#OctPoWriMo 28/Sunday Writing Prompts: Poem – Bop – “What Release’s Pain” #amwriting #poetry


For OctPoWriMo 28 I can’t get onto the website at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I am so far behind? Instead, I’ll just be using the Sunday Writing Prompt of Scribblers Dip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie based on fake band names including: Squirrel Nut Zippers, GoGo Penguins, Abstract Evil Barbie, Bimbo Toolshed, The Pineapples from the Dawn of Time, Reign of Frogs, Devil with Cheese, Stop Calling Me Frank, Loudmouth kitten, and Kissyfoot. 

Credit: Yvette de Wit via Unsplash

When I met him, there was no telling of taste, 

In horrible music he thought was just great. 

I went with him to GoGoPenguin’s shows, 

Cringing as he sang to Hard Metal prose.  

Lyrics made my insides squirm hearing hate, 

He sang with angry fervor berating

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

At Abstract Evil Barbie I questioned, 

How ‘Barbie’ was perverse, lyrics lessened —

Her value as a child’s toy, words fearful — 

Of hurt and frustration sounding eerie

He loved each band, Bimbo Toolshed’s screaming, 

Destroying the whole world in pain keening. 

Beneath his clever smile he revealed his —

Desire to get back at life with derision

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

Reign of the Frogs made me shiver as they sang, 

Maliciously damning all those they harangued

I asked him why we couldn’t listen to words —

That were softer, happier, encouraging. 

But to him, Stop Calling Me Frank’s words curt

Released the devil inside him stopped his hurt. 

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 



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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: What Jesus Would Do #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to PricelessJoy for hosting last week’s FFftAW.

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Credit: Any1Mark66

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“Do you think the aliens actually look like that, Mom? They aren’t like my chameleon, Greg. They’re so bright soldiers would find them and kill them.” 

“That’s a good point, Patrick. If there are aliens, like this guy here, they wouldn’t be able to hide being neon green, unless they had special powers? What do you think?” 

“No they’re to bright they couldn’t hid. But maybe, like Greg, they could blend in. So in the forest the aliens could becomes like trees. Dark green and brown.” 

Patrick tugs on his Mom’s arm, “Why is that devil beside the alien? Does he come after aliens too?” 

“I’m not really sure. I think if the alien’s are anything like humans, I think God would protect them from the devil too. Do you think so?” 

Patrick crossed himself as he saw his grandparents do at church. He smiled a bit embarrassed, “I think if the aliens cross themselves and they have a soul they will be okay. The devil can’t hurt the aliens if they have Jesus too.” 

Patrick’s Mom hid her face as she chuckled, “I believe if there are aliens and they are considered ‘intelligent beings,’ there is no reason they can’t have souls and believe in Jesus as well. You are right about that.” 

Patrick smiled and ran over to kick the devil carving. 

“Patrick!” 

“What it’s what Jesus would do?” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt: Poem – English Sonnet – “Whisky in The Jar-O Please”  #amwriting #musicchallenge #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Friday’s Music Prompt: “Whiskey In the Jar” performed by Metallica. 

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Credit: GQ – Best Way to Drink Whiskey – http://www.pinterest.com

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Whiskey In The Jar” sung by Metallica 

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Up the Cork and Kerry Mountains to find, 

Captain Farrell, money in vault to hide. 

Highway man with pistol and rapier, 

Sending him home for the devil to take. 

All his money in saddle bags hidden, 

To home for the highway man hard ridden. 

Said she would love me, never would she leave, 

Molly in bed; man there, now dead bleeding. 

Still to her chambers, go I, highway man, 

Drunk; money to mask and Molly to take. 

Captain Farrell riding up, shooting guns, 

Aiming both barrels; now in prison flung. 

Wish for Molly’s chambers to romp, yet she —

deceived; more, whiskey in the jar-O, please 🥃 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Free to Be Left-handed. #amwriting #fiction #freedom


Thank you to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. This week’s prompt is: “Freedom is a state of mind.” 

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http://www.newdealferi.org

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“Stop it Tommy, ” Miss Erma Webster chastised Tommy, slapping his left-hand with her ruler.

He’d been able to write left-handed well since he was five-years-old. He was sixteen now, one of the older students in the one-room school house. He gazed up front at Miss Webster and began writing again.

Miss Webster marched forward, grabbing Tommy’s ear. “Tommy, you maybe almost a man but I won’t let evil win, allowing you to write left-handed. After school, one-hundred lines on the black board with your right-hand. Write: I will never write with my evil left-hand again.

“No Ma’me,” said Tommy. “My writing is perfect. Keep your left-handed superstitions to yourself Erma, you’re only one-year older than me.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

A List of Words with Meaning


1. John Donne – “A Valediction Forbidding Mourning.” Lines 12-24. 

Why I love it? I love this poetry quote and the entire poem because I think the poem speaks about the kind of love we should strive to have with our other-halves. Not the love of “[dull] sublunary lovers” which is only a physical connection that “[abscence] doth remove[s] / [those] things which elements it.” But love where, “two souls . . . are one” and when one lover dies the relationship does not end. Instead, the relationship is such as “gold to airy thinness beat,” not a “breach” but an “expansion” of love.

