Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette –  “Papa’s Hands” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge prompt. 

——–

Credit: NEKNEERAJ- MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——–We sit at home eat,

Soft pasta with meat. 

Mama taught me to make food. 

I was a child small,

She yelled and she called —

Me  — incapable and rude.

——

They weren’t angry words. 

But words of fear learned. 

Didn’t want to test Papa, 

She wanted perfect, 

He wanted perfect.

None desired his open hand. 

—–

At such a thing as,

Messed up pasta.

A girl couldn’t help, she learned — 

To make it right or —

Face rage for bad food. 

Mistakes, not to make, she yearned. 

——

But no one’s perfect,

And she preferred.

To leave home with her husband.

With two small children,

Became immigrants. 

Living with hope in new land. 

—–

Shops in a district,

Cultural foods listed. 

Buys groceries for family. 

As do her neighbours.

Here are diverse words.

By leaps she sees life expands. 

——-

The whole family’s glad,

No one’s smacked or mad. 

Homeland missed but no regrets. 

She holds her baby, 

Of two, to her face.

Smiles and says, “I’ve no regrets.”

—–

Her child won’t have to —

Cook or be perfect. 

Or be slapped to the floor, 

 By Grandpa who thought, 

It’s how girl’s learned; not

That his hands bruised and abused. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Meat That Isn’t Me” #3LineTales #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting.


Credit: Cathal Mac an Bheatha via UnSplash

Gwendolyn asks the leering butcher,

“What’s your finest

Cut of meat?” Eyebrows raised —

——-

He gazes up says, “What type

Of meat Madame?”

She grits her teeth, repulsed.

——–

He watches her, lasciviously flirting,

He winks; Gwendolyn —

Replies,”Meat that isn’t me.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Italian Sonnet – “Sonnet of the Milk Cow” #poetry #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——

Credit: majesticgoldenrose

——-

I am a cow, a cow I am; don’t think —

I don’t know you’re using me for my milk.

My friends out their in the pasture they think,

They’ll never be rendered into meat.

But the older cows who you milk don’t blink,

They know where fattened cows go too soon.

I’m told not to worry, with a wink,

I am a milk cow, that isn’t my fate.

I’ll live a long life as long as I give,

Thick liquid to use in many foods ate.

As long as there’s butter, yogurt I live.

As long as there’s cream, cheeses galore.

I’m a free cow until old age arrives,

Then I’m certain I just might be beef.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Sparse Pantry and Fridge #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to the lovely Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

———

Maria – Doodles and Scribbles.

———

“Kat, are you sure you went grocery shopping? The fridge is nearly bare and there’s no meat; even the pantry is half-empty?”
Kat looked away from Jan, flipping through movies to watch on Netflix but Jan wouldn’t be ignored. 

“Well, I did go grocery shopping. I know it was my turn, but do we need all that food?” Kat said. 

“What do you mean do we need it?” Jan asked. “Our bodies need fruits, vegetables, and healthy protein. We need whole grains and items to bring for lunch and snacks. You didn’t even buy dark chocolate,” Jan remarked. “Did something happen? Did you run out of money?” 

Kat sighed, her face ashamed, “Yeah, I overspent shopping for clothes for work clothes for my internship. I didn’t mean to but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to shop for any new clothes.” 

Jan considered her friend’s admission.They were both students in the last year of their business degrees and money was tight, but she decided to forgive Kat. 

“Okay Kat. I wish you’d had more self-control, but I know you require professional clothes for work. I also realize we both need both to replace some of our worn-out clothes soon. I’ll forgive you this month and pay for the rest of the groceries.” 

“Oh thank you Jan.”

“But I have conditions: You need to buy most of the groceries for the next two months so I can do some shopping for my self for next semester. You’ll have to help me, I’ve no sense of style when it comes to professional attire.” 

Kat laughed, “Agreed I’ll pay for our groceries for two-months, after this month; the fashion advice is free.” 

Jan hugged Kat and they watched a new movie together, content with their solution. 

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Saving The Puppy


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Let her know what an amazing job she’s doing 🙂


Horse and Car
Phylor2014

Sweet Caroline waited for her rider, Joy (who was attending a party at the neighbor’s ranch) when Caroline heard a terrified yap from beside her. It was a heat-sick puppy trapped in a car.

Caroline had heard Joy saying certain people were ignorant, believing it was fine to leave a pet in the car when the temperature was boiling inside.

The puppy whimpered and with all her might, Caroline kicked a window out of the car with her hoof.

Joy ran when she heard the car window shatter and Caroline whiny. She gasped, observing the languishing puppy inside. 

Taking both Caroline and the puppy just outside the party tents, Joy gave the thirsty puppy bottled water and scraps of meat from the buffet.

