Three Line Tales: Poems – Lunes – “Blinded” #3LineTales #poetry #amwriting 


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

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Credit: Matt Palmer via Unsplash

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I’ll say it, because every —

Woman’s thinking it. 

We all know sparklers burn. 

——

Fire burns, even with goggles. 

No sober woman, 

Or drunk, would place fire —

——

Right near to her eye, 

Expecting sometime she —

Won’t get burned or blinded. 

—–

©Mandibelke16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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 Poem: Cascading Etherees- “A Lovers Portrait Of Her Tinatangi.” #wordhighjuly #introtopoetry


The poetry 101 prompt is faces with alliteration. 

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http://www.favim.com

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You were sleeping so soundly, tinatangi

Sun through window, I stifled a grin when, 

Turned towards me tangled in your, 

Dreams, whispering words; couldn’t —

Understand what you said, 

But I studied your face,

Relaxed, peaceful, 

Why are you, 

Always, 

Grim.

——

Mask, 

Yourself, 

Expression, 

Sober reflection, 

Until I made you smile, 

Until You cornered me, 

Stealing a kiss and, 

I stole a few more and you, 

Never resisted until you, 

Pulled back, gasping, feeling was —

Mutual; then you turned emotionless.

—-

But the hallway kisses sparked repeats and, 

Clothes half-off, avoiding all others, 

Enough of closets, empty rooms, 

So now, I’m in your bed and, 

Passions had its day.

Do you soundly sleep?

Replete, happy?

Or are you, 

Hiding, 

Us.

—–

I’ve

Watched your, 

Face alter, 

Become gentle, soft, 

I’ve seen your eyes gleem, 

Small wrinkles, laugh lines in–

Corners of eyes and your smile, 

Sends me spinning, lips plush and full.

Your nose rubs against mine in a kind of, 

Kiss, they kiss in other lands; here we’ve our mouths.

——

Wonderously blessed, to oversee your sleep,

You lay vulnerable to the world but, 

From me never hide; I’ll keep you, 

Safe from prying eyes but mine, 

Allow me adventure, 

Cheekbones high, stubbled,

Jaw; dip in chin.

Scent of fresh, 

Showered, 

Skin.

—–

I

Know your, 

Hard gazes, 

And brown eyes soft, 

For me to love you best.

After, you rest tranquil.

Breath, so comforting; lulling me, 

Into another nap; exploring paused, 

Then, hands sifting your dark silky hair, mussed.

——-

Smoothing thumb, curved brows; trace eyelashes, 

Long and sinfully dark; then over mouth.

Lush, inviting; I imprint my own, 

Over collarbone, hollow–

Of your throat, back up to,

Plush lips; you wake and, 

Caress my cheek.

Laughing of

My love, 

Trace.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: “The Sacrifice.”


“So, um Simon, what are we doing here?” I asked my friend. 

“Well, we’re going to a Baptist Church,” Simon says.

“I’m Lutheran, and we aren’t into speaking tongues and overly emotional praise music.” I tell Simon. 

“Well maybe, Baptists feel that emotional singing demonstrates their belief in God. Besides you only go to Church a couple of times a month, Miranda.”

“Doesn’t change my beliefs,” I tell Simon. “I learned and chose to believe in Jesus. I don’t agree with everything the Lutheran’s believe, but on the important matters I do.” I sigh, “let’s hope the Pastor doesn’t talk for two-hours.”

In the sanctuary I’m struck dumb. The people in the pews are dressed in black robes. There is a man on the alter with a fancier black robe and signs on his religious scarf. The signs look demonic, to my horror. I turn to leave and Simon grabs me.

” You told me they were Baptist — not Satanists!” I cry.

Simon smiles mischievously, “Satan requires a sacrifice from us and she needs to be one of Jesus’s flock. She’s you Miranda.”

“I believe in Jesus and I will go to heaven because of my Faith when I die. Get your hands off me Simon, I’m not dying today.”

Simon’s face is pure evil. “You’ll be with your Saviour soon, and you’re not going anywhere. The sacrifice ritual has begun.” 

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Al Forbes

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Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.