Photo Challenge: Poem – Quatrains – “Tale of The Floating Bride” #poetry #amwriting 


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

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Credit: Zhangjinga.com

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Enchanting child in slumber keep, 

Red hair surrounds you as you sleep. 

I wait for you to wake from your dreams, 

No longer a porcelain doll preened. 

*****

A wedding gown white lace so frothy, 

Mother hoped your match was lofty.

That you’d found your life partner, 

Your prince, your man, for life to start.

*****

But day by day you grew sad, 

When pressed with his kisses ran. 

Empty feeling inside you grew, 

Like a butterfly away flew.

*****

Mischievous child, pain grew, 

His fist at your face straight-on flew. 

Hiding the bruises with powder,

Not even concealer shrouds

*****

Pride vital to you, tiny doll, 
Escaped; no one to catch your fall.
Fly in dreams with delicate wings, 

Winter ends, it’s soon your spring. 

*****

Gather your courage –call it off;

Don’t marry him, don’t be soft.

In front of the crowd, show each cut, 

Let them see bruises, you must. 

*****

So they know an abuser, 

Isn’t good enough, he’s a loser. 

He broke your velvet wings, 

Your sanity held by strings. 

*****

But it was too late even then, 

The lake too close; so your end.

Now you float, butterfly who swims, 

Eternity of light your win. 

*****

We tried to save a doll of glass, 

But on death she shattered, passed. 

Down below the water’s dark depth,

She’s tranquil, free; although, she leapt. 

*****

Mind too distorted, destroyed, 

Lover’s hands threw her like a toy.

World tough; his madness changed them both, 

In Heaven she smiles free to float. 

*****

He mourns her death each day, each drink, 

Pretty soon his rage him too sinks. 

Accidents happen to the unaware, 

She pulled him in, drowned his despair. 

—– 

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Sacrifice #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Ellie stared at her teddy bears. She collected them and these three were her favourite. She didn’t much play with them, but they had a place of pride on her daybed. 
Truthfully, Ellie played with other stuffed animals, she didn’t care if she wrecked or ripped them a part. Sometimes she even gave a stuffed animal to her family’s dog dog Artic.

But Mom said she had too many teddy bears and because she didn’t play with these three teddy bears on her bed, she could only keep one of them. 

“But I snuggle with them at night, they keep me safe from the monsters. Even a monster can’t defend himself against three bears, ” Ellie told her Mom who laughed and ran her fingers through Ellie’s curly brown hair.

 Ellie stared at her three soft bears, unable to choose who would go. 

Suddenly, the solution came upon her. If Ellie couldn’t have all three bears, the only solution was to get rid of her Mom. She really loved her Mom a whole bunch, but she thought if she sacrificed Mom to the monsters, she would both be able to keep all three teddy bears and the monsters would leave forever too. 

It was a scary thing to give up her mother, but Ellie thought it was for the best. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Elysian Fields Await” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #writing


This is last week’s music prompt for Friday hosted by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. It’s a song called, “Elysian Night” by Draconian. Hard metal isn’t my thing, but the lyrics are beautiful. 

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“Elysian Night” – Draconian 

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http://www.jwartsales.com

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Am I nothing without you near my side? 

You feel so far away; I reach for you, 

Only whispers remain, piercing though true. 

I’m bleeding fast, death has no ounce of pride.

“Stay,” you beg, it’s a wish I can’t provide. 

But the sun rises as it always does through —

Whatever pain inflicted, we’ve small clue —

When it’s time — Elysian Fields reside. 

You want me to stay, for us to fly high, 

But death has been calling, counting sand grains, 

You’ll cry those fat tears, and you’ll wonder why? 

Love, I want to see another sunrise, 

But I’m bleeding, death’s crooning, we must divide, 

Elysian Fields wait with finally, no pain. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Making Grandma’s Day” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #marahuyo



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Grandma When She Was Young (www.pinterest.com) Actually Betty White!

——–

You straightened your blue tie;

The ocean-blue of your sweet eyes.

Long lashes, dark styled hair; must be —

Embarrassing for such a strong —

man going on 6’5, to have such eyelashes.

Not that height, 

Makes a huge difference;

But I’m liking what I see.

You smiled, lips full, 

Kissable, and my mind goes south . . .

Then, I’m blinded by another,

Of your sweet smiles.

Gorgeous, open; you appear so alive,

Happy and handsome.

Steamy and hot;

I think it’s love at first-sight.

In a summer suit; a baby-blue shirt.

Blue is your colour, in every shade.

You walk, I get the view from behind;

It all looks good to me.

Big-feet;

I hear that’s great too.

Again, my mind wanders, 

Should I walk the same way you’re walking?

Maybe, you’ll notice plain old me?

Utterly, enchanted by your sight.

On this dreary day, 

Everything’s gone wrong; the cancers back.

But your magnatism, your laugh;

It made my day.

I feel as if I’m some voyeaur, 

To appreciate such beauty,

And care of appearance.

Qualities such as long-fingered hands,

No doubt talented; I miss those . . .

I trip while admiring you, 

So marahuyo;

I can’t see straight.

You turn around alarmed,

Having noticed and heard, 

Me fall on my face embarrassed.

I’m an eighty-six-year-old woman, 

Falls aren’t a good thing and I’ve pride;

To walk yet on my own.

But you’re kind and pleasant;

Though I tremble in your presence,

You bring me ice from a restaurant for my hip.

I say: “If I was younger . . .”

You blush and I do the Grandma thing;

Patting your arm, 

Possibly, inhaling how great you smell, 

And showing you,

A recent picture of my favourite,

Gorgeous granddaughter.

Dark auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, 

Beautiful, healthy, and fit, 

Witty and bright; an Art History Professor.

Your eyes go large and I know you’re, 

Thinking of a way to charm her number from me.

I chuckle say: “I’m where she gets her looks.”

You grin and chuckle.

Your laugh makes me so pleased.

And I accidentally, 

Let my granddaughters number, 

Pop-up on my giant iPhone.

I snap a picture of you Mr.Gorgeous,

You blush so cutely, she’ll love you.

Send your photo to my precious girl,

I just have this feeling. . .

Get you to text: He’ll Call. His Name is Cale. Love Nanny.

I take pictures on my IPhone and call;

Texting is too hard.

After more conversation,

I’m sure of you, wishing I was twenty-eight.

You have to leave, making sure I’m fine.

I’m sad; but my dear girl will bring you over,

Hoping I did her a favour.

My best and only granddaughter;

Smiling pleasantly, at the thought of you, 

A handsome businessman.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.