100 Word Wednesday: Poem —FreeVerse —“Childhood Days Astray” #100WordWednesday #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.


Credit: Bikurgurl


Tears of glass splinter, threats exchanged

Paper walls structured, pretend accords signed,

I’m guilty, but I’m not alone —

I’ve learned to apologize when the stubborn refuse.

When their words of ire as fire singe,

Blacken each day with poison deranged.

Refusing to talk, barricaded in your fortress of white noise;

Pushing alliance ‘neath plush 1960 tree-green piles.

Values and assumptions, lumps and bumps,

Consider other perspectives, act beyond perceptions; no more spats without, “I’m sorry for every hurt.”

But we’ll pretend, and if I speak it, the truth doesn’t count.

Children never learn, it’s the adage that chokes you.

It’s never right to not forgive; it’s a flaw in us.

Your grudges are deep, and your reflections skewed,

Forgetting your words, a problem in a string of failures, things I can’t do.

So, you’ll impose and push, no comprehension of what’s suffered —

Boarders not to cross.

What can I do? It’s what you’ve instigated;

So, I kept myself hidden, avoided your target.

And still, we don’t deal in forgiveness, you never admit fault;

I hate you for it, because sorry heals a plenitude of wounds.

But for you it’s just a word, a paltry thing you won’t offer.

You crowd and yell, murmuring old woes, not peering past crumbs and specs;

The film catches, tulips budding now sputter,

The screen pauses, flickers and they fade.

Defective film clicks, cracked as hearts malnourished.

Every family unhappy, in a vicious cycle reacting to our childhood days.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “The Fighter” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Nekneeraj of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix opposing forces. This week’s opposing pairs are: whisper and shout, and humid and dry.


Credit: CityVarcity


“And Though She Be But Little, She Was Fierce” – William Shakespeare, A MidSummers Night Dream (Act 3: Scene 2).


The Champion” by Carrie Underwood Ft. Ludacris


I’m no faceless void, I’ve been granted reprieve to barriers break,

Discovering my mind, my body healing slow now awakes.

I’m trying to live in short moments,

Dreams won’t fade, no shouts or groans;

No weeping or fearing fierce blows.

Nor shivering in a cold few know,

A champion, I can fight my foes,

They but perceive whispers of woes;

Woes experienced by those who know not how a mind shatters;

Of lost clarity, aching sickness that still batters.

*****

It’s a shock when you notice healing; when your hurts lessen,

When you’re not forever jaded, aching or questioning.

You forgot life’s joyful details.

Skills, hopes, your ability maimed;

Daily routines to avoid what hurts,

Became your normal to subvert —

But now, your reborn hopes anew;

Seeing the lost isn’t askew.

Whirling in hope’s return, less chocking humid shame and pain,

Released from your cocoon, joy-de-vivre once more regained.

*****

All you who are broken, whether trapped or quivering afraid,

Gaze to the Heavens, your family, your friends, unashamed.

They’re your rocks, they carried you;

Don’t forget them, their aiding through.

Remember it’s okay to need —

People’s help, when your hurt, demeaned.

To need is to serve when unseen,

Brittle and dry or slow healing.

You’ve a purpose; nothing’s impossible, suffering’s a strength,

Keep pushing, keep living, keep yearning, keep praying; hope waits.

*****

Life’s never stagnant, we’ve all ‘ups’ and ‘downs;’ no one’s quite safe,

From changes, illness, or heartbreak; but keep achieving great.

Accomplishments can be little or —

Leaping giant steps towards doors;

Those that open — those we must pry,

That we knock, break down as we cry.

Be thankful for what you have, but strive —

To live your life joyous and alive.

Keep knocking down doors, but help others survive their drought too;

You’re no faceless void — I think you’re fierce; vibrant fighter through.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Feed Me” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM #SamaritansPurse


Also thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Sunday Writing Prompt based on a cause near and dear to our hearts.


If you feel so inclined you can donate towards ending impoverished children’s hunger, and towards their betterment through education at:


Credit: Google – Go Fund Me for Samaritan’s Purse


Feed me, a child starving during last bell,

Give healthcare, no dirty water in the well.

For a coin, a donation receipt dealt.

I’ll help my family, the week will be swell.

