Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Licentia - aabbccddeeAA, BBffgghhiiAA, CCjjkkllmmAA, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Poem – Licentia – “Some Magical World” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Last week’s Tale Weavers prompt was for us to write about a magical place. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. 

—–

Credit: Adventures In The Wild

——

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found? 

Place my mind travels inspired profound.

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy. 

A hiding place where I often prefer,

Don’t search for me in my valley secure. 

I’m riding raindrops, kissing the sun,

I’ve never had so much freedom or fun. 

Gentlemen here, always decent and sweet, 

A wink in their eye, naughty whispers keep.

They’ll treat a girl well, hold tight if she weeps, 

And if you would like, they’ll love you to sleep. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.
Gerber daisies everywhere with roses, 

Brilliant vivacity, colors exposed. 

Pixies trailing their dust eternally, 

Wings of lace light night, give hope certainly. 

Everything’s first bloom, so never spurn, 

This place humbles beautiful; with tears yearn

No contacts, surgery needed to peer, 

With clarity of soul, all vision clears. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——-

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 
Here is my land, I’m caregiver among —

Faeries with animals exotic, young. 
In their best-years forever, conversing —

Plainly; furry adore cuddles, nothing terse. 

A tiger cub sits by me so befuddled, 

When wolf pup becomes part of our den.

When I cheer because each word I’ve written —

Makes sense; stories flow unrestricted

 A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.
A comfortable place where I sit typing, 

Art studio where brush strokes have foresight.

Friends visit often, chocolate’s water

No weight gained, eight squares a day should be sought. 

Parties like Gatsby’s with flapper clothing, 

Each night unique theme, we don’t bemoan. 

As if we’re happy drunk with extra spunk,

Able to keep life in moderation’s trunk. 

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – “Left Out.” #Maydays #amwriting



——

Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. I skipped the prompt about geeking out for now. But am going to write about today’s prompt on friendship. My view in my poem today is that even though friendship is excellent, there are times it is frustrating. 

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

I know all my friends are out, 

And I’m stuck inside.

I know we’re true adults now, 

I still feel left out.

As if I wasn’t living life, 

As if I’ve missed so much to time.

Conversations and memories, 

I was never privy too.

——-

Maybe I’ll never grow up,

Maybe a job high up isn’t so vital.

I’m making life up as I go, 

It’s the best I can do, 

I wish sometimes you understood, 

It’s extremely difficult for me sometimes, 

Not only dealing with what life throws at you,

But trying to work through problems, 

Going through a veil, more like a brick wall —

Somedays.

——-

Cancer is killing my friend, 

I don’t know if she knows, 

How wonderful a friend she is to me,

And I don’t know why but she always, 

Floods the room with her beautiful light.

She has cancer and yet, 

Her energy level is much better than mine.

I don’t know how to make my best friends understand, 

They do, but sometimes, 

They don’t see anything at all.

——

Two hours in, needing to sit down and not move, 

Having eaten two pieces of cake, 

One I shouldn’t have eaten. 

Brought the hostess wine, 

Do all the right things to be a gracious guest.

But rarely, do I feel ‘in’ on all the things going on.

I don’t know that feeling anymore, 

I’m used to friends talking around me, 

My mind fading in and out.

I try to pay attention, all the hours I’m out, 

Don’t treat me as a child, like I can’t handle life.

Like I can’t handle honest words and your normal lives, 

Mental illness is a bitch and people have little thought, 

Of what you’re working past.

People may think things, 

At this point I assume my besties understand my battle, 

But maybe they don’t understand?

——

Maybe it’s still a disease people feel uncomfortable about, 

Because they’re grown up into adults with jobs.

They have kids and careers, 

They’ve the normal life.

I’m at home after years, fighting to have energy, 

Writing writing, who picks that as a career? 

But my dreams live and drive me forward.

No matter if my story is polished and presentable, 

I make myself impeccable.

Nice hair and makeup, 

Cute clothes for my size, 

Trying to be thin, like most of them, 

Pretty as them, but more width to my hips.

——

Striving for someone to take interest in me, 

Not feel I’m doing nothing with my life, 

Ask questions about me and be curious, 

Just as I am curious about your life.

Don’t talk over me, 

I know you all have your own fights, 

Cancer the biggest I believe right now.

I wish because of it, you’d understand me more too.

I’m launching myself forward, 

But I must move to a slower pace.

I don’t want to lose my best friends, 

I don’t want to be the only one who feels, 

We need to stay in touch.

——–

An attractive guy would be nice,

A listener, a toucher, a hockey game lover.

