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.

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

Thursday, February 5, 2009

I'll Fly Away

Art by Aurora Fox
Visit her blog -
Suggested prompt...
Use this wonderful art to inspire your writing today.
It makes me think of the Emily Dickenson poem...
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,


Project your song
with power
little blue bird.

Stretch your soul
with generosity
little blue bird.

Exercise your voice
with authority
little blue bird.

The sky welcomes you
with majesty
little blue bird.

~ 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.


Inkpot said...

Susan found the bluebird in the snow. It lay under her kitchen window, so cold and stiff that she thought it was dead. She gathered it into her hands and brought it inside. She made a sling out of a rainbow coloured handkerchief and placed it in front of the stove. She sat with it through the dark days, when the sun didn't seem to shine and the world was all shades of grey and shadow. She fed it pomegranate seeds and sang to it ditties from her childhood. Sometimes it would open its eyes and look at her and Susan would feel a tiny echo of warmth beating against her chest. One day the bluebird sang and Susan danced to its sweet song. She threw back the shades that covered the windows and realised that the snow had melted long ago. Sun bathed her garden and flowers had blossomed in the rich soil. The bluebird spread its wings and Susan opened the kitchen door. Singing, the bird flew out into the warm open air and Susan ran after it, dancing as light as a feather in the summer breeze.

bARE-eYED sUN said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bARE-eYED sUN said...

Is that a bluebird? Rising into the sun?

Okay, it could be a dove. It is a dove rising into Heaven.

Should not this be the other way around?
Like when Jesus was baptized.

There are all those pictures that show a dove
coming DOWN from heaven.

Then, the story goes, not in the picture,
A booming Voice states “this is my Son” . . . yadda-yadda. . . .

Then again, the bird,
Whatever it is,
Could be a spirit,
Spirit of the dead (?),

A dead spirit commutes into Heaven.

Then how does one explain that the dove/bird/pigeon
Is rising out of a hammock?

Halting a nap so as to fly into the sun?

Two suns as a matter of fact.
One of which is framed by flowers.
Why are there flowers in heaven?
I know. I know. It’s decorative.

But it’s supposed to mean something,

Hey, it’s a stained glass window.

No. it’s a window.

Ok, it’s a stained glass representation of a window {non-stained glass} or maybe not.

maybe it’s a quilt that looks like a stained glass representation of a window depicting a bird that awakened from a sunday morning nap and instead of going to Church on sunday loses its way to heaven and makes a bee-line for the sun where it is going to roast its little heart out except that it does not know that it is futile because it is already dead and thus has to leave its hammock on a nice summer sunday, interrupting its weekend just so that it can prove to humanity that there is a God.


Busy little bird isn't it?

septembermom said...

Project your song
with power
little blue bird.

Stretch your soul
with generosity
little blue bird.

Exercise your voice
with authority
little blue bird.

The sky welcomes you
with majesty
little blue bird.

Dan Felstead said...

I see this beautiful piece or art as a testament to the seasons. I see the yellow radiating sun of summer, the oranges and reds of Autumn, the the white wispy clouds of Winter and the pinks of Springtime dogwood blossoms. I see the winter clouds outside the birdhouse while inside, the bluebird in it's nest is calling for the warmth of nature's next cycle and permission to leave the nest. I see that Spring is not far off while the winter clouds hang on, below the birdhouse we begin to see the first glimpse of new Spring grass...scattered with the dandelions of Summer to come.

If I had this hanging in my house (and wish I did)...I would add a nameplate with two words:

"Season's Diary"


Sarah said...

Mama, what does this square mean? Is it faded because it's so old?

Yes honey, it's faded because its been used for a long time, but it's never just old.

How long have you been alive?!

Oh no sweetie, your grandma gave it to me and her mama to her and far back as you can see on your tippiest toes there is a whole line of other mamas who gave it to their daughters too.

oh, but why does it have a bird on this part?

that square is from your great great great great aunt mirabella from the day of her wedding.

Was she really so great?

Yes, she was. This square is made from the blanket she wrapped her first son in.

It's soft.

Heh, it is baby, it is.

SabrinaFairchild said...

As human beings, we encounter many obstacles in our life that often knock us off our feet whilst we are walking with our heads held high and we least expect it. Sometimes we can easily get up and regain our balance. Other times we are in a heap on the ground for what seems like forever and we lose hope of ever being able to stand back up, mend any cuts and bruises we may have got along the way and regain our balance. The process is sometimes long and uneasy, but at some point we can manage to build up the courage and the determination to fight against the odds and stand back up. It's like a baby bird learning to fly. We may feel that the obstacles have knocked us so hard off our feet that we are too far behind to rebuild and catch up, but with patience and practice we can fly as far and high as we want to. We have to encounter obstacles to fully appreciate how beautiful life can be.

New Yorker wannabes said...

I look out of the window and wish to fly away...but something holds me back and forces me to stay...

The sun is shining brightly, my aura makes me sway, but my heart and mind are wild...I just wanna go out and play!

Anonymous said...

Hi everyone! Ok, I know I'm not very chatty, but I'd like to borrow your brains. My english teacher has just assigned a short story inspired by and includes a piece of art. It can be a picture, sculpture, architecture, or music. I really haven't had any immediate ideas, and I'm just wondering- What would you choose?

_we_the_pieces_ said...

Some day, he told her, some day, you'll wake up
Some day, he said, you'll wake up and I'll have flown away
Some day, he whispered, I'll be far from here
Some day, he spoke, you'll wake up and I'll be nowhere near
Some day, he murmured, you'll turn around and I'll be gone
Some day, he consoled her, someday, you will move on

Anonymous said...

writer's block.
sometimes creativity is hard
sometimes it gets lost behind the logic
sometimes pragmatism trumps art
sometimes thinking beats feeling
sometimes the words just won't come
sometimes i am a rock & not the endless blue sky
sometimes the picture doesn't speak to me, the song doesn't pierce my heart, the memory doesn't make me cry

reflecting the light of the moon said...

a new mother sings of hope
as the winds of change blow

cradled in the pattern
woven through time

a new mother sings