Notable Quotes: August 2018: Part One #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Happy August! Here’s some Wine and Words too soothe your soul and make you laugh. If you’re like me, most wine you’re having in summer is in your sangria, but a sweet bottle of Rose, Red, or hey, even Red, is wonderful chilled in the summer evening.

Hoping everyone’s been enjoying themselves if you’re off on summer vacation or break, and if you’re in the middle of another season, I hope you’re enjoying some cooler weather as in some places (Australia or Italy for example), summer can be miserably hot.


I’m off to my first Writer’s Conference in a week or so, and I’m excited to be among Writer-folk in person for a bit, and not only online. I enjoy both, but a change of scenery is nice, as is spending some time with a great friend, Psychologist, and Steeped Tea Sipologist. Also, back to house sit and chill with my puppy-friend Jenga, while her owners are away a few days before the conference!


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Ipsy Bag: June 2018 #Ipsy #beauty #Ipsysocialbutterfly #Ipsybag #makeup #skincare


Here’s what I received in this month’s Ipsy Bag. To join the beauty subscription you can sign up at Ipsy.


June’s Cute Case in Support of Pride Month.


This month’s little subscription card.


PD Cosmeceuticals Infused Nail Lacquer (Polish) – The nail polish is nice, but not my color.


Feel PURE Anywhere Balm – Rose: This stuff is amazing! I loved it for chapped or cracked lips, especially at the corners. I’ve never had such issues with chapped lips in summer and usually find that Aragon Oil will heal the cracks at the corner of my mouth in a night. But it hasn’t been working, so this Balm has been working great as a kind of salve for my lips and mouth area in dry weather. Nice flavor too!


FINDING FERDINAND Nude/Pink Lipstick: Moisturizing and also the perfect nude/pink. I’m happy with this little lipstick choice this month 🙂


Kenzie Fragrance: I’m not sure what this perfume or fragrance is called. It doesn’t smell bad or good. It’s kind of a ‘meh’ scent. Maybe it’s a natural perfume, but I think the scent itself could be better.


MAC Prep & Prime – Skin Base Visage – MY FAVORITE! This stuff is amazing 🙂 It’s a primer and gel moisturizer in one. It’s so light and wonderful under makeup everyday to keep your makeup on through the day and also in the heat. This one I am going to purchase. It’s about $38.00 CAN on the MAC website.


©Mamdibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 30/Photo Challenge: Free Verse – “A symphony Intrinsic” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


For NaPoWriMo Day 30 is: ” to write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinatingfact. It could be an odd piece of history, an unusual bit of art trivia, or something just plain weird.” I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’sPhoto Challenge.


Credit: Nicolas Bruno


We didn’t have smartphones, flip-phones,

No second lines or iron rotary phones.

Just a ‘can’ to yell back and forth,

Every kid in every neighbourhood had one,

And gossip was damaging;

Persistently strangling its victims.

But, we had no internet or wifi, no dial-up modem,

We penned epics in burnt-sienna cursive.

Our handwriting perfection,

As the pages stretched for hours.

Your morada -inked letters rumpled in my hand,

Holding the ‘can’ to my ear,

As morse-code clicks bullets at pigeons.

And we drifted near drowning in our childhood pond,

Too many words said, too many left unsaid;

Too many deeds done, too many left undone.

I never dreamed we’d split;

That pliers and scissors could strip string and wire —

That alone we were too weak,

To go beyond what our fathers said,

And the fears our mothers chided.

I didn’t know what we had together existed

But then, it was gone.

The water rose higher,

Warm water crushing breath;

Until I snuck out at night if only to survive,

To repair the damage wrought.

I forgot about technology,

The meaning of symbols or alphabets.

I climbed over your window sill,

I woke you with all those words,

The phrases I couldn’t keep inside.

Languages long lost but to us —

Centuries of unexpressed thoughts.

I listened as your morada-handwriting,

Echoed in silver-glitter when you spoke.

A melody that flew as butterflies,

Mediterranean giants with cobalt, crystal wings.

It was eons until everything bled-out,

Then, we were silent.

Lying together, limbs, lips, and laughter,

Bodies loving.

Saying all other words with sensation.

As the sky became serene, and sunlight filtered in,

And you traced my lips in awe,

I trembled and nipped your thumb.

For once we perceived the best tool for understanding,

Was to speak in person;

To converse, cry, yell, and observe–

Each other’s quirks and emotions.

The subtle signs we once knew,

Of sensuous appeal sublime and expressive.

Of rose perfume and musty libraries;

Of summer’s swimming and sunscreen,

Grass sharp and tangy in its freshness.

Your lips as berries devoured,

As forever lengthened our bones,

Made are skin supple, curved and honed.

