Lists, My Thoughts, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes March 2017 Part Two #quotes #pinterest


Hi hope you’re all having great March. Almost St. Patrick’s Day, green beer anyone? 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Free Verse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “A Nightmare of Ink” #amwriting #poetry #nightmares


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the his week’s Photo Prompt chalkenge.

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Credit: Reylia.deviantart.com

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She holds the flowers teaming with a life force all their own, 

Knowing the ombré blue blossoms will escape; 

Flutter into the world carried on the wind, 

Pettles and fluffy white seeds blown across the land. 

Messengers of hope and artistry, a beauty undefinable. 

Her hands tightly grasp the stems, no thorns to prick errant fingers. 

She can’t let go, however, she she tries, 

Hands entrapped on rough stems holding too hard. 

So rigid are her hands, blood comes forth, 

The pressure of her grip too intense;

With great thought, he watches her, observes her reactions, 

She doesn’t understand why he’s hurting her; she needs help. 
She’s dressed in her navy dress and in life he loves it, 

In her dream, he picks at the fabric of her sleeve in disgust. 

Mumbling to himself, then struck with a thought, 

He’s found a thin fluted vase in blue to match her flowers. 

She doesn’t conprehend the symbolism or the reason, 

When ink he pours onto her flowers from the vase. 

He stains her hands until they appear black, 

The flowers are ruined and slicked with ink like oil. 

The streaming ink is everywhere, 

Her beloved smiles at her, he chucks her chin and winks, 

Takes the flowers and places them in the vase. 

The ink is all over her hands and arms;

Hers and his, and he’s laughing. 

Saying how difficult ink is to remove from one’s skin, 

So he cradles her face and he kisses her long, 

But then she awakes in her dream, 

To permenant ink stains all over her face and hands.

He smirks at her, walks away no care for the ink staining him. 

The moon gleams in the sky and it rains — buckets of tar black ink, 

Caressing her body, covering as sludge, dripping and spilling. 

What value is ink if she has no pen’s cartridge to put it in? 

She’s not able to use it to write. 

The world around is flooded by this precious commodity, 

And when she finally awakes for real, all is forgotten. 

Yet, the hands she holds up to the sunlight, 

Are stained dark black;

She’s tattood in the memory of a dream, 

Nightmares and reality never giving way to truth. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Quatrains – “Tale of The Floating Bride” #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to NEEKNERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge prompt. 

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Credit: Zhangjinga.com

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Enchanting child in slumber keep, 

Red hair surrounds you as you sleep. 

I wait for you to wake from your dreams, 

No longer a porcelain doll preened. 

*****

A wedding gown white lace so frothy, 

Mother hoped your match was lofty.

That you’d found your life partner, 

Your prince, your man, for life to start.

*****

But day by day you grew sad, 

When pressed with his kisses ran. 

Empty feeling inside you grew, 

Like a butterfly away flew.

*****

Mischievous child, pain grew, 

His fist at your face straight-on flew. 

Hiding the bruises with powder,

Not even concealer shrouds

*****

Pride vital to you, tiny doll, 
Escaped; no one to catch your fall.
Fly in dreams with delicate wings, 

Winter ends, it’s soon your spring. 

*****

Gather your courage –call it off;

Don’t marry him, don’t be soft.

In front of the crowd, show each cut, 

Let them see bruises, you must. 

*****

So they know an abuser, 

Isn’t good enough, he’s a loser. 

He broke your velvet wings, 

Your sanity held by strings. 

*****

But it was too late even then, 

The lake too close; so your end.

Now you float, butterfly who swims, 

Eternity of light your win. 

*****

We tried to save a doll of glass, 

But on death she shattered, passed. 

Down below the water’s dark depth,

She’s tranquil, free; although, she leapt. 

*****

Mind too distorted, destroyed, 

Lover’s hands threw her like a toy.

World tough; his madness changed them both, 

In Heaven she smiles free to float. 

*****

He mourns her death each day, each drink, 

Pretty soon his rage him too sinks. 

