Current Events, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 28 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/FFftAW: Poem – Skeltonic – “Flippy Cup” #flashfiction #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #poetry


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem using “Skeltonic verse. . .  [which] gets its name from John Skelton, who used short stanzas with irregular meter, but two strong stresses per line (otherwise know as “dipodic” or “two-footed” verse). The lines rhyme, but there’s not a rhyme scheme. The poet simply rhymes against one word until he or she gets bored and moves on to another.” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote has the letter Y. Also, I’m using the Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer Prompt and thanks to Priceless Joy for that.  

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Credit: Dawn Miller

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I’ve always sucked at games of chance. Always hated them for that reason.” ― Rick Yancey, The Infinite Sea

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You play so wrong

That’s not the right song 

Put on that one song 

That one goes on and on

Now play flippy cup 

We need beer cups 

Then we’ll drink it up

Some plastic red ones

Let’s fill them up some 

Bring the keg dear

Drink up your beer 

Flip up your cup, here

Now down the line clear

Flip your cups, then drink beer  

Down at the end immersed

Drink your beer first 

Quench your intense thirst

Our team wins first

Move down the line 

You’re doin‘ just fine 
Every time a new game

Big red cup for shame 

I’ll fill you up the same

And we’ll keep playing 

More rounds of  flippy cup

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Blitz poem - 48 Lines, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Returning” #amwriting #poetry 


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

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Credit: Mario Gervals

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Aurora-borealis paints the sky

Hues of light to charm

Charm the cold from old man winter’s grasp

Charm the sky hovering, colours delightful still

Still as the snow when it stops

Still as the young man in the living room

Room in a home where he’s troubled 

Room of the television — loud sports

Sports of the freezing weather

Sports loved best

Best loved is hockey

Best loved he watches, engrained 

Engrained in the screen

Engrained in the game 

Game on and he misses his wife as she drives away

Game of his wife searching for time

Time ended when she him left 

Time is new for her; he doesn’t care now

Now she moves on 

Now she is but thrilled

Thrilled, yet in a storm she drives

Thrilled to have escaped without another fight 

Fights always happen

Fights which got worse, never stopped

Stopped when she rethought her life

Stopped when she said, “I’m gone” 

Gone while the new sliver of a TV loudly plays

Gone, he knows it it, feels depressed

Depressed at the mess of his life

Depressed, slight lines etched into his face

Face with red eyes

Face with mouth stifling sobs

Sobs because she’s gone for good

Sobs because she gazed at him appalled

Appalled because he always yelled

Appalled because he’s why ‘they’re finished

Finished forever, she’s free

Finished, but she’s not safe in such a blizzarding storm

Storm outside flinging snow in his face

Storm outside, her car didn’t make it far

Far off and tired the look in her eyes

Far off but tears streaming ’cause she’s stuck 

Stuck in the bank of snow 

Stuck in her life, no escape

Escape life here, without him?

Escape yet, she’s glad, for her, he came 

Came, so she takes him back; he understands now

Came, so they return to times where they showed

Showed love, affection where no distance divides 

Now acts of love, little things, change the future

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, History, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Cowboys and Indians” #amwriting #poetry


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

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Credit: Elizabeth Anna

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Face so black, eyes green-blue, a warrior stood, 

In forest, playing games, children not meek.

On the faces of cliffs roam, hide and seek,

Cowboys with guns, face arrows of wood. 

Her hair is in braids, she’s taller and could, 

 Take out any boy; her face paint it streaks;

Black oil paints stain her pink dress as she seeks, 

Unafraid, with bow ready, arrow’s wood —

Will strike at any movement and set fly, 

Weapon which could hurt, but that’s life she sighs.  

Hopes her arrow might hit a deer — dinner, 

For a family she can’t feed, as a child. 

