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


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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Credit: Roger Shipp

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Sand beach, I bury my toes,

Sand squishes between them, I sigh;

Happy.

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Blue sky so clear, clouds like cotton, 

 Feel at home, reading trashy book;

Engrossed. 

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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. 

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Floppy hat and Marilyn swim suit, 

Magazines read while the dog splashes;

Relaxed. 

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Blanket soft with a bit of sand,

Jackie.O sunglasses worn; 

Content. 

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Wet dog shaking everywhere, 

Angry crab in dogs mouth shook;

Laughing 

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Calm, tranquility; wading in, 

Ocean’s rhythm soothes, stops thinking;

Forget. 

******

 Sky fading purple; ocean green —

Dark and ominous, storm coming;

Watchful. 

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Rain starts to fall, cold and loud, 

Taking umbrella down, packing;

Forced home. 

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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. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Saturday Mix Flash Fiction: Soliquey – Blank Verse – “The Con” #amwriting #soliliquey #fiction #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Bastet from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week’s prompt is a soliloquy at a train station. I’ll be using blank verse or unrhymed iambic pentameter as the Bard did. 

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“Imagine a scene, a train is pulling out of the station and a person standing on the platform looking dejected. What can have happened. Perhaps this person is someone in the station wishing to leave but for some reason hasn’t. “

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Credit: GSK 2017

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So leaves the train, so leaves my heart, 

Why him I once loved, now I know not? 

Must have been his eyes so brilliant a green, 

Gems such as emeralds, a sea-green storm brewed.

Was it his cavalier smile, his laugh? 

With him I felt wanted, weak in the knees. 

I was his Queen, he my adoring King. 

He cared for me gently, said I shouldn’t stay —

On my own, for he loved me; fooled me, 

Underestimated a woman cruelly scorned. 

I saw cracks in the vase, facade crumbled, 

An artist’s dream of beauty such a fake, 

He left, emptied my pockets of money. 

This con thinks he’s safe going to Bahamas, 

Since he betrayed me, I say differently. 

He’ll be doing some flying, and me thinks he’s done. 
Thrown off the tallest bridge, out of the train. 

Expensive was his end, but I’m appeased

I watched his train moving away, still —

Missing his voice, his touch, time spent loving. 

But I know he never loved me, I was ‘means’ —

To an end; yet, the ‘real end’ was his own. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#FinishOffFridays Flash Fiction: Shadows Are Beings Too #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Lorraine of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting: 

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Credit: Lorraine

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Great green leafy trees are reflected on the lagoons glimmering surface. High above the actual trees dance in the breeze, drooping, almost as if to kiss the water with their branches. On the shore are large rocks which I take and skip across the lagoon. The mermaids will love me for this.

I continue to skip rocks until a few lovely mermaids pop their heads out of the forest lagoon and give me dirty looks. They hope it’s Peter, but when they see it’s only Peter’s shadow, they roll their eyes diving back under the water beneath the lillypads and floating flowers.

No one anywhere thinks much of a shadow and they don’t realize shadows are beings too. So the mischief in me has unsewn myself from Peter Pan. He’s been chasing me all day but I’m quicker and smarter than he. It’s why I decided he should take a trip home to a little girl I fancy; she is called Wendy. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays: Poem – Constanza – “No Hunt Today” #poetry #amwriting #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting 100 Word Wednesdays.

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Credit: Andreas P. Via UnSplash

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Hush across green dusted woods, 

Deer came into the area, 

Knowing not that their lives were spared. 

Coming soundlessly they stood, 

Hunters close, could taste venison. 

Deer eyes clear, no shown surrender. 

Know not I why they came and looked, 

Ate the grass carelessly and stared, 

At camaflouged men threats bared. 

Humans so close, guns nearby shook, 

Tried to shoot, bambi eyes unhinged,

Couldnt think, at innocence cringed. 

Majesty of moment brooked, 

Deers watched the men, discussing them, 

Drew closer —curious are men. 

Deers unharmed, it was understood. 

No hunter there a weapon raised,

Then as light, deer faded away. 

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The Constanza, created by Connie Marcum Wong, consists of five or more 3-line stanzas. Each line has a set meter of eight syllables. The first lines of all the stanzas can be read successively as an independent poem, with the rest of the poem weaved in to express a deeper meaning. The first lines convey a theme written in mono-rhyme, while the second and third lines of each stanza rhyme together.

Rhyme scheme: a/b/b, a/c/c, a/d/d, a/e/e, a/f/f (etc.) 
Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Green For Jealousy” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Jade M. Wong 2016

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She used to be green, envious of those, 

Who moved with more than their clever placed prose. 

Green burned within her eyes, she fought to know, 

More than the forest invading souls; chose —

To see beyond green, jealousy which rose. 

Stronger person, tougher girl who fought those, 

Who placed her in such tight square-pegged green holes. 

Beyond emotion to soft grace she rose. 

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Envy tears apart, so green and seething

A monster growing her sharp teeth, teething;

A vindictive being, behind scenes teasing.

No more green for her, she dreams in light blues, 

No more green, peaceful serenity cued;

Jealousy hits door, tosses emerald shoes. 

