Saturday Mix: Poem – Octain/Double/High – “The Beauty of My Love” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. Saturday’s prompt was to write pasturel poetry (Fiction/no fiction) which is essentially poetry written about nature in an idyllic way. 

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Credit: Eden Hills

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The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

Through fields of wildflower I follow her steps, 

Her milk white skin, soft, supple; she knows best,

How tiny goat kids, and dog’s pups will thrive. 

They bleet, whimper, for her hands petting coats, 

Feeding them drops of milk reviving life’s hope. 

So they wil live glorious in pastures kind; 

Become adults frolic, following my queen. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized, 

She gathers the chickens eggs to feed, 

Those who grace her kitchen with smiles pleased. 

Finds the dairy cows, milks them all beguiling. 

She’s a feminist, believes we never stop learning. 

She chose to farm, grows organic food, serves —

Customers desiring; at market they find hers first;

My love works hard, adores our life, she’s pleased. 

The beauty of my love is sweet, divinely prized. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Day 22 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge /FFftAW: Poem – Rondel – “Wheat Fields” #poetry #flashfiction #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge


Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a poem called a Georgic focused on taking care of the earth and agriculture and initially written by Virgil. For the A to Z Challenge the GoodRead’s writer’s quote will begin with the letter S. Also I’m using this poem for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer hosted by the lovely Priceless Joy

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Credit: Yinglan Z

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“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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In the fields pleasant green, pastures of peace. 

In the fields of wheat, standing tall to greet. 

The threshing machine worked, farmer in his seat, 

Radio loud as wheat full grown ceases —

No longer for a glorious view reached. 

Becomes the meals of many now to eat. 

In the fields pleasant green, pastures of peace

In the fields of wheat, standing tall to greet. 

An old wagon rotting by the house leased. 

Visions of yesterday, horses released. 

No burden for harvest to pull and meet. 

Times have changed, technology entreats. 

In fields pleasant green, pastures of peace. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.