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. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Apparitions #flashfiction #WWII #amwriting #writing 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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A Mixed Bag

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The submarines of old stood out in the San Diego Harbor as Carla walked Bruno and Velma the dachshunds. 

After tiring out both dogs, she paused to gaze at the submarines along the walkway. It didn’t appear as if any navy personnel had worked on them in over seventy-five-years. 

The subs were relics of WWII, but Carla knew many men had died and been terrified for their lives in such submarines. The US had used them effectively ‘island hoping’ to help defeat the Japanese, after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. Of course, the bombs had sealed the deal. 

Suddenly, the dachshunds began to bark and yip ferociously. They pulled on their leashes willing Carla, their Mom, to go home. 

She gazed back at the submarines one last time and let out a frightened shriek. Upon the old submarine, a ghostly navy crew with 1940’s uniforms, walked atop the sub performing their duties. They stopped, noticing Carla, and turned to whistle at her as if she was some wartime doll for kicks

When she blinked again, the apparitions were gone. Carla decided she needed something stronger in her coffee this morning. Maybe she’d forget the coffee part altogether. 

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©Mandibelke16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.