Accidents happen to the unaware, 

She pulled him in, drowned his despair. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Lune - 5,3,5 or 5 words, 3 words, 5 words, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, November Notes, Poetry, Relationship, Writing

November Notes: Poem – Day 12 – Lunes – “Our Own World” #music #amwriting #writing #poetry #novembernotes


Today’s song prompt is “Out of My League” by Stephen Speaks.

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“Out of My League” – Stephen Speaks

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Sea of this land where, 

She grabs my —

Hand and we swim away.

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Each day there is something, 

New about her, 

To love and to appreciate.

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Today it’s her hair and —

Her eyes —

Make my shiver, good way. 

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Pursing her lips, batting her —

Eyes, she smiles, 

I’m out of my league.

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My voices it’s shaking and —

I know you, 

I love you with all —

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That I am; it won’t —

Change; my hands —

Tremble because I’m too stunned. 

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You’re out of my league, 

But I love —

You; you thumb through your —

Hair, bat your eyelashes, smile —

Swimming thoughtfully in —

Strange seas; better than land.

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You’re out of my league, 

I love you —

So much; I’d rather be —

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Here with you close as —

We swim in —

The strange sea, lovers together. 

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I’m out of my league, 

Out of my —

League; we’re our own world. 

—–

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Before The Wedding #3LineTales #amwriting #fiction 


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

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Ben Rosett

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 The future awaits as I stand behind the swing hesitating. It reminds me of when I was a small girl, riding the swing and pumping my legs back and forth. Often, I would end up flipping the swing, riding it too high. My mom would be so upset at yell at me for scaring her each time I flipped the swing. 

Today I sit down on the swing which is aggravatingly difficult with all these layers of tulle, silk, and lace. I don’t want to grass stain my gown before my big moment down walking down the aisle. I rock and swing my body using my barefoot and I’ve taken off my couture Jimmy Choos wedding shoes. 

 I swing softly and think and I wonder what my future will be like when the weddings over? The truth is no one knows what the future will bring, especially not me. I see the light of sun shining down upon my dress, to me on this day, this light is my hope. Such a brilliant sun could only mean a beautiful life ahead. 

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My girl sits on the swing, rocking back and forth gently, her veiled head leaning against the rope on one side of the swing. Weddimg guests begin to gather sitting in white wooden chair. Some of the guest gaze back at the bride who thoughtfully swings, humming a familiar tune. I wonder what’s going on in her confounding mind and then she peers back at me and smiles brightly. 

I’m not supposed to see her in her white dress yet, so I grin and pretend to cover my eyes as she laughs, telling me to go away. That we’ll be married before we know it. Through my fingers I stare at her, she’s so beautiful. I can feel my heart thumping against my chest –I seem to be nervous after all.

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Years later, I think back to that moment when our whole lives were before us. Holding each other’s hands and murmuring our wedding vows. Now I cling to her thin hand in the hospital bed as my love seems to disintegrate before me. One never knows what lies ahead and I think that’s a gift. If we knew what our future was, we would never move forward. 

But I see the light of heaven shining upon my wife. I feel this warm healing light on my own body and we stare at each other and smile as the Lord calls us both home. The next morning the nurses find us, our bodies cold. We have already gone onto better things. We left holding hands, the same way we began. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Lists, My Thoughts, Pinterest, Quotes, Short Stories And Serial Stories

Notable Quotes October 2016 Part One #quotes #pinterest


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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Making Grandma’s Day” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #marahuyo



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Grandma When She Was Young (www.pinterest.com) Actually Betty White!

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You straightened your blue tie;

The ocean-blue of your sweet eyes.

Long lashes, dark styled hair; must be —

Embarrassing for such a strong —

man going on 6’5, to have such eyelashes.

Not that height, 

Makes a huge difference;

But I’m liking what I see.

You smiled, lips full, 

Kissable, and my mind goes south . . .

Then, I’m blinded by another,

Of your sweet smiles.

Gorgeous, open; you appear so alive,

Happy and handsome.

Steamy and hot;

I think it’s love at first-sight.

