Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Collage Prompt: Cascading Etherees – “The Light Keeps Burning” #amwriting #poetry #stories 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Collage Prompt.  

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Credit: Window- Andrey Bobir: Fruit Center: Kevin Sloan: Woman- Christian Schloe

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I’m a story, my life overarching,

Tale that tells of my unique journey. 

Places I’ve travelled, things I’ve seen,

Until the day comes and these —

Memories imprint, 

Silt, dust, and smoke. 

Characters lost, 

Not even, 

To be, 

Known. 

—–

Gone,

Can’t be! 

Actions done, 

Wild nights, regret;

My authentic talents,

And a muse who knows, 

Histories repeated —

Memories of pen and ink. 

Thoughts hidden, lock and key, they close. 

Masking the truth of such characters, 

Building worlds through words, disconnected. 

——-

Sly as a fox, I’ve learned fruitful ways. 

These days go by, can’t halt the clock’s tick,

Don’t forget time’s ever so short. 

Juices dribbling down small chins,

Organic pears sweet with —

Raspberries too. 

Spiritually, 
Ripe fruit ate, 

Becomes soul —

Food that —

Heals. 

—–

Just, 

As Tales, 

Brilliant and — 

Warm soothe the heart, 

But reality —

Doldrums work to dull minds. 

An anasethic addictive, 

Sickness in body, soul, and heart. 

Too much berries here for birds who —

Wobble discordently drunk, stagnant. 

—-

Become a person who finds windows when, 

All doors are shut, locked up tightly. 

Find your dreams, your goals define them, 

Persevere, strive in —

Life as it happens; too —

Fast for my liking! 

Absorb moments,

Choose to, 

Live. 

——-

No,

Matter,

That we will, 

Be forgotten,

As stories or part,

Of nastolgies devised.  

Obscurity as time —

Moves as the rabbit with his —

Pocket watch; we’re perpetually late; 

Wherever we end; hope it’s paradise.

——

One where we dwell on stories of truth, 

Body’s age, decay; but our gifts stay. 

Forever they are our tasks.

Someday we each face ends.

As Dylan desperate wrote, 

Of the light’s dying, 

Don’t fear for it; light’s

Forever, 

Guiding 

Home.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 



Animals/Pets, Children/YA/Family, Current Events, dVerse, Free Verse, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Prompt -Free Verse – “Today’s Your Day” #poetry #dVerse #taleweavers


Thanks to Lorraine of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers #131 on the theme of “making it your day.” I’m combining this prompt with Lillian of Poetic’s Pub #dVerse prompt of “seeking some shade.” 


Hammock Summer Day Katya Austin
Credit: Katya Austin via UnSplash

Today’s your day,

Go outside, love it,

Take in the sun’s —

Pure golden rays.

Graze through,

Fresh markets,

Ripe fruit,

Crisp vegetables.

Today’s your day,

Make something of it.

Inhale,

Fresh air;

Grass blades,

From mowed lawns.

The scent of,

Salty ocean breeze;

Scent of sand,

Sunscreen lotion.

Aroma of forest,

Rot, decay,

Contrast with bloom,

Flourishment.

Today’s your day,

Laugh, love,

Profoundly.

Take photos,

Future memories.

Hold your honey,

Close.

Kiss your,

Children’s sticky cheeks.

Run, play —

With them,

Until you’ve exhausted them.

Chase your dog,

Doing zoomies.

Today’s your day,

Spend it, however,

You please.

Sit under shade,

Of oldest tree,

On soft blankets.

Read an —

Immersing book.

Drink sangria,

Secretly.

Snack on chocolate,

On fleshy pink,

Watermelon.

Today’s your day,

Live it vivaciously,

For there’ll  never,

Be another day,

Same as this —

One’s been.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Blitz poem - 48 Lines, Fairy Tale Themed, Friday Music Prompt, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Music #9 /Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – Liabilities Now Shed” #musicchallenge #poetry #amwriting #photochallenge 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the last music challenge. Also thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo challenge. 

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Credit: MKA photography

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Lords – “Liability” 

——–

You’re a little much for me, see 

See you’re a liability 

Liabilities are costly 

Liability, that’s you baby 

Baby hurt me so much

Baby left me crying 

Crying in the taxi 

Crying until I reached home 

Home, it’s what I though we had

Home, what’s one broken? 

Broken I’m shattered

Broken, he doesn’t need to know

Knowing me, mistake were made 

Knowing little, he couldn’t handle trying  

Trying to dance in my storm 

Trying not to be poisoned 

Poison, he said that’s what I was

Poison, that’s what he is 

He is poison destructive to me 

He is the maker of harsh demands 

Demands — I only meet my own now

Demands are so tiring 

Tiring, he’s too hard to please

Tiring, he says I’m diseased 

Diseased, he’s the one, making ‘us’ decay

Diseased, the man I knew gone 

Gone amd there’s no more dancing 

Gone, no more love in the dark

Darkness, I’m alone swaying 

Dark and alone, dancing alone

Alone too much for him 

Alone I’m still dangerous 

Dangerous truth: he treats me as a toy 

Dangerous and too boring 

Boring after doing exciting tricks

Boring after our perfect summer

Summer in my heart hurts  

Summer’s turned cold 

Cold eating me alive, 

Cold cause, you’re all gone 

Gone so I’m on my own 

Gone, I accept I’m a liability 

Liabilities must be forgotten 

Liabilities must be shed

Shed so as not to him expose. 

Forgotten so I’m never loved. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved 

Current Events, Fiction, History, Interior design, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Exception #amwriting #flashfiction #history


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for holding this week’s SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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The White Horse is a popular bar and inn for tourists to stay at while visiting museums and decaying buildings in town. 

Many old ones have been restored in the style of their time period. However, some buildings have rotted away. These past glories are left in ruin because they cannot be torn down as historical sites. 

Although some people wish to restore these ancient buildings, the process of doing this correctly, with trades who are trained in forgotten skills, is frustrating. As well, there are a plethora of permits needed from the city, county, and state, along with, random inspections.

Architects and knowledgable art history professors complain, saying that the quality of work by rare trades is not accurate. Or perhaps, they say the right materials have not been used, despite these materials now being nonexistent. But few so-called experts understand that the price paid for not restoring ancient buildings is having them collapse, having history disappear. 

The White Horse, however, is an exception to such procedures. The popular bar and inn has been passed down from generations of family since the thirteen-hundreds. Over time, the same lineage has updated the bar and inn through each successive family. The building  contains upgrades from the fourteenth century until early 2010. 

For some reason, there isn’t much any government official or anyone else, can say about this. The same family line has lived here for over seven-hundred-years, having always owned the bar and inn. Can the state and historical societies reprimand them now? Not likely. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, History, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem: Quadrille – “The Catacombs” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Paul Scribbles for hosting the ‘underground’ poem prompt theme for this week.

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Credit: Paris Trip Adviser

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In catacombs roaming, 

Creature of the dark decay. 

Sun burns flesh from bones, 

Igniting funeral pyres. 

We all must wander, 
I choose the catacombs;

Underground inhaling,

Dust of rotting flesh. 

Piercing tranquility, 

Screams of dead long past. 

Lullabys send us to bed,

Before yellow sapphire rises. 

Waiting for pitch coal;

Good becomes evil too easily. 
———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Still Grins On #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF


Skull
A Mixed Bag

Whose skull was this?

Painted with black,

Pagan man with Celtic designs.

Artwork of black paint done with care.

Celtic chains round the chin,

Eyes the deepest black holes,

Examining his head thinking,

Under every living human head,

Lies bones, a skull.

More chains around his forehead,

Celtic chains connecting what?

Fans of decorations highlighting cheeks,

And lines underneath hollow eyes.

Teeth broken, some full and functional.

But some teeth chipped,

Decayed from no tooth brush or paste?

What artist drew on a human skull?

Had he or she no respect for the dead?

But I think this skull we’ve found,

Designed with detail,

In the middle of the Ireland,

Tells a story of a time long ago,

No saying how gentleman skull died.

If he was sacrificed,

Or passed away from illness,

These decorations seem to tell me,

He died a man of a great respect.

I do know he was not so old,

And someone saw value in his bones,

To delicately, with care, design his skull rare.

Perhaps, frightening away the other dead.

Or with an artists eye,

Giving glory and tribute to this man’s remains.

His skull the most valued,

For there sat his brain, where he thought,

Ruled kindly and wisely, a leader,

Before death took his life.

And the painted skull through time,

Still grins on.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.