris

——–

Out on Kayaks arrived on beach, 

Where topaz sea foam ocean waves crashed.

Topaz turns Santorini blue soft

Calm waves shallow bring us, into shore. 

Shedding life jackets and wetsuits left, 

Zippers released quick; swimsuits worn, 

Nothing but comfort for us here now. 

We lie on white sands relaxed our — 

Bodies tired, cleansing breath respired.

After hours paddling through far out —

Seas where the ocean waves fought us hard.

Tangling our fingers we absorb sun-

Light; we dry out and sleep, towels, 

Our beds as we’re dead still, post kayake —

Slumber, sunglasses cover poppy —

Eyes in drugged sleep; we’re contented souls, 

The soothing lull of tide rhythm of —

Our beach life desired most until, 

We’re forced to return to our home. 

To the city, our condo precious

Tranquil and never unloved but; 

For moments we lay here at peace our, 

Lives restored by kayaking and such, 

Lazy naps in ocean sands adored. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Lune - 5,3,5 or 5 words, 3 words, 5 words, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

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


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

——-

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. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Food/Recipes, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Sunday Photo Fiction, Triolet - ABaAabAB - 1,4,7 repeat and 2,8 repeat., Writing, Writing Challenges

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.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Free Verse, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 12 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/FFfAW: Poem – Free Verse – “The River’s Course” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo is to “write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds).” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote is from the letter L. As well, thanks to Pricless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Water and Rocks FFftAW
Credit: Maria of Doodles and Scribbes

“The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It’s an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?”
Kamand Kojouri


 

The river she flows fluent, flourishing in her mad descent,

Rapids, water reeling past rocks leading her to a path of providence.

Fast, and fleet, a river rivaling; I’ve experienced —

On the weary trail, the river cutting, crushing the rocks.

She carves her path, ploughing silt to the shore,

Debris of dramatic, erosion deciding on the the crooked carved path.

The water, she must flow, finding her fabulous spark in the light of —

Lumionous sunlight, searing in the afternoon heat.

For this river runs through the desert, the orange, organic trails,

Mixed with red-rock, rizing in the Arizona afternoon.

Cliffs creating a canyon so deep and wide, where the water dances through.

No one to stop her destruction of rock, her pounding so hard it hurts,

But the river rivals all, keeps on carving her way —

Through the canyon cringing, when she chops off more silt.

Off its brilliant fire, she finds a place where the —

River rests in waterfalls crashing and carniverous,

Then she wanes as she reaches shore and and lays back breathing,

At ease, she is pleased and settles,

Against the sand of some beach, somewhere; she’s oblivious —

Simply sliding against sand,

No more cutting of solid rock required,

Tranquility is in the tide, easing in and out,

The river finds, rests with her lover,

Her and the shore are silent heart beats.


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Are Reserved.

History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Relationship, Writing

Poem: Quatrains: “What Never Heals”


broken-heart
http://www.pinterest.com

“I know that’s what people say– you’ll get over it. I’d say it, too. But I know it’s not true. Oh, you’ll be happy again, never fear. But you won’t forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.” 

― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

******

One day you promised me the pain,

Would eventually heal, I’d be —

Free from photographs and the shame.

While I am here, tears streaming.


Out of my mind, of my head,

Did you burn memories seething?

They never left my soul, they’re undead,

While I’m here, tears streaming.


You and her, it’s the cut deepest,

Never heals, it bleeds; you beaming

A baby’s breath; life makes me weak.

While I’m here, tears streaming.


At times, I’m over you completely,

Then, an image leaves me grieving.

Heart of the girl, a heart too sweet.

While I’m here, tears streaming.


Conversation wouldn’t aid, I —

Learn to sew up all broken seams.

Especially in sleep, where I cry,

While I’m here, tears streaming.


A few hours, a few days and —

I’ll be fine again —breathing.

Didn’t have much, nothing so grand.

While I’m here, tears streaming.


Let go, let me free, unburden me,

Stop snipping my wings, inhaling

The past’s ashes, it chokes me,

I was here, tears dried; now I’m free.


