Fiction, Flash Fiction, Joseph's Star - 1,3,5,7,7,5,3,1 syllable, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 16 – NaPoWriMo/A toZ Challenge/FFftPP: Poem – Joseph’s Star – “A Poison Tale Penned” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to ” take your inspiration, like our featured interviewee did in the chapbook she co-authored with Ross Gay, from the act of letter-writing. Your poem can be in the form of a letter to a person, place, or thing, or in the form of a back-and-forth correspondence.” The A to Z Challenge letter is O for GoodRead’s quotes and I’m combing these prompts with Roger Shipp’s FFftPP

———

Credit: Roger Shipp FFftPP

——–

These bits of paper are covered with lies. They poison your minds. And so long as they exist, you cannot hope to see the world as it truly is.(…)You turn to them for answers and salvation. (…) You rely more upon them than upon yourselves. This makes you weak and stupid. You trust in words. Drops of ink. Do you ever stop to think of who put them there? Or why? No. You simply accept their words without question. And what if those words speak falsely, as they often do? This is dangerous.” 

― Oliver Bowden, Assassin’s Creed: The Secret Crusade

———

Read your short, 

Letter, it’s awkward, 

It reminds me of us, 

How the two of us are when —

We’re together, 

It’s why I’m, 

‘I.’

——

Why, 

‘I,’ isn’t us, 

And your words they hurt, 

Didn’t know you felt so strongly

Had no idea ‘us’ was, 

So much more to —

You; asking —

Why

——-

You 

Never said, 

As much, why you held —

Back; I guess to not be hurt? 

I didn’t mean to hurt you. 

It’s just I was more, 

To you, than 

You —

——-

Meant

To me; I —

Try to understand, 

How I led you on; when I —

Should’ve stopped this charade. 

Didn’t know you what,

What you felt, 

Meant

——–

So, 

Now I —

Read your words, 

Poisoned tongue you have, 

Poison words too in this —

Inked letters; they are —

Killing me, 

So.

——

Not, 

Only my —

Realization. 

I should’ve seen the ‘writing, 

On the wall,’ but I was living

Loving another, 

I loved you, 

Not.

——

Now, 

Your poison

In ink hides easily. 

Poison you’ve written with and —

You’re probably smiling now, 

Because I’m dying, 

Are you glad? 

Now

——

You, 

See I; peer —

Into the past, I —

Know now you were hiding in —

Plain sight; wickedness masked, 

You never loved me. 

And I loathe

You. 

——

Truth

I was not

Attracted to you, 

I was being nice, I thought —

We were great friends until now. 

I know the real you, 

Ignoring, 

Truth.

——

Hours, 

Later my, 

Family finds my corpse. 

I’ve written one word down for 

Your hours of freedom

Are waning, 

Hours.

——-

Lost, 

You’ll only, 

Be free a short while, 

Then justice will reign, they’ll find —

You; you’re not the only one —

Who kills with poison, 

In death you’re —

Lost

——–


——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Couplets - rhyme and have same meter, Current Events, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 3 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – Elegy/Couplets – “The Traveler Reaches Home” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is  poem type called an elegy – a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by. Center the elegy on an unusual fact about the person or thing being mourned. ” An elegy generally combines three stages of loss: first there is grief, then praise of the dead one, and finally consolation.” Please see Literary Devices for more information.

I’ve paired this prompt with The A to Z Challenge quote, having the author/quoter’s name begin with the letter C. 

———

Credit: Danika and Peter via UnSplash

———
“We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.” Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

——-

Here we gather, today it finally hit —

Me, you won’t be coming back; such grit

You displayed, at the crux, as death grew near.

There was no “going gently” for you dear.

I always admired that you were strong,

At the finish you groaned your last song.

The pain was so great, it hurt us to see,

A candle flame who flared, flickering free.

Death was not easy, nor was your young life.

But you always shouldered through the strife.

A kind, giving person — philanthropist,

With death, you became a minimalist.

Objects hold memories, the Stone’s song we know —

well: “You Can’t Take It With You When You Go.”

As we remember, we wonder why —

Three-years ago you left, disappeared wide —

Across the world, sending postcards to —

Us all, as you adventured across through —

Every country you could see with no —

Face Time, Skype; we were scared you wouldn’t come —

Back; but you knew how sick you had become.

That’s why you left, returned, with all of your —

Stories to share as you withered, poorly —

Weak and fragile, all your living used up.

No matter we were so afraid it’s just

We didn’t understand your reasons ’til —

You said, “I’m dying fast, I have no more will —

to live, my time is drawing near, I see —

God’s blessed glory shining, in front of me.”

We forgive you for leaving twice; we know —

Your Heavenly home, will now shelter you.

It’s hard how it ended, but we’ll see you —

Soon — in the peace, Heaven granted for you.

——



———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.


Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Rictameter – 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2 – beg/end same, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Fiction, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: The Burlesque Dancer #3LineTales #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales:

——

Credit: Grant McCurdy via Upsplash

——–

1. When photographs became possible, Aunt Judith said they were the devil’s tool, they would steal a person’s soul. 

2. Three-months later, I buy one particular photograph of me I adore and see my pretty face and curvaceous body in sepia; Aunt Judith wouldn’t have been angry if I’d only had a stern portrait taken, having finally had her own picture done. 

3. She would be appalled, however, since I have my photograph taken all the time for many men in my costumes; Aunt Judith would disavow her niece, a burlesque dancer at The Gentlemen’s Tavern and Casino; but a girls got to make a living and so far being a nice girl depependant on a husband who ran out her, hasn’t been the best method of survival. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: #Fiction – Teegan’s Potion Part 1: Tallia, Her Magic Shop, and The Stranger


Thanks to  MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver prompt:

——

MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

 

Tallia heard the chime as the door to her small magic shop opened. She was usually alerted to a customer’s presence ahead of time. She could feel them before they chose to come inside her store and browse. She could especially feel them when they came to her shop with a purpose.

She brushed back her hair, dyed a light purple-hue of grey as was fashionable. Although, she wasn’t much older than her mid-twenties, her business did well. There was always a a demand for certain products she sold. Her Aunt Willow had run this shop for years before her untimely death.

Tallia had kept the name of the shop: Fairy Dust. She had, however, remodeled the shop Aunt Willow had left her to run. She made the shop modern and inviting, but retained its sense of the mystical. She loved her Aunt, but she also loved that the shop was no longer a hole in the wall.


 

Tallia’s store at first glance, catered to those who were browsing for small treasures or jewelry. Knickknack items which were more magic themed souvenirs or memorabilia, than actual magic.

But hidden among the knickknacks were items which could be powerful if used correctly. The items in the restricted section in the back of the store were more powerful than the ones placed out in the open.

The magical items placed here and there upfront were for decor purposes and to let certain customers know what kind of shop Fairy Dust truly was. Only her regulars were allowed in the back with permission.They knew exactly what they were searching for and how dangerous certain magical ingredients and objects could be.


 

A man called out to Tallia in the shop after she let him browse around for ten-minutes; she waited to see what the man wanted. The fact she had not felt him coming alarmed her.

“Hello is anyone there?” the man asked.

Tallie smiled at the man. He had bright green eyes and dark hair. He was quite attractive, she thought. Then a shadow was caste over her mind. The man appeared harmless enough, but she knew there was some kind of darkness in him.

She held onto the cross hanging from her throat for a moment. It was a protective piece of jewelry and it also confirmed her feelings there was something odd about this man being here. The darkness followed him around and it unnerved Tallia who was starting to experience a headache.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve had such a busy morning and I need to take a lunch break and go pick up some food. Is there anyway you could come back after lunch?” Tallia attempted to look as if she was faint from hunger.

The man sighed.”I really need your help. It’s not something that can wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tallia replied, coming out from behind her cash register.” I need to leave. I can’t wait for food. My blood sugar is too low,” she lied.

The man appeared exasperated. “Alright, I’ll be back in an hour and a half. He handed Tallia his business card. “You will be back right?”

“Of course, Teegan,” she said peering at his business card, “One needs to make a living, don’t they?”

Teegan Foster smiled at this and left out the front door. Tallia could feel the shadow lessening quickly as he walked away from her shop. She decided she would indeed close the store for today.

She hoped this might encourage him to visit another magic shop in the city, where they were more experienced dealing with darker magic. She didn’t want to deal with whatever Teegan Foster’s problem was, unless she had no other choice.

Tallia wrote a quick sign saying she had become ill and would be closed for the rest of the day. She wrote the number of another magic shop on the sign which was close by, for an customers needing emergency supplies. She tapped the sign on the shop’s front door.


 

The following day Tallia returned to work refreshed. Some of her regulars had come to the store this morning. She chatted with them as she helped them find correct items for spells and potions.

She swapped stories with them and they laughed at the happenings in each other’s lives. Many of them had known Tallia since she was as a small girl at the shop; her Aunt had raised her.

Sometime later, Tallia’s head started to throb. She clutched the cross around her neck, feeling the dark shadow around a certain someone drawing closer.

Her regulars had left long ago. She was all alone as she sat down on a stool behind the counter. A green-eyed and sharply dressed Teegan Foster came in the door and stopped abruptly in front of Tallia had the cash register. She instantly felt his darkness clouding her mind and making her dizzy.

“Are you feeling better?” Teegan asked her.

Tallia nodded.”I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” she murmured.

Teegan frowned, “I’m sorry, you don’t look well. That’s my fault, here.” She saw him whisper something and the shadow faded and her pain lessened.

“What, what can I help you with Mr. Foster?” Tallia asked, her voice unsteady.

“It’s just Teegan, Tallia. I need a particular potion. Your Aunt Willow was the only one who could make it for me, and her mother before her. I’m positive you know how to make the potion too. She must have mentioned me at sometime; I’m a long time customer.”

“You don’t look so old?”

“I’m older than I appear, much older. But you might not understand such magic yet.”

He came closer to her and stroked her cheek gently.”It’s okay Tallia. The potion I get here, it takes the darkness away for a long time. The pain you feel, the potion will ensure it doesn’t come from me again ever.”

Tallia nodded mutely. When Teegan, touched her, she felt a jolt which was beyond magic. She was attracted to him, more than she would like to admit. But she didn’t trust him.

Instead of looking at Teegan, she stepped away and brought out her Aunt’s old tome from a small room behind the front counter. It was a volume full of customers, spells, and potions from the past two centuries.

Tallia eventually found a page for Teegan, explaining everything she had to do to make his potion. It wasn’t a difficult potion to make and the ingredients seemed normal, she noticed with surprise.

She wondered why Teegan needed it so badly. She also saw the writing of the spell was neither her Aunt’s or her Great-Aunt’s writing. It was a script she had never noticed in this tome before. A woman with skilled and flowing handwriting had first written down this potions recipe.


 

“It will be an hour or so,” Tallia told Teegan. ” I’m sorry, you’ll be waiting so long. You could’ve called the store and I would’ve made it early this morning.”

“Um, I think you would’ve refused me. You would’ve went home again. Am I right Tallia?”

She flushed. “I wasn’t well, Teegan. Honestly.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said. His smile was dazzling and he had dimples.

“I’ll wait here for the potion. You’ve a comfortable waiting area in the front there. I can sit and read the news on my phone.”

Tallia peered at her modern but cozy waiting are in front of the store’s large window,” Suite yourself, do you want something to drink?”

“A coffee please, with some milk,” Teegan said.

“One moment,” Tallia replied, feeling uneasy about him.

Although he seemed nice, she wondered what happened if Teegan didn’t receive his potion. What could be worse than the shadow surrounding him? She also wondered how old he really was?  Was this potion what kept him from aging? She shook her head at the thought. It wasn’t possible, was it?

Magic often surprised Tallia but not trusting Teegan, she put a bit of sleeping drought and blended it with his milk and coffee. She might require more time than an hour to make this potion.

She wanted to call another magic shop she knew had been around for far longer than she wanted to know. Her Aunt’s store had been relatively a new magic shop, despite it being in the family for generations.

Tallia felt the owner of the ancient store The Black Coven, a man a much older than herself named Jude, might have records what this potion her Aunt made for Teegan actually did. Surely, someone else of his kind had used it as well.

She served Teegan his coffee and he caught her blue-eyes and held them. She felt herself flush. He drank about half the coffee and set in down. He smiled at Tallia, thanking her and meeting her eyes again.

She went to the back of the store to start gathering ingredients. When Tallia came back out front fifteen-minutes later, Teegan was fast asleep. She sighed, trying to calm the hammering of her chest. She felt a bit guilty. Ignoring her guilt, she went to call Jude, hoping he would enlighten her on Teegan’s mysterious potion.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Pinterest, Quotes

Notable Quotes November Part Two #quotes #pinterest


November Quotes Part Two: 

1. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

2. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

3. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

4. 

http://www.pinterest.com

—–

5. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

6.

http://www.pinterest.com

——

7. 

http://www.pinterest.com ( Ironic words for JFK)

——

8. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

9. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

10. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

11. 

http://www.pinterest.com

—–

12. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

13, 

http://www.pinterest.com

—–

14. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

15. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Diamanté, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: Diamanté – ” Fire, Phoenix, Light, and Darkness” #poetry #amwriting #music 


“Just Like Fire” – P!nk

——

Fire,
Scorching, Singeing.

Destroying, Cleansing, Burning all. 

Sparks inside me, embers glowing.

Remenants of yesterday dying.

Acrid smell, Burnt scent, Dusty death.

Blowing winds, Becoming but —

Ashes.

——–

Fire,

Flaming, Fluid heat, 

Interrupting life, Avenging, Lighting pathways.

Devastating the place called home.

Lighting the way back to safety, when enclosed.

Luminous candle, Glowing street lamp, Gleaming stars.

Beaming, Brighten’s with —

Light.

——

Ashes,

Grey silt, Smokey remains.

Leftovers, Burnt black-wood, Coughing fits.

From the ashes, rises the grand Phoenix.

Still the Phoenix becomes the fire.

Spreading fast, Blackening souls, Killing life.

Warmth, Hearth, 

Fire.

—–

Phoenix,

Reddish feathers, Flying past, 

Wings spanning, Soaring fast, Exploring the sky.

The fire brings the smoke to rise in plumes, 

The smoke also signals rebirth — to live again.

Light in Darkness, Glistening stars, Glazing flame.

Hope in , Glory of —

Light. 

—–

Light 

Beaming, Revealing, 

Unravelling mystery, Untwisting falsehood, Enlightening knowledge.

Shadow has no place to hide from light;

Darkness loves the corners hidden. 

Nightmares, Souls which quake, Fear Whispers, 

Gloomy, Depressing, 

Darkness.

—-

Dark, 

Twilight falling, Shaded sky, 

Creeps in Shadow, Blackening, Opaqueness.

Not a breath of light or air to spare in life;

Darkness in death, leads to despair without hope. 

Taking Cover, Teasing Fate, Testing Boundaries.

The End, Fini, 

Death.

—-

Death,

Scythe wielded, Bones rattling,

Soul gone, Decaying body, Empty shell.

The dead will rise at the end of days;

But until then, those of light stay in rays. 

Breath of freshest air,  No worries, No sorrow,

Peace, Promise Kept, 

Heaven.

—–

Fire,

Blazing inferno, Uncontrollable, 

Crisp hearts, Burnt hands, Wild fire’s agony.

Fire cooks our food, the first discovery of man;

But fire too, is life and rebirth; death is not the end.

Renewing life, Forest regrowing, Animals returning,

Hopeful for, Breath of —

Life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Life of A Native-American Tribe’s Woman


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


tipi's indians
Maher El Aridi

1.The stars are dazzlingly brilliant in the inky-dark sky; through the small circle of space in the top of my families tipi, I feel the warm summer air breathing down on me; tomorrow is another day of rigorous work for the women of our tribe, we tan animal hides, gather fruit and nuts, and smoke our meat into pemmican.


2. The men will be off hunting in the morning; chasing the deer, buffalo, rabbits, foxes, and any animal which will provide us food presently, and in the winter months; the braves bring the animals to the woman and we skin the animal’s of their fur; the men will sell some of our beautiful soft fur to white-man traders; some of the furs we’ll keep for ourselves for in winter, so we won’t freeze to death;


3.When our braves hunt, our tribe prays for the animal spirits and we ask mother-earth to be kind to us and take the animal spirits; though we eek our living from nature, we always give her thanks; sunlight filters through the hole in the tipi and my mother starts a fire;  I aid my mother with the morning meal sighing as smoke obscures the hole in the tipi; there are days I feel, life is only a trap and I will never see the blue-sky.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

alouette, Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Alouette – “Head on My Lap”


The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:

Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

The form name is a French word meaning ‘skylark’ or larks that fly high, the association to the lark’s song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word ‘alouette’ can also mean a children’s song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children’s poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line (please see examples below).

Please visit Shadow Poetry for more information.


Man with Head on Woman's lap
http://www.pinterest.com

I worry for you,

My reasons see through,

No such opacity and —

You never look up,

Drinking coffee cup,

Living in your box of quick sand.


You won’t admit truth,

Reality isn’t proof,

What world do you inhabit?

Not ever seeing,

A blank lost being,

Following the white rabbit.


Life’s not Wonderland,

It’s not a game grande.

You need choose to be living,

Not a ghost fading.

A person jaded.

Wake-up, be aware, forgive.


We can’t live this life,

No passion or strife,

Dig-down in your belly, find —

Life’s fire hiding, soar —

Past limits, encore!

Joy, vibrance; be kind.


Love, you’re secluded;

Don’t live deluded.

You’re my everything, my fire.

Darkness you have found,

Devours you around.

Let us be flames who aspire.


Be not sad, life changes,

Alter our exchanges.

Talk, laugh; head placed on my lap,

Tell my your secrets.

All your woes, bleakness.

Let no thoughts keep your soul trapped.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Free Verse – “A Visible Living Melody” 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

Word Count: 170 words.

——

Swritings

——–

Murals are magnificent, brightening up space, but so far —

Many people doesn’t understand why you’d paint a mural on your car?

It’s tacky, to some people an ‘eyesore,’ the car driven colourfully,

With images, impressions, photographs, painted cities, tattoos inked wondrously. 

You’d never hear a judgement from my candied purple lips, 

When it comes to art, I’m not a lady who needs to come to grips,

With the reality of modern art; it’s whatever way the artist feels.

He or she say may paint their ideal — their art, to them what’s real.

For art, though it appear tacky and weird in some people’s eyes, 

Has the ability to make people shine, make them laugh, and to surprise.

Especially to aid a person living beneath the shadow, depressed, and sad, 

In a moment, the car arrives, awash with colours and scenes glad.

So, if you see a painted mural driving down the highway a while, 

Remember art is a visible living melody, with its ways of helping those who need, smile.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.