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.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Worn Grave

Photograph by François Dubeau
François' photos and a link for his art can be found at -
http://www.francoisdubeau.com/photos/
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Suggested prompt...
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Tell me the story of this warn wooden grave marker.



_______________________________

Moss covered,
Overgrown,
Resting place,
Name unknown.
Crumbling marker
Of crumbling bone.
We are but actors in this place, a brief cameo before the curtain’s drawn;
It’s a sad truth we all must face, The end begins the day we’re born.
So while you’re here, your life embrace: Who will remember us once we’re gone?
Father, son,
Sister, brother;
Loyal friend,
Loving mother,
Neighbour, mate,
Secret lover.
Life is fun,
Life is toil.
Laughter, tears,
Midnight oil.
Sadly missed,
Sent to soil.
Moss covered,
Overgrown,
Resting place,
Name unknown.
Crumbling marker
Of crumbling bone.

~ J Cosmo Newbery

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.

16 comments:

Scriptor Senex said...

The body's gone;
But not forgotten.
Words are gone;
But not forgotten.
Somewhere,
In someone's heart,
The words live on.
Not forgotten.

Laura Jayne said...

Wow Scriptor S, this is wonderful.

Anonymous said...

The best epitaph I ever read was,

"SEE? I told you I was sick!"

Sarah said...

How sad and coincidental that I was reading an HP Lovecraft tale of the undying artist speaking atop his gravestone.

--------------
Richard Upton Pickman,
a man driven by mad by art,
desired to paint the darkness.
no matter the unpleasantness
his brushstrokes remain true.
and he leaves us with this alone:
a name to our nightmares,
a face to our fears.

Simply Heather said...

Very nicely put, Scriptor...very nice :o).

Dan Felstead said...

A last monument, a lasting memoir, an earthly anchor tied to a life who once connected to fellow travelers of this earthbound adventure. Of an entire life lived...how does one choose the final few words. Better left to loved ones to craft the final playbill.

Dan

~ Denise ~ said...

Worn letters
Barely legible
Worn decor
Hardly pretty

But a marker, nonetheless, of one created to live...and die.

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Grave warning

Moss covered,
Overgrown,
Resting place,
Name unknown.
Crumbling marker
Of crumbling bone.
We are but actors in this place, a brief cameo before the curtain’s drawn;
It’s a sad truth we all must face, The end begins the day we’re born.
So while you’re here, your life embrace: Who will remember us once we’re gone?
Father, son,
Sister, brother;
Loyal friend,
Loving mother,
Neighbour, mate,
Secret lover.
Life is fun,
Life is toil.
Laughter, tears,
Midnight oil.
Sadly missed,
Sent to soil.
Moss covered,
Overgrown,
Resting place,
Name unknown.
Crumbling marker
Of crumbling bone.

(Note: if viewed centre aligned, it shoould resemble a cross.)

Sacha van Straten said...

You wore me down
As the letters on my tomb,
Faded by time,
Eroded by salt,
Dismissed their meaning
In place of false sentiment.
The present state
Of isolation
Is neither comfort nor toil.
I was the vowel to your harsh
Consonants.
They are lost.

@ scriptor senex: magnae res scribis. felix sis.

@ Dan. Another fine piece of writing.

A happy new year to all.

Sacha

_we_the_pieces_ said...

i told you to not miss me when i'm gone
to not come visit me every day
i told you that life moves on
so why do you rub the words on my grave away?

I.N.Kwell said...

Sorry if this is a day late, but I couldn't.really figure out what to say about the barn. This was on my mind.

Still a soldier,
still in lines and rows.
Still a soldier,
fighting weeds that threaten to overgrow.
Still a soldier,
not forgotten by comrades,
Still a soldier,
the visitors come in scads.
Still a soldier,
standing strong in rain or shine.
Still a soldier,
still worn out this uniform of mine.

Laura Jayne said...

INKwell,

This is wonderful. And please, there is no deadline, you may go back to older posts and write when ever you like. All prompts and pictures are waiting for you whenever you find that inspiration strikes.

While I love to see writing every day I know in life that isn't possible or practical.

Your words are treasured here, all the time and any time.

Laura Jayne

I.N.Kwell said...

Thanks, I appreciate that. I'm never sure about comment etiquette.

droL said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
droL said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
droL said...

"Hi, there!"

A worn, old voice woke him from deep reverie. It came from the old headstone behind him.

"Oh, hi!"
"That was quite a mourners, yesterday, huh?"
"Uhm, yeah. She was a lovely woman, and a doting mother. Everybody loves her."
"I feel sorry for her."
"Thanks. How long have you been here?"
"Thirty years."
"Wow. You must have lost count of the people who come visit him, or her?"
"Him. He was a writer. His words moved alot of lives in his years. And, I never lost count of those who pay a visit to him."
"And still counting?"
"I have nothing to count anymore since ten years ago."
"Huh? Why?"
"They began to thin and less frequent, and then they just stopped coming by."
"That's sad. But that's not gonna happen to her."
"You can't be sure. I've been here a long time. I've seen alot. Believe me, one day, all that's left to visit her all year round and beyond is just you."