With Regret

I have unfortunately lost my job after 17 years and it has been a major trauma as I am sure you can imagine. I will need to focus my energies on making sure my family and our home are taken care of and to that end will not be posting here at PP&P for a time.

I apologize to all the wonderful writers who have become my friends and who have shared so beautifully with the all the amazing photographs and art here. I do hope soon I will be in a position to refocus and resume this site and the joy that it has brought to my life.

But for now, it is with regret, that I will not be posting.

Laura Jayne

Direction

Photo by Simply Heather

Visit her Blog - http://simplyheathersblog.blogspot.com/

And her Photo Blog - http://simplyjoyfulphotos.blogspot.com/

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Use this wonderful photograph to inspire your writing today.

A poem about a direction, a story involving a weather vane,

a memory of traveling a certain direction...

just get creative with a direction.

Rose

Photograph by Bryan B - aka BoardBreaker93

visit his gallery at - http://boardbreaker93.deviantart.com/

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Yesterday you wrote a poem for a dandelion,

today offer a poem for a rose.

Just a Weed?

Photo by Jessica
Visit Jessica's 365 Day Photo Project Blog
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Write a poem for a dandelion.
I have always thought they are more than just a weed.

At the Bar

Art by Stephanie Taylor

For more of her art and creativity visit -

http://stephanietaylorart.com/

http://picasaweb.google.com/staylorstudio

http://flickr.com/photos/stevieart

Art Blog - http://stephanietaylorart.blogspot.com/

Stories Blogs - http://movingnarratives.blogspot.com/

and http://fremontparkart.blogspot.com/

Current project - http://valleyhilibrary.blogspot.com/

~

Suggest prompt...

~

Use this art to inspire your writing today.

Imagine a scene at a crowded bar and spin that into a story.

Metamorphosis

These wonderful photographs are by Kim Martin

Visit her at -

Google Profile - http://www.google.com/profiles/SciFyGirl
Orbitgal Creations (my portfolio) - http://orbitgal.com/

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Use these images to get creative today,

the idea of metamorphosis literally or figuratively today.

Safe Landing

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write from the perspective of one of these skydivers
a story or perhaps an inner dialog.

Friday Night Lights

Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood and Pixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~

Offer a memory from a high school football game.

(Or another sport if you are not American.)

A Boy

Photo by Basir Seerat
visit Basir's photo blog at
http://www.basirseerat.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Give this boy a story.

__________________________

The street is not silent but for his pounding heart, slapping feet, and spinning tire. There are other noises: distant car engines rumble; horns scream point and counterpoint; air force planes roar overhead; and somewhere close by a couple is arguing.

But he hears only three things: his heart, his feet, and his tire. They consume his reality, shoving all else to the side, discarding it as unimportant.

The only thing that matters is getting his prize home before they find him.

He does not turn his head at the sudden shout behind him. He does not feel the struggle of his heart and legs to keep him moving.

Only home matters. He will be safe there. His prize will be secure there.

But then he reaches his street and as he turns to cover the final fifty feet to his front door he sees them waiting for him. He skids to a halt but the tire continues on its way, wobbling on unsteady rubber before collapsing midway between him and them.

He pauses in the midst of silent, swirling dust. They stare at him with no expression. Then smiles creep onto each scarred, dirty face, one by one.

And then they raise their guns and the silence is no more.

Marc

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Looking Out

Photo by Kane Hsieh

Visit his blog - Crimson-G-B

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Use this image to inspire your writing in any creative way you are moved to today.

__________________________

I feel so alone
Looking out at the world
No one could truly love me
I've been told all my life
What I am is so wrong
How could anyone possibly see

It is not a choice
There is not a chance
For me to happily be free
I am only what I am, you see
I can be nothing else
But little ol' "unnatural" me

I look out at the world
I feel so alone
For no one can see me for me
Those ones down the street
At the church building- no
Neither the ones in my
Very own home

I am so alone
Looking out at the world
I see no one really loves me
For I long for those unlike myself
I long for those
...just like me

---

I feel I may need explanation for this poem. I personally know and love some wonderful people that are outcast because of their sexuality. Whether it is religiously something I embrace or not, I embrace them as wonderful, loving, and beautiful people who need love and acceptance as much as anyone else. Please embrace those around you- don't let them feel alone!