In a summer suit; a baby-blue shirt.

Blue is your colour, in every shade.

You walk, I get the view from behind;

It all looks good to me.

Big-feet;

I hear that’s great too.

Again, my mind wanders, 

Should I walk the same way you’re walking?

Maybe, you’ll notice plain old me?

Utterly, enchanted by your sight.

On this dreary day, 

Everything’s gone wrong; the cancers back.

But your magnatism, your laugh;

It made my day.

I feel as if I’m some voyeaur, 

To appreciate such beauty,

And care of appearance.

Qualities such as long-fingered hands,

No doubt talented; I miss those . . .

I trip while admiring you, 

So marahuyo;

I can’t see straight.

You turn around alarmed,

Having noticed and heard, 

Me fall on my face embarrassed.

I’m an eighty-six-year-old woman, 

Falls aren’t a good thing and I’ve pride;

To walk yet on my own.

But you’re kind and pleasant;

Though I tremble in your presence,

You bring me ice from a restaurant for my hip.

I say: “If I was younger . . .”

You blush and I do the Grandma thing;

Patting your arm, 

Possibly, inhaling how great you smell, 

And showing you,

A recent picture of my favourite,

Gorgeous granddaughter.

Dark auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, 

Beautiful, healthy, and fit, 

Witty and bright; an Art History Professor.

Your eyes go large and I know you’re, 

Thinking of a way to charm her number from me.

I chuckle say: “I’m where she gets her looks.”

You grin and chuckle.

Your laugh makes me so pleased.

And I accidentally, 

Let my granddaughters number, 

Pop-up on my giant iPhone.

I snap a picture of you Mr.Gorgeous,

You blush so cutely, she’ll love you.

Send your photo to my precious girl,

I just have this feeling. . .

Get you to text: He’ll Call. His Name is Cale. Love Nanny.

I take pictures on my IPhone and call;

Texting is too hard.

After more conversation,

I’m sure of you, wishing I was twenty-eight.

You have to leave, making sure I’m fine.

I’m sad; but my dear girl will bring you over,

Hoping I did her a favour.

My best and only granddaughter;

Smiling pleasantly, at the thought of you, 

A handsome businessman.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Writing 101:  Tessa’s Anecdotes Meeting Men #everydayinspiration #amwriting


Today’s prompt for Writing 101 is to write a series of anecdotes or vignettes which are defined as ” short, episodic scenes or moments that together read as variations on the same subject/story.” Therefore, each vignettes needs to have a similarity between them which ties each vignettes to the others. 

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http://www.pcwallart.com

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Tessa feels afraid. Life has become unmanageable for her to take a risk in love because she can’t calculate the damage another man could do to her. One guy Ryan, she talked to for a year and he wanted be with Tessa but she was in a relationship at the time. Tessa told Ryan, she loved her boyfriend. She only wanted to be friends with Ryan. He wasn’t interested in being friends. The thought of not talking to and seeing him anymore, made Tessa bitterly sad. 

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Tessa was single and free. It felt wonderful to not have to go out and spend her weekends at her boyfriend Ted’s place, not doing much of anything. When she was out, Tessa wanted to be doing something, not laying around all day. A nap was one thing, but sitting and watching the same news channel hours on end as Ted did, Tessa couldn’t handle it. She wanted to visit their couple friends and go to fun events on the evenings and a week night once in a while. Her now ex-boyfriend Ted always sat on the couch, eyes on the news or searching the Internet. Tessa left Ted, never looking back.

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Freedom flowed through her veins. Tessa was happy and her life was fulfilling. She was working hard each day. Doing the best she could, developing a career. But there were always men who wanted something from Tessa. She didn’t want to be mean and say: “I don’t want anything from you. You’d only mess up my life and I like my life how it is right now.” 

To say that would be too honest and being too honest can sound brash and thoughtless and get a woman labelled. Tessa didn’t want to damage her career, but often it meant putting up with men, their sexual inuendo and advances.

