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.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Favorite Meal

Photograph by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit-
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Describe in delicious detail your favorite meal. Consider all your senses.



_____________________________

He sat alone at the table, his calloused hands folded in his lap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a fine meal. Perhaps never.

Footsteps echoed off the walls and he sat up straighter, fidgeted a bit. He closed his eyes to heighten his senses, wanting to savour this moment, burn the memory in his mind.

The smell assaulted him first. His mouth watered in Pavlovian reflex and he swallowed thickly, greedily licking his chapped lips. Aroma wrapped around him, caressed him like a familiar lover who promised to fulfill every perverted desire. The plate gently touched the table before him and he waited until the footsteps faded away.

Alone again, though he knew he was watched, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at the feast before him: an enormous piece of prime rib—rare—garnished with a large dollop of strong horse radish. Arranged around it in homage to the succulent meat were parisienne potatoes, crisp asparagus and fried mushrooms.

He slowly cut into the tender meat then placed a small sliver on his tongue, relished the juices as they filled his mouth. The small morsel all but melted. The crisp outer shell of the potatoes housed a tender white interior. A mushroom cloud of steam erupted when he split them open. The asparagus, steamed to perfection, lay in a pool of melted butter next to over-sized seasoned portabellas.

His contented sighs punctuated the silence as he steadily ate through the meal, laying down his utensils after each mouthful, delaying the end as long as possible.

Crème brullée was the final indulgence. He tapped the crust gently, watched as the fault undulated across the golden scab, exposing the vulnerable richness beneath. Each spoonful was sheer joy.

The utensils now lay across the empty plate, meticulously lined up. He wiped his mouth carefully with the napkin and gently lay it atop the china. His eyes closed briefly as he sent silent thanks to the god he was convinced had long since turned away. He would remember that banquet as long as he lived.

He smirked as, once again, the footsteps approached, confirmation that he was watched. How else would they know he was done?

“Ready?” The question was asked, as though he had a choice. He merely nodded in reply, rose awkwardly and shuffled towards the door. With one final glance at the barren room, he followed the uniformed fellow out the door.

As he hobbled down the long corridor, the chains around his ankles clinked ominously, barely heard above the bellowed “Dead man walking!”

Monica Manning

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.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Street Food

Photo by Kane Hsieh
Visit his blog - Crimson-G-B
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write a poem or story that has a street vendor in it.



_________________________

Monday to Friday he gathers his stock. Saturday he sets up his stall in the "Epicurean World" Street Market.

Monday to Friday he visits flats in slums. Dirt-filled parvements, cracked and unkempt beneath his boots. Landlords who take cash from their tenants, but give little in return.

He answers the desperate pleas of the slum dwellers 'This place is crawling with roaches. Please come and get rid of them.'

Like a magician in reverse, he magics away their problem. Leaving with a bulging, wriggling sack.
At home, he lights the gas under the pot of oil every night. As the smoke begins to rise he tips in the contents of the sack. The hiss, and bubbling soon subsides.

He fishes out the contents, and sprinkles them with seasoned salt. Soon, his cotton-lined baskets are full.

Saturday morning, bright and early, he sets out his stall. He has an awning to protect his wares. He whisks the covers off his baskets, and awaits the eager buyers.

Freshly fried cockroaches. One man's problem, another man's delicacy.

christine

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.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Dark Path

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42
for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Use this image to inspire your writing today.



_______________________

Fine damp
Threads hang, wetting
My face. They thicken and
Puff, hiding the path. Trail's end
Shimmers.

morganna

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.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The Game

Photo by Jessica
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Write today in some creative way using
a sporting event that you enjoy watching.



_________________________________

A baseball game is only a baseball game. Or is it?

The late afternoon sun was barely touching the horizon when the umpire yelled,

“Srike two”.

Dust from the catcher’s mitt hovered in the air like a swamp fog.

My oldest daughter and her school friend wanted to play little league baseball that summer. No teams showed interest in either girl so ,the friend's father and I, volunteered to coach a team. The word got out, as usual, about us coaching the two girls on our own team. We ended up all the boys no team wanted with five girls in addition.

I have a hard time visualizing the pressure that she must be facing at this time. A quick sweaty faced glance toward third base, where I was coaching, sent a signal of desperation.

“Just remember what I said, Baby”. she hated for me to call her that at the ball field, but I couldn’t help myself. “Step into it with your left foot and swing at the next one”.

She stepped out of the batter’s box and wiped, with the back of her hand, as much sweat from her eyes as she could. I am not totally sure where the moisture came from. She looked back at me and I grinned and nodded my head in an affirmative nod.

