Notable Quotes January 2018 Part One #pinterest #quotes


Happy New Years to you all! I hope you had a festive beginning or at the least, a good night’s rest to open the new year. Here are some more inspirational quotes and poems to start you off. If you’re on social media at all, you’re probably already tired of New Year’s Resolutions. Anyways, cheers! 🎂🎈🎉


*Also, today we’ll go with twenty quotes, but we’ll return to fifteen for Part Two and every other biweekly list of quotes.


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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#NovemberNotes Day 2: Poem – Free Verse – “Of Abuse” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


For November Notes Day 2 the song is “New Rules” by Dua Lipa. I’m combining this prompt with Björn from #dVerse Peet’s Pub on defining a monster you fear. 
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Credit: Miranda Whiperfurth via Unsplash
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Dua Lipa – “New Rules”

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I saw him walk, 

Saw him fire randomly. 

Searchimg for specific victims, 

Fear was palpable, hanging heavy —

In the sunlit air, deceptive for the scent of blood. 

Pungent, stinging my lungs, 

As if breathing in a mustard gas. 

No one should ever have to know —

Deaths putrid scent. 

See it pooling, 

From a loved one or friend. 

No one should have to see, 

How medicine cannot always heal; 
By knowledge or by quickness. 

That the scariest monsters are the ones, 
Seemingly kind, normal, 

Even attractive humans. 

Those who cannot function, 

Losing control by illness, 

Or by self-indoctrination. 

Breaking to pieces, 

Flipping their humanity switch. 

Or lost in a terrifying nightmare, 

Blurring into their edges.

They’ve nothing soft left, 

No heart remaining, 

In cold blood or insanity. 

He may have been a gun man, 

Or perhaps, he was a manipulator? 

A lesser monster whose pain, 

Transformed into rage. 

A monster stealing peace of mind, 

Security and safety. 

Through vile methods. 

He’s the twenty phone calls your ignoring, 

Sleeping with him anyways, 
Just so he’ll go away. 

Because you don’t feel anything, 

Cringing at his touch. 

Under him it’s all to clear,

Your never over him; 

Until you don’t let him return ever. 

But he enjoys the tatters,

While regret knots in your stomach, 

Grows agonizing when he —

Doesn’t hear all your “No’s” and “Stops.”

But you stay with him, 

You let him believe, 

Because has the power to harm, 

A craziness in his eyes. 

Different bullets than the gunmen, 
Bullets just the same. 

Ban the ballots, the gunpowder, 

Save those trapped, 

By gun toting diehards,

And fools who take advantage —

Wielding obsession and abuse. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Saturday Mix Flash Fiction: The Weeping Willow and The Rabbit #amwriting #flashfiction #talltales


Thanks to Bastet for hosting Saturday Mix on MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. Today’s theme is ‘Tall Tales.’ 

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Credit: GSK 16

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The sky was falling in large drops of blue glass. The weeping willow was the first to notice so she cried. Her tears gathered creating a river with the drops from the sky. 

A mighty rabbit hopped by, he was a bit confused as to where all this water was coming from. 

“Ms. Willow why are you crying a river?” he asked. 

“I’m a weeping willow and the sky is falling haven’t you noticed?” 

The rabbit nodded, “Well yes of course it falls. Each time it rains, snows, or hails, the sky falls.” 

“You need to stop crying. You’re going to drown everyone in your tears. I’m the  king of all animals, you better listen to me.” 

“Why?” 

“My friend is a massive blue ox named Babe. His friend named Paul chops down trees for a living.” 

The willow immediately stopped weeping and the rabbit’s triumphant roar was heard throughout the forest. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt: Poem – Quatrains – “Constant Cravings” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. This week’s prompt is the song: “Constant Craving” By KD Lang

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http://www.curejoy.com

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Constant cravings not only for,

An addict or a pregnant gal.

Cravings that run deep, thus, inform–

Temptation in life, to resolve. 

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Find balm for cravings we adore,

The deadly; we’re not infallible.

What if they control us, and pour–

Salt on wounds, we’re delicate, fragile.

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Some addictions, need be unformed,

Forget the drugs, the alcohol–

Constant craving beyond our core,

Craving affection, unappalled.

