Free Verse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Experiences Penned” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver’s writing prompt a few weeks back. The prompt theme is ‘The Writerly Persuasion.’ 

———

Credit: Sergey Zolkin via Unsplash

——–

Inked stained hands, 

Crook in neck, 

Yoga relieving aches.

‘Limberness;’ 

Word searching for. 

Scribbling schedule, 

Deadlines, vital tasks. 

Words appear, 

Forced to write. 

Hen-pecking, 

iPads don’t use, 

Primary school, 

Typing skills. 

Words blurring, 

Distancing self, 

Eat healthy, 

Drink cold tea. 

Meals on timer, 

Or I’ll forget. 

Inspiration shimmers, 

Imagination entwining. 

Eyes seeking —

Punctuation; 

Repeated words, 

Grammar errors, 

Flow, organization. 

1:00 p.m. beginning, 

1:00 a.m. now. 

Sometime in there, 

Watered plants, 

Walked. 

Sleep anesthetizes, 

Creative mind spins, 

Dreams — the other world, 

From where night, 

Experiences are penned. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer P1: The Liberty of Choice #amwriting #flashfiction #music 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Apologies this is a longer piece than should be but sometimes pieces develop into much more and there is also a second part to this prompt.

——

Credit: Mike Vore
——

Part 1: 

Evangeline was a child prodigy playing songs on the piano from the radio, by ear, at age six. Her mother, Ruth, had dreams of her daughter being a classical music concert pianist.

Grudgingly, Evangeline passed all her Royal Conserveratory piano exams up to the tenth grade when she was only nine-years-old. Although forbidden from playing popular music, when she was home alone, she sang along to her Ipod and wrote her own songs with vocals.

Then, Ruth forced her daughter to travel the world playing classical music concerts.  Evangeline’s classical piano arrangements were powerful and exhilarating to hear because of her resentment and hatred blended into every composition.

After graduating with an honours BA in music while touring, Evangaline refused to do more university degrees in music or to tour playing concerts. She had never been given a choice about how she wanted to use her talents or live her life. Her mother calling her ‘selfish,’ pushed her over the edge.

She left home and didn’t look back.

Find Part 2 (here). 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Animals/Pets, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Poem – Synchronocity – “Beach Day” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

——

Credit: Roger Shipp

——-

Sand beach, I bury my toes,

Sand squishes between them, I sigh;

Happy.

——

Blue sky so clear, clouds like cotton, 

 Feel at home, reading trashy book;

Engrossed. 

——

Hearing waves crashing in and out, 

Aroma of salt, sea; sun streams;

Sunscreened. 

—–

Scents of cocoanut and aloe 

SPF 100 or I’ll burn quick;

Smoothed in. 

——

Floppy hat and Marilyn swim suit, 

Magazines read while the dog splashes;

Relaxed. 

——

Blanket soft with a bit of sand,

Jackie.O sunglasses worn; 

Content. 

——

Wet dog shaking everywhere, 

Angry crab in dogs mouth shook;

Laughing 

——-

Calm, tranquility; wading in, 

Ocean’s rhythm soothes, stops thinking;

Forget. 

******

 Sky fading purple; ocean green —

Dark and ominous, storm coming;

Watchful. 

——

Rain starts to fall, cold and loud, 

Taking umbrella down, packing;

Forced home. 

——

Perfect beach moment gone for now, 

Sitting in the cabin, storm roars;

Rain pours. 

—–

Sleeping in silken covers, dog stretching,  

She’s bathed, we’re napping, resting time; 

Cuddles. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quatern - four quatrains, line a repeats moving down each stanza line until it's the last line of the last Quatern, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Poem – Quaterns – “You Are Not The Girl” #poetry #amwriting


Credit: Marcus Baccatti – http://www.pinterest.com

*****

You are not the girl I always knew,

The person I was most like, you flew –

No longer my number two,

You’re the girl I defended too. 

—–

At every step abandoned I grew, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

You say one thing, you’re actions show,

You’re not a dependable though.

——

I disattach so you won’t hurt,

Make the marks of neglect so curt.

You are not the girl I always knew,

I relied too much on you it’s true.

——

You’re not such a good person, though —

I put you on a pedestal, so –

I took care of you, and trusted you,

You are not the girl I always knew.

******

You are not the girl I always knew,

Life it changed, with it we both grew –

Forced apart at first by you, then thrown,

Hurt so much, but I’ve always known –

—–

I can’t completely trust you through –

You are not the girl I always knew.