Cloth me; I need not Prada, pearls from shells,

I’m suffering in an earthly hell.

So, do as God says, give to those who’ve less —

While you too flourish, and pamper yourselves.

There are parts of the earth — they’re called third-world,

Where baby’s stomach’s bloat, so malnourished.

Where disease’s rampant, and poverty’s a curse —

It’s not their fault, so halt your insults hurled.

Improve their lives; buy pencils, books for school.

Let no child ride the metaphorical Hearse.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Day 15 #NaPoWriMo/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Triquin Chain – “She’s A Witch” #amwriting #SaturdayMix #poetry


For Day 15 NaPoWriMo the Prompt is: “writing a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).” I’m combining with Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Saturday Mix Prompt on Triquains.

Triquain Chain

A string of 2 to 4 Triquains, a space between each triquain.

2 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

3 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

4 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

—-

Credit:Lucas Sanky via Unsplash

—-

She’s a witch,

She burns and she twitches.

Fire glows, sparks raise, burn high into morn.

She doesn’t feel, because she’s real; she burns all day.

Clergy stoke fire, she doesn’t expire;

The rabble wish her pain —

She’s a witch.

But not finished her time,

For real spell-casters can’t be murdered.

They drowned her, she floated; they hung her, her neck snapped.

Then, when they untied her, she laughed;

Her neck clicked in place, her spine healed fast.

She’s a witch.

*****

She burns fields.

She’s not kind, far too real.

She misled children, gave everyone pox.

It wasn’t her plan, to be mean and vile –to kill;

But those ‘Holier-Than-Thou’ tortured —

Dismembered her family —

Powerless.

They untouched with dark arts.

And all those woman not real villains,

Masked in their veins wasn’t witchcraft or evil brews.

Perhaps, they were too pretty, too —

Wealthy; had much power.

Then, she flipped.

***

She’s truly —

A witch; they made her one.

They buried her alive, let her sink,

Chocking in the putrid river with their repulsive waste.

She’s seen the flesh on innocents burn crisp;

The crackle of their hair.

Tied as she,

On a pier, with hellfire;

To destroy her vengeance, her wrathful ways.

She’s evil, sins with peasants, priests, their hateful hearts.

Cursing their Lords, besieging her home;

Survives fire, lives to smite,

Twisted witch.

****

——–

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction: What A Million Dollars Won’t Buy #amwriting #fiction


Here’s another piece from my course, edited of course.


Credit: Paul Paul @ProdigyPaul via Unsplash.


Eugene steps onto the plane as his stomach summersaults. In Eugene’s seat, fellow author Jerry Norman, reclines.

“I need the legroom, let an old man have the aisle.”

Eugen shakes his head ‘no.’ He stows his carry on and sits. “Thanks a million for not making this difficult, Jerry. The aisle seats are quicker to leave from when the plane lands.” Eugene winks.

Jerry’s eyes narrow. “I’d watch it if I were you. I don’t like you sassing me.”

Eugene grins, then his stomach flips. The plane’s wheels come off the runway, and he buries his face in his hands. He swears under his breath between prayers until the plane achieves flying altitude.

Jerry laughs, “Think you’re some tough guy, eh? You take an old man’s seat than can’t handle take off?”

Eugene rolls his eyes. He notes Jerry’s red face with sweat gleaming. His hands are fisted tight around the armrests. “I don’t think you’re such a flier yourself. You’re a bit of bullshitter, aren’t you, Jerry?”

“That’s neither here nor there, Eugene. I’ve ridden on a plane that’s nearly crashed. Stop being such an asshole. I’m not a bad guy.”

Eugene snorts. He removes his iPad from the seat pocket and closes his eyes to the latest Avengers movie. When he awakes, screams of terror resonate. His stomach lurches as the plane nose dives, rattling, bumping up, and down as the left engine sputters.

Eugene believes he’s having a nightmare. He blinks, and everything around him occurs in slow-motion. The breathing masks tumble down, and Eugene gulps in oxygen at a slow even pace.

Beside him, Jerry has knocked his head on the window and passed-out. Despite Eugene’s dislike for him, he stretches as far as he can. He displaces his oxygen mask for a moment, and attaches Jerry’s. Then, he does the only thing he can think of doing, he smacks Jerry across the cheek to wake him.