I’d love a dog and our own condo, 

No debt, and the ability to exercise well.

All these things I want, 

With boundless energy, 

No more worry about what my friends think of my illness.

Just like them, normal.

——

I want safety in his touch,

Seeking closeness with him and equality.

Connected to me, he’s not half-treating me, 

As of I’m forever a spoiled kid, 

Just because I need a ride.

Because I’m not well enough to drive.

Themes that under lie my life at times, 

Girls looking above me, raising their noses, 

Not knowing I fly in stars and midnight showers of rain.

Soaked to the bone in my imagination, 

Dipping my toes in the rain as I write, 

Sharing my gift and my faith, 

Wisdom of magic and belief.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Writing 101: Poem – Free Verse – “A Day is A Life Time.” #everydayinspiration


The prompt for Writing 101 today is to write about an event that takes place in a single day. Also, I will be including The Daily Post word prompts Phase, Dream, and Grain. I’m trying something with poetry and I hope the result isn’t tedious.

——

It started in the morning ending at —

Evening; children who were born with —

A scream on their lips, removed from —

The womb; swaddled in blankets.

——

Life is a day and each day we spend —

One single day, representing —

A lifetime; not knowing each day —

Could end in a moments glance. 

—–

Babe once born, phase into toddler, 

Sucking on bottles, weened off.

Already, personality —

Forming; individual who tantrums.

—–

Couldn’t get her way playing in her —

Pre-school; no hitting allowed there. 

Prepares her for kindergarten, 

Where she better know her typing.

——

To write her name proudly with her,

Markers scribbling future —

Artist; parent’s dream but she’s holding —

Building blocks; then she’s finished–

—-

Being a kid, now screaming to —

Her brother, ‘stay out of my bed —

Room;’ texting her friends, their all —

Nearly sixteen, appearing twenty-one.

—–

She’s been drinking since thirteen-years, 

Not weird to her; she’s been there before.

Degree in engineering of —

Structures; dreams building stream-lined.

——

Caught the eye of a man where she works, 

He’s ten-years her senior at his —

Prime; another engineer, they’ve —

Two kids, girl and a boy, on their —

——

Own journeys; and she’s divorced.

Only thirty-five, raising teenagers, 

Tiring of her career; her daughter–

Pregnant; along comes grandchildren.

—–

She’s only forty and remarries, 

Her true soul mate she says, kids hate —

Him; replacing father they never see, 

Grandma raising baby of her daughter.

——-

Mom is forty-five; son marries girl,

A beautiful blond, into fine art.

Mom doesn’t like her; girl’s a phase.

Son has three kids and stays married.

——

Daughter won’t talk; sends home one more —

Squalling infant for Grandma to —

Care for and work too; step-Opa glad, 

Never had kids, he loves his grandbabies.

——

The grandbabies grow and she’s pushing —

Sixty-five-years; grandkids moving —

Out; hoping they do better than her —

Sweet daughter; dead, needle marks proof.

——

She wants to travel, she’s been all —

Over the world but only for work.

So Oma and Opa see the —

World divine; slowing down in life.

——

She teaches, a class or two for —

Dumb first-year engineer students, 

Doesn’t know how they’ll fill her shoes, 

But they’ve all this technology.

—–

Eighty-six and she’s alone; her soul —

Mate, he passed away; time speeds through, 

She has a dog that keeps her happy, 

But she out-lives the dog as well.

—–

Grains of sand sifting, her time comes, 

In hospital they can’t believe she’s, 

One-hundred-and-one; she dies with —

Great-grandkids crying for their Oma.

—-

This, is a lifetime you say not —

One single day, but you don’t see,

How with such quickness, a lifetime —

Is reduced to one significant —

One magnimounous little, 

Day before God; finally, wandering home.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: “A Sunny Place.”


   

 So many thoughts, my head is all full. I guess it’s important to go outside more and face the world.

When you’re lost in a pool of ideas, and typing as if you are machine connected to a program. You need to talk to friends and not worry.

But writers become lost in their stories. They develop a strange sort of relationship with their characters.

Other people’s opinions and ideas are fresh meat for the meal, a smorgasbord of aspects to consider.

You become lost in the imaginary. In planning your next move. Outside the sky is blue and it’s only minus two degrees Celsius. 

Go for a walk and see your neighbours out with pets. Go for a coffee, meet a friend, or eavesdrop on the conversations of perfect strangers. 

Get away from the online. Social media can be exhausting. Forget about your dear internet friends, and make a new friend whose real and has a life you can hear about and talk with them.