 

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Event, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Fiction – “A Better Life” #fiction #amwriting #writing #vegas


This past week’s photo challenge was hosted by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Credit: Nekneeraj

——

The lights assault my eyes, as they blur past me. Vegas is a beautiful city at night. I had had a table with my friends at the club with bottle service. Slowly, I remember us drinking the vodka shot by shot until the girls had enough.  

 “Were done, I’m already too drunk. I want to be able to shop tomorrow afternoon,” Megan said and her friend Kelly nodded in agreement. 

The other guys and I laughed and jeered, egging the girls on to do one more shot. They refused and went off to dance. After an hour or so passed, I saw them leave the club, removing their heels on the way. 

I noticed my good friend Ryan had passed-out on the cushioned bench around the table, parallel to me. I continued drinking, sipping my vodka shots, determined to finish the little vodka left in the bottom of the bottle. It was expensive after all to get bottle service. 

A concerned bouncer who had been watching me with deep dark eyes, set two glasses of water down in front of me. “Sir, you need to drink both these glasses,” he said. 

“Umm, no. I want more vodka. I’ll pay for another bottle,” I slurred. 

The bouncer shook his head, “You need to drink these glasses now sir. I don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning and die in my club.” 

I sighed grabbing both glasses, I downed them one at a time.”Gees, I was thirsty,” I told the bouncer.

 “I’m calling you and your friend a cab at the back door entrance,” he said nodding at Ryan. ” I don’t have to, I could just throw you out. But, I get this feeling you’re running from something, trying to drink it away. So tonight, I’ll be nice,” the bouncer said. “I get it man, but you’re a grown-up and even in Vegas, you have to have limits.” 

Another bouncer came to aid the first bouncer, guide us out to the cab. I leaned on the first bouncer’s shoulder and the other guy half-carried Ryan out the door. 

The cab driver looked nervous, “I don’t want anyone throwing-up in here,” he announced. But the bouncers ignored him. 

“Where is your hotel?” The first bouncer asked me.

I had to think a moment, everything was such a blur and it was difficult to think. I was so tired and mad at her. Why’d she cheat on me after ten-years marriage? Why’d she leave me for him?

“Um, we’re at Caesars,” I stammered, then reached into my pocket, pulling out a wad of bills; I tried my best to count out $100.00 exactly. I gave it the cab driver. He nodded, “okay where too?” The bouncers shut the cab doors and the driver took off down the Las Vegas strip.

The lights of Las Vegas were beautiful, brilliant, and blurred. But they also made me nauseous. I closed my heavy lids, and opened them as I tried not to sleep. But I couldn’t stop myself and I fell asleep quickly. 

——

Ryan was shaking me. “Come on Blaine, wake up. You’re 6’4″ and two-hundred-some pounds, I can’t lift you alone. You need to help me.” 

I blinked in the bright lights at the entrance to Caesars guest reception. It would take us forever to find our rooms because the hotel was so huge and neither of us were well enough to remember where our room was specifically. 

Ryan’s hands shook and his face was pale white. He ran and threw-up in a garbage can. He apologized five-minutes later to a man near by helping guests at the front entrance and gave him a twenty, and thinking this man would have to clean the garbage can up. 

I was slowly, stepping out of the car, but my legs nearly collapsed and I groaned in frustration. I reached into my wallet and pulled out eighty-dollars. I could count money now at least, though my head felt like someone was hammering my temples. 

“Here,” I said to a couple of men upfront working for Caesars. I gave them my cash and asked,”Help us back to my room, please.” 

Two silent men grabbed the cash splitting it and they smiled at me now. “Of course sir, do you have your keycard?” I nodded, pulling it out of my pocket. I gave it to the men and they called for two other men, one whom I leaned heavily against as we made an endless journey to my room. Sometime in there, I fell asleep. 

——

It was 3:00 pm when I awoke in my hotel room. Immediately, I went and threw-up in the bathroom several times before I felt better. I took a shower and washed away the smoke and putrid smell of vodka and vomit. I called room service to put some food in my stomach and help me recover. I ordered some French toast, coffee, and orange juice –two orders –one for Ryan as well, when he awoke. 

I saw him lying on the bed and I tried to shake him awake. I thought he only needed more sleep. He wasn’t a big guy, so perhaps the vodka hit him harder than me. 

A day later, Ryan still wasn’t up and I asked my friends what we should do.

“Well, sometimes you really need to sleep it off. We’re not so young anymore, hangovers can last two-days. He’s breathing so he must be fine,” Kyle reasoned and my other friend Maison seemed to agree. We went down to the casino to play poker. 

 On the third day we asked reception to call a doctor for us. It was expensive but my friends and I were worried about Ryan. He was cold and his chest barely moved, his breathing was so shallow. 

The Doctor was tense upon inspecting Ryan three-hours later. “I’m sorry gentlemen, your friend died earlier this morning, about the time I was called to your room. If only you’d called sooner and emphasized how badly he was doing,” the Doctor chided. 

“Ryan had alcohol poisoning so badly he went into a coma. He has no heart beat and isn’t breathing as you indicated earlier. It’s tragic but I guess you’ll understand me now when I say, watch your alcoholic intake; in Vegas especially.” 

I started to cry in front of the Doctor and my friends. I didn’t know how I could tell Ryan’s family he’d passed on. He’d been the one who said we needed a boys trip to help me get out the funk of my wife cheating and divorcing me. 

I remember him saying, “Blaine you need to get out and have some fun. Come to Las Vegas with me and the guys. Forget about your problems for a while. I’ll forget about mine too,” he said. He never told me what his problems were and I never asked, I thought regretfully. 

Now my good friend Ryan was gone. I closed my eyes imagining lights blurring past me. It wasn’t only how I felt when I was drunk. It was how I felt all the time these days. As if I had no control as all the pretty lights rushed by. 

When I did have time, I made the wrong choices. The lights were my escape, but I needed to pay attention now, to move on in my life as Ryan would have wanted. I couldn’t drink the pain away. 

I vowed for Ryan, I would live my life better. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Photo Challenge: Petrarchen Sonnet – “When Autumn Falls” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt on the changing of seasons into Fall and how it influences our thinking.

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Credit: Mara Eastern with permission.

——–

Leaves begin to change, butterscotch yellow, 

The reds and oranges blaze into being.

I’ve even seen dark purple plum seeming, 

To alter green from summers pleasant glow.

Sunlight fades to shorter nights, cold wind blows.

Shorts and sandals packed, sadly left dreaming.

Of gorgeous nights spent breathing warmth, now seeing —

Prayers streaming to God, please yet keep the snow. 

——–

Favourite season, feel comfortable walking, 

Strewn leaves, scented decay and pleased —

On the porch still sipping wine and talking.

No sunburns now, most loved fashion season, 

Fancy boots and shoes; snow please stop stalking. 

Always unwanted, snow comes, lace knocking.

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse (Quatrains) – “Slow Sweet Burn of Life” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the words Burn and Pleasure.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Pleasure it awakes in swirls of dreams, 

Our thoughts hold the key to a slow sweet burn.

To our wildest and most tempestuous scenes.

Seductive and entralling time, causing rug burn.

——–

Who plays the Queen of hearts, the lady prestine? 

As our hearts smoke, cinder and ash burn.

Or wish we only for, human contact; no pipe dreams,

One hand holds another with compassionate concern.

——-

A tiny fist squeezes back, dressed in winter white cream.

The pleasure in the laughter of baby’s unreserved.

The precocious and precious delights of a child us appease.

Giggling with exuberance, gurgles for future ice cream.

——

Of love and light and fascinating swirls gleaned.

Pleasure seeking knowledge, conversation purred.

Inspiration; genuflection to God, alter the flaws, appease.

Right the wrongs, make what’s true everyone’s concern.

——-

Ambiant light; the truth in fog, bliss in dreams.

Lovers kiss, and delight in beloved’s eternal burn.

With desire and, touch, and scent, all streamed.

Only for a deep, true love, do some lucky, yearn.

——-

Embrace, scintillate soulmate; live in love’s esteem.

 Imperfections, what makes us human? To aid, serve.

Endorphins, serotonin, results in passionate beings.

But the true-love is rare; seeing life’s wheel turning.

——–

Adoration of fractures in each other; lost words breathing.

Pleasure in such imperfect cracks of others learned.

Pleasure in memories; in night’s hectic moonbeam.

Yourself, thinking back; ignoring anxious concerns.

——–

Of Pleasure indulge; of moments in life, redeeming.

Treasure seconds; breezy, blowing freedom unreserved.

As the light shines on, linger in pleasurable daydreams.

Feel yourself lost in thought, of life’s slow sweet burn.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Shadorma - 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Writing 101: Poem – Shadorma – “Plastic” #everydayinspiration #amwriting


The Writing 101 prompt for the second last day of the course, is to feature a guest. I will have Jacqueline from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales doing a guest post interview in the coming days. Maybe, a week or two. So that’s when I will fulfill the prompt. For today I have a poem for you to enjoy. 

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http://www.kencloudpix.co

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The plastic,

Face of Ken Doll I —

Grew up with,

Playing Barbie,

His head nothing special, no —

Hair to comb; plastic.

—-

But I find,

Ken doll, he never–

Went away.

I see his —

Visage, the face of many —

Men; breathing and real.

—–

Yet I can’t,

Deal with the facts which —

Say the truth,

You’re alive–

So plastic, nothing could make–

You smile for real, yet —

—–

All I see,

Is eyes a fake shade,

Contact lens,

Enhanced blue,

Secrets beneath, hiding you,

Botox face, contorted. 

—-
You do the —

Right things, say the right —

Words to speak.

But plastic,

Is cheap and replaceable,

Because beneath – nil.

—–

Deception,

It hides handsome grins,

Manipulate,

Barter lives,

Pirate at heart hiding guise,

Suit, Cologne, slick hair.

—-

Slick like you —

Secrets you’re keeping,

Putting up —

Your own front.

Hiding genuine you; tired —

Of being plastic.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Writing

Writing 101: Why Do I Write? #everydayinspiration


notebook
http://www.aacc.edu

Why Do I Write? What a question. It’s a difficult concept for me to explain. I have said before, writing is like breathing for me and I know many other writers can relate.

While some people talk a great deal and say everything they’re thinking outloud, some of us prefer to put our thoughts to paper or on a keyboard. You see, such as it is with conversation, when words fly from a talkative person’s mouth nearly unfiltered, the words I write or type flow from my mind to my hands and there isn’t any stopping them.

Where ever I go I write. It’s my most comfortable form of communication. Sometimes, if I have something vital I need to express, I write it down first and then later, I remember what I wrote as I speak it outloud.

I make lists. I always have. I take notes listening to a TED Talk I want to remember, or some other new activity I’m attempting to learn. I make notes or highlight in books on my IPAD or in hard copy. Sharing my thoughts and remembering what I’m learning, is vital to me.

I’m not exactly sure why my tendency is to write first, other than when I write what I need to say, my soul flutters free. I let go of my burdens when I write and make the points in conversation I couldn’t say as concise or eloquently outloud.

Moreover, I think in writing. As I drift to sleep, I think in poetry. I think in half-rhymes, in full rhymes, in metaphor, assonance, alliteration, simile, personification, and in changing points of views.

Writing makes me consider character and the motivation of people in real life going about their everyday activities.I wonder why they do what they do? How they do what they do? What person hides under their public persona?

I don’t always want to know the answers but I wonder and I’m full of questions. I don’t trust easily, but I feel a kinship with those who also use words such as I do, to unburden themselves, to prove a significant point.

I write because what else would I do? I have always written and writing has become my breath. I write because writing is me and if you want the truth of me, it is most easily found in what I write


 

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.