Collage Prompt: Poem – Tankas – “Not Perfect and Better For It” #amwriting #poetry #fiction 

Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Poor little Anne tried,

So hard to fit in; she can’t —

Conform to their look.

Sense of presence in her glance,

Terror; they don’t know freedom.


Yet Anne tries and tries,

To be a cardboard box just —

Like all the others.

Left alone at recess eating,

Ripe oranges, she’s exotic fruit.


But they don’t invite —

Her to their parties, Anne cries,

She doesn’t see why,

She has to be so different,

A plant from foreign soil torn.


Anne grows into her —

Self; she stops being afraid,

Sees her beauty is —

That she’s unique not like all,

Those other girls, loathing her.


In grade school there’s this —

Small boy painted in war paint,

His Dad went to war,

He didn’t return home, saddened —

Anne helps him; he remembers —


So years later they’re —

Attached — those girls all want him.

But his friend is his —

Love; she was with him,

All along; the handsome man,

Love’s different, not perfect Anne.


Though she struggles hard,

Hoping for female friends, he says,

He loves imperfect her,

Because she doesn’t have to

Be ‘like them’; she can be good.


Then she starts meeting —

Others, women who become —

Her tribe, with her guy.

The gazes of jealousy —

Double, but Anne doesn’t care.


Anne is as a bird,

A swallow singing sweetly.

She’s lively, vivid;

Her eyes shine bright; he loves his —

Anne, contently, completely.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: When We Are Eighty #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction

Thanks to Rachel Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.


Credit: Roger Bultot


Patriots was a genuine fifty-style’s diner. Darla a new waitress, was thrilled to have her first job part-time there. Off to the side of the diner was a jukebox near a small dance floor. 

On Friday and Saturday nights, elderly couples could be found dancing here to their favourite fifties tunes. But Christmas Eve was the ‘big ticket’ event. Tables were cleared for a larger dance floor and a diner-style feast was served.

Darla watched once WWII-era toddlers, dancing in fifties garb with pep. She was only fifteen, but as she waitressed throughout high school, Christmas Eve would become by her favourite night at Patriots. She hoped one day she would meet a guy she could still dance with when they were eighty. 


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem – Day 16 – Free Verse “Think Thoroughly” #poetry #anwriting #writing #music 

Before I start, I wanted to share this blog post, a list of the 27 best books on writing!  Hope it helps some of you. Have you read any of the books or do you own any of them? 

27 Of The Best Books On Writing! 


Today’s prompt is “Sweet Serendipty” by Lee DeWyze. 

“Sweet Serendipty” – Lee DeWyze



I’m not of those women who will assure you, 

You can get by, by the skin of your teeth. 

That life is simply chance, fortuitous

I think you’re inexperienced,  

You don’t see the entire picture, 

Each of us is a piece in the mosaic, the grand design. 


Perhaps since your famous, you’ll buy two pairs of jeans? 

But not caring about the seams of your pants, 

Them being too loose — it’s a guy thing. 

Sorry to ruin your charade, life is more than —

Your own version of serendipity

Events that occur to us can be wickedly sad. 


Whether we learn and/or hurt — there’s  a reason, 

An intelligent designer has time arranged, 

 I don’t worry, for different reasons — His plans give security,

If you land on your feet, you’re one lucky guy.

I guess the fates are angry, their scissors keep snapping. 

To me its obtuse to believe blindly in chance. 


There are times I believe in spontaneity, 

But there’s a time and a place with —

A kind of reasoning called: calculated risks. 

I’m unsure why you don’t think ahead (don’t play chess).

I’m not old but I think I’ve experiences you won’t, 

Be carefree at heart, but realize —adult responsibility. 


You’re blessed with your health, go where you want, 

I think, there’s been few troubles to scar you. 

You sing empty songs, I find little depth, 

Serendipity isn’t chance, it’s a miracle unfurled. 

Behind the scenes action, you haven’t foreseen. 

Glad you’re fine, but you’re missing a few screws. 


It’s not that I’m bitter; it’s not that I don’t see, 

What your trying to say in your round about way. 

I’m saying that life, I’ve learned, is never a fluke, 

We have minds to think and consider — to use. 

Despite ineptness, your kind heart shows true, 
Next hit song —think your lyrics thoroughly through. 



©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: The Argument

Thank you to Nortina S for hosting Moral Monday’s 100 Word Flash Fiction. Feel Free to join in to at the link above. Today’s moral is: “Don’t Straddle The Fence.”

arguing girls

“Every time we go to a dance club, you drag me along to talk with some guy you have your eye on. I’d like to talk and dance with guys I like too.” Alex told Suzy who ignored her.

Alex turned to Melissa: “You told me you wanted to talk to a guy tonight but Suzy said he wasn’t worth the effort; it’s not up to Suzy.” 

“I’m fine.” Melissa mumbled, cringing as Suzy glared at her.

“Why did you say yesterday, how tired you were of helping Suzy chase guys?” Alex asked Melissa.

“I don’t want to get between you and Suzy.” Melissa said. 

“You’re a part of this too.” Alex said sternly. 

Suzy rolled her eyes: ” I’m the prettiest girl. I need you both to be wing-women when I’m scoping guys. Melissa gets this, you need to fall in line Alex.” 


*My apologies for going over 100 words this week. I couldn’t seem to chop the story down more.* 

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Skin

Want me for more than just sex,

Don’t use me to get that high,

Like me for my mind, my soul, 

Don’t like me just for my behind.

Want me for more than just to get laid,

If you can’t listen to me and care what I say,

Then you might as well, get out of the way.

You might as well go after the last girl you lost.

She’ll go for sex, but maybe not.

Maybe she learned to avoid the game you play.

Looking for that something else, the right guys give away.

No one is perfect, no one is precisely matched.

But I keep my heels and my standards high,

Because I’m a keeper, and I don’t like your vibe.

The disease you may bring, it frightens me.

How many chicks do you do this with?

I don’t mind intimacy, but I don’t like being used.

I’m not built for loving and leaving, 

I wasn’t built with my screws loose.

Some girls like it your way, I’ll leave you for them.

Because unless you like me for me,

We can’t be more then just acquaintances.

But I could be wrong, you could be a good guy.

We’ll see where this goes but you don’t know me.

And intimacy implies a knowing of more than just skin.