Photo Challenge: Poem – Quatrains – “Tale of The Floating Bride” #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to NEEKNERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge prompt. 

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Credit: Zhangjinga.com

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Enchanting child in slumber keep, 

Red hair surrounds you as you sleep. 

I wait for you to wake from your dreams, 

No longer a porcelain doll preened. 

*****

A wedding gown white lace so frothy, 

Mother hoped your match was lofty.

That you’d found your life partner, 

Your prince, your man, for life to start.

*****

But day by day you grew sad, 

When pressed with his kisses ran. 

Empty feeling inside you grew, 

Like a butterfly away flew.

*****

Mischievous child, pain grew, 

His fist at your face straight-on flew. 

Hiding the bruises with powder,

Not even concealer shrouds

*****

Pride vital to you, tiny doll, 
Escaped; no one to catch your fall.
Fly in dreams with delicate wings, 

Winter ends, it’s soon your spring. 

*****

Gather your courage –call it off;

Don’t marry him, don’t be soft.

In front of the crowd, show each cut, 

Let them see bruises, you must. 

*****

So they know an abuser, 

Isn’t good enough, he’s a loser. 

He broke your velvet wings, 

Your sanity held by strings. 

*****

But it was too late even then, 

The lake too close; so your end.

Now you float, butterfly who swims, 

Eternity of light your win. 

*****

We tried to save a doll of glass, 

But on death she shattered, passed. 

Down below the water’s dark depth,

She’s tranquil, free; although, she leapt. 

*****

Mind too distorted, destroyed, 

Lover’s hands threw her like a toy.

World tough; his madness changed them both, 

In Heaven she smiles free to float. 

*****

He mourns her death each day, each drink, 

Pretty soon his rage him too sinks. 

Accidents happen to the unaware, 

She pulled him in, drowned his despair. 

—– 

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weaver Prompt: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – ” Fireworks Like Stars” #amwriting #poetry #newyears #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weavers prompt: celebration and the New Year.

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Credit: © Mara Eastern – Used with Permission.

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Oh brilliant star once gifted, you 

Blow away all dark, you shine true.

Your colours effervescent, clear, 

Holding eternity in lights sear. 

The calm of night hidden, in sparkle with awe we live. 

Stars erupting vivid, as seen in a child’s eyes bright. 

—–

Dear child do you know, our country? 

Is not young as she was once; won —

Her liberty from England with ease. 

Didn’t as our Southern neighbours cease —

Their freedom; we grew from peaceful roots, we amplify, 

Reason in the world for one-hundred-fifty-years nigh.  

—–

So in this New Years night proudly, 

Watch the sparklers light, the crowd —

Cheering as the stars burst red, white —

And crackle in the air to delight. 

All people gathered to ring in twenty-seventeen, 

The year of Our Lord, brilliant stars gleam.

—–

We’ve more than celestial stars, 

Burning in the night milenias;

Milenias times millions more, 

Kanada, “village,” country born. 

A multiplicity of ethnicities know home,  

Glowing fireworks alight the skies, ample colour shown. 

—–

The stars are our fireworks, they 

Light all our ways home, to know, 

Such a gift we’ve been given, such —

Treasure fine: inspired and just, 

Fire in the sky ignites majestic liquid lights,  

Oh brilliant stars could we touch divinity this night? 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weavers Fairytale Prompt: Enchanted Apples #taleweaver #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Mind Love’s Misery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers Fairytale prompt. This months prompt is: a tale with fruit.

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Mara Eastern
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Jared was the kind of man who made any woman who saw him stop and stare. He was classically handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes; he was told he resembled a thirty-five-year-old Brad Pitt. 

Jared was blessed, but he didn’t realize how much. He owned his dream company, made tens of millions of dollars early in his career, had mansions all over the world, cars of various makes and models from classics to brand new, as well as, any toy he desired — skidoos, motorcycles, dirt bikes, (etc). 

Yet, Jared was alone in life. He had no emotional relationship with any woman he dated. He felt many women and men were worthless beings, wasting their life focusing on helping others and building relationships which, ultimately, ended. 

Jared believed he was “better” than other people due to his wealth, prestige, and attractiveness. He knew he needed a partner, a woman who had similar qualities to him. He also knew it wouldn’t be a love match for he had no love in his heart. 

