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. 

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Credit: Louise – The StoryTellers Abode

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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. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond Challenge: “To the Fall Leaves” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s challenge on Fall and D.H. Lawrence’s poem about Fall called: “Autumn Rain.” 

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Credit: Forbes Travel Guide

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Crinkled Leaves, 

Whisper past my cheek, 

Twist in hair, 

On the ground, 

Disperse in my hand, fragments, 

Not one leaf — thousands. 

—–

The scent Fall —

Gives, lingers of rot.

It’s acrid

Yet pleasant. 

Dessication, fragrance breathe;

A nip in the air. 

—–

Floating leaves, 

Linger around trees, 

Dropping as —

One passes, 

Realize everything has —

A time to live and die.

——-

Brush strokes of, 

Deep scarlet and orange —

As pumpkins, 

Yellow as —

Butterscotch dripping and warm, 

Oozing to the ground.

——-

Feet crunching, 

Leaves underfoot and twigs, 

From trees mix, 

With their birth–

Place; such twigs sprung with green leaves, 

There weight is now shed.

——

Arises, 

The wind, blowing such –

Skeletons, 

They were lush, 

Now, they are gone, murmuring —

Winters chill and scorn.

——

Yet such a —

Beauty one does not —

See, but in —

The Fall when, 

Leaves cover pathways, hint at — 

Fascinating old dreams. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.