Notable Quotes: February 2018 Part Two #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Good Morning. Welcome to February’s Notable Quote second edition. Please enjoy and hope your special someone remembers Valentine’s Day, or if not, you were able to do something nice for yourself or others in your life.

As for me, I’m busy but doing well. I’m freelancing and doing a writer’s bootcamp on Facebook. It’s also a great place to have your worked critique if your serious writer, writing a short story or a novel. So far the bootcamp is extremely relevant and I love it. TheFacebook group is called: Writer’s World. You will need permission to join. Cheers!

The February theme again is humour.


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday: Fishing for Life #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesdays 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.

——–

Credit: Bikurgurl

——

We live along the river in delapitated shanties. At sunrise we sleepily pull on our rubber boots and checked flannel shirts. It’s late fall and the days are chillier. It doesn’t mean we can’t fish, but the joy of a temperate summer is a distant memory. Gone are the laughter filled nights of plentiful fish, drinking rice wine until midnight. 

Harsh temperatures have arrived. Our mornings are early so we can chase the waning light. Evening arrives and the catch is not terrible but not plentiful. The fish at this time of year are wiggly and stronger. 

I shiver in the morning light, winter’s stinging winds drawing near. Soon the river will be coated with ice. Then, all we can do is drill a hole and hope for something to bite — anything.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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

Three Line Tales: The Sky, Lights, and The Moon.


Sonya

——

1. The sun setting satisfies my hungry eyes and a glowing in the distance reveals a splash of a bold pink- orange sky, transforming into the midnight blue of early night.

——

2. Lights in the distance are the shining of lights through windows and street lights startling in the fading sunlight, and reviving the city in aliveness; I’m intoxicated with light and want to return to my city, but here in the dark, all is gentle serenity fading into black.

——-

3. The sun sets, I absorb the elements of nature surrounding me and  I feel the wind, butterfly kisses gently soothing my cheek; I smell the fresh cut grass, a natural perfume reminding me of childhood and trying to eat grass; I memorize the arc of the waning moon, a crescent hanging cheekily in the midnight sky which, reminds me of our relationship — a thinning of the blooming harvest moon of our love –only a sliver remains and the bloom of a full moon has died.

Thanks to Sonya for hosting Three Line Tales. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “Midnight New Years.”


 

http://www.taskcomplete.com
 
What shape is midnight, when the Owls come out. Hooting to each other to see if there mate is there?

What shape does the night take when you stayed in instead. I quite relief to keep peace in your soul. But too much thinking in bed. 

While the world all around rings with laughter and cheer. You hear Auld Lang-sine as the clock strikes the hour, 2015 has disappeared.

The fireworks start with a sparkling of lights. The people and the snow are alight with holiday glow. Then you hear a recessive bang as one by one the crackers glitter the black sky.

And what happens when the fireworks quiet? When the last toast of champagne has been given. When the treats are all eaten. When the last ring of smoke is blown.

Another year begins with goals to do and do not. But I’m still in the hour between twilight and night when the soaring stars glimmer over crisp tree branches. 

I’m still in the time as I did my last bend on a yoga mat purple to end the year with Namaste. I’m still in the moment I drank a big glass of wine. Lush red, bold with a bite. 

Cabernet-Sauvignon by Louis M. Martin, last bottle of the year before the sandman comes calling. Last bottle to crisian the new year, 2016. 

And while it is early yet, the party dresses have been chosen. The suites and tyes pulled out and the world is awaiting. Change fast midnight isn’t stalling. 

Down in time square, the famous ball will drop. The people are packed in like rats. But it would be an experience. To let the hours tick by with the best live entertainment.

But I am the mouse in a blue house and I am writing poetry of the midnight kind. The poem is as quick silver and it runs through my lips. This word, now that phrase, think harder, repeat.

What kind of words are caught in a moment, in the twinkling of eyes filled with mirth and red wine. When does the world return to normal. Not ever, not only. My reply.

Keep on crushing those jello shouts inside of strawberries. Never say I don’t get my fruit or veggies. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock is calling, for midnight is where we will meet. 

There is no reprieve you are “stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it.” Sing it like Bono. U2, I’m not into them so much anymore. Ever since they gave me their last album for free.

Consequently, the Owls are about to fly. The moon is a giant disk of white light in the sky and the man on the moon is smiling in delight. 

The whole worlds turned up to see him in the spotlight. Appear for the moment the ball drops in New York. Appear for the moment the Opera House in Camberra lights the sky with explosions.  

Appear as the Northeran Lights spread a green- purple wash of watercolours across the sky and you are struck by the thought. This moment in time will never repeat.

A moment takes place and then is done. So live it up, be where you are in the present time. Sing loud and sing honestly as the year flashes by. Remember the old times the bad and the good. 

Remember that as my year slips away, in the midnight we embrace and a new day a New Year has begun. 

We have a blank space to live our lives in so smash it with colour the bright and the bold. Crash it with wet paint and make your surrounding beautiful and magnificent. 

Build the New Year of your dreams. At midnight for a moment, we can touch the stars and make a wish in 2016.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: ” Not in the Moment.”


  
A midnight Christmas poem, to settle you to sleep after turkey dinners and children’s dreams. (A picture of a beach to encourage your own.)

At an hour the moon is magnificently full and round and never will be again for many years. Describe your perfect moment. (Can you see that beach?)

Describe now, what you want to accomplish in the coming year, pass your festive cheer and go on to new beginnings. (In Hawaii?)

Or, go a little easy on the nog or “special” punch so you can think in a half sensical state about what you would like your life to be as you persevere through the night.

You might never change a thing; your life could be exactly how it is in the moment you’re enjoying. Or maybe you would like to experience some changes … (In the surf on a sandy beach walking through tiny waves that lap at your feet.)

Life is full of the good and bad. And no time like Christmas to reflect, the bad ain’t so bad. We are all blessed in this respect.

To have a home, a life, a family, food to eat that is even sweet, and food that is healthful, the wine in your glass, the dog in your lap, and the child who is playing with his toy’s box. (To picture a warm place and learn how to surf…)

Life is pretty sweet but there is room to improve for everyone. I don’t mean to push. I don’t mean to shove. But I am looking ahead with a nod over my shoulder (– is that a shark in the water?)

I’m stuck in the midnight glower of a lamp light, composing poems on the night of Christmas, but I guess Christmas is no more soon. (But I still see a Hawaiin sunset…)

Soon we approach a New Year. Soon we say goodbye to 2015. Soon we drink champagne and dance the night away. Soon we have philosophical conversations at 3:00 am with the next holiday party. (Or sit calmly in a lovely cottage near the ocean?)

But stay, here in Christmas time and the birth of ‘Immanuel.’ Stay for a moment in the serenity of the night and swallow your last bit of nog or punch.( Beach …)

Think of your bubble, the charity and love. Despair of the relatives who won’t leave and the mess to clean. Pour another glass. Glug! Glug! Glug!

Midnight is passing and it means that I must sleep leaving you with merely a thought. What do you want in the coming year?

Beyond Boxing Day shopping. Beyond all the presents received. Beyond all the company. Beyond all the food and the drinks. Beyond the festivity, what more could there be. (A sunny warm place where you can lie on the beach.)

But there is always more and that’s the thing; we have so much and these little moments become precious memories that help us through the new when we look ahead and face problems and deficiencies. 

Time passes on and the grand moon shines. A blaring light at my window and it is bright in the snow, calling to me softly. Where will you go? 

That challenge I suppose waits for days to come in the passing of the year; for now still be of good cheer. Sleep soon. Hangovers get worse each year. (Hawaii is near.)

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Midnight 


What do you write at midnight? You write a midnight poem. When the spirits of the dead arise and tell a haunted tale with their moans.

What do you do at midnight? You stay inside, try to sleep. But the moon is blood red and it’s dripping from the sky. Crimson drops on a wandering person, out when he should be home.

What do you say at midnight? You say “I cannot sleep. For nightmares abound and the images of goriness, I can’t get them out my mind.”

What do you play at midnight? Well, it’s almost Halloween. Put on your costumes, scare the hell out of a stranger. Let the spirits howl in their graves, gather your candy and run away.

Whom do you seek at midnight? I seek the siren’s singing. A voice as compelling as fine chocolate absorbed by your tongue. A voice of creamy dark delight ensnares a fool who dares to taste the musical sound. 

What do write at midnight? Of strange happenings and wild youth under the blood moon. Full moons change people, it lets the monster come out. Be careful who you play tonight, your act could be cut out. 

What do you yearn for at midnight? I yearn for an evenings walk. To promenade on the   shrouded dark street and let loose the demon inside; at night she can arise to join the shadows until she finds daylight. 

Midnight, Starlight, Dreams.


I want to live the dream.
I need to go somewhere.
Been stuck in inaction for probably way to long.
Baby, I just want to live life, starlight, do more than survive.
I can’t do this too much, no sleep thing for too long.
I’m a jailbird songbird who needs to be free.
And the lessons I’ve learned, I’ll never be free.

You’ve got that red heat glowing look in your eyes.
I don’t want to be trapped their layered all up in pain.
Because this beautiful life it’s just not the same.
Baby, I need to live my dreams.
Have God answer my prayer.
So give me grace light, starlight and all the hope that remains.
Free me, release me, unbound me from chains.
Because I’m a restless on bedrest girl with no name.
And if it’s going to be forever;
We’re taking this way to far.
Got to build a life, have strength and might or, I’m just meek and ashamed.
Understand now, the words beneath the pain.

So, it’s going to be forever.
But baby, that could change.
Will you always just leave me.
And go do what you please.
You ignore my pleas, and I plead.
And it went up in flames, burn this starburst, starcrisp, down to a cinder.
So, it’s going to be forever.
But I need to live my dreams.
But I need to accomplish.
Do you understand the pain, rain down, restless sleepless night with no name.
I need recognition — a nameless dream with something not ashamed.
I’ll take my red lip, lipstick smash it all into glass because I can’t do much this way.
So heal me I pray.
Heal me I’m wounded and unkind.
Heal us, I don’t know how far the medicine goes.
But it’s midnight and I’m up in flames, give me bright lights, Suns calling my name.
And baby, all day we will live our dreams, and hours will pass, the days will go on, and life won’t be such a fight.
Midnight, I’ll live my dreams in the starlight.
Nameless of names.