Dani

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Challenging Path

Photo by Brett Trafford

visit his site 365 to 42

for more beautiful photographs.

~

Suggested Prompt...

~

Use this image to inspire your poetry today.

__________________________________


It is a challenging path
This life that we live
Each step taken forward
Some back

Keeping eyes straight ahead
Stumbling rocks at our feet
Learning obstacles around us
We grow

Rest for a sweet moment
View life all about you
Sight hands reaching out for your strength
Encourage them

Sharing steps with another
Leading points from your view
Understanding new faith
Sweet release

Life’s path is inspiring
Not without care or hearts effort
Able forgiveness and love
Stand tall

At the top of the mountain
Find yourself to be true
A life worth the living
Your path

Simply Heather

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Working Farm

Photo by Simply Heather
Visit her Blog - http://simplyheathersblog.blogspot.com/
And her Photo Blog - http://simplyjoyfulphotos.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Include a farm in your writing today.

_______________________________

Hard work is how I learned to live my life. This is why, when I was sent to the newly built school a few miles away from the old one I had been used to, I was surprised by the other kids my age.

I couldn't understand them. I felt so outcast and yearned to be like them. Yet something else inside me knew I really didn't want that. My flannel button up shirt and worn jeans looked so faded and old next to their sleek appearances. I didn't know the names of the clothing they wore, but I knew everything had a distinct name.

If I wore something like that, it would probably only be for church. Mother would spank me silly if I wore something like that on an ordinary day. It would surely be ruined by my daily chores, and I could hear her saying, "No one should be so wasteful."

Occasionally someone would talk to me. It would seem friendly at first, but soon they would laugh at something I said that hadn't meant to be funny. Or if not, they would look at me shocked or surprised and then withdraw awkwardly.

For instance, that girl with the sleek blond curls and ruffled shirt came up and smiled at me once. She made a comment about how she wished school could be at a later time because she hated to wake up so early on weekdays. She'd gone on complaining and then stated that she couldn't wait for the weekend. As she looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reply, I hadn't known what to say.

Finally, I told her I was used to waking up much earlier, that school started a few hours after I'd usually been up at least a couple hours. I didn't realize anyone slept in so late! My mother would have walloped me for being lazy and missing breakfast.

The girl only looked at me oddly and walked away to talk to her regular friends. It felt so strange to be there among these people who had such smooth skin on their hands- hands that appeared to never have touched the ground- never been in a wrestling match with cow dogs or even got grass stains from falling.

I longed for home that day. And when I came to it, I was relieved to see the blue siding on the house, the red barn with white trim, the little red well, and oh the green, green grass. I never had looked at home with such pleasure.

The familiar scent of straw and fresh-mowed lawn was in the air and I immediately wanted to get my hands dirty. No problem at all doing that- it was time to feed the horses. As I went about my chores I though about school. I wouldn't ever make a friend at that new school. Why did our farm have to be built just inside the new district boundaries? All the other outer farms still went to my old school. The rest of the day was full and I found myself busy and able to put school out of my mind for now.

But the next morning came too soon. I woke before the sun to carry out the days duties and prepare myself for another day among the aliens to my lifestyle. Perhaps today I will find at least one person with a little dirt under their fingernails.

Dani

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

The Path

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"

Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Offer your creativity in any way you are inspired today by this delightful photograph.

_______________________

We all follow a path. Old, young, rich, poor, black, white, whole or damaged.

Whichever path we take is the right path for us, there is no other.

Sometimes we walk in brightness and light and all goes well. Sometimes we walk in shadow, and things seem hard.

In the dark times remember the light, it's still there - we need light to cause shadows. Walk onward to find the light ahead, draw strength from the light you left behind.

Whe your path runs in the light, store some up for the dark times you hit, then you'll never run out.

This path is your path, make it a good one :)

christine

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

The Laundress

Photo by Dan Felstead

Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/

ETSY Shop: Wood and Pixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/

~

Suggested Prompt...

~

Write a story or poem for her.

____________________


Elijah was killed last year in the main tent collapse. It was the worst tragedy to smite Philadelphia in years. Just like any other morning they rolled into town with the fanfare of ancient Rome. Colorful horse drawn wagons from Europe, Elephants from Africa, Indian Tigers and Elijah spinning on the flatbed wagon inviting the young and young at heart to the Greatest Show on Earth. Sarah and their young daughter was on the flatbed spinning the rope so the trapeze would swing while Elijah performed for the crowds lining Main Street.

The night of the tragedy, Sarah was ill with the fever so she and her daughter stayed away while Elijah performed.

At 8:30 that evening Sarah was stunned by the whoosh of air and screams of the crowd...as she looke outside...all she could see was splintered tent poles and in one moment of terror...she realized the devastation she saw and the realization that the crowd and the Elijah lay at the bottom underneath the white cotton grave that spread out before her like a vision. Was it the fever? Was she really seeing this?

The Circus was the only thing she and her daughter knew...the family tradition went back 2 generations. From that day forward, she and her daughter carried on the tradition in honor of Elijah.

The laundry finished just in time for the small leotard to dry for tonight's performance..."The youngest performer ever to take to the high flying trapeze" was now top billing.

Dan Felstead


One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Lazy Day

Photograph by Abby
Visit her website http://www.tenkeyspread.deviantart.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~

Lay back in the grass, relax, take a deep breath

and write as you are inspired.

_________________________


here. sun.
there. water.
kids run around me,
ignoring my sudden urge
to feel the grass
tickle my skin.

I would have stayed
all day.
I would have watched
sun fall off
island's edge.

I would have seen
the Milky Way fade
into existence,
guessed which constellations
actually appear in autumn,
and which planets twinkle
and which stars shine.
I'm no astronomer.

But Joe jumped on my chest
with an innocent laugh,
and pulled me off my ground bed.
We played on the roof,
and looked for salamanders instead.

Kate


One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Secret Door

Photo by C. John Edwards his blogs are -

http://scriptorsenex.blogspot.com/
http://cjeinexeter.blogspot.com/
http://cjehebrides.blogspot.com/
http://pensbyetal.blogspot.com/
and website -http://www.johnsbooks.org/galleries/gallery%201.htm

~
Suggested prompt...
~

Offer a story using this image.

Let you imagination get creative behind this secret door.

_______________________________

It was the tiniest little door that I’d ever seen; catching my attention as I was out picking berries in the woods one day. I wanted to think nothing of it but each time I’d turn to add berries into my bucket, there it was in my view. Oh, how the curiosity took hold. No one would know that I’d stopped picking, if I only went over there for just a quick minute, right? Everyone was waiting for me to get back to the house; mom was getting the pie crust all prepared with my baby sister. I could almost taste the pie, even though I still held the berries.

For just a minute, I walked over to the door. Looking it over, I found nothing to open it with, which filled me with such an intense anxiety – I simply HAD to search for the answer. Stepping around, studying the door and the brick and the walls; I found nothing; nothing, not even a little hole that would show me what was on the other side.

Okay, I needed one more minute. They wouldn’t know if I hurried to pick the rest of the berries for a bucket full. I’d already filled it near to the top and have only been gone for a few minutes; much less time than it usually takes me, because I usually stop by the pond on the way here to catch some frogs.

I searched some more, for a few clues as to what could be behind the door; still nothing and I gave up. I turned to leave and fumbled over a large rock, stubbing my foot and falling to the ground but as I fell, I heard a creek. The door opened. I’d never jumped up so quick in all my life! Running to the door, I pushed it open to find that my curiosity had over taken reality. The other side of the door was exactly the same as where I came from. I only walked a little way around, found more berries and filled my dress with them. The bucket was left on the other side of the door. I made my way back to the opening and heard someone. It sounded like laughter, mocking almost.

“Hey! Who is that? What are you laughing at?” I asked. It continued and came closer to me. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this tiny little flying person coming toward me. “I, was laughing at you, you silly creature. And, those are OUR berries. They do not belong to you. That is why I laughed.”

“Who are you?” I asked. “I am the youngest breary of the Fairies”, she told me. “If you don’t leave these here, you will not go beyond this door. You will have to live here and become our servant.”

I dropped the berries fast, plunked the little fairy thingy as far as I could and booked it out that door as quick as my little legs would take me.

The moment I found myself on the other side was the moment the door shut and I could hear laughter from the other side, filling the air. I grabbed my bucket and went home to find everyone still making the pie crusts. They were shocked that I was home so quickly, and that...to my amazement, my bucket was full of berries.

Hmmmm.

