playing – Mandibelle16

#OctPoWriMo Day 12: Poem — Zanila — “Playground Games” #amwritingpoetry

For OctPoWriMo Day 12, the prompt is what “liked to play when you were little.” Form is a new one for me, called the Zanila form with 4 lines per stanza, abcb rhyme scheme, and a syllable count of 9/7/9/9 per stanza.
Minimum 3 stanzas.

Credit: Yosin Hosgar via Unsplash.

In the sandbox, sand flung in air;

Sand in kids’ eyes, flushed-out.

Reaching for the next bar, ne’er falling;

Swinging on monkey bars, hands prepared.

*****

Climbing rocket ships straight to the top,

Sitting on the peak, orange bars;

Yellow metal ascended, stopping —

Only to peer below, dirty sand-lot.

*****

Then, the merry-go-round spins, whirls furious;

Taking turns to spin it.

Jumping back on all curious,

How quick can we go? Feeling nervous.

*****

Sunday Photo Fiction: Chasing the Nymph #amwriting #flashfiction #prosepoetry

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

Credit: E. A. Wicklund

She was out of breath, a chestnut freckled nymph, tumbling through the woods. As if she were, Diana, running, eluding a square-jawed Apollo, and his torrential bed.

Her legs were short but supple, her body toned, but his strength was so much greater; his limbs thick with muscle earned in battle; height taller, hands quick, fingers nimble — but not such as hers.

She did not tarry, she hurried through the trees; their game played once, and forever. The catch and release continued with the nymph’s harmonious melodies. Her lute trilling, protecting her and luring him, precisely where she desired.

The nymphs laughter was as bells at dawn, signalling he’d caught her, and day turned to dusk as she coyly smiled and left. Her walk triumphant, his laughter all too knowing.

He dreamt of every time he caught her, tossing her up high as their lips melded. They met perpetually in their Grecian eternity, playing catch and release; it never became boring.

Saturday Mix: Poem – Villanelle – “Dog of the House” #amwriting #saturdaymix #dVerse #poetry

Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Saturday’s Mix prompt based on ‘sounds‘ in certain locations. I’ll be combing it with #dVerse prompt on using a Villanelle style of poetry thanks to Frank Hubeny at Poet’s pub for hosting that.

——

——-

Quiet before the bustling crowds come out,

An awkward silence, distant noise undefined;

Then there is barking, a chorus sings, shouts —

Dog owners fumbling, sidewalks to new route —

Down verdant trails, nature whispers sublime,

Many dogs scrambling, playing, all about,

The new dogs can’t win, woof triumphant shouts.

Man’s best friend loves parks, rabbits smell divine.

Aromas, squirrel chirps, bird tweets, still mouses.

Mouse souvenir of pride for mom, on her couch;

As Dad showers above, Mom’s scent resides,

Flowers, citrus, sprayed here and there in spouts.

Dad’s Dior cologne sprayed so thickly it clouds,

Sneezing many times, scent too strong, despised.

Mom’s heels click, goodbye kisses resounding.

Leaning love, licking smacking kisses now,

Mom’s laughter sprinkled, Dad’s chuckles confide,

He loves me, she loves me; for this is my home.

From a sick dog on the city streets found,

Home protector, sonorous barks resound.

——–

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer P2: The Liberty of Choice #amwriting #flashfiction #music

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. If you didn’t already know this is a Part 2 to Part 1 (found here).

——

——

Part 2:

When Evangeline left home, she didn’t take a cent of the money she had earned playing piano at concerts.

To make a living she learned to play guitar and sing vocals with various bands at ‘hole in the wall’ clubs in L.A. What little money she had she used for voice lessons, rent, and food. She increasingly wrote and sang her own songs.

At twenty-four, Evangeline auditioned for the popular reality TV show, “The Voice.” From the beginning, her talent blew the judges away and she eventually won first place. She called home and invited her mom to come see her final performance for the show.

When Evangeline sat down in front of the grand piano her hands shook above the piano keys. She hadn’t played a piano in three years beyond practising in private for the finale show. She surprised everyone with her skillful piano playing and successful rendition of Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.”

