Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Perfect Equation #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the August 20, 2017 SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Simon was a scientist working for NASA. He hadn’t thought he’d marry until he saw Nancy. He was walking past her office and the sight of her muttering equations with her hands twisted in her long brown ombré hair made him stop. 

Her skin tingled. From the corner of her eye Nancy saw an attractive dark haired man studying her. She didn’t recognize him. “Can you come back in an hour? I can’t lose my train of thought.” 

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.”Here you need to do this.” 

The man pointed out where she was having problems on her laptop screen, astonishing Nancy. She noted his thick navy glasses frames on his angular face. She could also tell he was taller than her. Most of her dates eventually told 6′ 0″ Nancy she was too tall and/or fat. 

She breathed deeply shivering, was this chemistry? “But what about this? I tried what you said, it’s not what I’m missing,” Nancy told the man.  

They argued over her equations for the next three hours. Nancy was to her surprise completely comfortable around him, learning his name was Simon. She didn’t mind how near he’d pulled his chair. 

By 6:00 p.m. Simon realized he’d been so absorbed in Nancy he hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone home. “Nancy, would you let me take you for dinner? I’ve kept you too long, you’re probably starving.” Simon’s thumb grazed her nape. 

“I would love that,” she said. 

Two years later Nancy was pregnant. Simon created the finishing touches to their baby’s Space Ship mobile. He didn’t want his son to hurt himself, by being able to reach the mobile. 

“The nursery’s amazing.” 

He kissed her. “So are you.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Rictameter – 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2 – beg/end same, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Rictameter – “Streets A New” #amwritimg #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: J. Hardy Carroll
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Empty, 

Thoughts with empty —

Dreams; never meant to inflict,

Such pain, no anxiety, hurt —

done unintentionally

Not considering, 

Empty. 

——-

Bare streets, 

Abandonment, 

No one comes here, danger —

Lurks in sun’s zenith and night’s chill.

Lost lonely souls wander, 

Hopeless; shifty —

Bare streets. 

——-

Broken, 

Boulevard with —

Dreams in smithereens; pieces —

Of what could’ve been, deserted. 

Littered streets, none tread 

Improvements left, 

Broken.

——

Why fix? 

Somewhere no one —

Ventures? Bring beauty to  —

Dank tenements abandoned? 

Some people still live here, 

Shuffling through, 

Why Fix? 

——-

Broken, 

I can’t hull stones, 

Nor restore past glories, 

I’m no architect with dreams of —

Organic design where the 

Forgotten dwell, blurry —

Eyed and hopeless, 

Broken. 

——

Hope means, 

Skilled developer, 

Notes potential in ruins, 

Will see masked brilliance beneath the —

Treachery; Boulevard —
Where someone sees, 

Hope is. 

——-

Anew, 

I can’t remould, 

Your splintered heart, pristine, 

I can stitch the pieces together, 

So in time, stitches fade,  

Heart heals almost, 

Anew, 

———

©Mamdibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Lists, My Thoughts, Nature, Pinterest, Quotes, Writing

Notable Quotes: May 2017 Part 1 #quotes #pinterest


Happy May. Hope you are all loving spring and the coming of summer. It’s a busy month for me, how about you? What’s new? Whatever is happening, here are some more quotes for your thoughts. 
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1. 

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Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Field of Broken Dreams #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Liz Young

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I was out to meet my friend who lived nearby when I found this ravaged mannequin head. Her exquisite hazel eyes and pencilled brows, lifted towards the sky as if mannequin heaven was there. 

In reality her mutilated head lies in the tall grass. A used beer bottle leans against her face, an empty red cigarette package nearby. 

If she was alive I think she’d be wondering how she ended up here? Why she wasn’t the modelesque mannequin in the window display for Holt Renfrew or at least for H&M. Who had tossed her out like refuse and left her to this fate? 

Count: 91 words

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“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By Green Day

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Free Verse, Friday Fictioneer, Inverted Refrain - abab (ba) or (ab) - 8 syllable - indent last two lines., Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Poem – Free Verse – “Echo Beyond”


Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.


ff-train-to-no-where
Credit: C.E. Ayr

Parts of city, no one admits are here,

Only smashed cars, railroad tracks live dying.

Find a fleck of hope here;

There’s not but skeletons, twisted years lost.

*****

We stare into the crisscrossing of tracks,

Wonder how all the trains never seem lost.

