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.

Friday, April 24, 2009

The Square

Photo by Reno
~
Suggested prompt...
~
I stood in the square alone...



______________________

Direction

I stood in the square alone, but you already know this. After all, you were the one who left me there, your fingers slipping through my own, your mouth brushing softly against my ear. You left me with words, but the rain was too heavy and swept them away. I never heard you. I just felt the hot breath of your intentions. When I turned my head to ask you what, you were already gone.

I didn't understand then. You were right there. I could still smell you, aftershave and tobacco smoke, still curled around my being. You were there, and then you were gone. Like a ghost, a spirit, but you were real. I could have sworn that you were real.

But then my eyes opened, and I think it must have been for the first time, because I saw things in such clarity that it made you transparent in retrospect. Bright electric bulbs. Black puddles of hot spring water. And the people, oh, the people, surrounding me in a press of late-night bargaining, their voices rising and reverberating against the stone walls with a strength you never had. They were real that night, so real it actually hurt, because it made me realize that you were never there at all.

I didn't look for you. I knew there was no point. You were a fantasy, a figment of my wildness. You were something I fell in love with when the world was too big for me to comprehend. Even if I'd found you in the crowd that night, I don't think I would have followed. You wouldn't have wanted that, anyway.

So I opened my eyes. I breathed in, breathed out. I asked a man wearing an old trench coat where I was.

He smiled at me and it was shiny like gold. "Don't you know, sweetheart?"

And I did.

PersicaPit

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.

10 comments:

Midlife, menopause, mistakes and random stuff... said...

How beautiful and the prompt begs to be explored........

Steady On
Reggie Girl

a girl said...

I stood in the square alone
But was I really alone?

I made the visit to see him
I boarded the plane to get to this place
All in order for a glimpse of him

It is not like I had a personal invitation with him
So, I am standing in the square alone
Alone

The lights shine bright and I feel like dancing for anyone to see
I am on vacation here
Unless someone videotapes me and puts me on YouTube
I will be fine
Alone in the square

Dan Felstead said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dan Felstead said...

As I watch from the shadows of the colonnade, I stand alone, stunned at what I just heard. An hour ago, this square in Jerusalem was a sea of humanity. Not even the downpour thinned the crowd. All eyes fixed on him as if he were the Savior. The few remaining followers are silent as they re stack the chairs, arranging them once more for tomorrow's 2nd announcement.

Is this really the beginning of the end? Am I actually living in the end times? If I don't follow, will I be labeled a danger to the state...to the world? I am too far into this...I have already committed acts at his direction too horrible to believe. This man has captured the entire world's attention after his successful negotiation of the Israeli/Arab peace initiative. No one knows his true intention other than me and his close cadre of believers.

Tomorrow during his worldwide announcement, I will make his true agenda known but no one will believe me...at least it will clear my conscience. His world audience will only be joyful at his announcement that the Temple will be rebuilt. They won't see that this is the last prophecy to be filled before Armageddon...No one will believe me. The unraveling has begun.

Dan

Anonymous said...

I stood in the square alone, a few hours into the new year. The buildings had shook with the volume of the voices that rang out to count down that last few seconds. I was probably the only person in the place that was silent. Eyes squeezed shut trying to hold back time, to keep it from changing.
I couldn't. And now I still stood alone and silent, most of the mass having drifted away. A man walked by, also alone, somthing gleaming on his wrist, "What time is it?" I asked hopefully. He paused, startled that anyone would bother acknowledging him. But he looked at his watch and replied, "About three in the morning." he sighed, "Only 21 hours to go. I just want this day to be over." He looked appropriatly miserable. After a few seconds of my silence he walked away. I couldn't say anything, I was too stunned.
A whole year gone and he was already impatient for the passing day?
I had to do something. My feet suddenly were not content to be rooted to this spot. I had wasted the last year. And I'd already wasted 3 hours of this one. No more. I hurried across the square, ignoring the drizzle. The man was a distant retreating shape I was eager to catch up with. I wanted to apologize for not hearing his story. And even more pressing, I wanted to tell him mine. It pushed against my lips like the hands of the clock pushing time on.

Anonymous said...

I stood in the square alone. The other people passed by. Other people with their dreams, their fears, their memories. I felt so separated. I had dreams, and fears and memories, but they seemed surreal to me at that moment. I felt as if I was on the brim of waking from a long and confusing dream. All the tension left me. All the thoughts floated from my mind. Nothing was left but a grin on my face. I could do anything I wanted at that moment. I felt that I had wings. I could walk through walls. I could breathe under water. I could fly. I walked myself straight out of the square and saw the glow of light on the horizon. Too late for sunset, and too early for sunrise, I wondered only briefly what it was. I steadied my pace, my hands in my pockets, my smile just as large. I could smile like this forever, and forever I would. Suddenly, I stopped and looked up. The world spun and the lights became lines that swirled around me. The sky became darker. I could hear footsteps and voices, but they seemed far away. As far away as my cares. You could say I fell asleep, but for me, it was as if I had woken up.

PersicaPit said...

DirectionI stood in the square alone, but you already know this. After all, you were the one who left me there, your fingers slipping through my own, your mouth brushing softly against my ear. You left me with words, but the rain was too heavy and swept them away. I never heard you. I just felt the hot breath of your intentions. When I turned my head to ask you what, you were already gone.

I didn't understand then. You were right there. I could still smell you, aftershave and tobacco smoke, still curled around my being. You were there, and then you were gone. Like a ghost, a spirit, but you were real. I could have sworn that you were real.

But then my eyes opened, and I think it must have been for the first time, because I saw things in such clarity that it made you transparent in retrospect. Bright electric bulbs. Black puddles of hot spring water. And the people, oh, the people, surrounding me in a press of late-night bargaining, their voices rising and reverberating against the stone walls with a strength you never had. They were real that night, so real it actually hurt, because it made me realize that you were never there at all.

I didn't look for you. I knew there was no point. You were a fantasy, a figment of my wildness. You were something I fell in love with when the world was too big for me to comprehend. Even if I'd found you in the crowd that night, I don't think I would have followed. You wouldn't have wanted that, anyway.

So I opened my eyes. I breathed in, breathed out. I asked a man wearing an old trench coat where I was.

He smiled at me and it was shiny like gold. "Don't you know, sweetheart?"

And I did.

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

My last night there.

I stood in the plaza alone, thinking, half in Italian, half in English. Bella. How long would that last, I wondered. How long would my words and thoughts blur into this culture that I have only experienced for a window of time? Somewhere, there was a man singing. His shaky voice reverberated off of me, and off of the cobblestones, and off of the fountain's warbling.
Citta eterna. Vero? Will God fill my heart with Italia for ever, for eternity? Will I return? Will I ever again stand in this piazza alone, feeling like I belong?

shabby girl said...

I stood in the square, alone, waiting. He promised he’d meet me. As the darkness closed in, and the lights of the buildings came on, I began to worry. The dampened sidewalk reflected the images of the crowds leaving. The air took on an echo of laughter from the last group walking past me. I could feel the fear start to come up in my chest. The few stragglers were almost a block away now. As the tears started to sting my eyes, I hurried after them. He did not love me. He would not come.