At the end of that night Evangeline hugged her mom. Every ounce of resentment and hate she felt for Ruth in the past had faded. She was also amused when she remembered the priceless expression on her mother’s face, hearing the lyrics to “Sexy Back.”

She was also grateful Ruth had pushed her and provided Evangeline a background as a performer. It gave her an edge as she was now able to pursue her musical talents true to her own choices.

—-

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer P1: The Liberty of Choice #amwriting #flashfiction #music

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Apologies this is a longer piece than should be but sometimes pieces develop into much more and there is also a second part to this prompt.

——

Part 1:

Evangeline was a child prodigy playing songs on the piano from the radio, by ear, at age six. Her mother, Ruth, had dreams of her daughter being a classical music concert pianist.

Grudgingly, Evangeline passed all her Royal Conserveratory piano exams up to the tenth grade when she was only nine-years-old. Although forbidden from playing popular music, when she was home alone, she sang along to her Ipod and wrote her own songs with vocals.

Then, Ruth forced her daughter to travel the world playing classical music concerts. Evangeline’s classical piano arrangements were powerful and exhilarating to hear because of her resentment and hatred blended into every composition.

After graduating with an honours BA in music while touring, Evangaline refused to do more university degrees in music or to tour playing concerts. She had never been given a choice about how she wanted to use her talents or live her life. Her mother calling her ‘selfish,’ pushed her over the edge.

She left home and didn’t look back.

Find Part 2 (here).

—–

Three Line Tales: Low Places #amwriting #music #3LineTales

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

——-

——-

The resonance of his voice carries in the arena, an audience enthralled by the first twang of his voice.

He’s a brilliant musician, the epitome of which other Country artists aspire to be –a world wide known musician, a gifted storyteller, with a beautiful famous wife.

The cadence of his final song’s chorus resounds as he considers the eight more shows he’s playing here; the last lyrics hover in the ambience of the audience as he leaves the stage:”Oh, I’ve got friends in low places.”

——–

Note: Where I live, Garth Brooks is performing. His concerts kept selling out so they continued to add new shows, even weekend afternoon performances, until he was performing for nine shows. We’re pretty impressed that he’d play nine shows in our city. If he added a show or two more I’m sure they’d sell out as well; I still couldn’t get tickets 🙂

——-

“Low Places” by Garth Brook

——-

Sunday Photo Fiction: An Adventure Alone #amwriting #flashfiction

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

——-

Six-year-old James was excited. He was at a giant amusement park with a fascinating complex modular domes. He tried to rush past his parents but his Dad grasped James’ hand firmly.

They entered the first dome and there was a huge race track inside. James squeeled while driving with his Dad in a go-kart. The next dome had a mini-golf course. Half-way through the course James decided he was bored and that it was time for his adventure alone; he crept off when his Dad was putting.

He spent his day playing in a giant indoor playground and then went outside to where there were rides for kids to go on. He made friends with another boy named Paul whose parents thought James had permission to ride rides with them.

After a while James felt sick because he hadn’t eaten. He returned to the mini-golf course to wait for his Dad. He sat there for hours but he never saw his parents. He thought they had decided they didn’t want him.

Then he heard his Mom’s angry voice: “James William, where have you been?” He hugged his Mom and cried into his Dad’s shoulder when he picked James up. It appeared his adventure alone was more than James had bargained for.

——

Sunday Photo Fiction: Still His #amwriting #flashfiction

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

—–

——

Caden wasn’t sure how he arrived at the park; his feet had walked themselves there. He sat on a park bench feeling empty and worthless. In front of him sat an old Chinese stove, but he gave it little thought.

He’d lost Caroline for real this times and Caden didn’t know how to get her back. Lyrics from the song playing in the pub as she walked away from him, were on a continuel loop in his mind; she loved that song. He sighed, begging his mind to forget the painful lyrics.