Simply Heather

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Home Grown

Photo by Dani
visit her at at goldentearsofjoy.blogspot.com

and her gallery at DeviantArt ~ http://daniweewee.deviantart.com/gallery/

~

Suggested prompt...

~

As summer winds down, offer a poem, an ode, or story

to the glories of ripe, lush, home grown veggies.

_________________________

It is my 478th...no...my 479th day. I have seen through the missing mortar 479 sunsets and 479 sunrises. There are 74 cracks in the concrete floor...18 have shown up within the last 2 weeks. My daily walk of 280 steps....that is 20 times around the cell...keeps my mind clear. Not the walking but the counting over and over again. The spider web in the corner of the ceiling now has babies...and they are beginning to explore off the web. This is nothing new...I count them as they make their way to my rug where I sleep...then ...just before they reach the rug, I kill them...one by one.

Rice again today. I hear the television down the corridor. They don't think I can hear it...but I can and I tell everyone in the cell block the news of the war by tapping on the wooden crate. Nixon ended the war today...hold on just a bit more...keep counting...keep walking...

I miss my parents, my home town and Jill if she is still there...

It has been 479 sunsets and sunrises since I have bit into a fresh, red ripe tomato. I go through the complete process each day in my mind...holding it - just picked off the vine. Biting into it, the juice runs down my chin. The meat of the tomato has such solid texture, the slight acid catches in the back of my throat and I relish the taste...the smell...the smell only a tomato vine can give. That is the scent of home...summers in the garden when the first tomato is picked.

I must hold on a bit longer and i will again taste that tomato at home...we all will taste tomatoes...as many as we can eat. Handfuls of rice from the Hanoi Hilton do not compare to tomatoes raised in Indiana soil.

Another crack in the concrete...that makes 75...I pull out the piece of mortar and make another scratch on the wall.

Dan Felstead

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Mooring

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Offer a poetic description of this scene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all for your well wishes and concerns. There was a bit of a crisis that needed my attention and took me away from sharing with you everyday. I am back now and will be posting daily again. ~ Laura Jayne

_________________________

Sunday Service

Still and quiet
Gray fog over gray waters
Little boats spot the quiet waters
Anchored harshly to the rocks

All is quiet
No voices are heard
No faces are seen
No one is on the moor today

A slight breeze ripples the water
Edging the little empty boats
Tilting slightly, inching slowly
Back and forth

In the distance
A bell tolls

Dani


One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

A Day at the Beach

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Offer your writing at the beach today.

A story set at the beach, a memoir about a trip as a child to the beach,

a poem for a cute lifeguard, anything your like, do get creative.

________________________

OK kids, are you listening? Today I want you to find the colour red. Do you remember what it looks like? Remember the coral we saw this morning? With the anenomes all over? Yes, of course you do. Well, they were red.

Now, spread out, no getting in each other's way, there's no need for that. I don't want any squabbling about who did, or didn't manage it. I'll be above you, watching.

The one who gets most hits gets first choice of the fish shpper, later.

OK, ready to go? Remember, extra points if you get front and back of the same person, and you lose points if you don't hit the red.

Spread those wings. Ready, steady, fly!

christine

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Road Trip

Photograph by Stephanie Taylor
For more of her art and creativity visit -
http://stephanietaylorart.com/
http://picasaweb.google.com/staylorstudio
http://flickr.com/photos/stevieart
Art Blog - http://stephanietaylorart.blogspot.com/
Stories Blogs - http://movingnarratives.blogspot.com/ and
http://fremontparkart.blogspot.com/
Current project - http://valleyhilibrary.blogspot.com/
~
Suggest prompt...
~

Imagine you are on this long and winding road,

offer a story about your trip, or a poem to express the idea.

Use this in any creative way you are moved, perhaps a memoir

about a long and boring road trip from your childhood.

_______________________________

The long, dusty road spun out before us
Empty land to each hand, water starved shrubs
Patterned evenly across as though dropped by
Giants making a checkerboard of desert land.

Home a distant memory though we left this
Morning, journey's end a mystery known to
Parents only. Like snails, turtles, we brought
Our home, our life, along on our travels.

morganna

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Lady in Red

Art by Tammy Vitale
Visit her website - http://www.tammyvitale.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Offer her story... write it in 1st person.

