Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Octain Refrain – “Three Lights” #amwritng #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

A night deep, the black ink deftly hiding, 

Criminals, the lost, truly evil find. 

Misdeeds better performed where every sound —

Is a nightmare calling, no justice found. 

Unrevealed secrets proffered, ungrounded, 

Realization of innocents expounding

Out here ‘neath stars, curse of night, hurt resides. 

Three light in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black ’round, 

Presence of luminescence, rats scatter . 

Lights are strong, don’t flicker, they matter. 

Bring attention to the wounded, those drowned

All their sorrows piling-up —burdens

Shine your light thrice, save them for certain. 

Demonstrate there’s another way clattering

Sing songs of broken hearts; at last they’re found. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

—–

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

Though we may fear darkness, here there’s no need, 

As long as there’s light radiant, just heed. 

Never let your fears overcome, light resounds, 

Washes out creepersshadows; it centres.  

Gives hope for tomorrow, transformed life mends

Malevolence abounds, stay grounded

Light always wins —brilliance all precedes. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


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#OctPoWriMo – Day 26 – Lento – “Don’t Abandon Them”


Prompt Day 26: Abandonment:

“What does abandonment mean to you? I deal with abandonment issues all the time. However, there are ways to view this word in a positive way.”


beachsisters
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Justification, they aren’t one of us;

Illustration, cold abandonment.

Illumination, we’re one –so be just;

Inspiration, we’re at heart as them.

Transformation, provide helping hand.

Desperation, suffering is mad.

Divination, we don’t know future.

Desperation, many abandoned.


Consideration for people in life,

Participation, together win fight.

Illumination, truths revealed about strife.

Justification, nothing about it right.

Diversification, different skills aid.

Inspiration, create solution.

Mystification, make it more clear.

Inspiration: restitution.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Colour Psychology #amwriting #flashfiction #magenta


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Jade M. Wong
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Sally and Georgia were at the local museum. The museum had an exhibit on colour psychology that both girls found fascinating.

They paused at a large diamond-like structure made of hard plastic magenta. “What’s this?” Both girls said.

“It looks as if it could be a pensive from Harry Potter,” Georgia said. “The sides of the diamond could open up and you could dip your head in.” 

Sally rolled her eyes, “I don’t think that has anything to do with colour psychology. I read that Magenta is made of both red and violet. It has the ‘passion, power, and energy of red [but is] restrained by [violet’s] introspection and quiet energy.’ ” 

“Interesting,” Georgie said reading the same plaque. ” Magenta is a colour concerned with ‘change and transformation. [It releases] old emotional patterns [which] prevent personal and spiritual development. [Magenta] aids [people] moving forward.'”

“Do you honestly think that’s true?” Sally asked.

“Well it is true people are drawn to certain colours for specific reasons. Sometimes it’s preference, other times colours help fulfill an emotional need for peace or something more colourful and bold,” Georgia remarked.

A preteen boy passed by the women gazing at the diamond. “Why the hell is there a pink diamond here? Who cares about colours anyways,” he said to his Mom who gave him a reproving look.

The women peered at the boy. “It’s Magenta,” Sally said. “Not pink, pink has no purple or blue in it; it’s a tint.” 

The boy’s eyes glazed over.

——-

For more information on colour theory for Magenta, please visit the source of my quotations here. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

A Late Night’s Tale: Memories of What Was


  
 You can let yourself be stressed out and take everything upon yourself. You can force yourself to do too much when you know that you should stop. You don’t think “me” time is needed; you think it’s a bit selfish. Then you break, you shatter. The person you become is not someone you recognize. It is you at rock bottom and you wonder if there is a method of putting yourself back together. You wonder if you can ever be whole again. Because right now you are empty. The busyiness and fast rhythm of time ticking  can never be stilled. You were never told to be careful, to slow down.

 

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You ignored the signs that things weren’t right. You thought maybe you had a bad flu or ongoing cold. You thought a trip to the medicenter would make it all better. That you could put band-aids over the ever widening crack in your persona. You thought you could hide behind laughs, smiles, and declarations that you were feeling terrific. You never said how tired you were, how you lay awake at night. How this ‘thing’ started to creep up on you until it owned you and had you shuddering and suffering, bracing for impact. Your breath was shallow, you were lost beneath the pain. You became your pain and the torture of what you had become ate at your insides so that you wouldn’t eat; you weren’t interested. You thought it would make it easier on everyone if you would fade away. You suffered. No one is able to handle suffering at first but you grew used to it. You entertained suffering in the drawing room of your mind over endless cups of tea. Your world was a dark dank prison that you couldn’t escape. You wished for light to rain on you but all you got was a few cinders of fire. You became angry, blamed God, blamed the world, blamed your parents for giving you such genes, for your existence. And when you were at the deepest and most pitifullness of your trial you saw a candle in the window of your soul and held your frost bitten hands to the flame and began to soak in the warmth.

 

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You lit more candles. You felt the heat rise through your limbs and pierce the empty places you had inside of you. You began to morph into a creature you scarce dreamed you could be. You changed, slowly, and methodically. It was a process but soon the darkness became twilight and you knew the worst was over. These were waters you could swim in now. The shore was close at hand, and landing on the beach you cried tears of joy. Your frail body was regaining strength and mobility. Your tortured mind became clear and your thoughts became peaceful and you smiled for the first time in ages. The sun came up that day, and didn’t go down. It was a special day. You had recovered yourself and found in your suffering that you were stronger then you knew. Strength was in your heart and soul. You were fortified and built up. And the next time you fell, you got back up. You didn’t let yourself get sucked down into the prison you left alive. You didn’t let your life become over run thinking there was always something you had to do and couldn’t miss. You learned to cope and learned what you were missing wasn’t as good as you thought it would be. You made choices for the better. You lived to tell your tale; others do not.

 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.