Notable Quotes June 2017 Part Two #pinterest #quotes


More quotes for you again, hope you enjoy and remember that just because some quotes say “she” doesn’t mean they can’t apply to “he” in many situations. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Notable Quotes June Part One #pinterest quotes 


Yay! Time for quotes again. Hope you are all well and find a piece of inspiration here from one of these notable lines. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesday: The New Teacher #amwriting #flashfiction #racism 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: William Stett via UnSplash

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It’s 1962 and Miss Parker’s exotic beauty temporarily shocks her grade seven class into silence. She has lovely dark skin and striking eyes lined with kohl. The boys are held speechless by her attractive appearance. Her bold cranberry lipstick and a fashionably revealing outfit are what her female student’s desire to wear.

Her student’s realize how interesting, knowledgable, and outgoing their new teacher is and walk home each day telling their parents Miss Parker is wonderful. The parents are thrilled for their children. 

Nevertheless, things change when the parent’s realize at parent teacher interviews, Miss Parker is black woman. Race was not a feature of Miss Parker their children noticed as racism is not ingrained within a child — it is taught. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 11 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Writing Prompt: Poem – Bop – “Peripheral Madness” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry 


Today’s NaPoWrIMo prompt is to write a poetry form called the ” Bop, a kind of combination sonnet + song. . In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.” For the A to Z Challenge the authors name will begin with letter J from GoodRead’s quotes. Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for last week’s writing prompt and picture. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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“I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that man’s supremacy is not primarily due to his brain, as most of the books would have one think. It is due to the brain’s capacity to make use of the information conveyed to it by a narrow band of visible light rays. His civilization, all that he had achieved or might achieve, hung upon his ability to perceive that range of vibrations from red to violet. Without that, he was lost.”  ― John Wyndham, The Day of the Triffids

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Sight I think is amazing for what could, 

We see without vision, eyes to perceive? 

The world around us is intricate, complex, 

So our eyes make sense of the colours, shade —

Tints, tones, complementary colours, those —

In the same family, yet inside were sightless

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

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It’s fascinating to think how each of —

Us sees the same thing differently; by —

Sight and experience — the image changes. 

All see such varied pictures notice where, 

The colours blur, wind; how they can deceive us. 

How red, green, purple, blue, orange and yellow, 

Mix together, painterly dragons fly. 

Optical illusions nearly missed disguised. 

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

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Blended carefully the animals come —

To life; birds, unicorns, oxen, and some, 

Mythical creatures, pale faces turned down. 

See not only within the painting see —

Inside your heart, for the truth sits there, 

Ignore the blindness, learn to fathom more. 

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge.

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Credit: Laura Williams

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Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The End of The Dock” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #mentalhealth


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: Jules Paige

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At the end of the dock, will she find —

Her own end? Will she find a kind —

Soul who wants to save a lost one?

There’s nothing new under the sun,

She doesn’t want to reach the dock’s ledge to jump —

Into water, to drown, heart ceasing its thumping. 

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No one thinks they could reach this point,

No one sees beyond their own point.

Blind to the sad, anxious hoping,

Someone will throw her a life rope.

If she knew how to swim, maybe she could fight back?

Maybe she could cling to life even when attacked?

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She’s no superheroe who’s bent,

On killing her nemesis.

Her demons struggle within hid,

She keeps them sealed under tight lid.

Support her, help her, light the shadow of the lost,

No one knows when she cries, it’s not easy to stop.

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Waves inside her — tempestuous

They’re crippling waves, regardless

Beyond her sadness, waking up,

Worse than ignorance unjust.

Your lack of thought, with no empathy — she’s pleading,

You don’t try to learn or listen, she keeps bleeding.

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She said,”Not to judge a book by —

It’s pretty cover, how it looks.”

She pleads, “Listen to Atticus,

Walk around in my skin,” pick —

Wisely how you react; she’s scared of descending,

At the end of the dock, desperate to not be.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Poem – Rictameter – “Foresight” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt having to do with the importance of sight, physical, spiritual, or beyond. Also thank you to Linda J. Wolf of the blog Urban Poetry for the new poem format. Rictameter verse had 9 lines and the first and the last line repeat. The syllable count for each line is as follows: 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2. 

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Also, I know many of you are doing the A to Z Challenge for April. But if anyone’s interested in poetry, join me in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). A poem a day for 30 days. You can sign your blog up at www.napowrimo.net. Each day in April, return to the site for the daily poetry prompts and remember to link back to the website when you write your poems and to tag your work #NaPoWriMo so other bloggers can read your awesome poetry. Looking forward to reading everyone’s poetry takes. If you are REALLY up for the challenge combine NaPoWriMo with the A to Z Challenge 🙂 

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Credit: Google Images

To see,

With clarity,

Minds are required to —

Be open to possibility.

All the relevant outcomes forecasted,

Made with thinking of calculated —

Risks; all aspects bad,

Or fortunate,

To see.

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Because,

Limited sight,

Costs lives, so we try —

To foresee what could occur.

What is likely to happen in certain —

Situations; or what won’t —

Occur; we attempt to —

See the future,

Because.

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We live,

Blindly despite,

Attempts to know.

We can’t actually know;

As much as we make it seem,

As if we can configure potential,

But it’s all a fantastic lie.