___________________________

I'm feeling bold today
so I wore my red dress.
Feeling so bold today-
not at all the usual mess.

I'm feeling bold today
so I painted my lips.
Feeling so bold today-
I could swing my hips.

I'm feeling bold today
so I wore a red brimmed hat.
Feeling so bold today-
alone and unguarded I sat.

I'm feeling bold today
so I stood out for all to see.
Feeling so bold today-
today I showed everyone me.

Dani

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Lighthouse

Photograph by Highlander
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Include a lighthouse in your writing today.

_________________________

Stand alone
You are seen.
You shine high and bright.
To send me hope
That soon the sun will rise
And I will breathe that much easier
In the morning...

For blue skies.

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Favorite Meal

Photograph by Kathryn

for more of Kathryn's photography visit-

http://www.pbase.com/katwilkens

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Describe in delicious detail your favorite meal. Consider all your senses.

_____________________________

He sat alone at the table, his calloused hands folded in his lap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a fine meal. Perhaps never.

Footsteps echoed off the walls and he sat up straighter, fidgeted a bit. He closed his eyes to heighten his senses, wanting to savour this moment, burn the memory in his mind.

The smell assaulted him first. His mouth watered in Pavlovian reflex and he swallowed thickly, greedily licking his chapped lips. Aroma wrapped around him, caressed him like a familiar lover who promised to fulfill every perverted desire. The plate gently touched the table before him and he waited until the footsteps faded away.

Alone again, though he knew he was watched, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at the feast before him: an enormous piece of prime rib—rare—garnished with a large dollop of strong horse radish. Arranged around it in homage to the succulent meat were parisienne potatoes, crisp asparagus and fried mushrooms.

He slowly cut into the tender meat then placed a small sliver on his tongue, relished the juices as they filled his mouth. The small morsel all but melted. The crisp outer shell of the potatoes housed a tender white interior. A mushroom cloud of steam erupted when he split them open. The asparagus, steamed to perfection, lay in a pool of melted butter next to over-sized seasoned portabellas.

His contented sighs punctuated the silence as he steadily ate through the meal, laying down his utensils after each mouthful, delaying the end as long as possible.

Crème brullée was the final indulgence. He tapped the crust gently, watched as the fault undulated across the golden scab, exposing the vulnerable richness beneath. Each spoonful was sheer joy.

The utensils now lay across the empty plate, meticulously lined up. He wiped his mouth carefully with the napkin and gently lay it atop the china. His eyes closed briefly as he sent silent thanks to the god he was convinced had long since turned away. He would remember that banquet as long as he lived.

He smirked as, once again, the footsteps approached, confirmation that he was watched. How else would they know he was done?

“Ready?” The question was asked, as though he had a choice. He merely nodded in reply, rose awkwardly and shuffled towards the door. With one final glance at the barren room, he followed the uniformed fellow out the door.

As he hobbled down the long corridor, the chains around his ankles clinked ominously, barely heard above the bellowed “Dead man walking!”

Monica Manning

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Street Food

Photo by Kane Hsieh
Visit his blog - Crimson-G-B
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write a poem or story that has a street vendor in it.

_________________________

Monday to Friday he gathers his stock. Saturday he sets up his stall in the "Epicurean World" Street Market.

Monday to Friday he visits flats in slums. Dirt-filled parvements, cracked and unkempt beneath his boots. Landlords who take cash from their tenants, but give little in return.

He answers the desperate pleas of the slum dwellers 'This place is crawling with roaches. Please come and get rid of them.'

Like a magician in reverse, he magics away their problem. Leaving with a bulging, wriggling sack.
At home, he lights the gas under the pot of oil every night. As the smoke begins to rise he tips in the contents of the sack. The hiss, and bubbling soon subsides.

He fishes out the contents, and sprinkles them with seasoned salt. Soon, his cotton-lined baskets are full.

Saturday morning, bright and early, he sets out his stall. He has an awning to protect his wares. He whisks the covers off his baskets, and awaits the eager buyers.

Freshly fried cockroaches. One man's problem, another man's delicacy.

christine

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Dark Path

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42
for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~

Use this image to inspire your writing today.

_______________________

Fine damp
Threads hang, wetting
My face. They thicken and
Puff, hiding the path. Trail's end
Shimmers.

morganna

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

The Game

Photo by Jessica

Visit Jessica's 365 Day Photo Project Blog

~

Suggested Prompt...

