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.

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PhotoChallenge/ Sunday Writing Prompt: A Fairy Tale with a Bad Ending: Maleficent #amwriting #fiction #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photochallenge. I’m combining prompts with The Sunday Writing Prompt of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and using the title prompt tale: A Fairytale with a Very Bad End.


Credit: Jeff Simpson


Maleficent stared from her dim dungeon-like castle eyeing King Stefan’s daughter, Aurora, playing in a wide open field.

She whispered to Crow, “They’re supposed to be watching her those three dim-witted fairies. When I was a good fairy, I watched my charges closely. How foolish they are, I could end her life now.”

Crow cawed, “She’s but ten years old and it isn’t her fault Stefan is her father. She doesn’t know what he did to you to become king.”

“Quiet, Crow. I’m thinking.”

“You think a great deal but never do much. Aurora knows what her fate is, those ignorant fairies told her. Now, whenever she can, she escapes to this field to play. She has no care for danger or death. Sometimes she sits and stares into the sky crying.”

“Why should I be merciful to her because she knows she will prick her finger and die in six-years? I owe her nothing. She is a means to an end.”

Crow cocked his head. “She is not responsible for her father’s crimes anymore than your parents were responsible for leaving you alone to rule the Marsh; your parents did not intend to die. Aurora, does not want to die either. Why not raise her yourself and find a way to undo the curse? Simply losing her will hurt Stefan deeply as the queen can’t have more children.”

Maleficent pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot undo such a powerful curse and I will not do Stefan any favours despite Aurora’s innocence. He raped me Crow, I was helpless. He cut off my wings. I will not save the girl.”

“You may change your mind yet. You have watched her for years and have become fond of her. You hate that she’s putting herself in peril now.”

“Fond?”

“Yes, you have this soft smile on your face when you watch Aurora. You never smile that way except with her.”

Maleficent’s voice went cold. “In that case . . . ” she pointed her wand at the blond beauty. Heart beating loudly in her ears, she struck the small girl down. Aurora death was instant and a single tear slipped down the dark fairy’s cheek.

“Now, you see, Crow? I have ended her life. I’m not attached to her and we will bury Aurora’s body in the Marshes. Aurora’s early death will bring Stefan greater pain. He will live his life not knowing what happened to his daughter. His queen will die in grief.”

Tears dropped as diamonds from Crows’ coal-black eyes and wouldn’t stop. “I do not think Stefan is the most evil being in the kingdom. You are the person most full of evil. Just as he lost his heart to become king and hurt you, you have ended the life of an innocent child and are no better.”

“I meant for you to truly act as Aurora’s Godmother — not to kill her. You should’ve been the one to guard and protect her; I thought you loved her.”

“Love is as treacherous as running off alone to a field . . .”

Crow’s caw was forlorn. “Aurora could’ve had a new beginning with us, but I cannot serve a fairy whose heart has become black with revenge, with blood on her hands from an innocent’s death. How far you have fallen, Maleficent.”

“Stefan is not responsible for your evil deeds; you are responsible for your own crimes.”

Crow bowed once and flew away forever. Maleficent was left alone and inside her chest her heart’s ache was perpetual.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Ruthless #amwriting #flashfiction #chess 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

———

“I’ve learned some interesting things about chess lately,” Karley said. 

Tyler smirked and made his first move, the frosted glass pawn advanced, “What did you learn?” 

“Well, way back when there was no Queen. Beside the King was an Advisor.” 

“That Advisor must have had a lot of power if in chess he could move any direction on the board, diagonal or straight. Why did the Advisor become a Queen?” 

Karley grinned, “Well, for one, Queen Elizabeth I. But around her time and after, there were many powerful Queens. The Advisor becoming Queen was meant to please Queens, rulers who weren’t male.” 

“Do you think Queens in the monarchy were as ruthless as Kings?” Tyler asked watching Karley bring out her Bishop. 

“Of course. Queen Elizabeth I had no trouble executing those who opposed her. She also never married. I think power was her raison d’être,” Karley said placing her finger on the clear glass Queen. 

“But yet the Queen still protects the king?” Tyler mused. 

“He doesn’t really get to move much, though, does he?” 

“No, just a space here and there.” 

“Checkmate,” Karley said. 

“What, what does that mean? How’d you do that so fast?” 

“It comes from Arabic and French. Literally, it means, ‘He is Dead’ or ‘The King is Dead.’ I did it so fast because I’m the Queen.”

” The Queen?” Tyler said confused. 

“Yes, we’re ruthless.” 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Saturday Mix Flash Fiction: Soliquey – Blank Verse – “The Con” #amwriting #soliliquey #fiction #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Bastet from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week’s prompt is a soliloquy at a train station. I’ll be using blank verse or unrhymed iambic pentameter as the Bard did. 

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“Imagine a scene, a train is pulling out of the station and a person standing on the platform looking dejected. What can have happened. Perhaps this person is someone in the station wishing to leave but for some reason hasn’t. “

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Credit: GSK 2017

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So leaves the train, so leaves my heart, 

Why him I once loved, now I know not? 

Must have been his eyes so brilliant a green, 

Gems such as emeralds, a sea-green storm brewed.

Was it his cavalier smile, his laugh? 

With him I felt wanted, weak in the knees. 

I was his Queen, he my adoring King. 

He cared for me gently, said I shouldn’t stay —

On my own, for he loved me; fooled me, 

Underestimated a woman cruelly scorned. 

I saw cracks in the vase, facade crumbled, 

An artist’s dream of beauty such a fake, 

He left, emptied my pockets of money. 

This con thinks he’s safe going to Bahamas, 

Since he betrayed me, I say differently. 

He’ll be doing some flying, and me thinks he’s done. 
Thrown off the tallest bridge, out of the train. 

Expensive was his end, but I’m appeased

I watched his train moving away, still —

Missing his voice, his touch, time spent loving. 

But I know he never loved me, I was ‘means’ —

To an end; yet, the ‘real end’ was his own. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – Thoughts of the Mockingjay #amwriting #poetry #fiction #symbolic 


Credit: Wikia

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Mockingjay, pretty bird or elegant deadly queen? 

A woman, a creature of dystopia and mythology

If there’s one bird to be, it would be a Mockingjay

Though I know they’re imaginary,

Mockingjays are real as symbols of courage.

Birds which don’t break, they carry on;

Nature outlasting outlandish experiments,

Reinventing, Mother Earth evolving and re-working, 

What humans would call a mistake; 

Yet these Jays cannot be hidden away, they’re fierce warriors risen. 

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As a Mockingjay, could I fly close to the sun? 

Icarus (I think) burned off his majestic wings doing such a deed, 

 I’d think a celestial queen of Mockingjays is smarter

She’s a stealthy bird whose whistle, repeats any tune heard, 

Her mimickery can be confusing to her enemy. 

A Mockingjay queen, would keep her scars hidden, 

Safe beneath feathers which float, as hope; 

Now fuzz, falling furiously as she grows, dropping downy —

Fast, no longer a chick adorned with puffiness

Now a full-blown black and white glory who sings life’s story, 

The story of pain, betrayal, and loss;

Your average adventure and most tantalising tale. 

Oh, what a Mockingjay can truly be, 

When her heads adorned by sunlight and truth,

Choosing her battles and using her melody

The Melody you’re humming to yourself. 

The sweetest songs of tears, quicksilver and liquid gold, 

Molten metal glimmering

She burns with fire in her soul, though she is no mythical Phoenix;

Yet she rises from the ashes of society and science

She repeats your tunes, the echoes throughout her wild lands. 

——

Credit: http://www.nerdist.com

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You’ll never catch a Mockingjay, there’s wrath in her footprints, 

Her anger caused, ignites an inner flame brilliant. 

She’ll swoop from above and end you below, 

The dignified woman, no longer laughing,

Going to battle, her war song a trill

The Mockingjay flies her wings fluid, her form grace designed. 

A legendary bird of modern times,

Survival of the fittest crossing genetics; 

Nature re-designs better than a science lab of horrors

Mockingjay is more than bird she is the huntress

The symbolic warrior of Ancient Greece and Rome – Artemis;

Bow with blazing pyrotechnics and lethal skill, pointed at her kill. 

She lives and she dreams of the day, the war is long ended, 

Where revenge and the cold stone hearted have no meaning. 

Her desire is the melody so beautiful it thrills and heals

Enraptures a soul with clearly sung words. 

She’s a warrior with golden platted lashes, winged at her pray;

A sultry seductress and and goddess flying free. 

Mockingbird walks, she sways, feathers flocked close, 

She’s as precious as the sparrow, calling lonely for her love.

She’d scarred, her heart torn

So strong but in need of help most of all. 

Even symbols of strength such as her, 

Who mimick a fictitious tune with ease;

Need more than survival to hope for. 

She needs more than, a gilded bird cage. 

—–

Credit: Laces and Tiaras

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Still As Your Breath” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo prompt. 

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Credit:SIrLounge.com

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In dress of Emerald green unfurling, 

Unfurling and scampering, the forest behind 

Behind her hair of onyx locks

Behind her the forest forms, her dream image 

Image of imp, earthen worm silk for her gown

Image of child feet bare on the ground

Ground echoes as she pants and runs 

Ground misting with fog on grey lake

Lake where the monsters swim

Lake where they slither and with trickery bid

Bid her come swim 

Bid her come beneath the surface

Surface of lake reflective mirror

Surface of mind, smoke cascading from hair 

Hair the metaphor of her thoughts

Hair rising with caustic smoke

Smoky, the sky is dim and grey

Smoky, her thoughts show disarray 

Disarray of the mind and she scatters

Dissray of her feet on dying grass

Grass beloved in spring

Grass lush and wild around her

Her the woman, the sprit

Her the goddess –only in her mind

Mind overflowing she burns black thoughts

Mind recreates as she destroys smoke black 

Black as her hair, the ravens are jealous

Black as her pupils, focused on running

Running from life, imp of nature

Running until lungs burst

Burst with her blackness inhaled

Burst with the need for fresh air

Air breathed in and out

Air the forest created

Created as she makes trees 

Created to help her and us breathe 

Breathe the freshest lake air

Breathe and feel free to live

Live but how? 

Live but why? She’s black soot scent

Scent of tar from smoke

Scent of wildflower and rain

Rain and her dress greener still grows

Rain and her tears are diamonds 

Diamond of nature stop fleeing 

Diamond of nature flawed — just stand 

Stand silent and inhale fresh mountain air

Stand and inhale new beginning — be still

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Lunes – “Nature’s Rule.”


Today’s Poetry 101 prompt is landscape with apostrophe (directed to a specific person or an object). 


Mother nature
http://www.imgwide.com

Something about blazing summer warmth,

You can experience,

Deep peace, through your bones.


Sun shimmering down on home.

And I appreciate,

Your magnificent view surrounding us.


Some call you Mother Earth,

Others say Gaia,

Some say you’re only Nature.


Queen of fresh bustling growth.

Flowers bursting forth,

With blooms; fruit maturing later.


Grandiose bites of peaches sticky,

Dribbling down my —

Chin; gifts provided, by nature.


Leaves crispy, flourishing, growth budding.

Sky alive pours.

Increasing farmer’s yield; harvest amplifying.


The world turns and you answer.

Seasons in exact,

Moment of time revealed true.


You magnificent lady; dancing in —

Summer’s dreaming months,

You tease; before snow sprinkles.


Gigantic mountains, shifting in time,

You allow them,

Crash, crush, erupt; tectonic formations.


Baby animals; fuzzy and adored.

Their seasons pass.

Time taking back; new born.


Eyes scanning the vastness of,

Your empire; nature,

Praying we don’t interfere; destroy.


Asking Creator for peace, grace.

Don’t let humans,

Ruin earth; mother nature’s domain.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poems: Free Verse  – “Chivilry is Dead; Love Lives” #amwriting #poetry


http://www.polyvore.com

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Swords, steel reflecting light, might against might;
Who has the stronger arm; who’se trained to perfection? 

End ridiculous contestants, challenging each other, 

Coming to blows over Ladies, with medieval weaponry.

Put your duelling pistols away, live through dawn;

You combat with each other as you choose, 

It means little to me; chivalry the grim has scythed.

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Twenty-first-century woman, with poise taking on life.

Chivalry, extinct and never truthfully was ‘in,’

It was a gest, a game the court played for King and Queen,

Beneath the game, feigned affection reigned.

No thought for the personal freedoms of a Lady, 

No thought for the woman; she was owned.

At the hub of a wheel of chilviry, the Princess on her throne.

Married off on a white horse, to a dashing young Prince.

He a tyrant, spinning the cogs and wheels of his kingdom.

She primps, preens, performing a show;  

Accepting her Prince’s knight’s fealty; his dying love,

On battle field, the enemy soldiers ran the knight through.

Courtly manners, hide whispered secrets;

Lethal games, converging in mortality; bloody corpses.

 Hold your swords away, do not thrust or perry for attention.

The world has out-grown “pissing contests.”

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Win the woman of your dreams, with humour, 

Demonstrate, actual life, not fairy tales, can be fun together.

Your wife can be your lover; your lover your wife,

No having a woman pure enough for wifely duties, 

And a mistress a man loved and made actual love to.

Forget Authorian Legend and courtly love; it’s rules are lore.

Buy your own Lady gloriously coloured flowers,

Take her for a night dancing; giving a memory to smile about.

Together is being with all of your close friends, 

Together is melding your families;

Being united by oath; an agreement between you both.

A Lady is no longer the Princess on the courtly pedastool;

 A man is no longer the white knight; we’ve put to rest fairy tales.

Netflix and chill on the couch; a stately royal date,

Closing the leather bound, dusty history’s books, 

On weird courtship rituals, forced marriages, and chivalry.

More than anything, chivalry was a literary tradition.

Yet, the modern era cries; find your soulmate if you can.

Most parents finished arranging marriages,

A new way to win the bride, to win the Lady.

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Love her for more than her sexuality, her ability to have children; 

Love her though she is flawed and not entirely ideal.

Love her forever, your heart beating for her;

Chilviry in true form; hides in the modern world.

Equality of woman and men; yet woman adore being catered to,

How lovely to be spoiled; treated as if you were special despite feminism.

Only, keep your swords and your pistols in the vaults of history, 

A game of fists won’t usually solve the problem.

Slipping in through the cracks of ice in her shield, 

Growing warmth and heat, so her hard heart beats, 

Thawing out the cold; letting spring light up her voice, 

Allowing the light in her eyes to flourish and glow, 

Hiding winters barren drought filled radiation.

Rays of light, they ignite and bring fire to her tears, 

Bring a Princess, ignored and used —

Into the modern-era; she’s your Lady, so you treat her well, 

And all her love acquire in return.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Story Continuation Prompt: Fiction – ” Uncle Jerry’s Photograph” 


Thanks to Wandering Soul who hosts this challenge. You are supposed to write one or two more sentences to make a three line story with the prompt sentence. I tend to get inspired and end up with an entire story, jammed into two too long sentences. So I’m linking to her blog with my story inspired by the sentence: ” The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it.”

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http://www.denofgeeks.com

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The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it. I knew the photo was of my Grandpa’s brother Jerry, who had shot himself in the foot to get out of WWII. He had only been in France a week and spent most of his active duty attempting to make himself throw-up daily, so he didn’t have to fight but could remain in the infirmary. But Jerry’s Captain realized what Jerry was up to and put him back with his company to kill German soldiers.

Sadly, it wasn’t beyond Jerry’s cowardice to hide behind other soldiers in his squadron,  or use them as shields. I doubt Jerry’s company minded when he showed them  a German soldier had shot him in the foot; even though his squadron knew Jerry had shot himself to get out of fighting in the War. It wasn’t as if many soldiers hadn’t thought of shooting their own foot to escape War’s reality, but most of them knew their country needed them and took their duty as a soldier with pride.

Jerry’s fellow soldiers were glad to see ‘useless’  Jerry gone. He hadn’t made any friends and most men knew being Jerry’s friend meant he would desert you when you needed help; infact, life expectancy for members in Jerry’s old company went up when Jerry was sent home with a permanent limp.

Jerry told absurd and utterly fake stories about being a War hero when he returned to his family’s house in London. Jerry had even stolen a poor dead man’s medals to make it appear as if he had been recognized by England, Primeminister Churchill, and the Queen, for defending his country. 

But Jerry’s family didn’t believe his stories and doubted he had sacrificed himself to earn such high honours. Jerry’s family knew his personality, the cowardliness and cunning that always lurked behind Jerry’s every action. 

War was awful and terrifying, but Jerry’s father who had fought in WWI and Jerry’s permanently wounded brother Clancy, who fought in WWII, believed Jerry should be doing his duty back in France. Soldiers were being shipped to the beaches of Normandy and neither Jerry’s father or Clancy thought the slight limp that Jerry most likely gave himself, should stop a soldier from doing his duty.

 Jerry eventually left home during the War, wandering the roads in different towns, lost and afraid that death would catch up with him because he had avoided it in France. In the shadow of a pale moon, a bomb flew from the sky one night, and Jerry met his end in England, near his family’s home. 

Both Jerry’s father and brother Clancy, at last we’re proud of him. The bomb from a German airplane had hit Jerry and not another person or a building full of civilians. Jerry hadn’t intended on being the bombs target, but his family felt they could remember the cowardly man with a bit of pride now.

 Jerry’s photo, Grandpa Clancy said, should remind us Grandchildren to be brave and not use others because we are afraid, as Uncle Jerry had done in his life. Grandpa Clancy’s Grandchildren knew what true sacrifice was when their Grandfather showed them the stump that was once his left leg. 

Clancy had never bothered with a prosthetic limb. His leg stump spoke volumes to a generation who did not realize what a sacrifice so many men had made so their children and Grandchildren could be free from men such as Hitler and his Nazis.

Clancy had loved his brother. The part of Jerry who was a scheming coward, Clancy had never been able to understand. Scared or not, a man has to do what a man had to do, especially during a War. Clancy was cheered that in death, his brother Jerry may have been brave.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Triolet – ” Being Complete” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt word incomplete.

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http://www.portauthorityarchive.com
 

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Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Words forgotten while talking, in instant.

Writing tests for school, answers won’t release.

Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Buying into a condo, bank won’t give lease.

Putting together wrong ingredients redundant, 

Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Words forgotten while talking, in instant.

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Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Incompleteness a feeling, we conceal,

Not feeling whole, no other half, you’ve seen —

Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Why can’t you be complete in yourself and lead,

Others to be incharge of feeling too revealed.

Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Incompleteness a feeling, we conceal.

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Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation.

You’re stronger then you think, a mighty Queen.

Don’t need to be grande, a strong sensation.

Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation,

No incompleteness here, for information.

Strength is a quality, forged unseen,

Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation.

You’re stronger then you think, a mighty Queen.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.