We know nothing but —

Footsteps ahead,

We live.

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Blindly,

Our sight fades for —

Physically our prime is —

Short; but we can see past —

Spiritually if only —

We choose to see, to look within and find,

Our immortality left,

After we pass on.

We try to see,

Blindly.

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In life,

We desire to —

Know what happens —

Next; can we stop our fears,

Trouble from taking place or should —

We leave it in God’s hands and let,

Our worry and painful burdens,

Be His to decide,

Thy Will Be Done, 

In life.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Writers Quote Challenge: Poem – Licentia – “Filling The Cup” #writersquotechallenge #poetry #amwriting


Thank you to Jacqueline and Bernadette, from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting the All New Writer’s Quote Challenge. Here’s this week’s prompt quote: 

“We are all vessels. The question is what are the contents of your vessel?” 

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We are all vessels in life, full of what we choose,

Let what whispers you would in, wisely proved.

We cannot keep all the dreary out nor —

The demons within; release what’s ill and poorly. 

Light shines in your shadows keeps the cobwebs, 

From ceasing thoughts which need to be said. 

Let your vessel overrun with hope, joy —

Though difficult, let not out what annoys. 

Tranquility, contentedness find, 

Don’t let the dark days your soul to confine.

We are all vessels in life, full of what we choose,  

Let what whispers you would in, wisely proved. 

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We cannot keep all the dreary out nor —

The demons within; release what’s ill and poorly. 

Find vessels alike, fill each other’s cup

Never destain to ask all your friends,”What’s Up?” 

Tears fill us sometimes, but joy overflows too, 

Let happiness feed each other, connection through —

Friend or family uplifts one another. 

Strangers walking trade smiles, vessels fill love. 

We are with each other so we might as well live

Providing all people with kindness given. 

We are all vessels in life, full of what we choose, 

Let what whispers you would in, wisely proved. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem – Day 21 – Octelle – “Leaving Now” #amwriting #novembernotes #poetry #writing


The song prompt for this day, is “Recreational” by Aaron Krause 

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“Recreational” – Aaron Krause

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This isn’t real, I cannot feel, 

Your lies are fine, don’t make it real. 

Your words remind me what you did, 

Your words hurt me within.

Keep your lies, no promises, 

There’s no more compromises.

You don’t say it outloud, your lips sealed, 

Numb inside, I’ll never fully heal. 

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The music starts, covers silence, 

I don’t want to hear your weak defence. 

Broken promises shatter, 

The shards so sharp scatter.

Didn’t mean the words you said, 

I called you out and you fled. 

Pretending you don’t hear me hence, 

I’m leaving, no reprehending. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poetry: Free Verse – “Woman On Fire” #amwriting #poetry


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Animosity conspires within her belly, 

Her reactions fast, lightening sparks. 

She stalks through corridors and hallways,
Blood boiling, melting inner warmth of heart. 

No one speak of  what’s right or the truth.

The bottom line — what is right or true, 

Meant nothing when they used her. 

And the fire flits through her system, 

She’s wants to burn the world down, 

What made a gentle song bird, claw back viciously? 

The wrath of Maleficante, innocence stolen. 

Now, the swagger of her hips, 

Is a femme fatele arising, 

Wingspan of dragon, breathing flames of fire. 

Beating down the masses, burning pyres, 

Magnificent rage multiplying. 

Try to stop her, it’s in her being now. 

Her heart is blazing flare of woe. 

Be watchful and be wary, 

Someone, something, hurt her fiendishly —

A soft woman breaks most brutally, 

When her inner demons burn in wrath.  

She’s diligent and mean — so lost, 

All her love sprung and fled. 

Appears as if she should be wimpering, 

But when she talks her words scorch

Heavy smoke will make you cough and choke, 

It’s a dense whirling mass, 

That sends ruthless cowards to their knees. 

Before fire can blister and raze you, 

The smoke will leave you dying, 

No breath of life in her has forgiven. 

Don’t hurt a soft smart woman, 

She’s most dangerous;

Because when her dams break open, 

All hell leaks forth. 

Demon woman, betting on retribution, 

No absolution, no temperance, 

They’ve flown away, murdered by spite. 

A reckless beauty in pink, with pearls, 

Diamonds changed for rubies, tinder red glare. 

Her price for life is costly, 

Sparked by a wreckless cause, 

Anger building, layer open layer molds. 

She’s become the wretched clouds, 

Above the Valcono seething. 

And sulphuric rain’s in her power, 

No water to save and cool you, 

From a dragons lair or breathe of flame. 

Another way to die —

 Like she dies inside, daily,

Consumed by all her hatred;

Marked by vengeful ire. 

She’s become her indignation, 

She’s fury and resentment. 

A witches pot brewing, 

Antagonism, tears, and vexation. 

She will set afire and raze her foe. 

Dangerous and furious words, 

Melting magma from stones. 

She burns inside, and all that’s left —

Ashes killing, if exhaled. 

Dust she compresses, from the barren world, 

Her flame, herself broken once too often.

Wretched soft woman, 

Destroying the world and herself.

That’s why kind gentle women, 

Should never be screwed with, 

Once destroyed —

They bring the world down with them. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved