Haiku - 7,7,5, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 30/31 – Senryu – “Eternity for Real” #amwriting #poetry #religion #christianity #faith


Day 31 Prompt: Eternal

“When I think of eternal, I think there isn’t much that is eternal, at least not on this earth. When I wrote this prompt, I believe I was thinking how even though OctPoWriMo is coming to an end, our words are forever – what we wrote during this month and beyond. What does eternal mean to you?” 
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“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.” –John 5:24

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http://www.pinterest.com
 

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Time on earth is done, 
When my body is only, 
An Empty vessel. 

——–

Then shall eternity —

Begin; time will not matter. 

For all those gone on. 

——

Time on earth, linear, 

Comprehend forever, 

It’s hard imagining.

——-

What forever is, 

What it looks like and feels like, 

Who the maker is? 

—–

Death is frightening, 

Even in sleep, will it hurt? 

Where does our soul go? 

——-

This is why I think, 

Believing in God is wise, 

We can worry less.

——-

Perhaps worry not —

At all; because we know what —

The otherside will bring.

——-

Many say we’re wrong, 

There’s no heaven, there’s no hell.

I learned fear of God.

—–

Not that we should be —

Afraid of benevolent —

King; but his word speaks. 

—–

Gives us hope for life, 

Eternal in Jesus dying for —

Everything done wrong.

——

We’re not perfect and —

We never will be, we can’t 

Keep the Ten Commandments. 

——

Fulfilling God’s law, 

Impossible to achieve, 

So he sent Jesus.

——

He hung on a cross, 

Cruxifician painful, bled. 

He died went to Hell.

——

Defeated devil, 

Defeated death and the grave, 

So with him remain.

——

When our death comes there —

Is no sting, because those who —

Have faith, believe — live.

—–

That is eternity, 

Heaven with God, better than —

Our wildest dreams. 

——

Forgiveness of sin, 

Becoming perfect beings, 

Paradise for real. 

——-

Thank you for following me for #OctPoWriMo. Sorry, I’m behind on my usual prompts! I will catch up and am following a new themed daily prompt for November. Stay tuned ūüôā 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016)All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Pushing Daisies” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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Little Lana, stood with her Mommy saw —

Flowers thought, “daisies,”¬†over grave grew tall.

Thought Dad was here, never saw him at all.

Mom had tearful eyes, emotion made her raw.

Why’s Daddy pushing Daisies,¬†where’s my pa?”

Lana asks fragile Mom; had heard phone call —

Nana said Dad’s, pushing daisies, new¬†calling.

Mom cries at question, by the grave she bawls.

——

Pushing daisies,¬†what did that mean? Girl knew —

Not the phrase, but thought it’s Daddy’s new job.¬†

Papa came, Lana asks, “Why Dad now grew —

Daisies? Wasn’t doing business his job?”

Tears trailed down Papa’s eye, his nose he blew:

“It¬†means your Dad is dead, to heaven flew.”

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


Kyrielle - Three (plus) Quatrains - Rhyme of choice, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Writing

Poem: Quatrain – “Take Back Your Ring ” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #habilin



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http://www.pinterest.com

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Not with me; think of you too much. 

A tiny ring; it you so condemns.

Even in death your pretentious, 

Hurting me; dying this way such. 

——–

Is it a poisonous ring to touch? 

A gem given not generous.

Without thought of reverence, 

To your memory, not a crutch. 

——–

Only a ring, such evil brings, 

Only a ring; inside me stings. 

A ring he made a promise to —

Love me for all time; it sings.

——-

Yet into my brain it’s screwed,

Saw you kissing her by the yew.

At your grave; asking ring keep too.

In death hold; you I never knew. 

——–

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Next To Her


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. Also thank you to The Daily Post for the prompt word Hope

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http://www.pixebay.com

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“Why are we going in here?” Karen asked her older cousin Alicia, struggling to carry  the load between them.

“It’s Grandpa’s barn. I remember my Dad helping rebuild it when I was seven-years-old.”

“I like the vintage feel. The lanturne is neat. I bet it’s antique,” Karen said enthused.

“Ah, it’s pretty dusty and dirty in here actually. I’m sure no one has been in here since Grandpa retired.” Alicia said.

“So did you bring a shovel?” Karen inquired.

“There is a couple of shovels in here. We should bury him over there,” Alicia said quietly pointing.

They started digging through the barn’s loose dirt floor. 

“I hope this is deep enough?” Karen asked.”We should do six-feet deep, right?”

“Yeah,” Alicia remarked. “At least he’s close to her here.” Karen gave Alicia a funny look but decided to stay silent.

The cousins carried the body wrapped in blankets to the hole they had dug. 

Breathing heavily after shovelling, they threw the body in the hole and began the slow process of shovelling dirt ontop of the body. 

Karen stopped shortly.”You really think we should be doing this?” 

Alicia sighed.”Grandpa told me to do this. He told me to bury him here next to our Nana when he died.”

“What happened to Nana?” 

“He was mad at her once. In a fit of rage he hit her over the head with the back of a shovel. Grandpa never meant to kill Nana.”

“When did he tell you?” Karen asked. 

“I was there that night, sleeping over. I saw everything and helped Grandpa bury Nana. He was in shock. It was my idea to bury her in the barn.” Alicia admitted.

“I can’t believe he killed her,” Karen said.

THWACK! Alicia’s shovel hit Karen in the head cracking her head like a watermelon.

” I believe it,” Alicia said burying Karen in the grave with her Grandpa.

” You always were their favourite grandchild, cousin.” Alicia smirked. 