One night at a charity reception, a hideous girl named Ali approached Jared. She carried with her a basket of the most delicious looking apples. 

People were drawn to their ruby shine and many people begged Ali to have one of her apples. Yet, they cringed at her repulsive faces and body, ravaged by burns and disease.

Ali’s form was bent and crippled and she dragged behind her a club foot. Her eyes were beady and when she opened her mouth, she revealed rotten teeth with many missing. Her basket of apples, in fact, was the only attractive quality about Ali with exception of her beautiful golden hair. It was thick, lustrous, and reached her waist.

Jared was appalled when Ali approached him but he noticed her mouth watering basket of apples. As with everyone, he was drawn to them. But Jared didn’t understand why Ali carried the apples around, not willing to give them to anyone, despite offers of large sums of money and contacts for proceeders to alter her appearance. 

——

“What do you want?” Jared asked Ali, gazing down on her in her repulsive ugliness. 

Ali laughed. Her voice deceivingly youthful, “I can give you anything you desire with these apples. What you want the most will be yours with only one bite.”

“Yeah right,” said Jared. “Why would you give me a bite of one of your apples? And for free? You’d be stupid to do that.”

Ali giggled,”I didn’t say I’d give you a bite for free. Nothing’s free in this world as you well know.”

Jared peered again at the apples which called to him, a sirens song from forbidden fruit,”What’s your price hag?” 

Ali smiled and her rotten teeth and foul breath made Jared take a step-back. He knew what the ugly woman would request, but for some reason, he let her ask for what she wanted.

“I want a kiss. A real one,” Ali said.”For a kiss I will give you one apple. Perhaps, then, you will find the woman who will truly be your other half.”

Jared gasped, afraid the horrid woman could read his mind. He nodded to her and said: “I accept your bargain.” 

“My names Ali,” she said and drew closer to Jared. She stopped for a moment,”This will only work if you truly desire a partner to love, with a pure-heart.”

Jared brushed Ali’s words aside, “My intentions are honourable enough.” He tried not to gag as Ali’s mouth drew closer. But he stared at her gorgeous red apples and imagined an apple in his mouth; it was how he managed kissing Ali.

Her lips were dry as they rasped against his. Ali’s tongue dove in his mouth and when she groaned, he felt as if he might throw-up. She bit his lip and she laughed when he cringed. 

When Ali stopped kissing Jared, she stepped back, her mouth in a mischievous smile. She drew a beautiful ruby apple from her basket and presented it to Jared with gnarled fingers. 

Jared grabbed the apple, greedy for its taste. He gorged on it as if he was Eve and the apple, the forbidden fruit in Eden. 

Suddenly, both Jared and Ali began to glow with white light. While Jared withered, developing scars and burns all over his skin, Ali became stunningly beautiful. She became a curvaceous and breath-taking woman in her prime. She attracted the crowd in the room to her presence.

Jared’s hair had fallen out and his expensive clothes hung on him as his muscle tone disappeared. In minutes, no one recognized Jared; he was as ugly and as repulsive as Ali had been. His only remaining attractive feature were his bright blue-eyes. 

A beautiful golden haired goddess stood before Jared. She sighed, grasping his scarred hand. 

“I told you Jared. You had to want what you desired with a pure-heart. You had to be ready to love the perfect woman for you; but you love no one but yourself. I was the perfect woman for you, but you loath me. You called me a hag.”

Jared laughed, “You were disgusting and now you made me disgusting too.”

Ali let go of Jared’s hand, offering the basket of apples to him: 

“Only, give an apple to the most loathsome and disgusting person you can find on the earth. Remember appearances are not everything and under the most beautiful and sometimes successful people, hides a monster,” Ali warned.

“You’re a monster Jared, but you have been given a chance to redeem yourself. To learn to love and be human, until you find the most terrible woman and find the smallest glimmer of hope inside her. She will either become your truelove and save both you and her, or become as you have, taking your place. You will return to your former privileged life and body, but with a changed heart. You will know when you find the right person and will wander the earth until then.”

Ali dropped Jared’s hand and disappeared into the crowd. No one noticed him for once. They only noticed Ali who had become his philanthropic sister. She became owner of all his wealth, company, mansions, and life, when he disappeared. 

