dVerse, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Poem – Quadrille – “Knock on Wood” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #taleweavers 


Thanks to Lorraine of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting her last Tale Weavers Prompt. Bravo Lorraine you will be missed. Her prompt theme is superstitions. I’m combining this prompt with Bodhirose from Poet’s Pub #dVerse open link night. 

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Credit: Patrick Fore via UnSplash

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Knock on wood,

What if the expected —

Won’t be? 

Knock on wood,

Vulgar spirits disperse, 

Snake slither down. 

Knock on wood, 

We’re all superstitious, 

Chase back wickedness. 

Knock on wood, 

So, life remains sweet. 

Knock on wood, 

Never laugh at the Fates, 

Your string’s taut. 

Knock on wood, 

As did our — 

Grandparents of old.  

—–

The Impression That I Get” – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes: August 2017 Part One #amwriting #quotes


Good Morning! Some August quotes. Sorry if some of them are repeats. I’m trying to clear my iPad and usually I delete the ones I use on here, but sometimes I forget. Nevertheless, great quotes anyways! Enjoy! 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

alouette, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Food/Recipes, Health, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette –  “Papa’s Hands” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge prompt. 

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Credit: NEKNEERAJ- MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——–We sit at home eat,

Soft pasta with meat. 

Mama taught me to make food. 

I was a child small,

She yelled and she called —

Me  — incapable and rude.

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They weren’t angry words. 

But words of fear learned. 

Didn’t want to test Papa, 

She wanted perfect, 

He wanted perfect.

None desired his open hand. 

—–

At such a thing as,

Messed up pasta.

A girl couldn’t help, she learned — 

To make it right or —

Face rage for bad food. 

Mistakes, not to make, she yearned. 

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But no one’s perfect,

And she preferred.

To leave home with her husband.

With two small children,

Became immigrants. 

Living with hope in new land. 

—–

Shops in a district,

Cultural foods listed. 

Buys groceries for family. 

As do her neighbours.

Here are diverse words.

By leaps she sees life expands. 

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The whole family’s glad,

No one’s smacked or mad. 

Homeland missed but no regrets. 

She holds her baby, 

Of two, to her face.

Smiles and says, “I’ve no regrets.”

—–

Her child won’t have to —

Cook or be perfect. 

Or be slapped to the floor, 

 By Grandpa who thought, 

It’s how girl’s learned; not

That his hands bruised and abused. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Lists, My Thoughts, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes March 2017 Part Two #quotes #pinterest


Hi hope you’re all having great March. Almost St. Patrick’s Day, green beer anyone? 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes February Part Two #quotes #pinterest


Hi everyone! I hope you had a pleasant Valentine’s Day, no matter if you celebrated and went out with date or stayed home together or did nothing. It’s nice just to recognize the people you love in life any way you choose to do it! I could’ve done Valentine’s quotes but instead I chose to focus on hope and some other quotes here and there, so enjoy 🙂 
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©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Octain Refrain/Double/High - Abbac/cabA Abbad/dabA, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Octain Refrain – “Three Lights” #amwritng #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

A night deep, the black ink deftly hiding, 

Criminals, the lost, truly evil find. 

Misdeeds better performed where every sound —

Is a nightmare calling, no justice found. 

Unrevealed secrets proffered, ungrounded, 

Realization of innocents expounding

Out here ‘neath stars, curse of night, hurt resides. 

Three light in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black ’round, 

Presence of luminescence, rats scatter . 

Lights are strong, don’t flicker, they matter. 

Bring attention to the wounded, those drowned

All their sorrows piling-up —burdens

Shine your light thrice, save them for certain. 

Demonstrate there’s another way clattering

Sing songs of broken hearts; at last they’re found. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

Though we may fear darkness, here there’s no need, 

As long as there’s light radiant, just heed. 

Never let your fears overcome, light resounds, 

Washes out creepersshadows; it centres.  

Gives hope for tomorrow, transformed life mends

Malevolence abounds, stay grounded

Light always wins —brilliance all precedes. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


Fiction, Lauranelle - aba bcb cdc ded efe fbf ggA(1)A(2), MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality

Photo Challenge: Poem – Laurenelle – “Freeing the She-Wolf” #amwriting #poetry #fiction


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge.

Credit: Natalie Deprina

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I writhe, I wreathe for I’m neatly twisted, 

You’ll never unravel me, my heart unknown. 

You hold the tether on my talons tight fisted

I’m tenacious, a survivor bold, 

You can tie me in knots, try to keep me near;

I’ll escape, live without your blackness owned. 

I don’t quit; you shouldn’t trap me for fear, 

I’ll catch you first, she-wolf who swiftly bites. 

Your callous ropes hurt, but I’ll disappear

Love doesn’t choke, it’s not uninviting

Love is a freedom, not a smoke screen

But you’re in my den, I’m growling my spite

My name isn’t “Sweetheart,” don’t demean me;

Power struggle invoked, within your ropes —

I’ve held dear, but know I’m incharge here. 

Droplets of blood, I swear I won’t be broke

Such a darkness in you raptured by my light. 

Goodness will win; she-wolves don’t quit, they’ve hope. 

My love, no more traps, let my heart be free

Your wolf, let her breathe, she’ll return to thee

I writhe, I wreathe, for I’m neatly twisted. 

You hold the tether on my talons, tight fisted. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Fiction – Spectre of Death #amwriting #fiction #death


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt: 

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Credit: “Minutes to Midnight” – http://www.hunternif.deviantart.com

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Time’s clock is forever ticking above death’s throne. The clock’s glass face absorbes the colours of the landscape where death resides. The greyish-green of the stone mass, a floating island, and the pinky-red fire of the sky above and below, reflects on the clock’s face. 

The figure of death sits soberly in his throne. The stone carved form a perfect fit for his lanky tall body. Beneath death’s left and right hands, the leering skulls of his first two victims sit. They are from our first two ancestors, people who lived exceptionally long compared to the humans living in modern times. Adam and Eve had tried to evade death, even though they knew he was coming for them. They had been ignorant and had no idea what death actually meant until they breathed their last. 

Their souls he’d had to let fly in heaven, gold birds with giant wings exploring their freedom and return to painlessness. He had kept their skulls, though one day he knew he would have to return them. For now, Adam and Eve’s skulls peered eerily out onto whichever soul was before death seated on his throne. Together with the dying person, death watched their last seconds of life tick away. He towered over them in his realm and let their soul sour to heaven or to hell, there was no inbetween except him. 

Some souls who stood before him were not afraid. This always amazed death. He was an imposing figure, giant and fearsome, his red hair as consuming flames, and his eyes burning coals. Some humans gazed up at him with what frightened death as wisdom, something they had gained, which few knew, not even him. Their souls flew away and he knew he would never see them again. Other people crumbled before him and he took time to torment them whether they went below or above. He was death after all, a fearsome being. 

Yet, he had no control where a soul went. Death had no power to choose or to do as he wanted. He had a job, a task. He was death, he killed; but he was not merely an end. He was also the beginning. What he valued most of all, freeing those souls trapped in decaying bodies or in bodies injured profusely. Death was a contradiction of terms, both good and evil. Souls of faith went above and souls of disbelief went down to hades. Even death was afraid of what lay far beneath him in the abyss. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Current Events, Free Verse, Health, History, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “A Congested Mind” #poetry #amwriting 


http://www.pinterest.com

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They call it the unknown

The future lying before you. 

No matter if you’re psychic, 

No one knows what happens. 

There are varied scenarios,

Ways it could play out, 

But truly we don’t know the future

It’s a mystery creeping forward, 

And it pulls us along on our knees.

Whether we go willingly, 

Or go kicking and screaming;

Time marches in to the beat,

Of father time’s own drum. 

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I don’t know what’s coming, 

I know worrying won’t help. 

I think sometimes I try to give advice, 

Reassuring myself in kind. 

There are bright possibilities, 

Hoping people become, 

More kind than they are mean to each other. 

Pray people look-out for each other, 

But sometimes I think society is self-centred. 

I admit to such fault and others too,

But I’m still fearful;

When I think of a year or two ahead, 

I’m afraid what if it’s not the right plan? 

Experience deftly taught me,

Plans are dim outlines of reality. 

Mostly, life goes where it goes

And God only knows where or why. 

Leading us through dark valleys, 

Into trenches with piercing bullets flying. 

Into classrooms with screaming kids, 

A gunmen on the loose. 

He leads us through to people, 

Whose power makes one nervous. 

How even democracy isn’t safe —

A tyrant could rule all. 

Maybe the world will surprise me, 

But I fear for the little person. 

*****

My own personal fears weigh heavy, 

Though others bear pains greater. 

Of lawyers and cases, 

Of corruption and crime. 

Those crimes we deem terrible;

Those crimes brushed under the rug. 

Greed and all those other sins,

Abhorred but freely ignored. 

Though I can never say what’s worse —

My own flaws or imperfections

Or those I’m faced with. 

Stress shows through cracks, 

Egg yokes running. 

No one likes raw eggs except in cookie dough

The future is overwhelming. 

But at least they’ll still be cookie dough, 

And I don’t know why —

I’m particular and observant

Why I know it’s better to be alone

Than be truly alone with another. 

Why I wait for that spark

Why I wait for the morning dawn. 

A smile in his eyes which is genuine

Wherever he is. 

But maybe happiness is a puppy

Paws following me on the hardwood, 

Barks at random sounds. 

The glory of a puppy skidding down —

The off leash trail and wheeling;

Turning around to jump on me, 

To pick her up when she’s tired. 

*****

My bones are stiff and ridged

My dreams fall to despair

So many books and writers, 

And not anyone can compare

How to rise above the masses, 

Or fill your own niche contented. 

But perhaps one could be something

Success in small moments. 
Afraid and weighted

Need to cry, tears unshed, 

Because disease is cruel. 
Even if Heaven is the end of the tunnel,

So many words are left unsaid

The timing of it all, does it work? 

I feel alienated

Though I try hard to keep the connection

It’s all in your planning Lord;

So must I say, your will be done.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.