100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Octain Refrain/Double/High - Abbac/cabA Abbad/dabA, OctPoWriMo, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo Day 14/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Octain Refrain/Double/High – “Sunshine and Starlit Glass” #poetry #100WordWednesday #amwriting


OctPoWriMo Day 14 has a Prompt theme of movement. Also doing Bikurgurl’s #100WordWednesday from Week 39. 

Credit: Bikurgurl

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Sunlight bursting through once starlit glass gleams;

Rectangular windows above pedway’s, 

Casting warmth with afternoon’s welcome rays.

High in the Heavens sun’s ambience beams, 

To and fro the people pass by chatting. 

Beams grey-green with geometric slats. 

A vantage obstructed yet pristine—

In midnight ink with moon’s luminous sheen. 

Sunlight bursting through once starlit glass gleams. 

Sunlight bursting through once starlit glass gleams, 

Casual movements of the light digress, 

A subtle pace alters with night’s impressions. 

From dark beauty to warmth daylight streams,  

High in azure sky light enfolds brightly. 

We absorb warmth into our souls once blighted, 

Prosperous pedway light glows so serene.

Metal supports create shadows, daydreams.

Sunlight bursting through once starlit glass gleams. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

dVerse, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Sonnet - Pablo Nurado - 14 lines, no rhyme or meter, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Sonnet (Nurado) – “Forever Burn” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Also thank you to Bjorn of Poet’s Pub #dVerse prompt for hosting a poetry prompt on Pabulo Nurado’s sonnets.

” Nurado’s sonnets have no rhyme scheme, are meter-free, and are 14 lines, with a volta when you go from the two quatrain into the the concluding tercets. This is consistent with an Italian (or Petrarchan sonnet). ” 

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Credit: Yarnspinner
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Here he sells his wares, the sidewalk his shop, 

He’s weary of unlookers, keeping his clay jar’s burning incense. 

I stand nearby, asking myself, “For what reason, 

Do these fires burn? What wares has he purloined today?”

And stones gathered against the burnt sienna fence, 

Mark that, this is his place, where he works and lives. 

Hocks his wares, keeps the fire’s in the jars stoked, 

Tiny stoves remain lit from dawn until midnight. 

His goods move quick, I’m quite surprised, 

To me they’re nothing much, yet, I buy a wood carving. 

With a crumpled bill and pocket coins, freely given. 

My fingers slide over dips and ridges, measure his small carving, 

Such intricate, minute detail; but never have I found —

Why the clay fires forever burn, incense floating to the heavens. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Current Events, Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 25 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Writing Prompt: Poem – Cascading Etherees — “The Urn, Death, and the Light” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #WritingChallenge 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is a “challenge you to write a poem that explores a small, defined space.” For A to Z Challenge the GoodRead’s Quote author has a name beginning with letter V. Im going two work in the Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Prompt from last week of a letter to death

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Credit: Tomb of Wayfaring Soul

———

It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

———

Such a tiny space I’ve ended in,

No satin lining, pillow, or light. 

Shelved next to others kept, 

Hear in this wall, directed, 

The family not to pay for, 

More than an urn, 

But why, ask I, 

Am I in, 

This wall, 

Left.

—–

It’s, 

Easy,

To understand, 

You didn’t want me —

Reminding  you, who I —

Used to be alive and whole. 

That my ashes in an urn could,

Easily fall, ending up on the floor. 

I’m wondering death, if you laugh at this? 

——

If you comprehend my annoyance clear, 

That my ashes weren’t scattered far  —

Into the park, the Off-leash trails, 

Or into the water, 

To a place of peace. 

No walls for me, 

Take my remains, 

Death, cast them —

To the, 

Wind. 

——-

At, 

First I, 

Had many, 

Questions, 

But I knew you took, 

All you needed of, 

What was left of me. 

And we’re no longer foes who are — 

Bound to time; so you explain the whys,

Fill in the wherefores, gazing ahead soft. 

——

Kingdom of light, love, facing the Heavens,

Death says this is the right place and —

I pray he isn’t wrong, for all —

Is revealed here in the —

House me Father built. 

His mansion with —

Many rooms for —

The faithful, 

Those souls, 

Won. . 