Dull sublunary lovers’ love

   (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit

Absence, because it doth remove

   Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined,

   That our selves know not what it is,

Inter-assured of the mind,

   Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,

   Though I must go, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

   Like gold to airy thinness beat.

2. John Milton – Paradise Lost: Book 9  – The Fall of Mankind – Eve eating the Forbidden Fruit.

Why I love this quote? Adam and Eve live perfect lives in the Garden of Eden. But Eve is tempted by Satan in the guise of a snake who tells Eve she would be powerful and all knowing like God if she ate the forbidden fruit, even though God said that was the only thing that Adam and Eve cannot do. Many people will say, the Fall of mankind was Eve’s fault because she ate the fruit first and later, gave it to Adam. The thing was Eve was created from Adam’s rib, and he was supposed to love, protect her, and watch out for her. So, even when Eve takes that first bite, Adam has sinned to. And he does it again when he eats the fruit himself. This quote to me is savage and lustful: “Greedily, she ingorg’d without restraint / And knew not eating death.” Imagine this brilliant sexy vivacious woman who has been tricked by the devil, and done herself and her husband in. Immediately, she loses self-restraint and does not realize upon eating the fruit, she was ensuring that she would die, as would every member of the human race one day because we all relate back to Adam and Eve.

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour

Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck’d, she eat:

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat

Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe,

That all was lost. Back to the Thicket slunk

The guiltie Serpent, and well might, for Eve

Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else

Regarded, such delight till then, as seemd,

In Fruit she never tasted, whether true

Or fansied so, through expectation high

Of knowledg, nor was God-head from her thought.

Greedily she ingorg’d without restraint,

And knew not eating Death: Satiate at length,

And hight’nd as with Wine, jocond and boon,

Thus to her self she pleasingly began.

3. Emily Dickinson – ” A Bird Came Down the Walk.” Lines 14-20.

Why I like this quote?  The poetry in these lines is extremely beautiful. The wording is lush and descriptive. It creates this wonderful image. I didn’t quote the entire poem though maybe I should have. But a bird comes down the walk and eats an angle worm raw. This shows the savagery and realness of nature. The bird looks around weary of predators with his beady bird eyes. He is acting as birds do. But there is beauty in the flight of the bird taking off “unroll[ing] his feathers” and “row[ing]” a “softer Home.” The last verse is magnificent and I still barely can wrap my mind around it. Flying like  “oars divid[ing] the Ocean / [too] silver for a seam.” And then a comparison of birds to butterflies who fly like they are swimming “plashless” or splashless in the sky. Just gorgeous wording you can feel and experience from Dickinson.

And he unrolled his feathers, 

And rowed him softer Home –

 

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam,

Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,

Leap, plashless as they swim.

4. Robert Browning – “Porphyries Lover.” Lines 28-43.

Why I like this quote? In this poem I like the horror of what Porphyria’s lover does. He thinks she has another lover and when he decides she doesn’t, he decides the only way to keep her his, is to strangle her with her own hair. Clearly, this guy is crazy but Browning writes so eloquently in his poem that the deed of murdering Porphyria is all the more terrible. In his messed up mine the lover thinks, “Porphyria worship[s]” him. To hold that moment in time because Porphyria is at last his, “[perfectly] pure and good,” the lover wraps Porphyria’s hair ” three times her little throat around / [and] strangle[s] her.” Crazy, but Browning does a fantastic job of conveying an obsessive lover.

       Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

       Made my heart swell, and still it grew

       While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

       Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

       In one long yellow string I wound

       Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

       I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

       I warily oped her lids: again

       Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

5. Robert Frost – “Mending Wall.” Lines 27-24.

Why I like this quote? Well, I think this an important poem because it talks about how to be good neighbours. I think Donald Trump should read this poem before he builds a wall to keep out Mexico and Canada. The speaker in this story is picking up the rocks from his stone fence and placing them back on the wall. His neighbour does the same thing on the otherside of the fence. The speaker does not understand why each year, him and his neighbour do this. His neighbour believes ” ‘ [good] fences make good neighbours.'” But the speaker wonders ” ‘ [why] do [fences] make good neighbours?'” He would like to know what “he is walling in or walling out.” The speaker “doesn’t love a wall” and he thinks it is unnecessary. But he would like his neighbour to understand why they shouldn’t be putting up walls for himself, but the neighbour will not change his ways. “He will not go behind his father’s saying.” This poem makes me think we too need to be careful what we wall out or wall in, in our lives. We need to be with other people to share and build friendships. We can’t wall each other out because of tradition or things we’ve done. We need to accept people in, and open our doors to be good neighbours.

He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

“Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence.