Your hands on five-o’clock’ shadowed cheeks;

Wistfulness and whispered prayers.

Sins of afternoons and mornings lost,

Of nights spent miserable and alone;

Because we did not sit face to face and talk.

Our greatest gift — our human bodies,

Machines of the grandest designer,

His ‘plans’ can’t be derived, copied or improved;

And all sense of confusion,

Streamed past as estuaries scurried into oceans;

Our pond overflows with fresh water.

Hands wrapped as ribbons, never letting go,

Hazel-eyes to azure knowing the way we are now, is much more —

We were never meant to be alone.

Forlorn in this age of deception,

Forlorn without guidance in the dim.

No ‘cans’ to listen or letters written,

We’re humans at time’s dawn,

Our voices a rhythm sanguine,

A symphony absorbed and intrinsic.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Poem – The Blitz – “The Maiden and The Dragon” #amwriting #taleweavers #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt about a quest, such as the ones JRR Tolkien writes about in his famous books. 

———–

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——-

Dragons are here, I know it

Dragons beware, my sword is sharp

Sharp as the knives hid on my body

Sharp as the tongue of my wife

Wife said, “Do not go” 

Wife begged, yet I went 

Went through the haunted forest dark 

Went through the storms, muck, and mire

Mire as quicksand, sucked in my body

Mire that almost swallowed my life

Life burnt a flaming hole so wide

Life’s flame would not flicker out

Out of the muck and mire pulled

Out of certain death to rescue a princess

Locked in a tower for my Lord, my King 

Locked in a tower and languishing

Languished she did for centuries

Languished as a spell had been cast

Cast, so she would always sleep

Cast, because evil always hates

Hates beauty and goodness

Hates who this princess is said to be 

Be afraid though, I warn you, friend 

Be vigilant in your task to save 

Saving the princess isn’t the challenge

Saving her, I wondered, where is the dragon? 

Dragon she rose from the depths of beauty 

Dragon was the the princess herself 

Herself screaming, “I am the dragon”

Herself shouting, “I will eat you whole” 

Wholly she transformed in that fiery beast

Wholly she was a scaled, sulphereous demon

Demon who cried, “I am no damsal in distress”

Demon who seethed, “I protect me” 

Me, I gazed upon the languishing beauty 

Me, my eyes met the dragons yellow-eyed stare

Stared into my soul, saw I was a ruin 

Stared into my heart, saw I was wretched

Wretched cursed princess, the dragon? 

Wretched as the princess waiting 

Waiting and no one came so she grew tired

Waiting as she wrecks her vengeance 

Vengeance because no hero is true 

Vengeance, she can depend only on herself, no heroes 

Hereo, the archetypal kind who abuse poor maidens

Heroe, is there such a man who ever existed? 

Existed a hero she once did love 

Existed her hero but he never came — she remains cursed 

Cursed though she be, I could not destroy the beast

Cursed, she knows not why she is punished, cursed. 

Beast but still a girl, so I left, ashamed I could not save her. 

Cursed, she lingers on my mind, the maiden, the dragon as one

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Green For Jealousy” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——

Credit: Jade M. Wong 2016

———

She used to be green, envious of those, 

Who moved with more than their clever placed prose. 

Green burned within her eyes, she fought to know, 

More than the forest invading souls; chose —

To see beyond green, jealousy which rose. 

Stronger person, tougher girl who fought those, 

Who placed her in such tight square-pegged green holes. 

Beyond emotion to soft grace she rose. 

——

Envy tears apart, so green and seething

A monster growing her sharp teeth, teething;

A vindictive being, behind scenes teasing.

No more green for her, she dreams in light blues, 

No more green, peaceful serenity cued;

Jealousy hits door, tosses emerald shoes. 

——-

© Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

The Complexities of Red #thoughts #amwriting #nonfiction


Credit: Giovanni Licea – YouTube

I considered the colour red. How I’m equally attracted and repelled by it. How I pass by a red v-neck sweater in the right shade, but mix my acrylic colours, blend them until my instincts say stop; stop sign red. No wait . . . a bright cool startling red appears on my canvas. I think this is passion and passion is the boldest red. I think of how I not only crave to paint in vivid red, but in many vivid colours and textures. How I trace the feeling of layered paints with my fingers, and hunger for other colours with my eyes – blue, green, and purple. Though I adore all these colours, my favourite paintings are all in red.
 As with my love for sexy heels, which I adore in red too. If red is passion, what more can I say about women and sensuality then red shoes. They’re expression and fierceness. Like Kelly Picklers song “Red High Heels” — “I’m about to show you just how missing me feels, in my red high heels . . .” Red for revenge, red for moving on, red for love. But I hate red for love, it’s memory is sickening. He looked good in that colour – almost the best. 