So involved in yourself, stopped thinking,

Stopped caring, it made my soul shrink

——

To think of where life takes us, knowing —

One day you’ll leave, forever going.

You’re not the girl I always knew,

You just look like her, there are few –

—–

Who could ever replace this girl,

But she is stuck in her own world.

Changes, hoping friendship renews, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

*****

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poems: Free Verse  – “Chivilry is Dead; Love Lives” #amwriting #poetry


http://www.polyvore.com

———

Swords, steel reflecting light, might against might;
Who has the stronger arm; who’se trained to perfection? 

End ridiculous contestants, challenging each other, 

Coming to blows over Ladies, with medieval weaponry.

Put your duelling pistols away, live through dawn;

You combat with each other as you choose, 

It means little to me; chivalry the grim has scythed.

——-

Twenty-first-century woman, with poise taking on life.

Chivalry, extinct and never truthfully was ‘in,’

It was a gest, a game the court played for King and Queen,

Beneath the game, feigned affection reigned.

No thought for the personal freedoms of a Lady, 

No thought for the woman; she was owned.

At the hub of a wheel of chilviry, the Princess on her throne.

Married off on a white horse, to a dashing young Prince.

He a tyrant, spinning the cogs and wheels of his kingdom.

She primps, preens, performing a show;  

Accepting her Prince’s knight’s fealty; his dying love,

On battle field, the enemy soldiers ran the knight through.

Courtly manners, hide whispered secrets;

Lethal games, converging in mortality; bloody corpses.

 Hold your swords away, do not thrust or perry for attention.

The world has out-grown “pissing contests.”

—–

Win the woman of your dreams, with humour, 

Demonstrate, actual life, not fairy tales, can be fun together.

Your wife can be your lover; your lover your wife,

No having a woman pure enough for wifely duties, 

And a mistress a man loved and made actual love to.

Forget Authorian Legend and courtly love; it’s rules are lore.

Buy your own Lady gloriously coloured flowers,

Take her for a night dancing; giving a memory to smile about.

Together is being with all of your close friends, 

Together is melding your families;

Being united by oath; an agreement between you both.

A Lady is no longer the Princess on the courtly pedastool;

 A man is no longer the white knight; we’ve put to rest fairy tales.

Netflix and chill on the couch; a stately royal date,

Closing the leather bound, dusty history’s books, 

On weird courtship rituals, forced marriages, and chivalry.

More than anything, chivalry was a literary tradition.

Yet, the modern era cries; find your soulmate if you can.

Most parents finished arranging marriages,

A new way to win the bride, to win the Lady.

——

Love her for more than her sexuality, her ability to have children; 

Love her though she is flawed and not entirely ideal.

Love her forever, your heart beating for her;

Chilviry in true form; hides in the modern world.

Equality of woman and men; yet woman adore being catered to,

How lovely to be spoiled; treated as if you were special despite feminism.

Only, keep your swords and your pistols in the vaults of history, 

A game of fists won’t usually solve the problem.

Slipping in through the cracks of ice in her shield, 

Growing warmth and heat, so her hard heart beats, 

Thawing out the cold; letting spring light up her voice, 

Allowing the light in her eyes to flourish and glow, 

Hiding winters barren drought filled radiation.

Rays of light, they ignite and bring fire to her tears, 

Bring a Princess, ignored and used —

Into the modern-era; she’s your Lady, so you treat her well, 

And all her love acquire in return.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Cinquin 2,4,6,8,2 - unrhymed, My Thoughts, Poetry, Writing

Poem: Cinquin – “No Regrets.”


A Cinquin is an unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines. It was developed by the Imagist poet, Adelaide Crapsey.

For more information visit Shadow Poetry here.

 

http://www.superiorplatform.con
 
I thought,

Snow falling would,

Would cover the evidence.

But the cops are not stupid they–

Found him.

——

Gasping, 

I wonder when,

They will come to my door,

And take me away and finger print–

My hands.

—–

They’ll search,

In my dresser,

They’ll find something of his,

The gun he carried trying to–

Force me.

——

I fought

I wouldn’t let–

Him hurt me, not my body.

He injured me with his body first.

I cried.

—–

Lurking,

I saw him here,

He wanted me again, 

So, I picked up his gun and I,

Shot him.

——

They’ll lock,

Me away when, 

They identify him, 

No one knows how he hurt me first.

He’s dead.

——

I’ll go,

To prison because he,

Was a monster and I,

Killed him when he tried again, I’ve

No regrets. 

—— 

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.