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,

But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father’s saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Please see The Poetry Foundation for the  complete works of poetry and other poems.

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Thanks to La Duchesse D’erat and Rosema for this weeks list prompt of important words.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

The Disturber of Steps


I can’t find a place to put my feet, there’s no stepping stones.
And I am remembering where I ran aground a plea to God.
And I can’t understand all this misery, give me stepping stones.
And I can’t find a way to go, does anyone know?

I’m just trying to place my hands along the wall,
And I’m blind to the ways I go, oh no one knows,
cause your supposed to be a sinner a grevious lie or a saintly saint.
But I can’t be a saint or a devil may care, I’m just me in the twilight at the dark.

You’ve got no right to make me do what I don’t want to do when I don’t want to,
Your the heaviness beneath my feet, those cinder blocks.
Cause you don’t understand when I say no, I’m not judging you.
And you can’t judge me back cause I’m, just as lost as you.

You can’t see the look in my eyes, Im glaring at you.
Because you can’t answer my questions, the hard ones that are vital me.
You dig and delve, say you know better, but you don’t know me.
If I decide to do something it’s going to be on my terms, yours are just guidelines.

You pass me along, like I don’t mean thing, you give me cause to be rude.
But I try not to judge and I try to be nice, but don’t ever force me along that road.
I walk and wander where I please, the deal was with you, so just keep your word.
Don’t tell me to respect my religion, when you don’t respect the increment called yours.

Don’t tell me to love, when I am already broken, and the good ones scarce exist.
They bad cling to you like static, so you cannot breathe, and they take away,
Your will to try, your will to strive, I am alive don’t force me to be dead.
Feel sorry him, but you’ve no idea what I’ve gone through with him.

Find me shoes so I can walk, take my feet far from this frost.
Find me a stepping stone, a crack in the pavement to follow down to Oz.
Yellow stones greet me and I have no way of knowing, why you couldn’t,
Provide relief for only a moment, you are my conscience and my tempter.

Oh, God find me some answers.

Writing 101 – Happy Easter: Cinnamon Rolls and Buns


www.zaissionlogic.com
http://www.zaissionlogic.com

I have always had this love of food. I adore it. Not that I don’t eat healthily, what I am saying is I’m one of those girls obsessed with delicious food and I could probably go on eating it if I didn’t care for my figure and love physical activity for most of my life. I love to talk about food whether it’s making a recipe less fattening or just eating the most amazing Italian pastries because it’s a Saturday and I feel like it.

But some of the most scrumpious foods in the world, foods that reminds me of hearth, home, and being a little girl at Easter time is Cinnamon Buns and Apple Cinnamon Rolls. All that delicious bread spread with butter, sugar, and cinnamon, sprinkled with raisins or apples. I’m almost drooling…

Cinzeo makes a great cinnamon bun with pecans if you like and once when I was on vacation in Disney Land with my mom and Dad we had these melt in your mouth cinnamon buns and the icing and cinnamon would just drip all over your hands and your face would be sticky but your mouth would feel all warm and gooey inside.

Those cinnamon buns were so delicious but the best one’s are made by my Grandma.When I was a little girl, I would watch my Grandma make cinnamon buns and then we would bake them and hot out of the oven came these little cinnamon buns that were melt in your mouth, and were full of delicious raisins, sugar, and cinnamon. Grandma often made these cinnamon buns at Easter but if you would like to know what the best thing we had at Easter was it was Apple Cinnamon Rolls and my Mom made these and taught my Grandma to as well.

The process to make Apple Cinnamon Rolls is the same as making a cinnamon bun except you make one giant piece of dough that you will eventually roll into a tube, wrap around into a circle, then cut at equal points and pull it a part so it looks something like a wreath. In Apple Cinnamon Rolls you don’t use raisins but you cover the buttered, cinnamoned, and sugared dough with apples. Once the wreath of Apples and dough is in the oven, you bake it, let it cool, and then you ice it with cream cheese icing. You slice the roll where you made the slits to spread the wreath shape of the cinnamon roll out. The taste is majestic and inspiring and the apples might even hint at a bit of healthiness in this dessert.

www.diffen.com
http://www.diffen.com

I think it is that flavor of cinnamon and sugar and apples or raisins together with bread that I love and it makes me think how special Easter was when my brothers and I were little kids. We got Easter baskets (a few) full of chocolate, went to 2 or 3 dinners, we went to Church and a breakfast at church, and it was all so important because that was time we spent with our families and time we spent reflecting that Jesus died on the cross to take away all our sins. He took away the sins of an entire world so all who believed in Him could go to heaven when they died. Religiously in Christianity, with Jesus’ birth at Christmas,  Easter is the most important holiday and perhaps, a wreath of apples reminds us of the crown of thorns Jesus wore on the cross. Though he was mocked and beaten, Jesus was never conquered – he defeated death and the grave and rose again. Besides cinnamon buns and rolls that’s pretty fantastic.