~

Write today in some creative way using

a sporting event that you enjoy watching.

_________________________________

A baseball game is only a baseball game. Or is it?

The late afternoon sun was barely touching the horizon when the umpire yelled,

“Srike two”.

Dust from the catcher’s mitt hovered in the air like a swamp fog.

My oldest daughter and her school friend wanted to play little league baseball that summer. No teams showed interest in either girl so ,the friend's father and I, volunteered to coach a team. The word got out, as usual, about us coaching the two girls on our own team. We ended up all the boys no team wanted with five girls in addition.

I have a hard time visualizing the pressure that she must be facing at this time. A quick sweaty faced glance toward third base, where I was coaching, sent a signal of desperation.

“Just remember what I said, Baby”. she hated for me to call her that at the ball field, but I couldn’t help myself. “Step into it with your left foot and swing at the next one”.

She stepped out of the batter’s box and wiped, with the back of her hand, as much sweat from her eyes as she could. I am not totally sure where the moisture came from. She looked back at me and I grinned and nodded my head in an affirmative nod.

The pitcher took his windup and as soon as the ball left his hand, everything began to react in slow motion. The baseball started it arched path toward the catcher. The bright red seams slowly end over end seemed to claw its way toward home plate. The first noticeable movement was the lifting of the pink sunflower patch covering the torn hole in the left knee of her trousers. The Nike tennis shoe lifted from the red sand and stepped toward the pitcher as the bat started its slow level swing. The red stitching and Louisville slugger met at the front edge of home plate. Before the crack of the bat could be heard, the parents from both teams exploded in a roar. Tiny puffs of dust chased her all the way to first base as the now scarred wound horsehide completed its journey into center field. a radiant beam of confidence shot its way across the diamond and struck me square in the chest. I knew where the moisture came from. It was not now or ever just a game. I can clearly see that now.

About to forget, that rag-tag bunch of boys and five girls won second place in the tri-cites baseball league that hot dusty summer.

glnroz

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

The Swing

Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood andPixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~

Offer a poem, story or memory that this wonderful photo inspires.

____________________

The effort to climb high becomes
Exhileration on the downswing.

Feeling on top of the world one moment,
Then feet back on the ground the next.

The swings we experience when young
Prepare us for those we will encounter later.

The majestic trees watch, and remember.
They've seen it all before, and will see it all again.

christine


One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Thrill Rides

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"

Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Offer a story set at a fair's fun zone.

_______________________________

He lost track of how many months since his layoff. His disbelief in his situation rested on his shoulders with every breath. Today, he chose to lock his woe in a closet and let his children soar through a day of smiles at the fair. They didn't worry for this one day of food, fun and games. A family needs to laugh even when hope seems to fade with each disappointment. This father reached into his pocket time and time again and said, "Get another candy apple. We will have a good day today."

septembermom

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Single Prayer

Photograph by Highlander

~

Suggested prompt...

~
Offer creatively one single prayer for today's writing.

Incorporate it in story, or maybe pray in rhyme, any creative way you like.

______________________

To whom it concerns,

I haven't decided whether there's one God or several, whether you're just some cosmic force, a breeze in the trees or the man sitting next to me on the bus. So, I don't know how to address this letter; don't want to offend. I thought, perhaps, God(s) would suffice, but maybe you aren't actually called 'God,' so 'To Whom it Concerns' seems the appropriate salutation.

You know that my prayers aren't frequent. In the past, I've sought you out only when I needed something, when things felt out of control or when I needed you to take care of someone I love. I was selfish then, and my faith was blind. I suppose I thought that prayer was all about taking, about relinquishing control. My prayers never expressed gratitude or thanks, they only asked you to take care of something for me, which was my subconscious way of freeing myself from all responsibility and casting it onto you, my scapegoat.

Looking back, many of my prayers were more like threats meant to put you in a position where it was impossible to bargain with me, to try and be the voice of reason. "If you don't make this happen, God, then I'll never believe in you again." Maybe I thought this extreme statement would make it imperative for you to answer my prayer.

In my young life, I somehow confused prayers with wishes to be granted. I knew I had free will, but I also believed that God could intervene in our daily lives, that he could make things happen. It makes life easier, more beautiful, somehow, thinking that you can give me my way.

