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Doodles and Scribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

The Tale of the Mad Cow

The Mad Cow

It was a perfect time for rocking chair and morning coffee when suddenly his grandson came barging in from the backyard.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” Nathan yelled, his face flushed from the sun.

John let a sigh and spoke sternly, “Kid. I told you… No running inside the house.”

“Grandpa, you would be proud.” Nathan said abruptly as if not listening. “I found a mad cow in your herd and I set the cows free! You should have seen them. They were running so fast. I knew they were so scared of—

“Wait, what? What mad?” John knew his grandson is too hyperactive for a seven year old but he must have heard wrong.

Nathan, his eyes brimming with pride, led him towards the backyard. “Remember? The one you and Uncle Jerry were talking about—mad cow disease! I found one who never stopped staring at me. He was totally mad.”

And then John was at lost.

Word Count: 155

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by MajesticGoldenRose. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt. 😀

Enjoy more stories here:

Swing Thine Broken Dreams

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Sweet giggles filled the grimy air
Etched on a ravaged wall was a funfair
A glimpse of paradise and utter bliss
Amid the havoc and total mess
“Where do broken hearts go?”
The old song goes
Where do broken dreams go?”
Alas! Nobody knows.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Giggle hosted by De.

My friends here in blogosphere know how much I adore the works of Banksy. The man knows how to speak the truth that most of us turn a blind eye on. The image above is one of his four stirring graffiti stencils in Gaza that was released together with a short film. Today’s quadrille reminds me of this.

Head over here to join the fun:http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=24Feb2017&meme=12540

dverse

Home

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Home
By Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

Main photograph by Daniet Etter/New York Times/Redux /eyevine. Laith Majid cries tears of joy and relief that he and his children have made it to Europe.


Sharing this stunning piece because it deserves to be read, heard and felt. So much love for her words. ❤

Warsan Shire is a Kenyan-born Somali poet, writer and educator based in London. Born in 1988, Warsan has read her work extensively all over Britain and internationally – including recent readings in South Africa, Italy, Germany, Canada, North America and Kenya

Doodles and Scribbles at 2

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YAY! It has been two awesome years for Doodles and Scribbles and I, and the counting goes on.

Through the Years

Doodles and Scribbles has grown such a warm blogging community and I have grown as blogger myself. I remember a certain someone once told me,

“…you only want attention; to bask in praises from strange faces, unknown to you and you to them, never knowing what lies deep within.”

I felt bad for these harsh words and disappointed at this someone, who never had a blogging community in the first place, saying such things. He called it shallow and pretentious, which is not.

I am grateful for the people of passion that I have met through this blog. Their worth are far beyond the praises that I have received and in contrast to what that rude someone said, these bloggers–who I consider friends–have read and seen right through me. Vise versa. Continue reading “Doodles and Scribbles at 2”

One Word After Another

From the words of Neil Gaiman

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“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.”

I’ve been out of the blogosphere longer than I originally planned. Somebody, call my muse!!

In the meantime, I’ve decided to tidy my shelf and post some long overdue drafts in the next few days. Sigh. Why must writing be this easy and hard?

Tired Souls Wait On Riverbanks

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Tired Souls Wait On Riverbanks

Tired souls wait on riverbanks
Tired souls wait for a welcoming heart
Lost in a kudoclasm of what lies ahead—
A knot of fear in stomachs tighten.

Will there be sparrows singing songs of hope,
Or an ominous hymn from a murder of crows?
Will there be walls and deadbolts on homes?
As they somaticize grief—naked and cold.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Painting by Ally Saunder


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: Ally  Saunders – A Closer Look hosted by the lovely Mish and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #140 by Yves

I still can’t get the world’s distressing news out of my mind. The second I saw this particular painting, my heart immediately went out for the victims of war and the poor refugees. 😦  So here’s a little follow up to my previous post, Have we had enough? *Sigh*

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

Have we had enough?

 

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Have we had enough?

eyes fixed on his war-torn home—
a triptych of death, despair and doom
he breathed the air
tasted blood on his lips;
dread clawed out of his throat
and tears seared his skin

Have we had enough?

…words echoed as he waits for dawn

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: UNICEF IRAQ/DUHOK/2015/SCHERMBRUCKER via newswire.ca


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Dawn hosted by Bjorn.

In light of the unending chaos in the Middle East and madness in the US. Let there be peace.

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

 

To the weary…

To the weary hearts like mine, here’s a beautiful song from Casting Crowns.

“Quite! Be Still!”, I need to tell myself this phrase the way God commanded the raging storm in today’s gospel, Mark 4:35-41.

God of All My Days
by Casting Crowns

I

I came to You with my heart in pieces
And found the God with healing in His hands
I turned to You, put everything behind me
And found the God who makes all things new
I looked to You, drowning in my questions
And found the God who holds all wisdom
And I trusted You and stepped out on the ocean

You caught my hand among the waves
‘Cause You’re the God of all my days

CHORUS:

Each step I take
You make a way
And I will give You all my praise
My seasons change, You stay the same
You’re the God of all my days Continue reading “To the weary…”

Share Your World – Week 4

Here’s for  Cee’s Share Your World Challenge –  Week 4


Do you prefer juice or fruit?

Fruits. Specially freshly picked. 🙂

Did you grow up in a small or big town? Did you like it?

I came from a village tucked in the far-most corner of a small town and I couldn’t ask for more. “Away from civilization”, that’s what we jokingly call it. BUT we’re never away from each other. Home is where love and smile is the warmest.

If you were to paint a picture of your childhood, what colors would you use?

Green for the trees, blue for the sky, brown for the dusty road. It was a time of laughter, sun-kissed skin and sweat. Need I say more?

Ways to Relax List: Make a list of what relaxes you and helps you feel calm

• Stargazing and moon-gazing
• Watching animated films
• Doodling and sketching
• Listening to music
• Lazy afternoons
• Reading books
• Long walks
• Silence

Continue reading “Share Your World – Week 4”

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