Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Gorgeous View #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Barbera Taylor

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This city makes me dream of better things. From this view, it’s a paradise of skyscrapers grazing the winter sky. The windowed buildings glint in the sunlight. The light causes them to gleam, despite their varied shades of colour. There is a blue-green skyscraper fading into dirty brown, and other skyscrapers which are variations of grey and black. Some of the older buildings are a dull sandstone and ivory marble. 

Each building is unique. Certain buildings are modern and geometric and certain buildings are tall with pointed tops. Other buildings are layered, flowing down like ancient ziggurats, while other buildings are of a more recent era in the nineteenth and early twentieth-century. They’re the prettiest buildings, their historicism copied using the lovingly designed architecture of late gothic and early-Renaissance cathedrals.

I call this city my home but I hardly gaze at it from this view. The snow lies as delicate white lace beneath my booted feet and I think, such beauty we have here.

Yet, in this beauty of skyscrapers, snow, and sunlight shimmering, they’re few places to rest for an aged homeless man.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Free Verse – “Not Forgotten”


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Alistair Forbes

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What was it? I see, furniture in the woods left to decay.

Glass broken, shards glinting everywhere, in sunlight’s rays.

Solid wood bones, but could it be repaired? Made new and functional? 

Into what? You might ask,  and I’m not sure what rationally, 

I don’t know it’s purpose, I don’t know how to transform its ruin.

But I like to give old things new uses, to repair the broken form strewn.

Natures taking over swallowing back her glass sand and wood from trees.

Only a concrete slab shall remain, when nature takes what’s presently seen.

Feelings of sorrow haunt, capturing brokenness, into forest bearing.

 I have my reasons, not wanting to leave useful items in disrepair.

It’s more to do with people, how the broken are left behind, not cared for.

People forgetting, friends, family, the elderly, the disabled, more.

Thoughtfulness non-existent, but I seek to repair, leave no one forgotten.

Even the meekest soul, deserves conversation, to be noticed, never left to ‘storage.’

Every stage and page in life, forget no soul, don’t let them slip through your writing hands.

Let every person have a purpose, great or small; let them have their dreams expand.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Triolet – ” White Sand.” 


A Triolet is a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, capital letters representing the repeated lines.

Make writing a Triolet more challenging! Make each line 8 syllables in length (4 metrical feet), written in iambic tetrameter (the more common way), or try it in pentameter (English version) where each line only has 10 syllables (5 metrical feet).

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information on this poetry form.

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Thanks to the Daily Prompt for the word prompt object. My object is white sand.

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Holding, the spheres in my hand,

Observing granules shine, glint.

Beautiful things to look at, white sand.

Holding, the spheres in my hand,

To glorious to understand,

Leaving this paradise, done stint.

Holding, the spheres in my hand,

Observing granules shine, glint.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.