Only a girl, no parents but she plays, 

In this strange cowboys and Indian brave’s game. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

alouette, Audio Poems, Fiction, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, November Notes, Poetry, Religion/Morality

November Notes: Poem – Day 25 – Alouette (Audio) – “Game of Dark”


Today’s prompt song is “Up in Flames” by Ruelle.


“Up in Flames” – Ruelle

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Credit: Fan Pop – Wall Paper

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                    .                                              In shadows we dwell,

Moonlit private hell.

We disappear into edges,

Into the places dark,

Our lives are no lark.

We’re left standing, our bets hedged.


The darkness is cold,

We draw warmth, we fold.

Ourselves neatly into corners,

Existing in pitch black,

Our dimness won’t crack.

Light cannot break in, you’re warned.


Our hearts are blackest,

Survival is our knack.

Glass city, shimmers, breaks apart,

We’re a stronger ilk,

Sliding through night, silk.

As the world sets afire hearts.


Right and wrong confused,

Caught in self-abuse.

Night beckons us to creep, to find,

Paths leading out as,

It all goes up, has —

Been singed, burned, no mere kindness.


We survive the dark,

We survive the mark.

When it all goes up in flames,

We’re last to remain,

We’re last, but insane.

Learning a sadistic game.


img_2951-22

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) 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, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Team Trust #flashfiction #amwriting


Thanks to Nortina S for hosting Moral Monday’s. This week’s moral prompt is: “There’s no ‘I’ in Team.”

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http://www.reference.com

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The Panther’s high school volleyball team were playing a vital game. If they won the match, they would make it into provincials.

“Come on Jackie,” her teammate Aimee cried, “Serve the ball right into that Amazon’s face.”

Jackie set-up her serve and slammed the ball to a player named Stacey on the opposing team. Stacey missed bumping the ball and her Amazon teammates criticized her meanly. 

Jackie’s next serves against the Amazons were down the left line. An Amazon player named Lauren, began pushing her teammates out of the way to ensure she got the pass-up. Her teammates were angry she was in their space and began squabbling. 

Jackie and Aimee from the Panthers smirked. The Amazons were deconstructing from the inside. Their bickering and distrust of each other ensured they would lose the game. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Cleave Poem - right, left, and whole poem as 3 separate poems., My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Cleave Poem – “Honesty and Lies” #amwriting #poetry


honesty
http://www.terileigh.com

 

  1. Read the words in ‘regular’ font.
  2. Read the words in bold font only.
  3. Read the poem as you would a normal poem.

Such honest words / words brimming with vitriol,

I give to you, my heart and soul/ pricked by a venomous demonic snake, 

I leave you, all my virtue true/ virtue could cure the poison invading;

But you don’t believe in honesty/ to be rid of such hatred, such turmoil, such rage;

You’ve a game you call ‘secrets and lies’/pain incinerates, but you play on.

No one understands your game/ betting against yourself always, you incriminate.

You’ve set the rules/ I cannot win; I’m the pawn, I’m the fool.

You always score, each game, each set / you judge me; achieving a win, you’re guaranteed not to lose.

 You don’t understand your character flaw / why shouldn’t I try to fight steadfast for your love?

You’ve hubris; I’m afraid of your poetic downfall / the Bard wrote of love, can’t you read those poems?

Words reaching out as if they were / syllables of glass, shattered and splintered;

Creeping vines, ensnaring you / as if they were words, lavish with ardor, enchanting.

Trapping you until you cannot move / safekeeping your person; holding you dear.

Putting you in a sleeping spell, brier rose / I brush back your hair, as the drugged lethargy falls.

With benevolent sorcery, you’re reclaimed / you remain mine; unharmed and kept safe.

Asleep but a moment; complicated lies as clouds drift away / I, wondering why you chose deceit?

I offered you truth, the elder twin first / honesty is all I want to hear,

You chose deception, the younger sibling / I offer us both new life;

Your wicked lies entrap us both / hoping the only lies I hear from you again are white.

I can never concede to a life of falsehood/ there is compromise in honesty to be found.