Credit: Sam Roloff – “The Big Red One”
Yet red is so many things more. It’s anger, hate, rage, hurt, demons dreaming — the beast inside who does not die. Red is sinful, delicious, and deadly. It’s sex and power; a primilness. It’s royalty and blood, red blood spilled for in the body it’s blue (hence bluebloods). I love how classic red is — nothing more classic then a cat eye and red Bridget Bardot lips. Nothing as classic as red Mustang. 

I don’t wear red, the colour outshines me and doesn’t fit with such pale skin and blond hair. Please no red dress – I’d rather blend in and be a classic black or navy dress cut perfectly. But I seek out bits of red and cling to them, not wanting red to blind me. Only some sparkle and razzle dazzle to hold in my hand. Red nail polish is beautiful, with a bit of bling  Red as some of the lights in Las Vegas and red fireworks; red stoplights. 

Red is perplexing because it’s complex, not simple at all. Red is nationalism and red is internationalism. It’s a proud Canadian colour and I don’t mind wearing it on our Nation’s Birthday. Or cheering on our Canadian hockey teams in the Olympics and junior hockey. 

As well, roses are so divine, so deadly pricking your finger. Red, passion and pain. Together swirled these colours of red, of love, and hate collide. There are many shades of grey, but even more shades of red. It’s more than a primary colour it calls as a siren, “Look see me.” No one hides in red. Red cars are often caught barely speeding and Red is a theme of many songs albums as in “Red” as T. swifts song and album and the Beatles album “Redone.” Red as “My love is like a red red rose.” Some choral song I cannot recall. 

Credit: Jeannette Mattson – “Red Rose” – Fine Art America

But I’m sitting here, music blaring trying to decide what to paint. I’ve that special shade of red and it’s mixing and melding with other colours. Shades and tones. I see, red on my canvas and it bleeds. Red blood, blood . . .life, the most prolific association. Red is blood. Blood is life. Red such as poppies, that we must always remember. Red for anger, red for hate, for war. Red to hurt, poor the droplets down a crystal glass. Red red wine. To drink away the blood and crippling thoughts. Red to forget. I like a Malbec with bite. A Zinfandel to make me chatty. A Merlot or Cav-Sav with some friends. Red sangria is delicious. Red strawberry margaritas because there’s real fire in tequila. Red is too many things, too symbolic, too self-contradictory. Red is life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Sun’s Ascent


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW:


sunset-ff
Credit: Footy and Foodie

Words deserted her as fire shot across the sky. She welcomed sunrise casting brilliant light into the dawn, while purple-tinged clouds of white still held wisps of night’s inky black guise.

Beautiful sunrises were evocative for her and could easily bring forth a memory. They had the power to make her eyes hunger and delight, to forget her words. A sunrise’s influence kept her caught in a distinct moment of enjoyment, while at the same time, lost in thought.

The rising sun also inspired prayers of thankfulness. It was a raw moment in nature, primordial to her being. No matter what she was experiencing in life, the sunrise momentarily healed her. Sunlight glazing across the dawn sky mended her body, alleviated her suffering. 

Above all she thought, the hope a sunrise brought was vital. Each day it rose, she was graced with another day to do better and be better. To her, this sense of hope was most profound. It was why she cried, tasting the salt of her tears, as the sun finished it’s ascent.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo – Day 25 –  Alouette – “Insatiable Red”


Day 25 Prompt: Red
“When I was growing up I extremely disliked the color red, not sure if the fact I had red hair had anything to do with it or not. It wasn’t until a few years back that I started to enjoy red and now I love it. I completely embrace red! How about you? Love it? Hate it? Don’t feel anything about it? I have always enjoyed big red barns though, I think it is because my great grandparents lived/owned/worked on their ranch with a big red barn and farmhouse. I loved having family gatherings out there.” 
——–

watery-rose-l
http://www.hiddenworldphotos.com

“Red” – Taylor Swift


Too bright hurts my eyes, 👀

Step-back, blinded by —

Red; the colour kindly few like.

Forceful, seductive, 💋

Not for reluctant.

It’s sunsets with the fall of leaves bright. 🌅


Maple trees red sigh,  🍁

And red eyes crying.  😭

Mighty power, red does lend.💰

Most sold lipstick —red; 👄

Classic colour said;

Cadillacs, Mercedes Benz.  🚗


Royal, wealth of land,  👑

Expensive dye’s hand —

Made scarlet; a king’s fine robes. 🔱

Privilege, money. 💰

Repulsive, funny,

Never liked, but on my toes. 👣


Women opt for red

Cooler; warmer red

Men’s own own chosen taste;  💪

Brilliant red, sexy; 💋

Elegant, regal, next. 👑

Amount changes, moods, tastes.


