Three Quotes, Three Days Challenge #quotes 


Thank you to Lady Lee Manila for tagging me for the quote challenge. I don’t have time to do three quotes for the next three days, but I will give you nine quotes all at once with nine nominees. It’s up to you if you want to participate. 

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Rules of the challenge:

1.Three quotes for three days.

2.Three nominees each day (no repetition).

3.Thank the person who nominated you.

4. Inform the nominees.

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1. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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2. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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3. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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4.

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5. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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6. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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7. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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8. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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9. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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Nominees: 
1. Emily

2. Christopher

3. Sonny

4. Chioma

5. Single In The Suburbs

6.Joan

7. Lynn

8. JoyRoses

9. Colin

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: “Those Cats!” 


Thanks to Nortina S for hosting Moral Monday’s one-hundred word flash fiction. This week’s prompt is: ” Always Be On Your Best Behavior.” 

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http://www.harvestbeyondmyfrontdoor.wordpress.com

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Melly lived in an apartment in a senior’s lodge which included a stone terrace. She potted flowers and made an effort to make her terrace pretty.

Melly told her friend Emily: “I can’t stand those boys biking; they unearth my plants at night, when I’m trying to sleep.” 

Their friend Brett asked Melly: “Do you think it might be cats? I see those boys on their bikes and they always politely say ‘Hello’ to me.”

 Melly made a point of ignoring Brett — whom she secretly liked. She was so obnoxious and rude, he left to go sit in his apartment alone.

Melly awoke that night when she heard noises. Peering outside, she saw the boys ride by on their bikes. Then she flushed when she saw cats digging up her flowers. She mentally composed her apology to Brett. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Hope Scarred” #amwriting #poetry


http://www.brainyquotes.com

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Please don’t give me hope,

Don’t come into my life a moment,

Leaving me with expectations.

You think I’d know better,

Having experienced this situation often;

Expectations are dangerous, 

Few people in life meet them,

No matter how basic, 

The expectation maybe.

Don’t set me up to fall, 

To get sucked underwater,

You the undertow drowning my sorry soul.

Should’ve known better, 

You weren’t a genuine Pearl,

Should’ve known by now, 

Those who care for me, make time for me.

Should have known by now,

But you made me believe, 

This time you were for real.

Now I’m deflated, hurt, and frustrated.

What is it with you? 

 I can’t even expect you to be, 

A dependable friend?

No, of course not, the fault is mine.

I can put expectations on myself,

But never on you, never on anyone.

Just let the pixie dust and fairytales, 

Burn into the night, a haunting fire.

But hope is not destroyed, 

It only burns brighter in the flames warm.

Keep your hope and your dreams, 

 I live in the real world;

It hurts me, scars me, damages me.

You totalled the destruction.

Tomorrow I rebuild torn, 

But knowing, no man —

Can expect anything from me, until I say.

Right now my hope is crushed.

You taught me to be hopeless, 

Made me feel lost and forlorn.

For now, a true fact, hope is the bird I scorn, 

Tomorrow, hope has *feathers, and will be reborn.

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* “Hope Is A Thing With Feathers” – Emily Dickinson

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Vines and Truth” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.dreamstime.com

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If you’re trapped in this reality, 

The words you hear will never betray.

If you’re trapped here, 

You’ll never say the words,

You meant to tell me.

Soul words, which climb, 

 As vines through your lips.

Vines that keep growing, 

Whispering the language,

 You grew-up bilingually,

 Conversing and spelling.

The words you only say with friends, 

And the silly ones your family made up,

Nick names, pet names, 

The names a lover calls;

The words you speak,

 When you tell the truth, 

And the words you catch yourself saying, 

When you’re outright lying.

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Did you dream you could hide, 

So many secrets and so many tombs.

Bury us beneath words,

 With no proof, no truth;

Does anyone know real?

In the land of typed phrases, 

Spellcheck, and autocorrect,

 Are our words even ours?

When you can change the words,

 To mean and say, 

Precisely, what you want them to say,

When your body language, tone, 

And emotions cannot be seen,

What hides obscene and unseen?

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And when I see such stunning eyes,

And they carry me away;

When your voice hits me there,

 In the bottom of my heart.

The growl on your lips, 

The tilt of your hips.

A glass of milk, brings tranquil sleep, 

More gentle vibes and vines invisibly, 

Through my mouth to yours.

As plants do crawl and sprout, 

So do we affect someone else.

And you wonder how can you build,

An Alice in Wonderland lost yourself.