My vines hold you tight / I’m guiding you, untangling you, from your web of lies.

Until honesty is the only breathe in your lungs/ until we both, only breath the truth of you and I.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

alouette, Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Alouette – “Head on My Lap”


The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:

Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

The form name is a French word meaning ‘skylark’ or larks that fly high, the association to the lark’s song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word ‘alouette’ can also mean a children’s song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children’s poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line (please see examples below).

Please visit Shadow Poetry for more information.


Man with Head on Woman's lap
http://www.pinterest.com

I worry for you,

My reasons see through,

No such opacity and —

You never look up,

Drinking coffee cup,

Living in your box of quick sand.


You won’t admit truth,

Reality isn’t proof,

What world do you inhabit?

Not ever seeing,

A blank lost being,

Following the white rabbit.


Life’s not Wonderland,

It’s not a game grande.

You need choose to be living,

Not a ghost fading.

A person jaded.

Wake-up, be aware, forgive.


We can’t live this life,

No passion or strife,

Dig-down in your belly, find —

Life’s fire hiding, soar —

Past limits, encore!

Joy, vibrance; be kind.


Love, you’re secluded;

Don’t live deluded.

You’re my everything, my fire.

Darkness you have found,

Devours you around.

Let us be flames who aspire.


Be not sad, life changes,

Alter our exchanges.

Talk, laugh; head placed on my lap,

Tell my your secrets.

All your woes, bleakness.

Let no thoughts keep your soul trapped.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Art in the Eye of the Beholder. 


” So what do you think?” Paul asked his husband. “It’s a print of a famous painting and the ocean and sky is calm and relaxing. You don’t like it?”

Trevor looked at the print hung over their bed: “Paul, it’s a print. I think if you’re going to buy a copy of a painting, you should at least buy a copy which is actually painted. This is a poster, how much did you pay for it?” Paul smiled with strain.

“Oh, it was only a cheap print framed. Maybe, we can go find an actual painting soon. I only thought this was a serene piece of art perfect for a bedroom.” Paul said sounding hurt.

Trevor sighed deeply; he hated it when Paul made him feel guilty.

“The ocean and the sky are serene but we could go down Whyte Ave this week during Art Walk and find an original actual painting, while supporting local artists. I’m sure a peaceful ocean and sky will be a common theme.” Trevor remarked, trying to convince Paul’s high taste.

Paul grinned.”That sounds fantastic! There is this great restaurant where they have real Italian food on Whyte and…” 

Trevor tuned Paul out and flicked on the TV opposite the ocean print. An NFL game was on; true art, Trevor thought with a grin.

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http://www.pixebay.com
 
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Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP each Friday.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

3Line Tales: Quiet, Imagination, and the Spaces Inbetween Silence.


  Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words or Less for hosting Three Line Tales.

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Moritz Schmidt
 

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 1. Some people abhor quiet and others they adore it, I would say I’m often in the latter group but not all the time; we all have this need to be sociable creatures to some extent, whether it’s to meet new clients and network; gab with our girlfriends or see the boys for a game; or simply sit in a coffee shop and absorb the hum of conversation occurring around us.

2. I have this love for quiet (or silence you might call it) because they’re special ideas and transfigurations of your imagination hiding within it; some people can feed their creativity in the loud and garish noises of a crowd of people yelling and hollering to a person near to them; but the best place for some of us to elaborate on ideas and call fourth the muses of our imagination is in the silence where we write brilliant stories, paint paintings, and daydream of our future creations.

3. Sometimes it’s not the quiet or silence which is meaningful, but the spaces inbetween the quiet, because in those hidden molecules lives a powerful and significant understanding between two people; it is love in it’s magnificence which exists within the silences of husbands and wives, partners, girlfriends and boyfriends, children and their parents, grandparents and grandchildren, friends, and people and their pets; this space within silence is a secret place two people who love each other exceptionally, coexist together without uttering a single word, while both comprehending each other deeply even within each other’s souls.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.