Sculpture by Tammy Vitale
Visit her website - http://www.tammyvitale.com/
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Suggested prompt...
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Be inspired and create a piece of writing for her.
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Imperfect! Rough! Uncompleted!
Hair contorting in the breeze!
Limbs twisting like gnarled branches!
Ugly trunk with no knees!
Hideous face, marred like bark!
Bulbous breasts disfigured!
Not fit for vulture (let alone lark)!
No! beaver won't even gnaw you!
Fire skirts your very presence!
Repulsed by your rigidity!
Soil only holds you aloft
to rid itself of your putridity!
Lumberjack, taken aback
by the sight of your unwholesomeness!
Refuses with his axe to hack
at your twisted wooden mess!
But I endeavor to love you still!
Until infinity, my love will endure.
How can I spurn gift from her,
Whom we know as Mother Nature?
For with every woman reaching
for a heart which they can keep,
the gist of what the sages are teaching
is that beauty is just skin deep!
So look past the gruesome mask,
and find that which lies within!
For happiness is accepting
no matter the wrapping, my friend!
~ Stu Pidasso
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:
Gorgeous sculpture, Tammy! Love her!
If it weren't for the woman reaching, clawing her way, fighting and never giving up she would have never been able to accomplish the wonderful legacy she leaves behind. Even though the glass ceiling is cracked...I am afraid there is more reaching to be done. I am proud to know so many women who have seen the ceiling shatter and now they reach down, grab her arms and lift her up. She in turn connects and does the same. Congrats to all who have contributed. It all started with a brave woman reaching beyond herself to a greater goal.
Dan
In the redwoods she can live in safety. In the red woods she finds strength and perserverance, sees how the fire scars open the heart of the tree, intuits the web of roots below her, joining tree to tree. Her "Prayer for the Redwoods" is that they may live their long lives free of the axeman's cut, sheltering her, the owl and the stories that have yet to be told.
Thanks Laura Jayne for using my sculpture for a prompt! You are very gratious!
Browning said, “. . . a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?”
But explain that of a woman.
Perhaps a reach without a grasp, no desiring to possess.
Perhaps a reach in hope of touch, brief contact or caress.
Perhaps a reach for its own joy, as openly we thrive
Perhaps a celebration fully knowing we’re alive.
Today's culture repeatedly depicts women as needy, clingy and valueless and it saddens me because that's not that the way I view women at all.
I've seen strength in a woman's eyes as she finds it challenging to provide for her family.
I've seen character in a woman's countenance as she navigates seasons of depravity.
But, most importantly, I've seen women stretch themselves out in ways I once thought impossible, and make it possible.
And...usually the stretch and reach are for someone or something other than their own personal gain.
That speaks volumes to me about the value and reach of women.
Reaching from my core,
I beg you to help me
burst from this cocoon.
So I can grasp the crescent moon
and swing with confidence.
The storyteller got it wrong. It was not a pillar of salt, but a cedar tree that twisted and transformed Lot's Wife. Year by year, century by century she stood. Lot, here I am. Come back. Lot, I'm sorry I was angry. Lot, I'm sorry I didn't listen....
Snow and sun, wind, rain, sand blasting the bark off the old stump. Then the sculpter found the log and set her free.
But now, though the arms stretch, though the chest seems to expand, no air, no life.
Lot, come back for me my love.
Imperfect! Rough! Uncompleted!
Hair contorting in the breeze!
Limbs twisting like gnarled branches!
Ugly trunk with no knees!
Hideous face, marred like bark!
Bulbous breasts disfigured!
Not fit for vulture (let alone lark)!
No! beaver won't even gnaw you!
Fire skirts your very presence!
Repulsed by your rigidity!
Soil only holds you aloft
to rid itself of your putridity!
Lumberjack, taken aback
by the sight of your unwholesomeness!
Refuses with his axe to hack
at your twisted wooden mess!
But I endeavor to love you still!
Until infinity, my love will endure.
How can I spurn gift from her,
Whom we know as Mother Nature?
For with every woman reaching
for a heart which they can keep,
the gist of what the sages are teaching
is that beauty is just skin deep!
So look past the gruesome mask,
and find that which lies within!
For happiness is accepting
no matter the wrapping, my friend!
stu pidasso
9Feb2009
Dan, just beautiful and thank you for understanding us so well :o).
My contribution:
She reaches with all of her effort, to find a place outside of herself; a place that she can become free from the danger within.
The memories that she carries create hurt and pain; not allowing her to feel the freedom that she should by now.
Everyone told her that she would grow, become stronger; leave behind the hurt from her past and the abuse that she felt.
With one last breathe, she reaches. She reaches with all of her might and she's gathered. She is gathered into the freedom that she's so desperately longer for; the freedom from hurt and pain.
They take her hand and welcome her home. They tell her that someone is waiting to see her, but who could this person be? It no longer matters, nothing of the past; somehow she is calm within herself. She feels a light inside shining with peace.
They tell her, it is time for her to see Him. She didn't even realize she'd gone anywhere, but she is there and she looks up. He smiles, takes her hand and welcomes her home.
He tells her to look in the glass on the wall, the one that He placed just for her. She glances to see a beautiful woman standing strong and elegant. "Who is that?", she asks Him. "This is you. This is the girl, the woman that I've seen grow for so many years. This is who you are."
She stands in awe of this. He tells her to take the glass knob before her and turn it, opening it; she finds a room of all she'd ever hoped for. The wall holds a picture of her and just below it is a word, one word.
She walks up close to the picture, and the letters come into focus...she reads L-O-V-E-D. The picture is that of her life, but shows nothing of hurt, pain, abuse or sorrow; it only shows her beauty.
She can no longer remember the life that she left behind her. She knows nothing more than this freedom she feels righ now and the warmth of being Home.
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