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© Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Still As Your Breath” #amwriting #poetry


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

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Credit:SIrLounge.com

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In dress of Emerald green unfurling, 

Unfurling and scampering, the forest behind 

Behind her hair of onyx locks

Behind her the forest forms, her dream image 

Image of imp, earthen worm silk for her gown

Image of child feet bare on the ground

Ground echoes as she pants and runs 

Ground misting with fog on grey lake

Lake where the monsters swim

Lake where they slither and with trickery bid

Bid her come swim 

Bid her come beneath the surface

Surface of lake reflective mirror

Surface of mind, smoke cascading from hair 

Hair the metaphor of her thoughts

Hair rising with caustic smoke

Smoky, the sky is dim and grey

Smoky, her thoughts show disarray 

Disarray of the mind and she scatters

Dissray of her feet on dying grass

Grass beloved in spring

Grass lush and wild around her

Her the woman, the sprit

Her the goddess –only in her mind

Mind overflowing she burns black thoughts

Mind recreates as she destroys smoke black 

Black as her hair, the ravens are jealous

Black as her pupils, focused on running

Running from life, imp of nature

Running until lungs burst

Burst with her blackness inhaled

Burst with the need for fresh air

Air breathed in and out

Air the forest created

Created as she makes trees 

Created to help her and us breathe 

Breathe the freshest lake air

Breathe and feel free to live

Live but how? 

Live but why? She’s black soot scent

Scent of tar from smoke

Scent of wildflower and rain

Rain and her dress greener still grows

Rain and her tears are diamonds 

Diamond of nature stop fleeing 

Diamond of nature flawed — just stand 

Stand silent and inhale fresh mountain air

Stand and inhale new beginning — be still

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Fiction – Dawn of Daylight #amwriting #fiction


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this challenge and a card/picture which is centered around the sun and it’s use as a metaphor in life. 

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http://www.wallpaperup.com

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It’s early morning and the sky is tinged with an inky darkness. Out of the east brilliant colour begins to emerge. First the sky lightens, the navy washing out into a paler blue. The sun goddess brings a purplish hue to the sky which then begins to blaze with citrus orange; a red-pink hue completes the spectacular sunset. The goddess knows the sailors will complain about the pink hue; the suspicious lot of them. 

She watches the sunrise, in all nature’s artistry, from washed out watercolour to colours aflame in brilliant acrylic. The colours become more pigmented and the sky itself turns cheery sky blue and the brilliance of the sunrise is replaced by the promise of a new day. A soft yellow glow on everything outside, reminding the goddess of the smell of lemons and a distinct feeling of happiness. 

She spots her treasured swing in her secret garden. The fall leaves of tangerine orange, blazing gold, and brazen red, match her sunrise well. The goddess steps through the coloured leaves and walks to the swing. It’s warm enough that many flowers are yet blooming and some of the Autumn colours are enhanced by the grassy green of summer, holding on despite a chill arising as winter whispers. 

Roses decorate the sun goddess ropes on her swing as she kicks out ageless beautiful shapely legs, then kicks her legs underneath her wodden swing. She keeps her pace gentle, pumping her legs at leisure and watching the sun provide hope to this part of the world; the renewal of light. 

The blue sky is awesome and many people are out walking their dogs. It’s early and only the dogs see the goddess swimging. They approach her for a scratch and a hidden treat. Their kisses lap her face as she tries to avoid getting licked on the mouth. The goddess grins when the dogs wagging their tales, return to their owners, sniffing through the gathering of leaves on the sidewalk. 

She lingers on the swing longer than she should. But there is a certain peacefulness in the morning hours she needs to make it through the day. She mentally calculates how much time she has, not long; other places in the world are eager to see the sunrise too. Yet in the cool of the morning air the goddess sighs. 

Here is an enchanted place ready to see the crystal clearness daylight reveals, unconcealing those who hide in darkness. But in other places, darkness is safer, for in daylight there is no delight but harm as the shadows themselves strive to suck away the light. The sun goddess smiles because the sun always rises, the shadows never win. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond Challenge: “To the Fall Leaves” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s challenge on Fall and D.H. Lawrence’s poem about Fall called: “Autumn Rain.” 

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Credit: Forbes Travel Guide

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Crinkled Leaves, 

Whisper past my cheek, 

Twist in hair, 

On the ground, 

Disperse in my hand, fragments, 

Not one leaf — thousands. 

—–

The scent Fall —

Gives, lingers of rot.

It’s acrid

Yet pleasant. 

Dessication, fragrance breathe;

A nip in the air. 

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Floating leaves, 

Linger around trees, 

Dropping as —

One passes, 

Realize everything has —

A time to live and die.

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Brush strokes of, 

Deep scarlet and orange —

As pumpkins, 

Yellow as —

Butterscotch dripping and warm, 

Oozing to the ground.

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Feet crunching, 

Leaves underfoot and twigs, 

From trees mix, 

With their birth–

Place; such twigs sprung with green leaves, 

There weight is now shed.

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Arises, 

The wind, blowing such –

Skeletons, 

They were lush, 

Now, they are gone, murmuring —

Winters chill and scorn.

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Yet such a —

Beauty one does not —

See, but in —

The Fall when, 

Leaves cover pathways, hint at — 

Fascinating old dreams. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Nothing Is Green #3Linetales #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3Line Tales: 

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Stephen Wei

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1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air. 

2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.

3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.