Jared wandered the earth an evil gnarled old man for years and years. Some say, he still wanders today. No one knows if he’s changed. 

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

3Line Tales: Quiet, Imagination, and the Spaces Inbetween Silence.


  Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words or Less for hosting Three Line Tales.

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Moritz Schmidt
 

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 1. Some people abhor quiet and others they adore it, I would say I’m often in the latter group but not all the time; we all have this need to be sociable creatures to some extent, whether it’s to meet new clients and network; gab with our girlfriends or see the boys for a game; or simply sit in a coffee shop and absorb the hum of conversation occurring around us.

2. I have this love for quiet (or silence you might call it) because they’re special ideas and transfigurations of your imagination hiding within it; some people can feed their creativity in the loud and garish noises of a crowd of people yelling and hollering to a person near to them; but the best place for some of us to elaborate on ideas and call fourth the muses of our imagination is in the silence where we write brilliant stories, paint paintings, and daydream of our future creations.

3. Sometimes it’s not the quiet or silence which is meaningful, but the spaces inbetween the quiet, because in those hidden molecules lives a powerful and significant understanding between two people; it is love in it’s magnificence which exists within the silences of husbands and wives, partners, girlfriends and boyfriends, children and their parents, grandparents and grandchildren, friends, and people and their pets; this space within silence is a secret place two people who love each other exceptionally, coexist together without uttering a single word, while both comprehending each other deeply even within each other’s souls.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Quatrains on Life


It’s hard to shut my mind off.

There’s no switch, so it keeps wandering,

Down the paths of will I and should I?

Through the trails of could I? Would I?

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I think I’ve been making some important steps.

I also think there are parts of the wheel,

That still haven’t turned and the process is slow,

But I try to do well just the same.

——

I’m stuck in a pattern and it’s not right,

To fear having so many people around,

To wonder how long until my body gives out,

To wish for meaning, but instead I’ll drift.

——-

Idle, conversation, I am merely there to be there,

To see a girl who lights up the world.

But her candle’s been flickering lately.

Even though she is doing well; I worry,

—–

She’s breaking the back of a milicious monster,

It starts with a “C” it’s a terrible disease,

But she doesn’t give it power, 

It’s why she refers to it as ‘Boobitas.’

—–

Maybe, she is being cute but I have to agree,

Power lies with the fears we let overcome us,

And she has a life to live, a baby to love.

Better not to let the ‘C’ word devour.

—–

Tomorrow night there will be a party,

To celebrate her thirty years on earth.

Many will have with them their other half,

But I’m devasted by many guys these days,

——

I don’t want to be alone, but I’m not desperate,

But to date in your thirties living with Mom,

Makes the dating process harder.

Not to mention it’s hard for me to be out long with my health,

—–

I miss being a couple, but I don’t want my ex back.

I’ve been there before and done that.

And I’ve talked to many guys, they are quick,

And many are sly, they aren’t interested in putting effort in, or talk,

—–

They only want a woman whose warm,

I write stories and I read them too,

Guys in books they don’t exist,

And when I go to write a character,

——

I follow the literary tradition of writing books about guys woman want,

But don’t exist in the real world,

I’m not sure I could write a real guy,

I’m not sure what the ideal real-life guy is like,

——

He would probably eat a lot and want a lot of sheet twisting, 

When you go out, he’d say ‘you choose.’

Then not tell you when he hates it.

And he wouldn’t go with you again,

—–

I don’t think there were ever wonderful princes,

I don’t think there are wonderful millionaires or billionaires.

I think there are a lot of people,

Choosing to stay single because they can’t find their person.

——

But then I see my friends with husbands,

I see their boyfriends and I know they are doing well,

Perhaps, I’m on the outside looking in,

But my past relationship was never quite right.

—–

These are only things I wonder, when I’m tired on a Friday night,

When I had plans but it didn’t work out,

At least I sold my old IPad, slow friend.

And my new one is so fast she purs.

——

And I’m submitting writing to all these different places, 

I’m trying to build a portfolio of published work.

But it takes time to craft stories and poems,

Even posted here, they still require work.

—–

So, If nothing else I am productive,

And looking to live my writing dreams,

The mouse typing  in a pile of rodents spinning, 

Tomorrow my friend is thirty and even that’s not enough time to be friends with her. 

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©Mandibelle. All Rights Reserved.