This blog is for all who desire to create with words and images.
You are encouraged to participate in any way that is meaningful to you.

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All prompts beneath the photos are only suggestions.
You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire.
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There is no deadline on posting,
you may offer your writing to any prompt anytime.
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Write and you are a writer.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Quiet Life

Photo by Jessica
Visit Jessica's 365 Day Photo Project Blog
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Suggested Prompt...
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Tell the story of this picture.
Or use it for a poem.



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Quiet life Tanka.

Rusty, tin-worn roofs,
Lay to rest the memories
Of gentle days past.
We wandered through green orchards
Once, which now become fallow.

~ Sacha van Straten

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.

9 comments:

Marc said...

The farmer has passed on
But the barn remains;
Again will come the dawn,
To light this terrain
Upon which life was made,
And too soon ended;
The trees that once gave shade
No more are tended.

Tools hang still in the shed,
Though the rust begins
To turn the silver red,
They still shine within;
Friends still tend to the lawn,
They will not forget;
Time slowly marches on,
With not one regret.

Sacha van Straten said...

Quiet life Tanka.


Rusty, tin-worn roofs,
Lay to rest the memories
Of gentle days past.
We wandered through green orchards
Once, which now become fallow.

Dan Felstead said...

Oh to have a channeled vision of past lives. Seeing the children, the hired hands and the livestock wandering the acre or so of outbuildings. A ghostly vision of lives lived, lives lost, worthwhile - meaningful lives led by generations knowing this farm was their legacy.

Dan

Irish Gumbo said...

On the occasion of his 73rd birthday, Jonah Hoff stepped out onto the porch of the house he was born in, and paused to look at the outbuildings across the way from his empire of corn and soybeans.

Sipping his coffee, he heard Grandpap in his head, saw in hand as he cut a jack stud for one of the barn doors. Grandpap was always on about doing things right, or not doing things at all. Jonah reckoned grandpap had been right, too. The barn was still there, battered and gray like his own worn body. But still standing just the same. Jonah took another swallow, a grey mist clouding his eyes suddenly. He told himself it was justhe steam, only steam, and went back inside to breakfast.

Ana - The Writer Today said...

Raggedy old sheds we are, in the middle of no where. Over grown grass and no one that cares. I used to be new you know, fresh paint and a working door. Don't judge me by what you see now, because back then, you would have said "WOW". I now stand alone, with a friend here and there. But it is ok, because I know there is someone that will come back and get me back on track.

Jessica said...

Thank you all for your posts. I'm amazed my photo could inspire such beautiful words. There are so many talented photographers on here.

Anonymous said...

Old barns have character
and bring memories of
hay lofts, horse shit,
and hard work.

The beauty of a vanishing
way of life is preserved for
a while longer; a setting of
nature and harmony with the earth,
the neglected, unused barn lends us a reflection of our own mortality as it deteriorates and rots and finally succumbs to the woodland, meanwhile captured so beautifully that it will last forever as long as we can remember.

Such a beautiful photo!

Heather said...

The quiet life
Lives within me.
I find it wherever I go,
If only I close my eyes
And tune out this loud world.

Yet, there are moments
Of loudness and anguish
That seems to control me.
Moments unbearable to comprehend
In this world of pointing fingers.

I long to be at the farm
Where nature and peace explode,
Allowing comfort, acceptance,
Understanding; to flood my being.
The quiet life calls my name.

The colors found on the farm
Allow my overwhelmed eyes
To find peace.
I am carried away by life and majesty
As I gaze upon nature in it's most natural form.

The quiet life surrounds me.
I find contentment living and breathing from within.
I see life in its purest form,
Growing, learning and becoming.

I gaze at the hawk above me
Looking for its prey
And I am reminded of where it is
I am, in this moment.
I am in the place, not that I long for.

I find myself shocked by reality.
Again, stealing away my serenity.
Back to work.
Away from this quiet life.

But if only for a moment,
I have closed my eyes and wandered away from it all. I found my heart content.

I found the quiet life, again.

SSQuo said...

I love the silences

I dig my own space

I love the rippling water

As I lie in a daze



And yet I crave

The bustle, people and activity

I’m a living contradiction

And I love it, hee hee : )