#OctPoWriMo Day 21/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Burn Brightly Sun Flower” #photochallenge #poetry 


OctPoWriMo Day 21’s theme is nothing remains the same. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Photo Challenge. 

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Credit: Denise Kwong
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Burn brighter burn free, 

Life has rich possibility. 

Burn brighter blaze paths. 

You can go wherever you must, 

Let your soul live, although your experience lacks. 

Be an inferno and burn skyward, 

With every broken breath; 

Endurance is key. 

As the most golden sunflowers, 

Shine sunny with ease. 

Life doesn’t mean your always strong, 

It means at times your delapitated,

Destroyed, fire burning out. 

But you can rise up, rebuild, 

Don’t hide in your space suit,

Embrace the sunflowers, eat their seeds,

Be free of your worries and breath. 

You form the mountains, 

The ones you must climb. 

You know the source of your eternal flame, 

You’ll find the emotion, your heart strength, and soul power, 

To carry on when you must. 

So that even when you’re shattered,  

There’s light in your embers; 

Fire stirring in yesterday’s cinders. 

And you’ll rise up and quiver, 

As the flames reach higher; 

Although your afraid of being scorched, 

Of never rising completely, 

Burning brightly is passion to keep pushing forward. 

Your life is more than tranquility, 

Its a bonfire of fortitude and one long day from now, 

Your soul will flutter into eternity; 

Your inner flame, your blessed soul, 

Lives on by faith, cascading passed a finite world. 

Past stumbling rocks, 

Toil that made you sweat. 

Past your fears and tears, 

Beyond to embers reigniting —

Without end. 

Burn fierce little girl, the world is yours, 

Burn fierce little boy, you’ve many choices. 

First, burn brightly in freedom to play and be young, 

Love with passion, 

With a smile as sunflowers young. 

Beam full of laughter, 

Fueling your inner fire. 

Burn fierce and discover —

Quiet fires run deep, 

But will never snuff out, 

Into nothingness. 

With the depth of soul fire, 

Flames extinguished rise, 

Are as lively wild fires, 

Magnificent sunflowers. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 18 – Ottava Rima – “Nature’s Cradle” #amwriting #poetry


Day 19 Prompt: Tree

Trees are necessary for our very existence on this earth, they produce the air we breathe. We build houses with them and create many products that we use everyday with them. What personal role do trees have in your life? Do you have a favorite tree in your yard or one that you walk or drive by frequently? Free write for ten minutes exploring the world of trees.”

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http://www.youngonespack.wikia.com

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The park is peaceful silent, as mid-day sun strays, 

Walking through foliage, even footsteps —

Can be heard, where branches carve a ceiling cave. 

Though the sky is cheerful blue, branches yet, 

Make the trails paved, a hollowed place away —

Screaming city lights, and loud conversation met, 

With the quiet, the tranquil breath, gifted by trees, 

No sadness here, a happy place held dear. 

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The drifting leaves, paying tole, to dancing wind, 

Blowing the rebirth of trees and their seeds far. 

Slow lazy walk, furry dog smelling scents, grins. 

Curious thing, to see a dog smile, laughing bark.

Nature cradles us, magic trees rekindled. 

Hidden we are in treasured lands, our star —

Bright light always near, to show us the path to roam. 

Nature’s dreamy pause, returns with us to home. 

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” A Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme:

1. one octive poem. abababcc
2. two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff

3. three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii.”

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Please see Shadow Poetry for more information

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 


Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Planting Seeds #amwriting #flashfiction #gardening


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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The Storyteller’s Abode – Louise

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Gertrude is a beautiful child with chubby round cheeks. Her hair is the white-blond children get from being in the sun. She is three and likes to show you how old she is with her fingers.

I came to visit her Grandma from my farm, and walking to her Grandma’s door, I spied Gertrude hunched over in the garden. She has her Grandma’s big floppy hat on to keep the sun out of her eyes. 

Gertrude carefully picks beans. She has a look of concentration on her face and she giggles when she finds the right bean to pick.

Her Grandma notices me outside and comes out to greet me. We both gaze at Gertrude picking beans and hear her every laugh every once in a while.

“I told her not to pick the really fat ones,” Gertrude’s Grandma Joyce says to me. “She’s so careful about which beans she picks now. She’s only made it a quarter way down the first row.”

I laugh and wave to Gertrude’s Grandpa, Arthur, digging in the large garden.

“Your planting seeds,” I tell Joyce. 

“Seeds?” 

“Yes, in your granddaughter. Maybe, she’ll grow up and garden too.” 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.