With so many vines,

Caught on your tongue,

Like a hydra with far–

 Too many heads to chop off,

Vines as heads keep growing, 

No fire can consume the lies, 

Covering the truth. 

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Find out, what is life here? 

There– with them? 

Or someone else? 

Listlessly browsing, areas meant, 

To be lonely and free, at a cost, 

Or joined together birds of a feather;

If “Hope is a thing with feathers,”  

As dear Emily Dickinson wrote;

Please fly to the safest and softest place.

And let’s lay unmoving, 

As vines wrapped around each other.

Not worried about our tomorrow’s,

Or finding more secrets;

Let the truth be our lips meeting,

Let the truth be in feeling our eyes, 

Engaged over cheese, bread, and wine later.

Sitting on the couch,

Wrestling with your dog;

Watching our favourite shows,

Until sleep calls,

In a world where no one,

Can be trusted completely, 

Where there are too many,

Half-truths and white lies.

Assure me at least,

You mean the best, and try,

To say the truth, as vines —

Wrap us together into,

The pitch dark night, 

Tangled tight.

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©Mandbelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction:  The Ducking Chair #amwriting #Flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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“More old buildings,” Emily complained.”Kill me know, who cares? You’re throwing shade on my life.” 

“Emily,” her mother warned, “I’ve had it up to here with your behaviour on our vacation. You’re sixteen-years-old and this is probably one of the last vacations you’ll take with your family, so suck it up. At least for Trudy.”

Trudy grinned at Emily adoringly. She loved her big sister. 

“Greetings visitors,” A man dressed from the sixteen-hundreds approached the family.” How dost thou like our village?” 

“I hate it,” cried Emily. “If I had superpowers, I’d burn it down.” 

“Art thou a witch?” The man asked Emily.

“More like a b#%*h,” her mom said. “Sorry that just popped out.” 

“Worry not,” said the man winking at Emily’s Mom, “We have ways of dealing with either. We call it a ducking chair. If you survive being drowned girl, than we will know you’re not a witch.” 

“What?” Emily shrieked as two me grabbed her from behind. Taking down the chair they fastened her in to it. The man whispered to Emily’s mother who only grinned. 

“Have thou anything to say?” the man asked. “Before we drown thee?” 

“I hate you, I hate you all.” Then the chair was dunked in the water. 

Emily was scared. It had been a couple of minutes and her lungs were bursting, when the chair was pulled up out if the water.

“Has thou anything to say now?” Asked the man. 

“No nothing,” she screamed, choking up water.

“Very well,” said the man shaking his head. The chair started to move into the water, but she shrieked.

“Okay. I give up. I’m sorry I don’t mean to make this vacation so miserable. I just want to be with my friends this summer. And I hate all the historical stuff we’re seeing, it’s all the same after a while. I don’t mean to be a b$&@h but I have a boyfriend I haven’t seen in four-weeks, and I’m missing all the summer fun my friends are having. I’m afraid my friend Ruth, will seduce my boyfriend.” 

“Ah so the truth comes out. Very well. Thou can go free, but respect thou mother as God himself said.” The man said.

Emily was unbuckled from the chair and soaking wet ran to hug her Mom and Trudy. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

Overtop of Emily’s head, Emily’s mother smiled her thanks to the actor working in the village. He nodded and grinned.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Maydays: Fiction – Never Say, ” I Don’t Believe In Fairies.” #Maydays


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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. This prompt is fairy tales and a little magic.


Flower-Fairy
Willow the Fairy (www.cindyopenhouseblogspot.com)

 

” I don’t believe in fairies,” Lilly told her school mate Emily. “Magic isn’t real and fairies are magic.”

“You’re weird,” Emily said. “I know fairies are magic and they’re real. My best friend is a fairy named Fern and the reason you can’t see Fern is because you don’t believe in magic. If you said you believed in magic, you could meet Fern and we could play with him in the land of the fairies.”

Lilly snorted. ” I don’t believe in fairies; I told you.”

Emily was alarmed. “Don’t say you don’t believe in fairies. If you keep saying it Fern will die and Fern’s family will curse you for killing him.”

Lilly laughed and snidely remarked: ” I don’t believe in fairies; I hope Fern dies. Fairies are make believe and I don’t believe in fairies.” She smiled triumphantly when Emily broke into tears.

“You wicked girl, you killed Fern! I can’t help you now. Fern’s family will never rest until you are cursed.”

“Yeah right, Emily your such a baby . . .” Lilly stopped mid-sentence. She felt stinging sensations all over her body. If she wasn’t so sure magic didn’t exist, she would’ve sworn tiny fairies were stinging her with their wands.

Suddenly, Lilly and Emily shrunk until they were both fairy-sized. Lilly was angry at Emily and went to attack her but fairies of every colour protected Emily.

Lilly spotted a dead green fairy lying on the ground. She thought it must be Fern so she started kicking his body. All the fairies gasped audibly.

A green fairy whose appearance was like Fern’s, approached Lilly. “Lilly Thomas, you have been sentenced to life as a fern for the killing of the fairy Fern.” Lilly laughed not believing a word the green fairy said.

Then, she screamed, but it was too late. Lilly became a plant; a common garden fern.

The fairies returned Emily to the size of a human, leaving her with a new fairy friend and caretaker named Willow.

The first thing Emily and Willow did was stomp on Lilly the fern.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Day 5- Hope is a Thing with Feathers


Prompt: Use a quote – I know I’m supposed to actually indent this but I found a picture of the poem (quote) I wanted to share. I started out with a different quote but I like this poem a lot better so please enjoy the wonderful poetry of Emily Dickinson “Hope is a Thing with Feathers” and my comments. 

 

I started to learn and appreciate poetry in high school. In school, we studied a unit in English 10 on Canadian Poetry. My favorite line is from a poem I cannot find today: ” No thank you, soldier, I do not like chocolate anymore.” I enjoyed poetry because it was shorter to read then a novel and for me, more meaningful. When I started to study poetry in first year university for English majors, I fell in love with the language of poetry. I love the rhymes, meter, similes, epistrophe, allusions, consonance, alliteration, assonance, metaphors, personifications, and all those other useful tools that form a poem. In my fourth year, I took American poetry and was introduced to the amazing words of Emily Dickinson. 

I learned so much in that poetry class with Dr. McNamara. I learned that you read poetry line by line and sentence by sentence.That the parts of a sentence can be moved around to find the meaning. You can play with words, that’s what this class taught me. You can move words around until you find a meaning, or until you make a meaning obscure. 

“Hope is a Thing with Feathers” is not a poem I studied in University; but I adored it the first time I read the poem shuffling through some Dickinson poetry on the Internet. 

In the poem ” Hope is a Thing with Feathers,” by Emily Dickinson, hope is personified as a bird ” . . .the thing with feathers” (1) and it ” . . . perches in the soul.(2)” Birds usually perch on trees so there is the metaphor of a soul as a tree that the bird perches on. Moreover, the birds song is personified as hope that”sings the tune without the words / [a]nd never stops at all. (3-4).  Like a bird, hope sings a song without words. It has a beautiful song that is only a tune . But unlike a bird, the music that hope sings never stops; the song of hope never ceases  within our souls and it helps us throughout life. The song of the bird or of hope doesn’t need words, to provide help to the hopeless. It is meaningful in a language only the soul understands. 

Additionally, in the second stanza of Dickinson’s poem, we learn “…sweetest in the gale is heard / [a]nd sore must be the storm / [t]hat could abash the little bird / [t]hat kept so many warm(5-8). Dickinson is saying in this stanza that the little bird, the hope that keeps us warm, is not broken by a horrible storm.Our situation has to become terribly difficult for hope to leave us. The bird of hope carries it’s tune even in the biggest winds, the storms, the hard times in life. As well, the sound of hope is sweeter in the wind and storms, because that’s when we especially need hope. Hope would not “abash” us after “keeping us so warm (7-8).”

Moreover, Dickinson writes in the third stanza that she has heard hope (the bird) in “the chilliest land” and on “the strangest seas (9-10).” We hear hope, metaphorically from the bird, when life seems so cold and harsh; when life is moving and changing; and even when a person is sick as a person might become on the ocean which is consistently rolling out waves. Even in “extremity” hope never “. . . aske[s] a crumb of” us(11-12). In the worst times of our lives, hope does not make us pay for having hope. The little bird that personifies hope sings freely, she does not need anything. Hope is given without cost to the hoper even in the toughest situations in life. When everything else is lost; hope remains.

I pray that this poem makes you, the reader, feel better when you are facing life. Know that hope is always “perching” in your soul. It will never leave you in the harshest winds and storms. In fact, hope is “sweetest” in the storm. And to have hope does not cost you. It’s a virtue that’s free. You will never pay for hoping. Even when the harsh cruel realities of the world hurt us, hope will support are plight. In fact, far better for a person to have the freedom of hope, then to not have hope at all. Hope helps us with it’s metaphorical song, to stay strong.