Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Florette - aaba 8,8,8,12 - Line 4 - 8th syllable rhymes with b., History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Florette – “My Daisies” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Mike Vore

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Daisy your coat is rough, rusted;

I’d restore your coat true, trust me. 

It used to shine an apple-red.
You’re engine won’t start; words unsaid they’re frustrating. 

——

Daisy May you had your days like, 

The woman I named you for, my wife.

But she is gone now, you’ve decayed

Both of you leave me so dismayed; inside I’ve strife

——-

Daisy, I wonder should I send you —

To the scrap yard, or sell you? 

Should I restore you to glory? 

So those I meet know your story and my wife’s too? 

——-

Nostalgia overwhelms, memories —

Cloud my mind thinking too plenty —

Of back in the day of youth’s glow

When I had both Daisies, I drove through life, with them. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Current Events, Free Verse, Health, History, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Prayer for the Small Things” #amwriting #poetry #prayer


Credit: Saatchi Art – Thank God For Women Legs by Thomas Saliot

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Oh Lord, thank God for the small things, 

The words and acts of kindness, 

Which help me through the day.

Thank God for the small things, 

Each day I’m fed, 

I’ve many clothes to wear.

Thank you that I too can be generous

That you gave me a Mother who taught —

Her daughter to be thoughtful, 

So I wouldn’t think only of myself. 

And even when I’m hurt and crying

I can see a silver lining in that cloud. 

*****

Lord, thank you for the small things, 

A life I’m given to live

No matter how battered or bruised

You’re my armour and you never leave. 

Your champions wage

Though the whirlpool may swallow;

You bring us through to the other side. 

New blessings each day, 

More than we need or want, or deserve

Thank you for the small things. 

For earnings, for caring friends, 

For a heart that doesn’t break when it’s bent

Thank you for love; however, small it was, 

For those who hurt me, 

So I knew then, what forgiveness was. 

*****

Lord, oh for the small things, 

That kindness could be formed in me, 

To kill the badness, the jealousy

Thank you for keeping him safe, 

For him not being my guy, 

Though I pray for him still, 

You keep him secure, alive —

I pray you give him faith

And draw us both close to you. 

*****

Thank you my almost love, 

Is not in the big picture. 

I hope he sees his wealth, 

His privilege comes, 

Not only with acts of goodness

But faith in God, in Jesus —

From his heart

If I see him again —

Help me to not turn away but to repair

So much is your power, 

You could change a man’s mind. 

Help him see he is lost in the law, 

He needs your grace to believe

*****

Thank you Lord, for the small things, 

My family, my friends, those I detest. 

My lost pets, my forgotten foes. 

Every man I felt something special for,

For the ones who hurt me deep and cut in;

I didn’t bleed out and die inside. 

I moved on, survived

I’m doing okay. 

*****

Thank you I was born in this day and age

Not one-hundred something years ago or more. 

For medical advances, social programs, 

And people more understanding, 

At least I hope

Thank you that one day, I’ll see you face to face,
Thank you Lord, for the small things, 

For to me they’re very big.

My prayer I give and keep in my heart

For your omniscient presence, 

For your healing,

Oh Lord, I ask and give thanks. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Relationship, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: Not Just Allergies #amwriting #flashfiction #writing 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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A Mixed Bag

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Ginnie and Keegan gazed out across the city far away from the mountainous hill they had climbed. 

“I’m exhausted. I don’t know how I’ll ever get down from here,” Ginnie mumbled, trying to catch her breath. 

Keegan smiled. “This was only a two-day hike? How are you ever going to do the West Coast Trail? There’s so much climbing involved in that one. We’ve got to train more.” 

“Seriously Keegan, I told you I’m not into hiking that much. I can barely breathe as it is. It’s not only that I’m out of shape; it’s difficult with allergies, inhaling grass, pollen, and fungi.” 

Keegan laughed, “What about your inhaler? Did you take your allergy medication?” 

“Yeah, I’ve used them both. I know you don’t get it but often my throats feels constricted.”

“Are you having troubles breathing?” Keegan asked worriedly. 

“I’m fine. It’ll be okay if we have lunch and rest. Hey what’s that?” 

Behind them a great cloud had mushroomed up in the sky from the city miles away. A great whooshing sound could be heard echoing from down in the valley. Even far away, sirens could be heard.

Ginnie started to cough and wheeze and Keegan patted her back, “Breathe babe, breathe.” 

But then Keegan himself was having trouble breathing. A putrid smell was in the air. He peered at Ginnie almost unconscious beside him as they both fell to the ground. 

Keegan reached for Ginnie’s hand and then he began to cough. Before he collapsed he muttered, “I think this is chemical warfare, or worse.” 

Both Keegan and Ginnie lay still. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.