“She’s imperfect but she tries, she is good but she lies. She is hard on herself, she is broken and won’t ask for help. She is messy but she’s kind, she’s is lonely –most of the time. She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie; she is gone but she used to be mine.”

Caden hadn’t ever felt so low. What did a man do when the woman he thought he’d stay with forever disappeared and wouldn’t talk to him?

No one seemed to know where Caroline was. He had almost cried in front of her Dad saying he only wanted to apologize and win her back. Caroline’s Dad patted Caden on the back saying,”Things will get better soon.”

Caden stared at the odd Chinese Stove wondering what its purpose was. He attempted to distract himself with the stove as the lyrics from that damn song floated back to him:

“If I’m honest I know I would give it all back for a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two. For the girl that I knew who’ll be reckless just enough, who’ll get hurt but, who learns how to toughen up when she’s bruised . . . she is gone but she used to be mine.”

Caden pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block the words out.

Suddenly, Caroline was standing in front of him, “How did you get here?” He asked her.

She gazed at him, “You look horrible Caden. Did I do that to you?”

He gasped shocked at seeing her, truly there now sitting beside him. Caden couldn’t hold back, he cried into Caroline’s neck as she stroked his hair; he held onto her tightly.

“I thought you would never forgive me,” he said.

“It’s alright,” she crooned to him, “I’m not leaving you ever again.”

Caroline was still Caden’s girl.

——-

Sara Barielles – “She Used to Be Mine”

——-

Lyrics from AZlyrics Sara Barielles Lyrics.

——-

Photo (Collage) Challenge: Poem – Cinquin – “What Love Means” #taleweavers #amwriting #poetry

Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt:

——-

Image Provide by: MindLoves Misery Menagerie

——-

Love it —

Must be more than,

What Emma simply says,

When You’re losing,

Your teeth.

——–

She says,

Quite clearly,

And she’s only six-years,

But she’s wise for —

Her age.

——–

Wisdom,

Just children have,

Amaze adults revealing that,

Love is more than,

We think.

——-

Complete,

And comfortable,

Smiling without teeth ’cause,

Your friends love you,

For you.

—–

No matter,

You’re missing teeth,

And have gapes in your mouth,

Friends care not, love —

Anyways.

——-

Of all,

Kids’ memories,

The best to remember,

Innocence made.

Without —

——–

Judgement,

Only fighting,

Over favourite toys,

Grudges not kept,

Hands held.

——

Pets like,

Favourite cats,

Laughing at penguins from,

Favourite movies loved,

With Friends.

——-

Second —

Homes, each other’s —

Houses; kids come and go,

Colouring,

Painting.

——–

Spending,

Childhood doing,

All the activities kids,

Should be doing,

Laughing —

——–

Over,

Funny things told,

Not really funny but,

Giggling stuck,

Can’t stop.

——-

As kids,

Laugh at every,

Age; children’s innocence,

Refreshing and,

So kind.

——

Especially,

When they teach us,

Lessons like to love anyway,

Family and friends,

Anyone.

—–

Kids play,

Not realizing,

World’s complicated; let —

Children be free,

Always.

——

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Dogs Life #amwriting, #flashfiction #dogs

Thank you to the beautiful and kind Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——-

——

It might appear to you in this picture, Mom has fenced us in the backyard and left us alone. We love escaping to the yard to play and run circles, but truly, Bugsie and I, we’re inside dogs.

Mom needs us close to her where we can snuggle and give her kisses when she least expects them. She wants us inside to give us the last two bites of whatever she is eating.

She also needs Bugsie and I to guard the doors and look out the windows. Sometimes, the front door opens and it’s Dad coming home from work and he’s so much fun; Dad wrestles with us and takes us on runs in the morning.

Mom and Dad take both Bugsie and I to the dog park. We went down the off leash trail, running freely back and forth, sniffing, and sometimes checking on Mom and Dad. Where the dog park trail ends is a fence, and that’s where this picture is taken.

And at the end of the trail, I’m happy to go home. Bugsie and I lay beside each other and nap. It’s heavenly.

——-

M	T	W	T	F	S	S
		1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: