Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Relationship, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: A Thousand Was Not Enough #fiction #amwriting #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. 

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Credit: Dev Benjamin via Unsplash

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Scattered in vivacious colors, a thousand was not enough, but would’ve a thousand paper cranes healed you, done anything? I guess they weren’t for you, they were for me, to keep my hands busy as your eyes glassed over and the pain meds kicked in; they stopped me from crying out from asking, why you didn’t even try to heal, for you, for me. I leaned over your bedside the paper cranes around us and you gave me a half grin with your dimpled cheek, somehow there when all other reserves of flesh were gone; then you were gone before I could  memorize your last smile. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, LaCharta - aaaaabb ccccdd etc. - 8 syllables, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Collage Prompt: How Edges Are Smoothed #amwriting #poetry #LaCharta


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Obscured by flowers she slumbers;

In restless sleep, dreams and wonders. 

Of every place she could be stumbling. 

She’s on a bus; she’s left and coming. 

Engaging, discovering the world, 

Hands in the air, gives happy twirl. 

—–

She knows she’s one of those shattered

Those broken people, hearts scattered. 

All she lost hurts her, still matters, 

She’s travelling, her soul battered

Wherever she feels she goes free —

Never having felt mindless glee. 

—–

In parks she discovers nature’s gifts, 

Rain falling down in healing bliss. 

Frost on the pine trees, light snow drifts;

Fall’s leaves hanging with an ice kiss.

Dew drops on the pine needles caught, 

Icicled and splendid shots. 

—-

Shuttering Nikon bright photos, 

Numerous, exquisite, with notes —

Written neatly underneath rows. 

Photos printed, memories wrote. 

Publishes first book from afar, 

Remains here; she’s seen lucent stars. 

—-

Gleaming, brilliant lights overhead, 

New home to heal, words yet unsaid. 

Forgets past, hangs laundry instead, 

Milk in jug for children, she’s wed; 

Life remoulded into her dreams, 

Someone loves her, he teases. 

——

They laugh with each other love spun; 

Knows her well but she’s cut him some. 

Yet he heals, heals her too; he proves —

Love is the balm, steady, true. 

Whenever her edges spike through, 

Holds her tight until she’s smooth, soothed. 

—–
LaCharta

“The LaCharta, created by Laura Lamarca, consists of a minimum of 3 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. Each stanza contains 6 lines. The syllable count is 8 per line in iambic tetrameter and the rhyme scheme is aaaabb ccccdd eeeeff and so on. “La” is Laura Lamarca’s signature and “Charta” in Latin, simply means “poem”.”

Please see Shadow Poetry for further information.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Free Verse – ” A Day in the City”


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And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I challenge you to fill out, in no more than five minutes, the following “Almanac Questionnaire,” which solicits concrete details about a specific place (real or imagined). Then write a poem incorporating or based on one or more of your answers. Happy writing!

 

 

 

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Edmonton at Night
Edmonton at Night (www.pinterest.com)
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Warm Spring Day at fifteen degrees,

In our pretty bungalow near the River Valley,

Gerber Daisies on the table, warm colours please,

Resting on a tablecloth, Easter pastels gladly.

—–

The dog lies under the table in my art studio,

I’ve tried to paint her, but she never sits still long.

Driving downtown to immerse myself, with dog go.

Bask in the presence of the farmer’s market’s throngs.

—-.

Dog walking beside me, enjoying all her doggy friends.

Conversation with some guy about Hockey playoffs,

Not many Canadian teams made it, no matter in the end.

Many Canadian players, play for American teams, so layoff.

——

Walking down the street past ancient buildings,

Observing the walls speckled, thoughtless youth wrote graffiti.

Some call it ‘art’ while others would say ‘you’re dreaming.’

Obscenity scrawled haphazardly, done messily.

——

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Asks the aged vendor selling peaches.

I give him a smile, saying: “I’m happy to be single right now.”

Subject change, “Have you seen my new puppy?” Subject now out of reach.

Old guy is comfortable, complains of gas prices and frowns.

——

Oil prices particularly  bad, so I let him know gas prices are low.

He doesn’t understand; when he was young gas cost barely anything.

Ready to move on, I don’t want to be rude; dog barks, “time to go.”

He talks more, the Terwilliger Park Foot Bridge opening this spring.

——-

The new bridge has an amazing minimalist design,

I tell the vendor about biking there with my Dad,

When my brothers and I were younger, biking was fine.

Following closely, didn’t want to get spanked as we had.

——-

Then slipping away I wander to other booths,

Comfortable in leggings and thin white sweater,

The dog wants to run, I can tell; We leave, dog approves.

Down to the river valley on the off leash trails is better.

——-

We have to watch out for the Beavertaur — a mythical animal,

But some say they have seen it on the prowl.

Both beaver and minotaur; a creature quite unimaginable.

For those walking river valley trails, the situation could be foul.

——

My friend has sworn upon Wayne Gretzky’s statue,

That he barely escaped the Beavertaur with his life.

Made me laugh; today the dog and I are fine, no snafu.

We went on home and we had a nap, long day but no strife.

——

Gazing out my window, to the brick patio below,

Think we need outdoor furniture, to enjoy in the sun.

Remembering family friend, left life’s flow.

Gone for five-years already, in heaven’s quiet hum.

——

She babysat me when I was small, thirteen years my senior,

Reading Appley Dapply Nursery Rhymes; beloved childhood book,

Then settling in bed I sleep for a moment, no dreams either.

Hearing cats screeching, the dog barking, awake I’m shook.

——

In alley, a neighbour’s trash bin — scattered garbage,

You can’t leave your trash out, the cats will make a meal of it,

Neighbours leave their bags in the open always unguarded,

I’m annoyed, but I roll my eyes and think, ‘forget about it.’

—–

Vacation thoughts stir my mind in other directions,

A trip in Canada, much easier then going through US border.

Maybe, Quebec City or Montreal, thoughts and reflections.

Killing a large spider with a block of wood; restored order.

—–

It’s good luck to kill a spider, he won’t end up in your house.

Dog is whining; she wasn’t outside with me,

That’s just life I tell her; TV on, channel browse,

The debate: aren’t we the City of Champions? Can’t you see?

—–

Or does the Oiler’s last ten-seasons make us champions not?

It’s more than merely about playing hockey,

It’s a way of acting, some people don’t understand that talk.

Being a champion in the heart, it’s  Edmonton’s image worthy.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.