For accidents, no care.

Here is our place, where no one dare go.

****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****

I’m tired of staying in this mishmash space,

There’s more to life than choking on coal dust.

My love, we’ll find our place.

We’re wolves, eyes gleaming, searching for home.

*****

Bitterness leaves me caught in this valley,

Is still and hot; we’ll move, find our names.

Wolves as you and I,

Our might is large; ignored, we’re crafty.

*****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****


“The Cave” – Mumford & Sons


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: The Open Road


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.


road
Credit: Roger Shipp

The open road can take you anywhere. There are many places to go, its so difficult to decide precisely which road you will take. On one hand, you have opportunity and potential before you. You’re bursting with aspirations and a chance to discover a new or familiar place and make it your own. You’ve a desire to create lasting and meaningful memories.

But on the other hand, there’s the downside of open roads. Roads aren’t always safe. You believe the road ahead is empty, but you never see a speeding car whipping out, when you both crash. You aren’t paying attention when you see a moose in the middle of the road, directly in your path. You may have the SUV but he’s huge and more likely to kill you.

Journeys aren’t what we think they’ll be. Some of them lead to misery and pain.Some of them lead to mistakes and learning the hard way. But it’s the price of travelling the open road. As you’ve little idea if you’re playing the correct card in a Black Jack, you have little idea where that open road will lead, or end.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Music and Performers, My Thoughts, November Notes, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

November Notes: Poem -Day 24 – Italian Sonnet – “The Blame”


This days song prompt is “Buses and Trains” by Bachelor Girls.


“Buses and Trains” – Bachelor Girls


woman-hiding
http://www.pinterest.com

Mom, you didn’t say, how cruel the world is,

I could blame you for it all, but I’m grown.

Teach me, I could’ve learned by your grace known.

Each day I’m run down by trains, it’s fun this–

Game; ears ringing from sound trains make hissing.

Or a bus in front of me is coming, near miss —

Only by seconds I’m safe, empty words moan.

Why do I being pulverized feel sewn

Together a quilt, with all pieces, its bliss.

How do I explain I needed guidance?

It hurts me, you decided, gave me up.

 Without your words, boys became as chocolate,

Choosing the worst, failing being grown-up.

Addicted, inhaling them, drug sate.

You could’ve taught me better, it’s too late.


img_2951-22


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

Fiction, Free Verse, Music and Performers, Music Review, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, November Notes, Poetry

November Notes: Poem – Day 16 – Free Verse “Think Thoroughly” #poetry #anwriting #writing #music 


Before I start, I wanted to share this blog post, a list of the 27 best books on writing!  Hope it helps some of you. Have you read any of the books or do you own any of them? 

27 Of The Best Books On Writing! 

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Today’s prompt is “Sweet Serendipty” by Lee DeWyze. 
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“Sweet Serendipty” – Lee DeWyze

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http://www.favimages.com

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I’m not of those women who will assure you, 

You can get by, by the skin of your teeth. 

That life is simply chance, fortuitous

I think you’re inexperienced,  

You don’t see the entire picture, 

Each of us is a piece in the mosaic, the grand design. 

—–

Perhaps since your famous, you’ll buy two pairs of jeans? 

But not caring about the seams of your pants, 

Them being too loose — it’s a guy thing. 

Sorry to ruin your charade, life is more than —

Your own version of serendipity

Events that occur to us can be wickedly sad. 

—–

Whether we learn and/or hurt — there’s  a reason, 

An intelligent designer has time arranged, 

 I don’t worry, for different reasons — His plans give security,

If you land on your feet, you’re one lucky guy.

I guess the fates are angry, their scissors keep snapping. 

To me its obtuse to believe blindly in chance. 

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There are times I believe in spontaneity, 

But there’s a time and a place with —

A kind of reasoning called: calculated risks. 

I’m unsure why you don’t think ahead (don’t play chess).

I’m not old but I think I’ve experiences you won’t, 

Be carefree at heart, but realize —adult responsibility. 

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You’re blessed with your health, go where you want, 

I think, there’s been few troubles to scar you. 

You sing empty songs, I find little depth, 

Serendipity isn’t chance, it’s a miracle unfurled. 

Behind the scenes action, you haven’t foreseen. 

Glad you’re fine, but you’re missing a few screws. 