“Jerry, come on. Your head’s bleeding, and you can’t sleep until you see a doctor.” He watches Jerry’s pupils dilate as he sucks in deep breaths of oxygen. Eugene’s numbness permits him to remain calm as the plane alters from a nose dive to a straight position above a grassy field. The landing is rough and jars everyone. At the end, Jerry catch’s his eye. Both mean realize the plane nearly crashed.

Eugene’s numbness fades as his nails dig blood-filled crescents into his palms. When they leave the plane and slide into a verdant feel, he turns to Jerry. “Stay awake, we need to find you an ambulance before you fall down right here.” The other author leans against Eugene, as he supports him. They find a paramedic who checks them both over for injuries.

Eugene thinks of the million dollars he could’ve had for arriving early to the writer’s conference both and he Jerry were attending.

“All that money wasn’t worth this.” Jerry fumbles over his words, but Eugene knows they are the absolute truth. He nods at Jerry lying in a stretcher in an ambulance waiting to leave for the hospital.

“I’ll come with you, Jerry, might as well. Someone has to call your family and let them know what happened.” Jerry makes a noise, Eugene assumes is agreement.

He closes his eyes for a moment. One million dollars.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Beyond Words or Woofs #amwriting #flashfiction #dogs #homelessness


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Fandango


The trails meander through the river valley park where the city erected unique benches made from verdant trees felled to create park pathways. At night Paul and his four dogs inhabit a particular bench. They rest their tired legs and pant joyfully, cooling off from the hot humid summer days, during the night.

However, in the winter the dogs huddle against Paul, absorbing each other’s heat. Paul doesn’t have much in his tattered backpack. Only a oversized bottle of water, a bag of dog food, a couple of protein bars, and thin blankets for the dogs. But one night the ice creeps up frosting Paul’s beard. It’s -45 degrees Celsius outside and the homeless shelters are full.

Despite layers of clothing Paul trembles and his teeth chatter; he can’t sleep in this miserable blizzard. He’s terrified the dogs will freeze to death — they’re his family and all he values in the world. He covers them, wrapping them in blankets before spreading the sleeping bag across them all. Their fur is frosted over and he keeps rubbing them with his gloved hands to keep their bodies from stiffening.

Suddenly, a light shines, blinding Paul in the treacherous cold, then his body heats as if he were sitting out on a beach in Mexico on the perfect hot day. The dogs peer up at him from the white sand, wagging their tails. Paul and his dogs have moved on and exist in a place beyond words or woofs. They’ve left cruelty behind.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Gifts of Fish #amwriting #fiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Catrina Sanders via Unsplash.


Leo the polar bear headed down to the local watering hole and it didn’t surprise him that the usual gossiping seals were there as he drank from the refreshing lake. “Haven’t you heard?The humans are back doing their testing and they’ve tagged us all; if I were you, I’d stay hidden because once you’re tagged they’ll comeback every year to look you over.” Leo yawned, “They tagged me years ago but I never mind, each year they’re like Santa, they bring gifts of fish.”


©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: A Fading Welcome #3LineTales #fiction #amwriting


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Bogdan Dada via Unsplash


I love turquoise and I wonder where these vivid doors lead to and if inside the home the family’s living space is as vibrant and flamboyant as their doors; but then, I also see the lock across the door and it puzzles me. I wonder why someone whose doorway had such architectural character, would make such an effort to keep people out. Perhaps, as the paint peeling off the doors’ bottom, the family’s cheer and welcome has peeled away to worn fatigue and age.


©Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes November 2017 Part Two #Quotes #Pinterest


Happy December! I feel I haven’t been around so much blogging but I made sure to prepare the last part of quotes for November 2017. I think I’m behind so I’ll have more quotes this week to catch up. But please enjoy these quotes for now to ponder. Have fun with your holiday celebrations throughout the month, as well.

I’m nearly done my Christmas shopping, a few odds and ends to go. How about you? Life is good. Trying to figure my direction out at the moment but excited for what’s coming this Christmas and in 2018. For now I’ll start with Christmas baking and in-between freelance writing will try to finish November Notes along with doing a few more short fiction prompts.

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Cheers 😊🍷👌 🎄

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.