Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Prose-Poetry – “Orreries and Moonscapes” #amwritingprosepoetry #SundayWritingPrompt #MLMM

Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Prompt. From the choice of terms I’ve chosen the words: orrery (solar system model) & Divan (sofa without end), Alice blue (color), Eucalyptus (scent), circle (shape), photograph (item in purse/wallet).

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

“Hope in the Air”

She traced the gold paint bitter,

It gleamed as didn’t dirty pennies.

Her measly sum was but a crumb,

And she had risked it for a piece of man-scum.

She returned, here, always — never too far;

Her childhood land of faeries; her home.

She approached the library orrery,

Spinning the sun’s gleaming gold orb.

A sigh escaped her diva-dream lips; she bit them.

Don’t let a woman fool you,

Scarlet lips, they never stay put,

The lipstick travels, blips.

But, masks blood if you chew them;

If you forget the earth’s relation to the sun,

Your relation to reality.

So, she dreamed adrift,

In knotted flannel shirt and skinnies;

Stroking grandma’s velvet Divan,

As if she could fashionably faint.

As if she could divine meaning, stroking Alice-Blue upholstery;

In cup of tea tumbled, crushed nearby;

China splinters dust, fancy tea spilled.

Some relief in eucalyptus leafs soothing;

She can, finally, breathe in her favorite tea;

Nose no longer useless.

She flips off patined-ruby shoes;

Kitten heals meowing, released.

Wiggling her toes painted with satin-ribbon;

Bemoaning her lost love, traitor, worthless, and without guile.

“I never would have done what you did to me,

To anyone, not ever.”

Last words she thinks, but never hurled.

Her Alice-Blue eyes darken,

Trace the doors golden pattern;

Images she modernized, decor, and memory intertwined.

Turquoise-tranquil dreams as her head burrows in velvet;

Arm thrust over head, maiden helpless — but she’s not.

The Orrery still twirling in a circle as —

Red-herring anger flashes.

Red-lips torn, pain to forget frustration,

Tears as a Phoenix waiting to burn, to discover renewal.

And not enough fresh air in the room,

Library dust, mildew, overpower eucalyptus.

She peers at her gram’s patined heals cherished,

They’ve escaped bone-China chips;

Their antiquity safe on Robin’s-egg plush carpet.

A peculiar aroma, dust, eucalyptus, book spines, horse-glue;

Ancient editions, thrown away,

In her family the women restored; she does to this day.

Yet, the photographs of history split her childhood dreams,

Summers here, years of tea parties, and creamy-egg-salad sandwiches.

Wuthering Heights, The Moonstone,

Peter Pan, and The Sun Also Rises;

Scattered between old-editions, photo-albums,

Pictures, preserved photographs; her addition to family history.

Saving literature, pictures, from sunlight, and tears;

She lies back, stretches and dreams,

Alice in Wonderland, Anne of Green Gables,

The Yearling, and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.

She’s humming a tune,

“There’s hope in the air,

There’s hope it the water,

Not even for me. . .”

Until she yanks out her wallet,

Throws out two twenties;

Penniless, but beyond rich with orreries and moonscapes.

©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.


Photo (Collage) Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Mountain’s Wrath” #amwriting #poetry 

Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s double prompt:

Laura Bloomsbury


Black and white can change, 

Become the most flaming bright of —

Colours; yet we’re like —

Dorothy on her Kansas —

Farm, not realizing life is grey. 

Never seeing technicolor.


If mountains are but smoke, 

No one who said those words knew, 

How burning orange and —

Yellow looks when your skin is —

Seared; the mountain spit lava clear.

Blew her top, melted downwards. 


On to the town who, 

Had little idea but should —

Have known this day, 

No technology clued.

Their mountain could release Hell,

Sulphurous smelling, burnt Hell.


Poisonous gases, 

Leaking down to the town folk, 

No chance had they when, 

Ashes fell like snow.

The worst kind of snow signals, 

The ire of the mountain’s breath.


In stores, on boardwalks, 

Going about their day the same.

When she erupted, 

No one cared at first.

But the ash and gases came, 

Killing to begin, before —


Lava reached familiar,

Buildings, the library.

Homes, grocery stores, work.

Yet the sky was filled, 

She billowed out her smoke rings, 

And she was just beginning.


Threy should’ve known to —

Leave earlier but no one, 

Takes responsibility;

To late to lay blame.

Run far and fast, lava spews.

Keep going magma flows, kills.


No Dante’s Peak is —

This; only mother nature’s, 

Roaring and giving, 

Life as she takes it.

Many die unaware, don’t see, 

Never knew today would be —

The end: waiting done, 

Here comes the promised one near.

Yet some survived it.

Never took lightly, 

Those words: A Mountain is noth –

ing but smoke — they lived through it.


Those who rebuilt knew, 

As the lava and fire burnt their —

Homes, loved ones to crisps. 

Beware the mountain;

Geologists trained don’t know, 

When she’ll yield furious wrath.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reseved 

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: The Travelling Library

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. Today’s sentence to be included is: “Those are the directions…” 



“These rocks are cool,” Tanya said climbing on-top of a stack of rocks. “I wonder how and why they are formed like this?” 

