#NaPoWriMo Day 5/ Three Line Tales: Poem – Haikus – “Garden Faeries Direct”#amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


For Day 5 NaPoWriMo, the Prompt is: “to write a poem beginning with a photo, and find a poem in a language you don’t know (here’s a good place to look!) Ignore any accompanying English and translate the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is “about” your photograph. Also, thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Vek Labs via Unsplash


“The Hand Writes on the Mind: An Arrow ” By Manuel Gusmão

*****

a mão escreve na mente: a flecha

que viaja no papel a rosa dos ventos:

a clave do sol; la clef des jardins;

a chave como um comboio de criança

passando num pátio com palmeira, entre

o crepúsculo branco e a manhã vermelha;

a cidade crescera como os arcos das ondas

ao encontro das aéreas construções das nuvens;

a meio caminho triângulos acesos ondeavam

e a terra recordava-se murmurante

das raízes das árvores eléctricas

em cujos ramos brilhavam os peixes

profundos.

Nem com setas habitarias tal pátria

e por isso as pões na pintura que delira

e desenhas uma fairy queen: um canto

árabe uma princesa árabe escrita em sarapilheira

e aureolada pelo napalm; a floresta em construção

multiplica a lua cheia pelas paliçadas lacustres;

os barcos navegam uma noite branca

que se ergue como um monte iluminado

por monstruosas flores irregulares

em cruz e em espiral à tua espera


Arrow tattooed, handwritten —

Indelible; fay unseen, these —

Wide-eyed pixies.

*****

Sun crests, arises while we —

Recline in the garden,

Crystal fleurs flourish. *****

Vermilion twilight’s spell cast,

Faeries amidst foliage dance,

Directions unknown.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Radiant Victory Flags #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Credit: J. S. Brand


There’s something about the harbor that has always comforted me. White puffs of clouds float in the morning while people come in deck of their yachts and sailboats, stretching their arms. The air here is magic, it clears your lungs and relieves tense headaches. It relieves soar muscles and is gentle and refreshing across your face. I wave to some of the locals I know from the bench, sitting across from the dock.

I had come out with Lady for a jog down the trails and chose to linger and admire the sky as it turned from black-amethyst to peaceful blue. Lady detest’s stopping mid-run but her eyes are fixed with mischief on a white bird, standing not far from the shore. She keeps trying to go in the water, although, I warn her not to go.

Finally, Lady decides she’s had enough. Her instincts overcome her obedience and she splashes into the sea, wading out to the white bird. She stops a meter away, preparing to pounce. Then, she is running and yipping as the bird chases her, nipping at her tail. She races back to me, whimpering. Suddenly, the white bird takes flight unfurling her wings like the sailboats in the middle of the sea, releasing their giant sails as radiant white victory flags.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: Special New Years Edition – January 2018 #pinterest #quotes


Happy New Years! As I put this piece together we have about ten minutes to go in Alberta, Canada. Mother Nature, as she did in many parts of the world, decided to make it more than minus forty degrees Celsius with the wind chill so most of the New Years events here were cancelled.

The fireworks, I believe were still happening, but they were supposed to be earlier this year for families and kids, but I didn’t hear any fireworks popping and crackling yet. I usually do from where we live. Anyways I hope you enjoyed your New Years celebrations tucked snug in your home, at a party, or at New Years events. Wishing you all much happiness and joy.

So, here we go . . . Oh the fireworks have started. 🎉 Some of these quotes are a bit cheeky, as well.


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© Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer/ Open Link: Poem – Ottava Rima – “The Captain’s Tale” #poetry #flashfiction #dVerse 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Thanks to Bodhirose of #dVerse Post’s pub for hosting Open Link Night. 

——–

Credit: Louise – The StoryTellers Abode

——–

Down rocky hills on the English shoreline, 

Boat approaches with much mirth, captain’s yet drunk. 

Went for night’s sail, didn’t return on time. 

Calls to his mates, “Don’t want to end up sunk.” 

