Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Lies to Tempt Lies” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftW.

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Credit: Kecia Sparlin

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“So saying, her rash hand in evil hour [ 780 ]

Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck’d, she eat:

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat

Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe,

That all was lost. Back to the Thicket slunk

The guiltie Serpent, and well might, for Eve [ 785 ]

Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else

Regarded, such delight till then, as seemd,

In Fruit she never tasted, whether true

Or fansied so, through expectation high

Of knowledg, nor was God-head from her thought. [ 790 ]

Greedily she ingorg’d without restraint,

And knew not eating Death: Satiate at length,

And hight’nd as with Wine, jocond and boon,

Thus to her self she pleasingly began.” – Paradise Lost (XIV. 780 – 794). 

———-

“Such fruit is sweet scrumpciously divine, 

No better you’ll ever taste, dripping, 

From your most beautiful lips lick, 

Every last taste, let not on your face lie. 

Taste, devour, Lotus flower’s guided, 

To the mouths of pagan gods, and rip —

All flesh from this heavenly fruit sip.

For such knowledge it gives, opening eyes, 

Now you’ll see;” the serpent slithered past, 

Back to the thicket slunk, lies and tricks —

Enough to make dear, Eve, believe lies, 

A talking snake had ate the fruit, so she —

Ate, since the snake conversed; not seeing the facts, 

Black Serpent granted humanity dark death.  

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Rictameter – “The Angel” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry  


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Louise – The Storyteller’s Abode

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Here’s she,

His sweet angel,

Wearing her frothy gown,

She’s beautiful, elegant,

A wife any man could love or desire.

She’s the epitome, the standard,

What women should be like,

Humming music,

Here’s she.

——–

Her hair,

Perfectly coiffed,

Mother of six children,

Few lines on her face, she holds up.

Although, life’s pressure can be confining,

Her lips smile a gesture rehearsed.

What’s underneath in her —

Boarding school mind,

Her hair?

——

Model,

She’d wants all to —

Perceive she’s the perfect wife.

Society expects her to —

Set perfect example because —

She’s upperclass, the lead in the charade.

Acting as the moral —

Center, she must

Model

——

Portrait,

Of the great dame,

Her family, pride, joy,

Madame’s smile is slipping because,

Performing all the time is exhausting.

She wonders if she might sit with —

Port to sip, not thinking,

Herself; not a —

Portrait

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Maydays: NonFiction- One Sip #Maydays


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Thank you to C.L. Kaley for hosting #Mayday prompts. Today’s prompt is a dating story. 


 

couplefighting
http://www.susanpollucktherapy.com

 

“What are you having?” I asked Az.

“Oh um, nothing too big. I think I will have the calamari starter.”

“Oh gross, seafood. Especially calamari, it’s so rubbery.” I told Az.

“Mmm, I love it. What are you having?”

“I think I’ll have the usual.” I said and Az rolls his eyes but smiles.

“This is my first Valentine’s date you know. I’ve never been out with a guy on Valentine’s before.”

“Oh is it?” Az says smiling.

“No. I haven’t. Here try a bit of my drink it’s yummy.” Az sips the drink and I panic instantly.

I wasn’t thinking. Az is drinking my alcoholic drink and he’s a Muslim who doesn’t drink alcohol. I hope he’s not mad. One sip of Sangria won’t hurt him right?

“This tastes like alcohol,” Az says and he’s angry.

“I’m sorry I forgot. The sangria is delicious here. I’m in the habit of sharing a drink with a friend or family member if it tastes good. I didn’t mean to make you drink it.”

“You know I don’t drink.” Az replies.

“I’m sorry.” I tell him meaning it. But he doesn’t accept my apology.

He spends the next fifteen minutes brooding and giving me angry scowls. I didn’t think one sip of alcohol was that big of a deal religiously.

But for the next half-hour, Az is curt and rude. He says he’s not feeling well when I ask him what’s wrong. Az says he has a killer headache and wants to go home. He’s lying.

The waitress arrives arrives to apologize for our food being late. Az looks at me and I sigh and ask the waitress, “Can we please have our food to go. My boyfriend isn’t feeling well.”

“Yeah sure,” the waitress says. Five minutes later, I have our food packed up in a bag and we are heading back to my house. Az is driving as fast as he can.I don’t understand how he is so upset over one tiny sip.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Do you think I’m okay? You gave me alcohol. I’m not allowed to drink alcohol.” Az says angrily.

“I didn’t mean it and I apologized. Your cousin gave you a sip or two of alcohol before and you didn’t get mad him like you are at me.” I said.

Az speeds up his car, racing me back to my house and barely stopping to let me out.

He grabs the bag of food thrusting it at me. “Here take all the food.”

“I don’t want the calamari,” I said. “It smells bad and no one in my house who is home, will eat it.”

Before Az can speak I take it out and put the calamari on the back seat of his car.

“Goodbye,” I say blandly, without looking at him as I slam his car door.

Inside, I’m fuming . To me a sip of liquor is such a tiny thing to become mad over and I never tried to make him drink the Sangria on purpose. I wasn’t thinking and I said sorry many times.

Az shouldn’t have ruined our entire Valentine’s Day because of his temper.

But that’s one reason why we broke up later on.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Poem: Ghazal – “Lips Soft”


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the word prompt drop.

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Pleasing words dripping from cherub lips, soft.

Can you hear the words sipped from eyes, lips soft.

Distant, to ears, I peer, seeing angels here.

Voicing shadows, tiny wisps, from your lips soft.

The space between us too great, falling for you.

Instigation, not my choice, gripping, lips soft.

Movement slowing showing, spitting out love.

Nearing, frustration, sipping, lips soft.

Nights turn to days, skin all ablaze.

In the end kissing, your lisp, lips soft.

Covers crumpled, rumpled under us.

Hands reaching, touch while you sip tea, lips soft.

Repeating in hours, time flies, skin brushing skin.

Mesmerized, your face slips, lips soft.

Two of us as one, adventurous night.

Never tiring of words you whisper, lips soft.

Dropping, causing moments passing,

You dropped me, snipping our love, lips soft.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.