Tale Weavers: Poem – The Blitz – “The Maiden and The Dragon” #amwriting #taleweavers #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt about a quest, such as the ones JRR Tolkien writes about in his famous books. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Dragons are here, I know it

Dragons beware, my sword is sharp

Sharp as the knives hid on my body

Sharp as the tongue of my wife

Wife said, “Do not go” 

Wife begged, yet I went 

Went through the haunted forest dark 

Went through the storms, muck, and mire

Mire as quicksand, sucked in my body

Mire that almost swallowed my life

Life burnt a flaming hole so wide

Life’s flame would not flicker out

Out of the muck and mire pulled

Out of certain death to rescue a princess

Locked in a tower for my Lord, my King 

Locked in a tower and languishing

Languished she did for centuries

Languished as a spell had been cast

Cast, so she would always sleep

Cast, because evil always hates

Hates beauty and goodness

Hates who this princess is said to be 

Be afraid though, I warn you, friend 

Be vigilant in your task to save 

Saving the princess isn’t the challenge

Saving her, I wondered, where is the dragon? 

Dragon she rose from the depths of beauty 

Dragon was the the princess herself 

Herself screaming, “I am the dragon”

Herself shouting, “I will eat you whole” 

Wholly she transformed in that fiery beast

Wholly she was a scaled, sulphereous demon

Demon who cried, “I am no damsal in distress”

Demon who seethed, “I protect me” 

Me, I gazed upon the languishing beauty 

Me, my eyes met the dragons yellow-eyed stare

Stared into my soul, saw I was a ruin 

Stared into my heart, saw I was wretched

Wretched cursed princess, the dragon? 

Wretched as the princess waiting 

Waiting and no one came so she grew tired

Waiting as she wrecks her vengeance 

Vengeance because no hero is true 

Vengeance, she can depend only on herself, no heroes 

Hereo, the archetypal kind who abuse poor maidens

Heroe, is there such a man who ever existed? 

Existed a hero she once did love 

Existed her hero but he never came — she remains cursed 

Cursed though she be, I could not destroy the beast

Cursed, she knows not why she is punished, cursed. 

Beast but still a girl, so I left, ashamed I could not save her. 

Cursed, she lingers on my mind, the maiden, the dragon as one

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Awakening the Dragon #flashfiction #amwriting #dragon


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Sophia hid in her closet, it was her only safe place. Hanging on a ceiling was a mobile with a handcrafted dragon. She remembered thinking the dragon was frightening, but whenever the darkness in her room swallowed her, the dragon’s eyes flashed; the shadows were obliterated. 

She also remembered when her mom first hit her. She scrubbed Sophia’s cut and it was excruciating as was the burning stringent liquid her mom poured on it.

 Suddenly, Sophia heard yelling and stomping. The closest door flew open — her mother was drunk again. 
Instantly, the dragon’s eyes above her caught fire. He grew into a monster with golden scales and the scent of fire and ash, spreading and filling Sophia’s entire bedroom. He blew a blaze of fire at her mom but only the bottle of Kirkland Tequila (1.75 Litres/$20.00) in her mom’s hand disintegrated. 

In words veiled in smoke the dragon hissed at Sophia’s mom who nodded; she understood the dragon’s warning. He breathed out his last plume of smoke and except for the acrid smell, it was if Sophie’s dragon had never awoken. 

She crawled out of her hiding place and petted the handcrafted dragon hearing him purr.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Writing Prompt: Poem – Blank Verse – “Atlantis In Popular Culture” #poetry #amwriting #history #legend 


Thanks to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt. First we are to go to Wikipedia and go to the ‘Random Article’ Button, his is our title. Second we are to HERE and find a randomly generated picture. 

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Credit: http://writingexercises.co.uk/random-images.php

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Ring the bells ring them, sound organ pipes too, 

Atlantis sinks to obscurity

Earth trembles, calls with a tune sung, 

Ring the bells; last time you’ll hear them out loud. 

Artistic endeavour, artisan’s craft, 

Carved pipes; hear the organ it booms last. 

Earthquakes, rocks tumble, falling into time. 

A void in the earth barely felt until now. 

Modern humans are obsessed by her,

A lost city never found; for it’s day —

Full of vision, construction, art, thought. 

City that felt it was the greatest, 

The gods thought otherwise; earth swallowed, 

City Atlantis whole, taking everyone. 

Down to earth’s depths, in it’s belly kept, 

Here lies Atlantis hidden, there wasn’t —

Much difference between ‘us’ now and them.

Or hundreds of cities –past, present;

Civilization thousands of years old, 

It isn’t that the the ocean and land, 

Just ended a city; it’s the people

Inside who forget about decency.  

Treating each other terribly and —

No thought for tomorrow, hearts so, 

Cold, stone rigid; they sink themselves down, 

Into the water until they’re nothing

Nothing but a dream, not even memory, 

Just something modern people wonder of, 

Forgetting lessons as Atlantis did. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Rondel – “Before the Fall”


A French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet, rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

Also, Thank you to The Daily Post for the word prompt edge.
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http://www.pinterest.com

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Looking down, your head starts to spin,

You’re on the edge, everyone falls,

Your breath is short, on the ledge crawl,

Infinity awaits, dive in.

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The wind rushing round you, air thin.

Pushing off the ledge; you wait, stall.

Looking down, your head starts to spin.

You’re on the edge, everyone falls.

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Unsure why you came up here, head spins.

Waiting for pain, you’re enthralled.

Ground appearing close, appalled.

Kissing the earth; you took a risk, grin.

Looking down, your head starts to spin.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: “Deme, No . . .”


Alistair Forbes

 
I enjoy Sunday mornings because it is the only time I don’t feel stressed. My fiancé Mason and I often take Deme our lab, to the dog park. 

Today, Deme has spied ducks walking onto the grass by the lake. ” Deme come,” I say sternly. “Mommy says come here now.” She gives me that look dogs give you when they are going to do what they want even when you tell them ‘No.’ 
Deme picks up the tiniest duckling in her mouth.

“Down, put the duckling down, Deme.” Mason warns. Deme begins to shake the duckling and play with it. “Deme no! Bad dog.” Mason says in a deep threatening voice. 

Then to our amazement there is only a fluff of feathers. I’m not sure how, but our lab has swallowed a duckling, with only a few chomps. Mama duck is furious and chases Deme everywhere.

” Come here, Deme.” I shout to her. She comes quickly, begging me to save her with a whimper. But I am too late, Mama duck bites Deme on the butt, three times. 

There is something horrid about Deme eating a precious tiny duckling. But then again, as Darwinian’s would put it, it’s natural selection.

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SFP.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.