Animals/Pets, Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, History, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

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). 

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“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.  

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

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Credit: Adventures In The Wild

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Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Friday Music Prompt, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quatrain -- abab abba ccdc dddd., Short Stories And Serial Stories

Music Prompt: Poem – Quatrains – “Constant Cravings” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. This week’s prompt is the song: “Constant Craving” By KD Lang

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http://www.curejoy.com

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Constant cravings not only for,

An addict or a pregnant gal.

Cravings that run deep, thus, inform–

Temptation in life, to resolve. 

—–

Find balm for cravings we adore,

The deadly; we’re not infallible.

What if they control us, and pour–

Salt on wounds, we’re delicate, fragile.

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Some addictions, need be unformed,

Forget the drugs, the alcohol–

Constant craving beyond our core,

Craving affection, unappalled.

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A deep urge, to have and to pour —

Water on our burns, all close calls.

But can you escape craving more? 

Never enough, always need salves. 

—-

Constant want and feeling so sore —

Need completion, a place to fall. 

Beyond bad cravings, wanting more.

Constantly seeking, peace enthralls.  

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poetry, Writing

Dear Ones and Dark Ones


Dear, you are the center of this dangerous circle.
The compass rests on you, and points to another but who?
Dear, you tried to control your own destiny, as if you had a choice.
But the maker spins the wheel and lands in every slot we ought to go.
Trying to bet at a losing game boy, that’s a sure chance to fail.
Girl, you are his consolation prize, only because he could get what he wants.
But things don’t add up, he only cares about himself.
You are an off shoot a tethered branch on the tree for his convenance.
But does he know that you’re not playing his game anymore.
Does he know you found yourself respect, flow back into you like diamonds retrospect.
The howl, of self-indulgence flowing through the body, freedom from the oddity that’s plagued you.
And snow goes by, blinks light into my eyes, I’m seeing clearly for the first time.
I’m no sad bad song, I am the melody, the creator created carefully.
When I jump off key, he sets me back right, oh how good to flow harmoniously.

You never met me yet, but you stare into my soul, cold selfish eyes.
You want all control, you think it’s funny playing games, playing poker with a pro.
The river is flowing, turning, and churning, my heart is burning for the mistakes I made.
If you developed some morals, some hope for tomorrow, you’d be so much happier.
But your afraid of me, your afraid of what I offer and what I take away.
You’re afraid you might have to care about my feelings.
You’re just waiting for the next one to come along, man child.
I am the breathe of God blowing, he’s set me in place.
I made my mistakes, now I’m flowing, breathing air in outer space.
You’ll never see the laughter, you’ll never see the joy, you’re not a good person
But you could be if you tried in life just a little more.
So you’re heart was broken, so it will mend, but not if you destroy it piece by solid piece.
That beating, that heating of blood, that is the journey of life you feel.
You could be so much more why do you be so little, act so small.

There is hope in the beating of wings, in the crescent of the moon.
When you see in glory, you can see it all.

Poetry, Writing

The Confusion


Confusion enters my bones every time you write to me.
Just a little quip, and you’ll take what you need.
You make me think, what if I just gave in?
Temptation what a horrible mistress you are.
If I just gave in, would it be bliss?
If I broke my promises just for a little bit.
If allowed myself to sin just for a moment.
Would I remember that night for a long long time?
Could I handle the guilt, or would it eat me alive.
Would I be comfortable with you, could I trust you?
The biggest problem is I want to be your friend.
You would douse me in delusion for awhile.
And then let me go, used, and abused.
Now you beg and you beg.
But another day you’d order me away.
Who are you to control me?
I am independent and free and I have my morals.
I hang onto them I do, when you would hold temptation before me
And I would reach out and touch, but to be burned.