Trashy women in —

Sultry plastic.

Grace of love felt; most fav shoes. 👠 👗

Naughty and nice, 👍

Santa and Christmas; 🎄

Lights saying stop, you’ll lose.


Curious colour,

Loved or hated fleur.

Rose, hibiscus, poinsettias. 🌹

Different meanings,

Red fleurs, never seen; 🌹

Dancers doing flamenco. 💃🏼


For myself I think,

Preference for pink. 💗

A tint of red, more like me.

A bit of lipstick. 💄

If I must wear it.

Sport’s teams, and broken heart’s pleas. 💔


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.


NaPoWriMo: Poem – Musette – “I Saw Him First”


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And now, for our prompt (optional, as always). Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that tells a story. But here’s the twist – the story should be told backwards. The first line should say what happened last, and work its way through the past until you get to the beginning. Now, the story doesn’t have to be complicated (it’s probably better if it isn’t)! Here’s a little example I just made up:

Please see NaPoWriMo for further information.


The Musette, created by Emily Romano is a poem that consists of three verses of three lines each. The first lines have two syllables; the second lines have four syllables, and the third lines have two syllables. The rhyme scheme is a/b/a for the first verse; c/d/c for the second verse, and e/f/e for the third verse. The title should reflect the poem’s content.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information on a Musette.


Jealous kids
http://www.pinterest.com

Dead on —

Stairs; Rose stares off,

Glimpse gone.


Seeing,

Nothing anymore,

Freeing.


Walking,

Out of her house,

Gawking.


Neighbours,

Fighting again,

Wavers.


Inside,

Drinking hot tea,

Resides.


Cleaning —

House, Restoring,

Gleaming.


China–

Dolls glistening.

Kinda.


Alone,

No one else home,

Enthroned.


Her chair,

Sit wondering,

Not fair.


Jil took,

Has Ted and kids,

Ted’s looks.


Rose wants —

Ted; Jil stole him,

Jil flaunts.


Young Rose,

Beauty gifted,

Such Pose.


First time,

Rose saw Ted stare,

Sublime.


They kiss,

Under stairs hide,

In bliss.


Before,

Jilly saw him,

Adored.


Rosey,

Girl every guy,

Mostly —


Wanted.

Rosey saw Ted,

Sauntered.


Jilly,

Loved Ted, before

Rosey.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Index – “Remembring in Cold”


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Finally, our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

For further information please see NaPoWriMo. My source is The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors, 7th Ed.

——

About sufferring they were never wrong,

A little black thing among the snow,

I sit wondering if there is somewhere that is home.

Ah! changed and cold, how changed and very cold!

I’m merely looking for a warm place to sleep,

To dream of Air and Angels, not to experience bitter frost,

I’m An old, mad, blind, despised,and dying King,

Every where around the world I have seen,

—–

In control of my own life, remembering —

  A women’s face with Nature’s own hand painted.

I miss my Queen, Behold her, single in the field.

She’s gone on even when I cried:

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy.

But I jest, I could not stop her death,

Now I sit here in this park praying,

Come down, O Christ, and help me! Reach thy hand,

But this Darkling Thrush is on his own so frozen, he is burning hot,

——-

Seeing her: Drink to me only with thine eyes Faerie Queene, 

Farewell: thou art to dear for my possessing.

My Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,

There is a Folly of Being Comforted by your memories,

I Go and Catch A Falling Star in the bitter night,

Hoping it will warm these decaying bones,

Life went by quickly, so many Good-Morrows,

Those who know me would say:

He never expected much only prayed — A Hollow M[a]n, 

How vainly me themselves amaze.

—–

[I] would drink by myself had I some money,

I have no name I would think, as I Look into my Glass,

In this strange labyrinth [of life] how shall I turn?

Oh Rose, thou art sick, I couldn’t save you,

O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being return,

I’ve been trapped in winter so long, I forget, in Pains of Sleep,

Past and Present, blur together and Splendor Falls,

I’m Standing aloof in giant ignorance,

Starlight night, the only warmth, as my breath shows in the cold.

——-

Ten years ago it seemed impossible,

That the world, my loved ones, would forget me,

The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

They say that hope is happiness and you and me will be together soon,

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon,

[I am the] Hollow [man]; Weep with me, all that you read,

You that with allegory’s curious frame, 

Don’t miss me, as in the night I freeze,

Thoughts ventured to her,

Why should I blame her she filled my days,

And so it seems she fills, my heavenly thoughts, at rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.