Forget about guys who treat you badly. And forget about all the subtext behind chatting or messaging. Trying to judge what’s real with a keyboard and screen. 

Remember people build their own profile and appear who they want to be. Better to meet a guy at a bar, sadly. Better to meet someone at the grocery store or while sipping tea. 

Better to get outside and be single. Forget pressure from your ex who still wants to be together. Forget pressure from guys who only want to get laid.

There is everything to write and not enough time in the day. There is all these feelings to feel, but are they real?

Everyday is a blank page and I fill it up until I’m exhausted. I’m trying to keep busy but I don’t know how it could be busier. 

I have dreams. I’m only trying to make them real. I can’t help that my dreams are in another world and my characters are in such a state–

I have to type more words and solve their problem. I have to plan more to reach the denouement. I have to write a good story that somehow pleases me and other people. 

I need to relax under a bright sunny sky. Sitting on a beach. I think it’s been years. I need to sit in the sun and read a paperback. I need to feel sand warm beneath my feet.

I need to find a happy medium. This pace is stressful and I’m always afraid of returning to darker days. I need to make  myself real. 

I don’t want to miss connections in the outside world.I need a healthy mix of alone time and vivid memories with my friends. I’d like to try something new.

Inspiration and energy amisdt a large crowd. A beer in my hand, no wait, I’m on a diet. So, a glass of Perrier and lime juice will do, soaking up conversations, sun, and new faces. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Writing

Writing and Blogging: An Experience through Other Writers and Bloggers.


Laptop Writing
http://www.creativenauts.me
The more time I spend blogging. The more time I put into it. I think I have been writing a blog for three or four years now. At first, I wrote randomly and not often. I did not know much about WordPress and how it worked but I have learned many things about blogging and writing along the way.

At first, I was focused mostly on my writing and improving how I wrote. I think it has become a continuous goal for me to improve my writing but I have discovered so many fascinating and informative blogs from others along the way on how to improve my writing. One extremely helpful blog is Ryan Lanz who often has guest bloggers on any number of topics about improving your writing skills. Also, Amirhosein Ghazi has a number of posts on improving your writing.

These blogs and many more have been immensely helpful in crafting my writing. I know there is mistakes in everything I publish. No matter how hard I try to proofread and edit, mistakes always slips through. And if it wasn’t me, it was auto-correct on my Iphone or Ipad. Auto-correct drives me crazy at times! But do know, on my actual blog, I always correct my writing. So, if something is not making sense on the blog sent to your email you can always go to my actual blog homepage and the mistake should be corrected. I adore writing but my weakness is editing. I learned this through three editing courses through Simon Frazier University. I was going to do a certificate in Editing but an editor who only catches sixty or  seventy percent of editing mistakes isn’t good enough to edit professionally.

Courses that have also been of great aid to me have been Creative Writing

Writing Notebook
http://www.awritersprocess.wordpress.com
courses from the University of Alberta and Simon Frazier University online. Blogging courses through WordPress have also been immensely useful. I have meant many other bloggers through these courses and connected. I have also learned much about my writing and how to better be an honest storyteller. I have picked up tips such as ‘showing’and not only ‘telling’ in a piece of writing (thanks to Priceless Joy). I have learnt how to be more descriptive but also learnt one can go overboard with descriptive words. One interesting aspect I have learned is when your characters are having a conversation the word ‘said’  is alright to use over and over again. You can insert a few other words when the situation allows such as ‘shouted’ or ‘murmured’ but in general when your writing creatively in a story, you don’t want to throw your reader off by doing what we were all taught in high school and even in university to do. Do not write ‘said’ a different way every time it needs to be used.

Another great piece of advice given to me by Andy (whose blog I couldn’t find for you) was to make something happen in the story, an inciting incident and/or a problem. He used the example of Lord of The Rings: Frodo has an evil ring and stays home and drinks tea, isn’t an exciting story; but Frodo has an evil ring and goes out on an adventure to destroy the ring, is a great tale.

I have also learned to leave out certain words. It is a difficult objective to achieve with some of these words. These words include words such as ‘very,’ ‘quite,’ ‘just,’ ‘obviously,’ ‘rather,’ and the hardest word ‘that.’ In a writing course in university I was also told never to start a sentence with ‘this,’ but I haven’t managed to not use ‘that’ and not use ‘this’ at the same time. Maybe you will have better luck. If you are not sure if any of these words don’t work try writing a sentence you were going to use them in without these words because your sentence will sound clearer. Certain times I believe you have to use one of these words. Such as maybe something was actually obvious in your story. Or you have to use ‘just’ or another word because it is how your characters talk, In real life most of us talk using these words but talking can be different then writing.

Anyways, I have done many WordPress courses. I have done writing, blogging, and photography multiple times. I have done 101 and 201 courses.Not only meeting and interacting with other bloggers is important but reading varied takes on a prompt. Other people have ideas you would never think about writing about. Each person has their own experiences and imagination to draw from. Other bloggers and these courses fuel me with thoughts for future blog posts. They give me ideas or I become aware of different writing challenges being held such as Flash Fiction writing prompts through pictures, daily word prompts, and events going on in the larger writing community such as National Writing Month for poetry or writing a book. Additionally, the blogging  courses taught me how to improve the look of my blog to be more professional and to expand it to other types of social media. I’m not sure my blog is completely professional looking yet but it gets better through time. And I hope more professional, the more I write and learn how to use WordPress blogging tools.

Writing Desk
http://www.pinterest.com
Something I have truly tried to focus on is adding new bloggers to receive posts from and reading other bloggers work. It is impossible to read every blog I get but I do try to read most of them. The list keeps on growing but there is only so much time I can do this in. Blogging is becoming a career. I spend time writing my blogs, time appreciating other bloggers who comment on my work, and commenting on other blogs I enjoy. It is excellent to be able to have your work critiqued and to critique other people’s work. It adds to your own writing of blogs a great deal. Also, it is interesting to note in challenges such as Flash Fiction, what each writer will perceive out of one picture used as a prompt.

My greatest discovery lately comes from a lady who tells you how to plan

Writing Thank You
http://www.telegraph.co.uk
out a novel in a serious of blogs. I’m excited to try her method and make my novel come back to life. I’m unsure whether to re-plan or start a new novel because I have been stuck on this manuscript for almost a year. But I like my characters a great deal. You can check out what I am talking about here by Georgina Cromarty. I have linked you to part 1 of her Simple Guide to Writing a Novel. I believe she is on Part 6.

So in closing, thank you to everyone who has ever read, commented, glanced, critiqued, agreed, or disagreed with my blog. A blog is supported by a community of readers and writers and I’m thankful for you all.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Writing

Poem: A Night at Home


alone girl
http://www.pixhome.blogspot.com
On a lonely Saturday night she sat at home, turning textbook pages. She was supposed to be reading but the words blurred before her.

Like any other night she was at home, no place to go when you have limited energy. No place to go when your friends are coupled up.

The night outside was peaceful, and it was warm for November. When the darkness rolled in, it was fast a midnight sky.

And the stars twinkled down on her, she hadn’t seen them glimmer in ages; she felt as if they knew her secrets, that she longed to be strong again.

But the stars had heard billions of pleas for change and prayer to prevent suffering. They reigned down supreme as many begged to Him ‘on high’ for relief.

The snow lit the ground so it was slightly easier to see. When you drove home it shone, a white neon sign that was to remain until April.

And the houses with their lights off were slightly alarming. The world was out celebrating that the holidays were here. But some people were just stuck, marinating in their chairs.

But not everyone could party on warm nights. Some such as her, had things to do and places to be tomorrow.

But what she wouldn’t trade to be as most everyone, to not have to worry when the clock struck midnight. Not to have to feel a sickening in her stomach.

To not feel a terrible exhaustion hit her and feel herself fading away while the people around her move like puppets, never knowing that for her something isn’t right

The sound becomes to much, her ears are hurting. There are too many people here now. And she runs for the door only to be stopped by a woman she knows little, slurring her words on Bourbon.

Yes, better to stay at home and have a glass of wine. Better to stay at home and ace the exam on Tuesday. Better to be well for tomorrow and do some Christmas browsing. Better to be well.

But she can’t stop from wanting what she knows she can’t have. She prays every night but He ‘on high’ keeps whispering for her to go on, how she is. She’ll be fine.

And for her, that’s not an option. That’s not a choice. That is a sentence given and she lacks the power to change her direction.

Flipping pages is alright some of the time. But some nights are for party dresses, and high heels. Some nights are for music and a fantastic meal.

Some nights are for friends and staying up until dawn. Some nights are for memories that keep carrying you on.

But some nights are for typing and writing a poem. Writing on the screen what she is thinking and wondering if anything will change.

Or if the world will keep on spinning endlessly, ignoring her prayers. But she keeps on writing because it’s an escape from her mind.

Where the wheels are turning and the clock won’t go round, wondering when she can again begin; to begin anew, does that take until New Years?

—–

 

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.