A furious couple Joy recognized, approached her wanting their puppy back, but Joy refused. Instead, she dialled the local RCMP and reported the couple, for leaving their dog in a hot car.

Sweet Caroline nuzzled her puppy friend as the puppy slept on Joy’s shoulder.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Paper Bag Princess.”


  
Here’s for the meanings and the seemings,

The words we’ve been breathing, though they are concealing,

We’re never hidden behind steal, or a solid wall of bricks.

And we’re shamed, peeking out of ‘the cupboard,’ hiding like the Indian did from a childhood book.

 We move through our thoughts, the glances of others who don’t understand —

What it means to remain hidden.

——

They’re all out there with their sunglasses and dreamy looks,

 In a world finding love, come together — some love separates. 

And I haven’t spent the days before Valentine’s Day dreaming,

 I don’t need a man to give me flowers or chocolates. 

I don’t need more demands and inferences of combinations dialled,

Short and electric, but fizzles and drizzles, as the rain pours outside. 

Dividing our time between sleeping and daylight,

And the sun keeps on rising; 

I keep on imprivising all the things I’m construing,

In a mind filled with despising a guy who I left.

Who made me know what it hurts like to feel neglect,

After he’s gone on, but still calling — I wish he would stop.

 That I could forget all about these “tygers” and their wants. 

I’m not happy nor comfortable, unless they get their cut, pieces of my being;

They’re dividing me among each other, taking the best cuts and leaving the scraps.

—–

And outside is a puppy and I want to hold her, because she doesn’t need much —

Only to eat, walk, cuddle, play, and go wee.

She needs her nails clipped and her teeth brushed sometimes. 

I’m a woman begging everyday of her life for things I’m uninspired to give,

If you won’t even attempt to do better, make it as important as a ‘business deal.’

 I’m not above you or below you you dirty-thirty-something.

 I’m just looking for meaning among people who are loyal.

I’m caught in my dreams, betwixt the real and the “real” in this Wonderland. 

And if we look through the ‘looking glass’ we only see people in poverty,

Who are thinking only of eating and surviving. 

Loving doesn’t matter much when you are looking for fresh water, 

When you’re sickly and dying — or does it matter most?

——

But here, won’t you hear me —

In our first- world of problems — 

I’m trying! I’m trying — but it’s never enough.

You dragons eat your steaks and leave me with nothing but my dry bones. 

You ravish a ‘paper-bag princess’ and leave her without a stitch;

Clothes that cover her heart.

And you suck her organs dry of blood and all matter,

You leave a her exposed for the vultures to grasp at,

 You break open a bottle of liquor and the whole room explodes, 

Covered in champagne and the bubbles make you choke.

Sifting through closets, cover up my exposed heart,

I don’t want to reveal myself but in the “real” world I must.

 Because if your broken your fixable and can be put back together,

 A mirror that’s shattered and eternally busted.

——

And these words may make little sense but that’s what you call — prose poetry,

Of a girl, who’s  a woman, who’s a child, who’s lured by the promises,

Of a blackness so bleak no one can see in front of their face,

Because in the darkest depths, the light shines brightest.

Arise and save yourself, 

Think of the words to describe your freedom desired —

Taylor Swift wrote it well: ” It’s too late for you and your white horse to catch me now.”

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Let The Deer Be


My Dad’s family moved around because Grandpa was a Pastor and at times, Grandpa chose to accept a call to a different congregation in the country. My Grandpa taught his boys to hunt. I can’t say whether or not my Uncle D would have taught his sons to hunt because he died when his boys were still young. 

But my Uncle K has taught his sons. I feel speechless when I see pictures of my barely adult cousins, standing on top of a buck’s corpse, proudly. My Dad never hunted much when his children came along, but my family was the recipient of meat from hunted animals when I was younger.

There are few reasons I see for hunting. I think the only valid reasons are if a predator is a danger to humans or if an animal population is overpopulated and a danger to the ecosystem of an area. But for sport or fun . . .we have grocery stores now, let the wild animals be.

One of the scariest times I can remember was sleeping in my one Uncle D’s basement. My eldest brother and I slept in a room and there were dead animals all around us. There was a giant grizzly bear rug on the floor and deer heads on the wall. There were other deer-like animal heads on the wall too. Their fake eyes stared at me throughout the night and I could not sleep, “You lookin, at me?” I wondered.

I was young, but it makes me think now, what need have we to kill these creatures.Why hunt if not for survival. I know I’m a city girl but it seems to me at times, our inner caveman comes out and forgets it’s modern times — let the deer be.

——-

 

http://www.publicdomainarchive.com
 
—–

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.