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Story Comtinuation Prompt: Fiction – Remembering Helen


Thank you to Wandering Soul who hosts this prompt challenge each week. You can complete the prompt sentence by writing up to two-additional sentences in her comments section in the link above or you can link to her blog page. Also, if you choose to write a longer story from the prompt, link the story to her page as well.

Today’s prompt sentence is: “The old man stared at the droopy white lilies.”

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http://www.thelilygarden.com
  

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The old man stared at the droopy white lilies. Memories flooded back to him as he smelt the strong scent that lingered. He felt the edge of one of the petals, still baby soft but crisp and dry on the edges. Helen had always hated lilies; that was why he had them placed on her grave every Sunday.

You might think this a mean thing for an old man to do but Ernest (the old man) had had a complicated relationship with Helen. Though it might not appear so, he had adored her and thought she had always been a magnificent woman.

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Ernest remembered the first time he had seen Helen in his senior year in high school. She had her abundant curly brown hair styled in a forties-bob. Her blue eyes sparkled when she saw him. He felt their two souls collide in that moment and Ernest knew their souls would always be connected.

Ernest and Helen dated until Ernest was twenty-three years-old. Helen hadn’t liked that they had dated five-years without getting married. In hindsight, Ernest realized he should’ve married Helen long before he did.

Helen became pregnant and the whole town turned against her. The women called her a hussy and advised Helen to marry Ernest immediately. His old man had took Ernest aside and told him that everything would be fine if he married Helen quickly and quietly.

But Helen was feisty and didn’t like being told what to do. She was hurt that her best girlfriends looked down on her and that the town’s people whispered and gossiped about her behind her back. It was then Helen changed her mind about marriage to Ernest.

One day Ernest and Helen were swinging on the porch swing at Helen’s parent’s house, Ernest trying his hardest to convince Helen marriage was an excellent choice since they both loved each other.The following day Helen and two suitcases full of her clothes and baby items she had been collecting, had disappeared.

Ernest searched for Helen. He wrote letters and searched various small towns. He went to big cities, remembering what Helen liked to do and where she would likely be found. He remembered the places she dreamed about visiting. Ernest also feared a young pregnant woman alone, wouldn’t find much friendliness from strangers. He was frightened for Helen and his unborn child.

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Twenty-years later Helen appeared at Ernest’s house in Pittsburg. Ernest’s wife Lilian, was battling Cancer. To both their regret, Lilian and Ernest had never been able to have children. But behind Helen was an enchanting young woman whose green eyes he recognized as his own. 

The three of them sat outside and talked. Ernest had felt guilty about not seeing his wife at the hospital that day as afternoon turned to evening. His daughter’s name was Grace and to Ernest she was indeed a ‘grace.’ 

In the morning Helen was gone but Grace remained. His daughter stood by him, even when his wife Lilian passed away a week later. Despite the fact Grace had never known her father, she stayed with Ernest as he grieved and she began working in the woman’s section of a department store.

Grace told Ernest that her mother Helen detested Lilies and that was why she left. But Lilian’s favourite flower was of course a Lily; they covered Ernest’s home while Lilian lived. He was always greeted by their pungent fragrance when he came home from work. Ernest knew better the reason Helen hadn’t stayed: She didn’t want to make Ernest’s life difficult. Grace had chosen to stay with Ernest on her own.

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Twenty-years later, Ernest was a happy Grandfather of four teenage grandchildren. Grace had married a man in Pittsburg and lived close by his house. She visited Helen and spoke to her mother often, but clammed up whenever Ernest asked about Helen. 

One day, Ernest was home alone doing yard work and Helen appeared out of no where. It gave him such a shock that Ernest’s green eyes started to tear up not believing what he saw. Helen aged, but still magnificent, embraced Ernest and they both cried for the lost years they hadn’t been with each other. The love between them was still strong, even after forty-years mostly apart.

Helen remained with Ernest. The happy couple had a small wedding and Grace was delighted her parents were together at last. 

Ernest and Helen were driving to the airport for their honeymoon in Paris. Helen was complaining about the orange lily the florist had slipped in her bouquet. Ernest had thought Helen’s complaints funny. They both started laughing and Ernest in his bliss, missed the red light. He hadn’t seen the pick-up truck before it crushed his car where Helen sat, graceful in a white suit; she died instantly.

—–

Years passed and Ernest religiously had lilies deliveried to Helen’s grave each Sunday. He always thought about how much Helen hated lilies. But lilies made Ernest, the old man, remember his beloved Helen. So that even after Ernest’s own death, their darling daughter Grace, continued to have lilies deliveried to Ernest’s and Helen’s shared grave.

Grace wiped a tear away from her eye. Both her parents were sorely missed.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction, Writing

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers РPart 6 The End РA Whisp in the Wind 


Dear Bernice,

As I stand here at your grave I can’t believe you were right, Davey was trying to kill me. I just wish he hadn’t gotten to you first.

Six months ago I took off on a horse having been raped by Davey and arrived at a police station. I was given a rape kit at the nearest hospital and evidence of Davey’s DNA was taken from my body. Davey was already in the polices’ system and they matched the DNA on my body to his. 

At his ranch, they found a hunting knife with your blood on it and a sawed off shot gun which he admitted he was eventually going to kill me with.

It’s not fair Bernice, that your ghost should save me and we should find your body in a fridge in Davey’s basement as if you weren’t a person, my sister. I love you forever and think I am going away from my condo for awhile, maybe up to San Francisco, I always wanted a house there. 

Jackie 

( A letter left at Bernice’s grave).

Word Count: 180

  
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting!