Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Prose Poetry – “Chop, chop. He Chops” #amwriting #flashfiction #lumberjack #prosepoetry


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Loretta Notto

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Chop, Chop. Chop the wood. Repeat. Chop. Chop. Day ends — Supper. Shower. Sleep too deep. Jarring alarm, awake again. Breakfast. Shower. Sore muscles hurt. Heat eases. More coffee. Uniform and axe. Greet the guys. Say hello — going off. All directions on the forest grid. Each with a partner. Nick is with me. A cadence of chops. Echoes. Chop. Chop. Chop the wood. Split it. Chop, chop. Chop the wood. The trees are felled. Grinding buzzing. Giant chain saw. Felling trees. Cutting logs. Then we chop. Chop, chop. Chop the wood. Lunch. Hungry. Seconds. Chop. Home. Shower. Supper. Eat. Sore muscles. Sleep and dream. Standing there. In her T-shirt. Sweet lips. Short shorts. Gentle laughter. Stroke of hand. Touch. So real. Chop, chop. Chop the wood. Dreaming. She’s gone. Three hours. Then, chop, chop. Chop the wood. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Free Verse, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

 Day 24 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Art of a Story and Death” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday flashfiction prompt. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art.” The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Prompt begins with the letter U. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl – Her Photograph and work of art for the prompt 🙂

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To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarates, the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, however, retreats from life by turning in into slumber. The other arts make no such retreat— some because they use visible and hence vital formulas, others because they live from human life itself. 

― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet”

(Sorry finding a Q name for this piece impossible but there is Q in Disquiet!)

———

The photograph is lovely at first, 

A brilliant blue sky, soft winds of cool breezes, 

The Atlantic still icy, but forgiving. 

Trees rise and guard the home, the lighthouse, 

Ancient ones in slumber as spring yet approaches. 

Rock walls prevent a fall below, to the unforgiving chill. 

Hypothermia comes quickly here, 

But the scenery makes up for the inherent danger. 

Bright pink of the house stands out and the tower above matches, 

Glows in the night when the boats pass by, 

Protecting and guiding ships. 

The long grass still waiting to be verdent, 

Not dry crumpled straw. 

And the owners of the house are silent, keeping to themselves, 

Their only sense of existing, is the light that glares, when outside the tower is dark. 

Spring is slowly birthing, but the ocean’s still freezing, 

And the danger is too real for ships too close.  

And a stranger walking watches from the dim, 

Holding back a dog barking in madness. 

The bulb has burnt out, now disaster is unhinged, 

The ship clips the cliff, the house crumbles and the ship sinks, 

Screams in the night, in the Atlantic’ waters cold numbness. 

And when all is said and done, only the lighthouse stands, 

With a burnt out bulb of fault. 

How can this photograph be a work of art? 

Is there art in dying? 

Or is art and death as a perception, to ambigious to be real? 

———



——–

©Mandibelle16. 2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Current Events, Flash Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix Flash Fiction: Someday Love #amwriting #flashfiction #nonfiction 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt on love

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——–

Love is all you need? Whoever said that perhaps was in the first stages of love.They hadn’t seen the nitty gritty yet, what separates those we love and those who truly love us from those who are but memories or experiences in our lives. To be honest with you, I’ve realized what I’ve felt of being ‘in’ love was so short it was hardly there. But I know what it was because I know what love’s not. It hurts thinking back to that time even though it was barely real. 

I was also with a guy much longer and the love I tried to convince myself I felt, didn’t exist. In a sense I’m glad it wasn’t authentic because love is painful. It doesn’t mean because you’re in love with someone everything’s suddenly perfect. Love in relationships is a ton of work combined with trust which takes time to build. It’s a given your other half will do stupid and thoughtless things at times and so will you. Whatever the relationship, we’re all human and make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes are huge and hurtful. 

But in the spaces in-between are these perfect moments of sometimes physical but always heartfelt gestures of love, fleeting but memorable; these are the moments lovers live for. Love is being unselfish and it’s difficult for any human to consider someone else before themselves all the time. It would seem to me we need so much more than only love. But I know lasting love is possible because I know my Lord who says: “We love, because her first loved us.” With those words in my life, I feel this whole ‘true love’ thing might be a possibility someday. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Stuck In A Moment


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.


giant-ffftpp
Credit: Roger Shipp

Diana was listening to U2 when she spotted the statue. He was carved out of black marble,  his athletic form highly emphasized.

“Stuck In a Moment” played on her phone and she chuckled to herself thinking this statue was indeed “stuck in a moment” and he would never be able to “get out of it.”

Circling him, Diana examined the statues form from all angles. She touched him, loving how smooth his marble skin felt. She was surprised when her touch sparked a light.

The light traveled through the veins and muscles of the statue from his feet up to his neck, flickering into the features of his face. Suddenly, what stood before Diana was an attractive man.

He grinned at Diana, unaware of his own nakedness. Smiling he clasped Diana’s hand before kissing her soundly. Then, he walked off into the crowded street, drawing unheard of female attention.

Diana continued her own way back to work unsure if what she experienced was real. She couldn’t help but think, the man who had been a statue, gave her the best kiss she’d had in forever.


“Stuck In A Moment” – U2


©Mandibelle16. (20170 All Rights Reserved.

Books, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories

Collage Prompt: #Fiction – Alice Series – Wild and Untamed #amwriting #aliceinwonderland #alicethroughthelookingglass


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt.

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MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Alice was home from school. She hated boarding school, but she hadn’t had a choice. Her father had insisted his daughter have the best education a girl could have. This meant school was not merely academics as it was for boys. Her boarding school was an all girls boarding school and a great deal of focus was put into “the finishing school” aspect of education for women. 

She needed to learn how to be a proper hostess and wife; those were the ideals of the Victorian woman. She needed to be the angel in the house, the moral compass of her household. 

Alice spent countless classes based on the proper religion for an English girl. The God her school taught about, was an an angry God; judgemental and all powerful. He didn’t seem particularly forgiving. But she was told doing her duty as woman would make God happy. 

Alice and her best friends Margaret and Prudence, often liked to cause trouble. They played tricks and sometimes skipped their more tedious classes. The girls were often punished with rulers smacking their hands soundly until they couldn’t feel them. Or writing lines of verses from The Bible until their fingers were too numb to write or days. 

 All in all, the school couldn’t punish Alice and her friends how the would’ve punished other girls. Her and her friends were daughters of enomoreous patrons of the girl’s school. 

That being said, Alice was excited to go home for the summer. She thought fondly of her childhood, her dreams that always wandered to her childhood fantasy world Wonderland. 

——

When the carriage dropped her off, Alice approached her home with a bit of trepidation. Her mother had been angry she had left flowers all over the headmasters office. The man had almost had a heart attack and Alice had laughed and laughed when she heard what he discovered. Bringing her suitcase with her, she opened the front door. 

Suddenly, the house started to move in various directions from the front entrance.  Staircases opened from every way, along with doors leading to God knows where. 

Alice had a peculiar feeling, she was travelling back to her childhood world. Staircases continued to rumble and groan as they moved. Leaving her suitcase, Alice jumped onto a staircase leading to a familiar giant golden door knob with a large decorated keyhole underneath.

Suddenly, the door knob sneezed. “You again. I thought I’d seen the last of you.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“Alice, yes? I remember. I had a cold last time you were here too; although, you’ve grown since then. Thinned out too, you were a bit fat for awhile, all that bread.” 

She gasped, “Excuse me, the ideal woman these days, has a round body with childbearing hips, my teachers told me and my mother agrees. And you aren’t even real. I’m dreaming.” 

“I wish the staircases would stop moving and the rest of the house weren’t so confusing. I have no idea where to go and I really was looking forward to a nap, ” Alice complained. 

The giant door knob sneezed again. “No Alice, I know you and you know me. You know us all. It’s been a while and you’ve blocked us out. We tried to visit, but you convinced yourself we were all childhood dreams, despite having been to Wonderland twice.” 

“You do play delightful tricks at school, I must say –you, Margaret, and Prudence. You should’ve brought them along . . . Then again, they wouldn’t believe Wonderland is real either. They don’t believe in magic, but you do. Oh, you deny it Alice but you do believe. You wouldn’t be back here if you didn’t,” the door knob lectured. 

Alice stomped her foot, “You’re not real.” 

“I am indeed, open me. Better yet, have some of that bread you like so much, in your left pocket first; it should do the trick.” 

She gasped and frowned when she put her hand in her pocket and found the delicious bread. She nibbled on the edge. Alice hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She took a bigger bite of bread and sighed with pleasure. 

“Not too much,” the door knob cautioned. She sniffed and raised her nose at him; she had shrunk in size considerably. Carefully, Alice turned the icky runny door knob nose, she needed no key. She stepped into another world; wiping her hands on her skirt, before gazing up in shock. 

—–

Alice truly was in the Wonderland of her youth. It appeared to be the same as she dreamt it to be. A path lay in front of her and she saw her body had become small. The grass and foliage around Alice was lush and towered over her.

She started to think of her old Wonderland friends when she came upon a catapillar on a large mushroom.”But you’re a butterfly now,” she said to the catapillar without thinking. 

The catapiller sniffed at her and took a long drag from his hookah. “Who are you? Have you figured it out yet? Time does pass. My great-grandfather spoke of you. Time doesn’t move so fast here. He’s out flying about and I’m waiting until I can fly too. Why have you returned?” 

Alice blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I went through a doorway talked to a door knob, shrank, and now I’m here. It’s not a dream is it?” 

The catapullar laughed, taking another drag. “I assure you. It’s all quite real. There’s a pathway going that way,” he pointed to his right. “You should go there. It leads somewhere important.” 

“I see it’s a dock and we’re below it. It’s so large. Should I go below it in the sand? Or should I grow larger and go ontop of the dock. It’s quite big when you’re only six-inches tall.” 

The catapillar laughed,  inhaling his hookah promptly after . “There you go insulting those of us only six-inches tall again. Do you have bread in your pocket to grow taller?” 

Alice searched in her right pocket, “No bread but I think the mushroom you are laying upon has one side which will make me larger. Alice ate of one side which made her shrink more, than climbed up the mushroom to eat off the other side. She grew until she was her normal size again. 

“Curious and curiouser,” she said. “This is all too familiar. I hope there’s no seagull who thinks I’m a serphant ready to eat her young.” 

“You can say that again,” the catapillar said smirking. He bowed his head as Alice walked off, having shoved a piece of mushroom in her right pocket for future use.

She walked ontop of the dock until there was nothing but a short stairwell leading to a row boat in the sea. She recalled this moment in her second journey to Wonderland. But there should be a sheep somewhere she reasoned. 

On que a sheep appeared and they both rowed off into the sea, but it wasn’t really a sea. Alice thought it was more like a river. The sheep said: “Bahhh,” then smiled at Alice.”Hello Alice have you learned to feather yet?” 

“Oh, that’s a rowing term. I understand now. Same with catching a crab. I was so young then, sheep. I reached for those rushes remember? They’re still look and smell lovely. You can never catch the most beautiful ones, they are free.” 

The sheep bleated and sighed. “Do you ever think, Alice, that beauty is not meant to be tamed or kept?” 

“It’s a curious question coming from a sheep. But I think beauty should be left to exist and shine. You’re saying I should leave the lovely smelling rushes alone?” Alice asked. 

The sheep sighed again. “I’m not talking about rushes. You should pay attention Alice. That school you go to and those Victorian norms and rules of society, do you think they’re all correct? Do you believe everything you are taught without question?” 

Alice wrinkled her forehead and thought. “No not really. My bestfriends don’t either. It’s why we play tricks, skip classes, it’s why I sit in class bored. I do not want to be a proper woman, a tamed or kept Victorian housewife with her brood of children. I don’t want to think God is always angry and mean; I think he’s benevolent too.” 

“Ah, I didn’t think you agreed with your education. I think in the future things will be better, only wait and don’t grow-up too much. Don’t forget Wonderland –we’ll see you when you dream. We need your wildness, Alice.”The sheep bleated again and Alice instantly, woke up. 

She was riding in a carriage to her house for summer vacation. She attempted to remember her dreams. Alice swore she dreamt of Wonderland vividly. But all she could remember was a sheep telling her to stay wild and untamed. She grinned thinking of the tricks she played at school. She wasn’t a tame women yet; never if she had her way.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonet - 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 syllables, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 16 – Cascading Nonets – “Authenticity” #amwriting #poetry 


Day 16 Prompt: In-depth

Have you ever researched a subject to the point that you were practically a master in it and it was only a hobby?Have you ever done anything deeply? Fallen in love, gone into business, tried something with such relentless determination that you barely came up for air?Write for ten minutes about any of the above, discover how deeply, or not, you have dived into what stirs your passion.”

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http://www.marketingforhippies.com

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If I look underneath to find truth, 

What’s hidden beneath and can’t be —

Found — only in the right light, 

What’s real is revealed. 

The truth of you; and I’ve —

Searched everywhere, 

Shocked that you’re

Not fake; 

Real. 

——

I, 

Find that, 

You’re not such —

A pain, you’re you, 

You’re genuine and —

Loyal, you don’t betray, 

You’re decent, kind; you’re so rare

Truth in a heap of lies, that we call —

(At times) life, but never really see —

——–

Authenticity is real it’s not —

A mere dream, trustworthy people, 

Exist in this world and they, 

Try to make you feel better. 

They try to do what’s right, 

They bring out your —

Best and you, 

Bring out, 

Theirs. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Fiction, My Thoughts, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Tanka - 5,7,5,7,7 syllables, Writing

#OctPoWriMo – Day 9 – Tankas – “Spiralling Nightmares” #amwriting #poetry


Day 9 Prompt – SPIRAL

“I love that you can find spirals from the tiniest places (our DNA) to massive expanses (the Milky Way) and everywhere in between. Free write about spiraling and see where you go – do you spiral up or down? Find where this word takes you and go from there.” 

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http://www.thebuzzfeed.com

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Whispy visions form, 

In our minds, in dreams, in sleep;

Foggy images, 

Are we us in our dreams so real? 

 Perhaps, we’re who we desire? 

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Perfected, ideal. 

No flaws, idiosyncrasies, 

We save the day and —

Our wishes come true and life, 

Is exactly how we would want. 

—–

Then again most dreams, 

Are ghastly and confusing.

People don’t make sense

You’re chasing someone or you’re —

Being chased — there’s no escape.

—–

You’re afraid and lost,

Your dreams, colourful, and vivid. 

Childhood friends are here, 

People you’ve seen only once —

Nightmares spiral, ripe with fear.

——

Facing an enemy, 

Bully from school, or those you —

Loved, or part of you does? 

What’s real? Will you remember? 

Why do your friends hide and yell? 

——

Or perhaps, you dream, 

Much more serenely and feel, 

A peace never felt,

 In waking hours never found, 

Tough living life; then you sleep . . .

—-

Do you sleep enough? 

Perchance to dream, feel refreshed

Or do you thrash and —

Scream, spiralling nightmare, 

Taking ahold preventing —

——

No waking, no sleep; 

Twisted and caught inbetween, 

What’s real and what’s not

The savage territory, 

Our mind’s fears torturing us

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Resevered. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Nothing Is Green #3Linetales #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3Line Tales: 

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Stephen Wei

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1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air. 

2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.

3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Poetry, Quotes, Tanka - 5,7,5,7,7 syllables, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Tankas – “The Best Kind of Mad.” #Maydays #amwriting 



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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is good madness. 

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http://www.pinterest.com

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I love that you have that —

Good madness, a bit of quirk.

Laughing and smiling, 

I’d rather have you a bit crazed, 

I worry when you’re lost, sad.

——

When you’re mad I know you’re —

Alive; your heart beating genius. 

Found in Wonderland, 

Where my favourite Alice went, 

Your my Mad Hatter; my match.

——

Not everyone would get —

Your peculiar mind which bends, forms.

Brilliant, but held, 

By societies normal.

I love your real craziness.

——

Genuinely you, 

I never worry you’re fake.

You always reveal, 

A hint of absurdity, 

You finish my sentences.

—–

Your crazy begins,

It meets with my own and we’re —

Blessed to be us; home.

In our otherly world lost, 

We are the best kind of mad.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Poetry, San San - abcabdcd - three terms repeat in poem., Writing

Maydays: Poem – San San – “Secrets on Paper, Deceitful Truths.” #Maydays #amwriting



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Thank you to K.L. Caley of new2writing for all of the #Maydays prompts. Please go into the link provided and give her a follow! Today’s prompt has to do with secrets and I’m going to do an eight line poem called a san san which repeats, three times, each of three terms or images. The eight lines rhyme in the pattern a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d.
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http://www.incolors.club

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I’ll write you my secrets if you write me —

Yours; we’ll scribble them on note paper, you’ll–

Read my deceitful sins and I’ll read yours.

When we’re done sharing secrets we’ll burn free —

Our twisted minds; smoke curling paper fuel, 

Deceit decaying flames –snatching your truth.

That’s why I’ve paper unburned, secrets yours.

Deceit in me shares secrets; you’ve no proof.

——-

You thought I gave secrets, you thought from me–

You tore out a page, paper hiding fuel, 

Cunning deceit, saw I in you, I tore —

Up my true secrets and gave you shallow dreams.

You’re not to be trusted on paper; you’re cruel, 

Telling all deceitfully; no real proof.

So I lied to you and your paper rules.

Keeping my secrets safe; my deceit is truth.

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.