——

So, 

Death you —

Have not your, 

Victory. 

Death you have no sting, 

And in eternity, 

All questions are answered, 

Tranquility comes knowing, 

The reason for everything —

The cross on Calvery, God’s love divine. 

——–


———–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Lying In The Grass #amwriting #nonfiction #flashfiction #fiction #philosophy 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

——-

I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’

It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse –  “Fraility Flailing” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt Frail.

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http://www.nited-academics.org

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We walk the golden path; we’re frail, 

Is there any other way to wander?

No one stronger or wiser left to fight?

But we’ve aged within minutes, 

We forgot to gaze behind us, 

To see what the past left for us;

Wisdom and knowledge with a bloody trail. 

Instead, we’re continuing on a broken path, 

We’re frail, aging humans by the seconds;

Counting our tomorrows,

Before we have them granted.

Not listening to our elders;

Who lost life, limb, peace, to war and grief.

We don’t look skyward to the heavens, 

We watch our own feet tremble.

Stuttering we stumble down the trail.

Dragging our canes and walkers;

We’re riddled with bullet holes.

Wounds we never felt, 

We never gave up our guns;

Never thought what “security,” meant,

For our children and grandchildren.

We’re all exceedingly frail, 

As if we were ancient beings;

We carry their genes but their wisdom, 

We breathe out like carbon.

The hurricane winds blow through our ears, 

Blocking out what we don’t want to hear. 

Truth is a dangerous weapon, 

The truth can change direction.

The truth can smart and hurt, 

Our lungs can barely breathe.

It degrades and humiliates, 

It stings our eyes and it turns, 

Focused vision, to grey static.

The truth it always is revealed, 

Until all we can see is real.

But real has no pertinent meaning, 

When what you’re used to, 

Lies promoted and shouted.

Lies built upon lies, 

More colourful than, 

The Grande Canyon’s layered rock.

We hide behind our lies, 

It makes us distrusting.

Flailing, we cannot believe in anyone;

Not even ourselves to do what’s right.

We cannot elect using logic; 

No true king on this earthly realm, 

To lead us to glory and home.

We don’t even have faith in, 

Our own minds and bodies.

We’re so frail, as paper cranes crushed, 

As tissue paper torn without thought.

We cannot lift our fingers to point, 

To teach unlearning children lessons, 

Before they end up like us.

We’re frail; yet we don’t know the meaning, 

But as assuredly as the world turns, 

Our ashes and dust, 

Will blow away in the wind.

The sands of time keep swirling, 

And we’re growing ever closer, 

To our own cremation;

We think we have forever, 

But our steps are forgotten memories, 

Or thoughts not even the silt of dirt.

Frailty so visible, we lumber around slowly, 

In our slumber losing memories.

We forget to see where yesterday led, 

Blindly we falter and walk where we may;

Into tears, and traps, we’re used, betrayed —

Abused and hopeless.

But we reap what we sew;

Our harvest was distrust and darkness, 

A black-hole eating consuming all good.

We’re frail, until we fall where we walk, 

Because life is faulty and frail too;

And our short time, 

Has been for not;

If we cannot learn from our past, 

See how history repeats no matter the leader.

But we are human, 

So we do not learn, 

Thinking we’re invincible; 

Until the day we’re not.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Poem – Free Verse – “Weight of a Little World”


I hold a small world on my classic physique, with my fortitude.

Holding up this bridge and pathway, doesn’t matter my attitude,

For it’s one of being cursed in marble, and accepting my sorrowful lot,

Having made the mistakes I’ve made, the gods left me to rot.

Pondering the beach, as Atlas pondered and beheld the heaven’s light rays, 

I bend my head, and think of the day, and to gods beyond Zeus I pray, 

Release me from my prison, veins of liquid blood congealed.

My stone figure, muscled, and taught; made to endure forever, concealed.

Bracing myself on stone, solid rock, muscles strained, no thought, and no slipping, 

Not even able to see my own face cringing, the expression rain is chipping,

My own little world on my back, I hold my personal pain; I hold your fate.

For mine’s an eternity braced as I am, scanning earths children; nothing to do but wait.

—–

Word Count: 154 words

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momtheobscure

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Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAP.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.