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It’s not that I’m bitter; it’s not that I don’t see, 

What your trying to say in your round about way. 

I’m saying that life, I’ve learned, is never a fluke, 

We have minds to think and consider — to use. 

Despite ineptness, your kind heart shows true, 
Next hit song —think your lyrics thoroughly through. 

——

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – ” Yaya Mockingjay” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo challenge: 

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http://www.pixebay.com

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Have you cast all your doubts? 

Decided what’s best? 

An old women has regrets, 

There is no life without them. 

It’s difficult, knowing what’s right, 

I just tried my best. 

Listened to my elders, 

As my mother always said.

But there are days I know, 

My best is not enough.

I’m pushing and pulling,

No strength in my bones. 

I’m yelling and shouting, 

But my words aren’t enough,

“We don’t speak your language Yaya.” 

My grandchildren laugh. 

They always need more,

More than dry-bones can provide. 

I feel drained and drowned, 

In lost potential. 

Yaya down and she can’t raise herself up. 

Drenched in such evil, 

Of those with no conscience;

Their knowing looks, eyes that know nothing.

They’re missing my years, my wisdom learned, 

But I’m stuck in thick sticky mud, 

And no one helps an old woman up. 

There’s no hand to help comfort Yaya, 

Her life was tough and unsparing. 

The mud is the only spa I know or ever have, 

A facial mask of sludge and worms. 

An archaic beauty mask. 

Somebody hear, what I’ve learned — listen: 

Your mistakes and your ills you repeat, 

Each day I try to tell you but it’s not enough. 

You smile at me empty eyes, 

My words pass through your ears, 

The wind blows loudly there.

What’s enough? 

Until I’ve drawn my last breath? 

Until I’m lying here still — dead, 

Knowing some journeys such as mine, 

Must be made alone and for naught. 

A solo expedition, my entire culture lost, 

Must I stay on the roads of antiquity? 

Can I grow with the changing world? 

Give me a reason to deviate: 

I must stop the mudslide from coming.

Spitting sludge from my lips, 

Lord, why don’t they hear? 

The roar of doom and pain approaching. 

It will wash them away, 

When I’m safe in the heavens. 

Does being old make me invisible? 

The crevices of my face are a map, 

And my eyes the lights to yesterday. 

Learn from the past, I pray. 

Where is the light? 

Where is the hope? 

I’m just an old bird, a simple sparrow, 

How do I become a Mockingjay? 

I saw her fight in the movies, 

We need a Mockingjay today, 

A bird of pray who acts, 

Not sleeping through each day. 

How do I bring hope, become a symbol? 

How do I teach my young, 

To mimic a wisdom long past. 

You won’t like what I have to say I know, 

But you would hear, a Mockingjay. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Relationship, Tetracrys - 1,2,3,4,10,10, 4,3,2,1,1,2,3,4,10, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 20 – Tetracyts – “Forgive” #amwriting #poetry


Day 20 Prompt: White“White has so many connotations, white flag, white hat – hero in the old west movies, white – purity, white – clean, white light, white clouds, and the list could go on. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of white? Start from there and write for ten minutes.”

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Reclining Woman 20th Century Credit: Aspire Auctions

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White, 

As Blank, 

As the stare, 

On your pale face, 

Wished to tell you the truth but it wasn’t —

Enough; you appeared sickly, tears rolled down. 

—–

Anger, pain unrolled, 

Exposed your soft, 

Lovely, 

Skin. 

I’m, 

Not the, 

Best person, 

But I love you, 

Does that count for anything or are my —

Sins to severe?  Your eyes blink and I hope. 

Catatonia, 

Black eyes so, 

Empty, 

Scared.

Ice, 

Marble, 

Narnian.

Carved face stoic. 

Was trying to heal us, bring the truth to light. 

Your eyes begin sparkling, what was cold, now’s —
—-

Beauty alive, 

Life spinning, 

Grace gifts, 

Warmth. 

Joy, 

Hair flies, 

Hands emote and —

Your glad laugh rings. 

Distracting beauty forgives; peace of mind. 

——–

Tetracrys

“Tetracrys [is] a poetic form invented by Ray Stebbing. [It] consists of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (total of 20). Tetractys can be written with more than one verse, but must follow suit with an inverted syllable count. Tetractys can also bereversed and written 10, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

Double Tetractys: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1
Triple Tetractys: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 10.” 

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.