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A deep urge, to have and to pour —

Water on our burns, all close calls.

But can you escape craving more? 

Never enough, always need salves. 

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Constant want and feeling so sore —

Need completion, a place to fall. 

Beyond bad cravings, wanting more.

Constantly seeking, peace enthralls.  

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poetry – Petrarchen  Sonnet – “The Game I Played” #poetry #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Yinglan

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In Junior high, soccer we used to play. 

Up, down; between goal posts on soccer field,

Learning through error, our feet ball to wield. 

With studies done, we played the entire day.

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Our teacher was a pro; swore whole life he played —

Soccer until he was bored at twenty-two.

Taught us, throwing the ball into play through —

Kicking it in when it was offside of play.

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Years ago, I gave mean slide tackle away.

I was great at defence; not running entire —

Field; many falls on grass caused allergies ire.

Miss many days spent, stealing the ball rolling, 

Passing it off to a team mate scoring goals.

Game I won’t watch; to play again, desiring.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Silver and Gold” #poetry #amwriting


http://www.thecollegeinvestor.com

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Please Listen Below: 

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​Forged in Silver and Gold,
My legs in Bronze wrapped.

Precious metals, the artist molds.

Silver and Gold; precious and cold.

You never let me attach;

Though you feel my skin,

Your most beloved metal.

The artist in me approves,

As you etch my form, and carve,

The length of my body in Silver and Gold.

The Gold of my hair, burnished with Bronze.

The Silver of my pale skin,

Gemstones for my eyes;

The bluest of Sapphires.

More shadow in the glitter,

Masks the deception we share.

Hides my introspection, pain on the inside,

How you could hurt me?

Sketching my soul?

With your golden hands;

So tanned from your heritage,

Creating art with our beauty.

As the Ancient Greek and Romans,

Perfection in Silver and Gold bodies.

You sketch and you etch,

You carve, curves and sensations,

With Silver and Gold,

Caressing my body,

Destroying my core.

My heart and my soul,

The edge of reason fading,

Quicksilver in my veins draining.

Etching you back,

Silver and Gold, for my chosen;

Highlighting your scars,

Diamond gems bright.

Silver and Gold; until I am old,

My body you fashion in Silver and Gold,

Taking and talking, performance art.

My artfulness; your artfulness,

Mutual thirst, for precious metals slaked.

Ag and Au the atomic symbols,

In movements like music,

Golden pixie dust brightens the air,

Silver dust on my eyelids, your cheeks.

Fly me to the Neverland;

Let’s escape the rabbit holes.

Paint our trail flying in Silver and Gold.

I’ve nothing but my heart,

For you my most precious metal.

Silver, Gold, and gems, your body imparts,

Hoping there is more at your core;

In your heart, and in your soul.

Something warm and soft,

The dust from precious metals as pillows pulled of feathers.

Hurt me not; forget me not,

Love me with your Golden skin.

Your Bronze eyes alight and brilliant;

Silver and Gold, we’ve no control,

When the talk turns to whispers;

We blossom and glisten, sweat beading,

Golden and Silver;

My scars so deep glimmer,

Created to highlight the Silver in my skin.

Of Gold so entranced,

Your enthralling hands;

Touch me and multiply the treasure.

You cannot melt me down;

I’m quicksilver on your tongue,

Solid Silver in your grip;

Trapped by your Bronze eyes.

Silver and Gold, in the rise of sun,

King Midas, his work done.

Silver lips give you a kiss,

Beg for your shimmering touch.

As the sun beats down,

The most Golden light,

Of all the light known,

Creator has granted in Silver and Gold.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Tanka – ” Different Footsteps” 


My passion writing,

Forming words on a book page,

Collecting writing,

Putting together word puzzles.

How stories and poems are formed

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You say you’ve passion,

For other ideals and work,

I feel it’s so strange,

Jumping on the bandwagon,

University repeated now.

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Don’t believe you know,

Though the words drip from your lips.

What your passions are.

You only see opportunity,

And it’s one which might work for you.

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You try to lead but —

I’m not that follower now,

Life taken me dark places,

Fear and doubt and survival,

Having health, tranquility.

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They tend to overshadow,

Entrepreuneral spirit,

I’m held down from growth, 

To tired to tell you such truth,

Go on with your bandwagon.

