Saturday Mix: Poem – Synchronicity – “Seventeen at Heart” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix 


Thank you to Teresa from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for holding last week’s Saturday Mix. The prompt topic is to use the number seventeen in someway. 

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Credit: Eden Hills

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When I was seventeen years old, 

A wise man told me to enjoy, 

Be free. 

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When I was seventeen I saw, 

Poverty in Mexico such —

Suffering. 

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A cycle that can’t be undone, 

Without a better government, 

Wages raised. 

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Without education for all, 

Who seek to improve their lives torn, 

Hoping. 

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When I was seventeen I saw, 

Stray dogs wandering without homes, 

Hungry. 

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The children starved, the animals, 

Begged for lefover scraps, they’re both, 

Love starved. 

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When I was seventeen met, 

Old frenemies and rebonded, 

New times. 

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When I was seventeen turned, 

Eighteen in July still felt, 

A child. 

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At eighteen, I felt seventeen, 

At twenty two I felt the same, 

Not grown. 

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Then I learned it’s your outside that, 

Changes, age is mythology, 

There are —

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Times in your life where the world, 

Makes you hurt, learn, dissemble, 

Go on. 

——

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Hope’s there for all who choose to be, 

Seventeen at heart forever, 

Means strength, 

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Means trivialities, meaningless, 

Faith is a laturn, guides footsteps, 

In dark. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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100 Word Wednesday: The Cost #amwriting #flashfiction #crime #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.

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Credit: Toa Heftiba

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I’m seventeen and I wish I wasn’t old enough to understand what was happening through the trees.

There were five men laughing around a garbage can bonfire. The worst part was the two women crying and begging the men to stop as each man took turns with the women, raping them.

I knew I couldn’t intervene. I felt helpless but then I remembered my smartphone in my pocket. It had a camera with many megapixels and zoom.

Above the pandemonium no one heard me snap as many pictures as I could. I walked back to my house from the ravine and I called the police; they said I was a hero after.

The problem is some things in life you can’t unsee.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

3Lines Tales: I Hate You Piano


Thank you so much to the lovely Sonya from 100 words or Less for hosting this prompt.

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Jessie Orrico

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1. Dear Piano, I have mixed feelings about you; in fact, I still kind of hate you because my parents made me play and practice you until I was seventeen-years-old and at times you sounded decent when I played you but mostly I was terrible at playing piano and my D refused to understand that I detested playing you.  
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2. Some people are extremely talented at playing you piano but I have never been one of them even though I spent ten long years playing you; how D never understood I was awful at playing piano I don’t know, maybe he had this illusion of my talent;what’s worse, my brothers were done playing you by early Junior High, but I had to continue playing you through high school and my only consolation is I can read music well and I’m good at figuring out how to sing the harmony line in a country song.

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3. I was done with you piano when D made me play piano along with his singing group; I can’t play without being able to practice even once or twice but he put me on the spot and I stumbled through trying to play this hymn D’s group was singing; I kept hitting the wrong notes and the other members of D’s group kept giving me dirty looks as if to say, ‘why are you still screwing up;’ for me that was the end of any love I had for you piano because I was humiliated and I didn’t want to pretend I could play you for church anymore or for any of D’s future singing groups; I suck okay, I’m not a piano player and I’m not one bit ashamed that I have lost what small skill I had playing piano; I’ve decided it’s better when I listen to someone with talent playing piano and appreciate you piano, that way. 

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Wanted to pop this in hear. Music isn’t all bad. In fact listening and playing to music can have great Benefits please check-out this link: https://www.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10156767582695655&id=762335654

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Dogs of Our Lives 


In the home I lived in growing up, we always had a dog. The first dog was Spunky, a Chihuahua-Terrier Cross, who lived until she was seventeen-years-old. She was mostly blind by that time but she managed and we picked her up to take her down the stairs. When Spunky was younger, she would sneak out our front gate. She was tiny enough she would try to slither through the gap between the gate doors. Then my Mom would say, “where’s Spunky?” And we would search the neighbourhood for her. She liked to wander and could easily have been picked up and taken by anyone because she was so friendly and unassuming. 

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Spunky
 
 
Spunky
 
 
Spunky

When Spunky died we didn’t have a dog for two or three years. But we did get visits from some of the neighbour’s dogs. My one brother was followed home by a dog we called ‘Hugo,’ when he was biking. Later, it turned out the dog belonged to a lady who my Mom ended up working with in Student Accounts.
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Hugo and My Brothers
 
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Sorry that photo is facing the wrong way, I don’t know how to fix that on WordPress. After a few years, we started looking for a new dog. We wanted a dog bigger then Spunky, one who was medium sized. But it is hard finding the perfect dog for your family. I think my family has a thing for runts. Spunky was a runt and so was her successor, Nikki. My Dad drove us all to the neighbourhood pet shop Grrrranimals, when I was seventeen. He showed us Nikki, a faun coloured northern dog who was getting picked on by her fluffier white brothers. Nikki was an American Eskimo – Terrier cross but she had the personality of an Eskimo dog. Unlike Spunky who wandered off, Nikki stayed in the yard, or in the area of the yard most of the time. She always knew how to find her way home, even when my family moved houses. She loved to run with my Dad and she snuggled with me. We took an embarrassing amount of pictures of Nikki. I guess she had such a personality we couldn’t help but adore her.

 

Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
Aw, I’m sorry the pictures are all sideways. If anyone knows how I can fix this on WordPress please let me know. This last picture of Nikki is my favourite. She loved that giant stick and whittled it down to a thin stick with her aggressive chewing. Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks to Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting Echoes of My Neighbourhood.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.