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Greyson is messaging Tessa again. No real conversation occurs between them. He doesn’t talk about his days or ask much about hers when they go on dates. Greyson gazes at her and says, “I like you. I like talking to you. Don’t you like me?” Tessa is tired of his games.

 She tells Greyson, “We’ve been through this. You don’t want a relationship and I do.” 

He remarks, “Let’s sleep together and see how it goes.” 

Tessa is angry, her attraction to Greyson wanes and she ceases talking to him.

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She is dating Phillip now. A new guy who keeps calling her at all times. Phillip won’t stop. He’s a stranger who somehow had her number in his contacts. Tessa recalls she hasn’t  had her new cell number for long. 

Phillip tells Tessa he is into having a relationship with her but with him too, it comes down to sex.  After they have sex he tells her, “We’ll see how things go.” He is suddenly non-committal and distant towards Tess, except when he wants to sleep with her.

Tessa is exasperated. Isn’t she valuable outside the context of sex? Isn’t there a guy who will like her for her personality too and want to get to know her!? 

Now, whenever Phillip texts or calls Tessa deletes any trace of him from her cell phone.

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Some man starts talking to Tessa outside her hair salon, grabbing her arm. She doesn’t like it when people she doesn’t know man handle her. But Tessa attempts to be polite. 

 The stranger tells her she’s beautiful and keeps complimenting her. She’s not attracted to him in the least and he won’t let her leave. He keeps stepping in front of her as she tries to take the stairs down to the train. 

Tessa had worked in the morning and taken the afternoon off to have her hair done and now this weird man won’t let her go home. It’s only 4:00 pm but Tessa smells the liquor on the stranger’s breath.

 “Let go. Leave me alone. My boyfriend wouldn’t like you bothering me like this. I need to go home.” She tells the man.

The stranger acts offended and she shivers in disgust at his repulsive corporate ego. She hates having to lie to protect herself. To ensure her own security.

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Tessa meanders in a popular shopping district, alone on a Saturday afternoon. She’s in a boutique and is enthused the clothes are stylish but not overally expensive. Tessa models a blue halter dress and she hears a deep voice remark: “I’d take you out in that dress. You’re gorgeous.” 

Tessa turns, regarding the man who complimented her. He’s a bit older, but it doesn’t bother her. The handsome man’s blue eyes are breath-taking, bright against dark hair and attractive full lips. He wears dark jeans and a blue t-shirt matching his eyes.

Suddenly, Tessa realizes she’s been staring at the attractive man and hasn’t responded to his compliment. She blushes and her skin goes red.”I’m happy you like me in the dress. I wasn’t sure about it, but you’ve made my mind up for me.” 

The attractive man chuckles and comes up to Tessa, running a hand gently down her arm. She’s surprised his familer touch doesn’t bother her. He gazes into her eyes and smiles. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all by herself shopping? You need a guy to hold your bags and make sure douch men don’t bother you.” 

Tessa laughs. “Are you offering to do the job? Because I would definitely have to take you up on that offer. I’m Tessa by the way.” She holds out her hand which is shaking a bit and his strong hand engulfs hers and shakes it firmly. A firm handshake, Tessa is impressed.

She smiles as the attractive man runs a hand through wisps of her loose hair. “What’s your name?” She asks him.

He grins at her question. “I’m Blake and I’m a university professor in economics. What do you do Tessa?” 

” I work in HR for a company. I like talking with different people and helping them.” Blake stares at his hands in his jean pockets, smiling at Tessa before touching her cheek with the back of his hand. 

Again, his touch doesn’t bother Tessa. She craves it. Blake smells wonderful, like the ocean with a note of sandlewood. Blake and her are standing close and Tessa’s breathing is picking-up speed with Blake’s breath.

“There you are.” An elegant woman in a red dress sweeps in. She’s thin and willowy and seems like she’s a model, on trend and waifish.”Who’s this?” The model asks, regarding Tessa as if she were a peculiar creature for Blake to be flirting with.

The model’s eyes rove over Tessa and back to Blake. Blake sighs and he doesn’t appear glad to see the model, in fact; he seems annoyed. He gazes at Tessa appearing apologetic. Tessa has pity on Blake.

“Oh this must be your girlfriend you were telling me about.” Tessa remarks to Blake. “She is stunning and you’re lucky to have her. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been busy and I know you have been busy too. I’ll let you get back to your girl.” The model gives Tessa an odd look and then giggles.

Tessa can’t help but feel she’s missing something and that the model is making fun of her.”Lovely to meet you, ” the model says.”I’m Cherise.” 

“I’m Tessa and Blake really loves you.” She says. Cherish chuckles and so does Blake.

Cherise smiles at Tessa and Blake. Tessa doesn’t know what to say. She feels miserable. because she has met a nice guy and he isn’t actually a nice guy. He has a girlfriend named Cherise who’s laughing at her.

 Tessa was hugely attracted to Blake and wanted to know him better. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek as Cherise walked away to look at a dress. 

“I’m going to try this on,” she tells Blake who nods at her. But his blue gaze is focused on Tessa.

“Why did you do that?” Blake says, laughter in his voice. ” Cherise is my younger step-sister. She’s not my girlfriend. It’s gross thinking about her that way. We have the same Dad and I grew up with her.” 

Tessa’s face turns bright red. Redder than it was before. “Oh, I didn’t realize. I was trying to give you an out because I thought Cherise was your girlfriend. But I’m glad she’s only your sister. You had me worried for a bit.” 

Blake chuckles again.”Are you going to let me take you out tonight in that dress you’re buying? I have to drive Cherise to her boyfriends but I can meet you down the street at the Manterra Hotel dining room at 7:00 pm?”

Tessa smiles genuinely. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Blake.” She leans up towards Blake and kisses his inviting lips gently for a few moments, keeping her lips against Blakes  a meaningful second before walking towards the cash register. 

Blake repeats behind her: “7:00 pm at the Manterra Hotel.” 

Tessa looks back at Blake and smiles.”You bet.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Event, Free Verse, Health, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Her Hair Is Falling Out”


http://www.huffingtonpost.com

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I felt it slice through my heart, 

The sharpened blade of a knife, blood spurting.

When she said her hair was falling out, 

It made it all too real.

I felt pierced by a sword, 

Blood draining from my face,

Collapsing from a wound brand new,

I wish I knew how she handled it.

Could face the world with such grace,

I tried to put myself in her shoes,

To keep it about her.

But if she is anything like me,

The loss of blond locks would be gory,

An image of c#%€£r, to be detested and banished.

But reality spears through the aching heart,

She handles all with fierce fire.

—–

But when she said “my hair is falling out,”

My eyes filled with salt water, 

Channels of tears went down pasty cheeks, 

Off skin prepared for the night; I lost it.

In her pictures, she appears happy, like herself,

Handling each trial, each challenge with a smile.

But when she wrote “we’re going wig shopping,”

The tears wouldn’t stop.

And the pain in my stomach is a giant knot.

I’m scared to release that pent up rage, 

At God for allowing her to find out four stages in, 

With a two-year-old and loving husband of only a few years.

She’s living life —

But I ache for her and I pray,

Because I know there is no other way.

Let God heal the c#%*£rous growths.

Let her be healthy, let us grow old as friends.

Let her baby have his Mother.

——-

I think it’s an issue of vanity,

A woman’s hair, her crowning glory,

But my friend’s beauty goes beyond her features,

Beyond skin deep, 

Yet I weep while she smiles,

Picturing her hair at her feet.

Her new wig on her head,

Being prepared for when,

She loses all of her hair.

But yet she finds the strength to keep fighting.

Without blond hair to shield the struggle behind.

Without one of her most defining features,

She loosing her hair with such fortitude.

My friend does not cry,

She smiles with eloquence, 

Handles her fight with class.

But I weep and I weep.

In my dreams, I cry for her, 

For her I’m so afraid of losing,

When we’ve both only begun life’s journey.

She’s come this far,

In prayer and empathy, 

I cheer her battle on.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.