God, I wish that there weren't wars over you, only they aren't really over you, but they are about you. They're over which interpretation, which religion is right. This may be presumptuous of me, but I don't think you agree or believe in organized religion. I certainly don't think you favor a particular religion over another. No, I think you probably hang your head in sorrow when you see people battling, when you see that true faith and belief is lost, and religion has really just become political. I believe that you put humans on this Earth to find each other, to believe in each other, to have more faith in themselves than in the divine. You created humanism. Somehow, this notion, this message, got muffled.

God, I don't know whether you have divine powers, whether you're an overseer of life on Earth, but I wish people didn't place all of their faith in you, something divine. Why can't people place their faith in something ordinary, like human nature? If we all believed in the power humans have, human nature would be something extraordinary. We have the power to change things, to change the world, it's just a matter of having the strength and the faith.

God, if you're out there, if you're listening, I want to thank you for human life. Please pray for us. Pray that we start to believe in each other so we can dig ourselves out of the deep ditch we've buried ourselves in.

Cheers,
Tin Kettle Inn

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Berry

Photograph by Abby

Visit her website http://www.tenkeyspread.deviantart.com/

~

Suggested Prompt...

~

Consider for a moment a ripe and succulent berry.

Its look, smell, texture, the way it feels in your hand, your mouth,

the moment its juices flood your tongue.

Close your eyes and imagine it.

Now write a poem for a berry.

_____________________________

berry of straw
berry of blue
berry of rasp
berry of cran

each taste is luscious
each scent is perfume
each one is a treasure
waiting to be found.

juice unlocks desire,
it taps the senses:
hear it swooshing,
taste it dancing,
feel it gliding,
see it gone.

behind, left are stains:
polish on fingers,
polka-dots on shirts,
of red, mahogany and blue.

Tin Kettle Inn

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Ancient Warrior

Tapestry by Stephanie Taylor

For more of her art and creativity visit -

http://stephanietaylorart.com/

http://picasaweb.google.com/staylorstudio

http://flickr.com/photos/stevieart

Art Blog - http://stephanietaylorart.blogspot.com/

Stories Blogs - http://movingnarratives.blogspot.com/ and

http://fremontparkart.blogspot.com/

Current project - http://valleyhilibrary.blogspot.com/

~

Suggest prompt...

~

Write a poem or a story inspired by this magnificent piece of art.

__________________________

I hide.

Behind the woven colors that caress my body,
Behind the beautiful fan I hold before my face,
Behind the frills of fabric,
the shine of my hair,

I hide.

They see a princess before them,
The beauty of a God.
They see a gentle dancer,
Celebrating their honor
Celebrating their kingdom-

But I hide-
my hand on my sword.

I will avenge you, father.

Dani

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Lotus

Photo by Lorelei

Visit her photo gallery at - http://www.pbase.com/birdseye

and her blog at - http://www.westcoastwriters.blogspot.com/

~

Suggested prompt...

~

Offer a haiku for a lotus.

______________________

Alluring goddess
serenades the white lotus
with impassioned kiss

Aroused by her touch
porcelain petals unfurl
in tempting delight

~She Poet~

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

At the Airport

Photo by Cyndy
For more of Cyndy's Photography visit
http://www.pbase.com/cyndycat
~
Suggested prompt...
~

Write a scene that starts at the curb at an airport.

_____________________________

We met, so to say, on the internet three months ago. Two weeks after that first email, he had given me his phone number. I had nervously made that first call. We emailed numerous times a day. All day long. We'd talk on the phone in the evenings. We'd exchange late night phone calls.

But we still hadn't actually met. We had each emailed one photo, but that was it for any visual reference.

We had agreed to meet and actually set the date one week after that first call, three weeks after the emailing began.

My nerves were at their highest alert level when I stepped off the plane. I made my way to the baggage claim. I kept looking for the face from the photo, hoping to catch a glimpse of him before he spotted me.

I made my way to the curb outside the baggage claim, where we had agreed to meet. Three months. I had waited for this for three months.

I heard my name and turned. There he was, the man I had known for three months, the man I had longed to kiss and hold. The man who was on his knee, ring box open, asking me to marry him.

My life of happiness, our life filled with love, began on that curb at the airport.

Faith

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.