Night full of cheer, where the faeries danced fine, 

Captain bewitched drinking their wine, he fronts. 

Close to the shore, doesn’t want to hit sand bars, 

Then, he’ll visit bar, hair of dog, ale large. 

——

A big glass, to tell his midnight tales had, 

The lads laugh harder each time all the more. 

Of preposterous adventures said glad, 

Magic, faery dust, few know the old lores. 

So captain begins anew, of past stands, 

Against faeries who became his friends old. 

Of the the faeries his grandmother knew, 

How with them they’ve celebrated through. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Dragon Keeper #amwriting #flashfiction #dragons 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF last week! 

——-

Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alastair Forbes

——-

Leisbeth crooned to her pet dragon, Brand. She had raised him from when he was nothing but a babe, pushing his way out of his golden egg. 

Brand would never be a huge dragon, but he was worth a lot of money to many people.  His scales, his wings, and his teeth were valuable so Leisbeth protected him. She cared for his wounds from hunting for large animals and after locals injured him.

Despite being gentle, Leisbeth could be fierce. She knew she was fragile, but she possessed a gift, sorcery not even Brand knew she possessed.

In turn, Brand was Leisbeth’s protector. He knew she was a soft woman, her voice small and melodic. Her hands uncalloused and her long blond hair shiny and flowing. All these traits of beauty put her in danger. 

She knew nothing of the cruel world, that men spilled blood, both dragon and human for small amounts of silver. Brand still remembered the screams of his dragon parents slaughtered, as he fought his way from his golden egg. He was tiny then, but he remembered their terrified roars. 

However, Liesbeth had saved him so they would always be together. Brand would protect her inherit gentleness while she would guard him with her magic. Those who would hurt her intelligent companion would regret it. 

To Leisbeth, Brand was her friend who in private, loved to be held and stroked. Both their abilities would keep the other alive for thousands of years. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weaver: Poetry – Bop – ” The Forest Sweet” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver Prompt based on forest creatures, a couple weeks back. 

——-

Credit: Google Images, Reusable

———

Fly with me to the forest enchanted, 

Where all magic life is fair transplanted. 

Lacking peace in cities it’s ungranted, 

Fly to the faeries for those sweet romantics. 

Into the gleaming marsh of enchantment, 

Forget  pain with tranquility granted. 

Come fly with me, to the magic forest. 

You may not believe me, you may not care, 

Let me lead, you’ll never be disparaged

Blue birds tweet-talk, sweet advice they share, 

Deer bow low, demand fur be stroked right there.

Behind their ears, on their bellies so bared. 

Nymphs stunning, gorgeous come out they’re aware, 

You’ve paid a visit, they chatter, wine shared, 

Ambrosia sweets flow, your body’s repaired

Come fly with me, to the magic forest. 

Visit anytime, day or night, be pleased, 

Someone’s awake with wine or cold tea. 

Faeries they greet with moonshine and they tease

You’ll never admit, this place is your peace, 

The magic in your heart, is to believe. 

Come fly with me, to the magic forest. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Synchronocity – “Art Hell” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. 

——–

Credit: Kyla @ Deviantart

——–

I’m a vivid monument, 

I’m his lover cruelly tricked, 

Just art. 

——

Result of magic powerful, 

A priest with such evil intent,

Wounds me. 

—–

For I had thought the toxic paint,

That burned my skin would kill me,

I wished.

——-

I only pass out the priest laughs, 

Eyes glinting, evil smile, tells me —

“Enjoy.”

—–

For this was my punishment,

Tempting our ‘leader’ with my love, 

Trapped now. 

—–

Not quite alive, not quite so dead,

My man, the leader, loves artwork, 

He stares.

—–

I wonder if he recognizes,

A shadow of his beloved gone, 

Each night. 
—–

He comes with pain others cannot —

Ever see; I could’ve been his, 

Soft place. 

—–

Never can I speak, the priest’s curse, 

Ensured silence, a spell took —

My voice.

—–

—–

I pray to God help me find —

My love jumps as my voice cries,

Returned. 

——

Becomes aghast, furious, 

He thinks me a dream I tell him,

The truth. 

—-

Our stories, our love, a life —

We’d planned and he listens,

With tears.

—–

Then such rage summoning priest,

Who is forced to repair me from this, 

Art hell.

——

I’m taken from between life and —

Death; restored to my former self, 

I’m saved.

—–

My hero never gave up on —

Me; didn’t believe I ran, now 

We’re us.

—-

Priest I have no knowledge of, 

My guy, our leader was enraged, 

Priest dead? 

—-

Or suffering hell as I?  

Two years in art trapped, lost; 

Now free.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 8 – NaPoWriMo/AtoZchallenge/Music Prompt: Poem – Laurenelle – “Together” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


For Day 8 of NaPoWrMo the prompt is writing a poem with repetition. For letter of the A to Z Challenge. I’m also completing the challenge of writing for Friday’s Music Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and the song “Jeter Un Sort” by French-Canadian musician Alex Nevsky. 

———

Credit: HD Wallpapers

——-

“We be light, we be life, we be fire! We sing electric flame, we rumble underground wind, we dance heaven! Come be we and be free!” ― Kate Griffin, A Madness of Angels

——-
I cast a spell, not knowing what resulted, 

Whatever the time or secrets you kept. 

We’re so closely linked it’s hard to default. 

Casting a spell you poisoned; I was swept, 

Your magic undid me, your mystic chase, 

When I’m without you, life feels bereft. 

I did not know how long our lives would each grace —

The others life with fun, forgiveness, trust, 

A connection that binds us, incases. 

Clumsiness and emptiness touched —

Our lives; we’re still intimately linked. 

Chains who will not separate with distrust. 

Didn’t know we’d become indelible ink, 

Lives intangled, passionate natures. 

Time ticks by, let our magic continue linked. 

We’re the one, the other wants sated. 

Your arms keep me safe, and hold me so close, 

Let’s remain woven through magic correct, 

Our relationship solid, causes chosen 

To live, to be us, what God has transposed 

I casted a spell not knowing what resulted, 

Whatever the time or secrets you kept. 

———


——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


Sunday Photo Fiction: Good Juju #amwriting #flashfiction #magic 


Thank you to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

Credit: Dawn Miller
——

“So what are those exactly?” Todd asked Cheryl.

“Maybe the shop owner can tell us more. . . Hello Sir, what are these pottery items used for?”

“Little stoves. Keep you warm through winter’s night and keep the dark ones away.”

“Dark ones?” Todd and Cheryl asked in unison.

“Yes,” the man said, ” The evil spirits. The ones you don’t see. These stoves are good juju.”

“Juju?”

“They’re for candles. See venting in top lids. You leave them on when you sleep because bad ones will only leave then; it’s when they come out.”

“But what’s juju?” Todd asked the shop owner perplexed.

He sighed, frustrated, “Juju are items of magic. Can be magic for good or magic for bad. A curse or a blessing.”

Cheryl smiled. “That’s neat actually. I’ll take two, I don’t know about leaving them on at night . . .”

“Madam must leave them on this night or it will be too late.”

“Pardon?” Cheryl said nervously. She gazed at the shopowner thinking he was off his rocker.

Todd noticed the agitation of the shop owner and seeing how inexpensive the simple candle holders were, paid for four.

“Best choice. Spirits will flee,”the shop owner said bowing.

That night Cheryl awoke and to her terror she saw dark shadows such as dementors surrounding the bedroom ceiling above their bed.

Her eyes flew towards the candle holders nearby and she was relieved to see the dementor-like beings stayed away from the candle light. They left via the window which somehow had been opened.

Getting up Cheryl closed the window shivering both from cold and fear. 

——

©Mandibelke16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

——

Credit: Adventures In The Wild

——

Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.