If something appears —

To good, usually isn’t —

As good as it seems.

Calculated risks are me.

I’ve need to have some control.

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You’re not a leader,

As you follow the nearest,

Footsteps you see,

Could be opportunity,

I need my own security.

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Not sure you know me,

Time has passed and I’m worn,

Seeing larger screen,

Pictures on a grandeur scale,

Brimming with words, my own task.

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Take no offence friend,

Life is different for me now,

I follow other —

Footsteps in my life and go,

Where I must as time flashes.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Quatrains – “Fight and Fly”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt fight.

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Flying Birds
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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.

Where Comfort Does Not Lie


This morning I picked up my big thick beautiful September edition of Instyle Magazine. It is so large I am only 2/3 of the way through it. Instyle is full of pictures, pictures of fashion, makeup, and home decore with very little writing. I love to read but it is for the very reason that I do not have to read that I love Instyle. Instyle is full of beauty products I long to try, perfumes I test by seeing if my dog likes the smell of them, and outfits I search through for pieces to add to my wardrobe, sometimes just figuratively speaking. The thing is the pictures of the models and beauty products are fantastic, they are comfort itself. Beauty contained in 717 pages. A dense coffee table book that is a feast to my eyes and to all my senses.

I love the way that magazines such as Instyle smell; I always have. Instyle smells such as flowers, and perfume, and the brand new scent of crisp magazine pages, it smells as if it is a world of scents unto itself, as if it is a beauty getaway from the everyday to this life of luxury and decadence. Instyle is one of my comfort places. I look at it twice in print form, than go through it in tablet edition to click on the links and websites to all that stylish clothing, decore, and wonderful beauty products.

But the point, of this blog is “getting out of the magazine” not getting lost inside it. It is easy to become caught in this luxurious magazine full of seemingly perfect models that clothing fits divinely on , that makeup does not smudge on, that beauty products always seem to work on, that outfits are tailored to fit, with models that computers improve, and colors that a computer clarifies. If I am honest with myself it is easy to get lost in what is truly a fake, but a lovely fake a magazine is.

But honestly, a good dose of reality is often needed for the women who read fashion magazines, including I. Because what is in the magazine is not in a sense real life; it is for show.I think that we get lost in what is fake in life too. That we easily turn to the beautiful and intangible and away from the truth, from the tangible and often ugly aspects of the world, Or even worse, preferring what is fake and lovely to what is beautiful and true.

Something I discovered about myself recently is that I hate to be cornered into doing something by people I do not know well or am learning to get to know; I do not trust other people easily. I know this but when it comes to actually offering yourself up to someone and trusting them, relying on them to take you places you have never been, to take you places you are uncomfortable and unfamiliar with, that is extremely hard to do. Just letting go and allowing someone else to take control can be very difficult for me.

I always feel safe and comfortable when I know what is going on. I make plans and I schedule. And because my energy levels are such that I need to know when I can do something so I know how much energy I have to work with, how much time before I have nothing left and am useless and physically and mentally distressed, this a huge reason why I cannot give up control in my life. I can hardly ever just let someone say “I’ll take care of it” outside of family and extremely close friends

I have to be independent and depend on me because I have learned in situations where I have needed someone, some people are just not willing to be there – to take me on. I do not hold grudges for this, I understand everyone has their own responsibilities, but it’s disappointing to find out you cannot rely on someone again and again.

That’s why when experiencing a situation recently when I truly had to give up control I felt overwhelmed and lost. I felt myself feeling very alive being out of my comfort spot. Depending on someone I was not as familiar with was hard but enlightening.

But you see, we try to hide in our comfort places, in our magazines, in our story book relationships, in our past friendships, in a world where money doesn’t matter, but the reality of life is waiting right outside the door and at one time or another we are all lost without control. At some moment we all must face that feeling of “letting go” and allowing life or another person to lead us. We all must experience that shocking but enlightening pain of reality and lean on someone. It’s difficult to give control up, but it is essential to trust new people and learn from new situations. For all who seek where, comfort does not lie, outside our favourite magazines, our favourite experiences there is a bursting, beguiling, breathe of fresh air – here lies life in it’s fullest.

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