Tanya’s friend Crystal chimed in, ” Yeah, I wonder too. But we’re in the middle of nowhere and have no phone reception so we can’t even Google the answer. I’m questioning why my friend Tyler told me we should take particular directions to see these specific rocks.” 

Suddenly, before Tanya and Crystal’s eyes a building appeared. It was all glass but the inside was filled with millions of books and scrolls. 

Crystal tried to pronounce the word on the front of the building. “It’s a library,” Tanya said. “It’s where people used to research before Google and the Internet. I’ve never seen a library. I remember my Grandma telling me she went to the library as a girl.” Tanya said in awe.

Tanya and Crystal opened huge wooden doors. There was a sign up that read: ‘Quiet Please’ and everywhere people were studying books made of paper. Some people were even reading scrolls and ancient books with velum pages. “Do you think we can find information about those rocks here?” Crystal wondered.

Tanya smiled. “I can see why my Grandma thought a library was paradise,” she said before asking a man at the front desk where they could research rock formations.


©Mandibelle16 (2016). All Rights Reserved.

Changing the World

When I was writing poetry in high school our English teacher gave us an assignment to write a poem about ourselves. I’m not sure where that piece of blind hope and optimism went but I seem to remember a line I wrote ” I’ll change this world one way or another.”

I think most people want to change the world in their own small way, to be recognized and have a piece of themselves remembered after they’re gone. How we go about changing the world is a difficult concept to consider because sometimes we don’t even know if our actions are altering our world or if our actions are just going to be forgotten such as many days, hours, and minutes in life. It is hard to tell if the actions of our outcomes to change the world will be positive or whether the actions of our outcomes to change the world will be negative.

I think a lot of people hope their actions are for the greater good but I have never believed that people naturally are good inside. I grew up believing that people are tainted by sin and that intrinsically what we do, even if it is a beneficial thing for others, we do it for ourselves. I think people become good through God and this affects people through their actions, their morals, how they talk, and how they treat other people when things are not so good in other people’s life and their own lives. We are inclined to be bad, to be selfish, but can fight against that inclination and learn to be someone who wants to change the world in a good way. But even our most benevolent actions can take us down dark painful trails in life. After all, as the old adage goes ‘ The Road to Hell Is Paved with good Intentions.’ So then if we do not know the affect our actions can take how then do we alter the world in a good way? Can we change the world for the better?

I feel that life is journey all about finding yourself, your family, and friends. It’s about struggling through the bad times and settling for content; it’s about those wonderful few moments that sparkle and are crystal clear when you realize everything is almost perfect; and it’s about helping as many other people as you can along the way. The world is not a constant thing, it is forever changing without us doing anything about it. For instance, The News is mostly terrible every day; somewhere it is a guarantee that people are dying and babies are being born; buildings are built, than taller more luxurious buildings are built, then someday they are all turned into crumbled up cement,steel, and dust; entrepreneurs and big business runs the world but some businesses that once were booming can easily become obsolete -think companies such as Meryl Lynch during the past few years in the recession. But it seems to me that we are all a part of this big world and have our talents to contribute, to give to whatever purpose we can, even though we don’t know the outcomes of our actions always.

At a desk in a library I was sitting at one day, these words were carved into the side of the desk: ‘ maybe your existence in this world is to serve as warning to others.’ I thought it was kind of funny but about a week later in the same desk someone had re-carved the bit of wit and wrote: ‘maybe your existence in this world is to serve others.’ 2 different points of view that show dramatically different ways we look at the world, one I think a bit humorously but meanly, and the other a very serious phrase which I think sums up changing the world: to serve others. From the greatest CEO’s to the immigrant workers at Tim Horton’s, from those who are truly blessed and are living an easy life, to those who are feeling like they don’t belong in this world and don’t want to be in, it’s all about helping every one of them so they can pay it forward too.

And if helping people is changing the world I think that means that the best strategy is to go ahead and do nice things, share yourself and your talents, with others in any small way you can, whoever you are. For me this might be helping other people to edit and write and to write articles to bring empowerment and knowledge to young woman. To another person, this could look like helping out at Santa’s Anonymous during Christmas, driving your way-to-drunk-to-drive friend home from the bar because you are sober, taking care of a pet and making sure it lives a content puppy or hedgehog life, it could be giving someone a break when they accidentally spilled their coffee on your dress shirt, letting your staff go an hour early from work, accepting your friends and family and loving them despite their flaws, realizing that you are not too flawed to be loved, talking to a lonely stranger, letting the seniors have the front seats on the bus, being a mom who lets other people pass in front of you even though you have a large stroller, or giving a mom a night off by babysitting her kid(s). There are so many things I can add to this list, it could go on and on. But this is how you change a world one small step at time through your individual journey in life, aiding others on their journey and finding out that living a life for yourself alone, is a lost one.

As the lyrics in my new favourite song by Aviccii, “Wake Me Up” goes: ” Feeling my way through the darkness\ guided by a beaten’ heart, I can’t tell where the journey will end/ But I know where to start / . . . So wake me up when it’s all over / When I’ m wiser and I’m older / All this time I was finding myself and I didn’t know I was lost.”