The pitcher took his windup and as soon as the ball left his hand, everything began to react in slow motion. The baseball started it arched path toward the catcher. The bright red seams slowly end over end seemed to claw its way toward home plate. The first noticeable movement was the lifting of the pink sunflower patch covering the torn hole in the left knee of her trousers. The Nike tennis shoe lifted from the red sand and stepped toward the pitcher as the bat started its slow level swing. The red stitching and Louisville slugger met at the front edge of home plate. Before the crack of the bat could be heard, the parents from both teams exploded in a roar. Tiny puffs of dust chased her all the way to first base as the now scarred wound horsehide completed its journey into center field. a radiant beam of confidence shot its way across the diamond and struck me square in the chest. I knew where the moisture came from. It was not now or ever just a game. I can clearly see that now.

About to forget, that rag-tag bunch of boys and five girls won second place in the tri-cites baseball league that hot dusty summer.

glnroz

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.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

The Swing


Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood andPixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Offer a poem, story or memory that this wonderful photo inspires.


____________________

The effort to climb high becomes
Exhileration on the downswing.

Feeling on top of the world one moment,
Then feet back on the ground the next.

The swings we experience when young
Prepare us for those we will encounter later.

The majestic trees watch, and remember.
They've seen it all before, and will see it all again.

christine


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.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Thrill Rides

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer a story set at a fair's fun zone.



_______________________________

He lost track of how many months since his layoff. His disbelief in his situation rested on his shoulders with every breath. Today, he chose to lock his woe in a closet and let his children soar through a day of smiles at the fair. They didn't worry for this one day of food, fun and games. A family needs to laugh even when hope seems to fade with each disappointment. This father reached into his pocket time and time again and said, "Get another candy apple. We will have a good day today."

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.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Single Prayer

Photograph by Highlander
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer creatively one single prayer for today's writing.
Incorporate it in story, or maybe pray in rhyme, any creative way you like.



______________________

To whom it concerns,

I haven't decided whether there's one God or several, whether you're just some cosmic force, a breeze in the trees or the man sitting next to me on the bus. So, I don't know how to address this letter; don't want to offend. I thought, perhaps, God(s) would suffice, but maybe you aren't actually called 'God,' so 'To Whom it Concerns' seems the appropriate salutation.

You know that my prayers aren't frequent. In the past, I've sought you out only when I needed something, when things felt out of control or when I needed you to take care of someone I love. I was selfish then, and my faith was blind. I suppose I thought that prayer was all about taking, about relinquishing control. My prayers never expressed gratitude or thanks, they only asked you to take care of something for me, which was my subconscious way of freeing myself from all responsibility and casting it onto you, my scapegoat.

Looking back, many of my prayers were more like threats meant to put you in a position where it was impossible to bargain with me, to try and be the voice of reason. "If you don't make this happen, God, then I'll never believe in you again." Maybe I thought this extreme statement would make it imperative for you to answer my prayer.

In my young life, I somehow confused prayers with wishes to be granted. I knew I had free will, but I also believed that God could intervene in our daily lives, that he could make things happen. It makes life easier, more beautiful, somehow, thinking that you can give me my way.

God, I wish that there weren't wars over you, only they aren't really over you, but they are about you. They're over which interpretation, which religion is right. This may be presumptuous of me, but I don't think you agree or believe in organized religion. I certainly don't think you favor a particular religion over another. No, I think you probably hang your head in sorrow when you see people battling, when you see that true faith and belief is lost, and religion has really just become political. I believe that you put humans on this Earth to find each other, to believe in each other, to have more faith in themselves than in the divine. You created humanism. Somehow, this notion, this message, got muffled.

God, I don't know whether you have divine powers, whether you're an overseer of life on Earth, but I wish people didn't place all of their faith in you, something divine. Why can't people place their faith in something ordinary, like human nature? If we all believed in the power humans have, human nature would be something extraordinary. We have the power to change things, to change the world, it's just a matter of having the strength and the faith.

God, if you're out there, if you're listening, I want to thank you for human life. Please pray for us. Pray that we start to believe in each other so we can dig ourselves out of the deep ditch we've buried ourselves in.

Cheers,
Tin Kettle Inn

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.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Berry

Photograph by Abby
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Consider for a moment a ripe and succulent berry.
Its look, smell, texture, the way it feels in your hand, your mouth,
the moment its juices flood your tongue.
Close your eyes and imagine it.
Now write a poem for a berry.



_____________________________

berry of straw
berry of blue
berry of rasp
berry of cran

each taste is luscious
each scent is perfume
each one is a treasure
waiting to be found.

juice unlocks desire,
it taps the senses:
hear it swooshing,
taste it dancing,
feel it gliding,
see it gone.

behind, left are stains:
polish on fingers,
polka-dots on shirts,
of red, mahogany and blue.

Tin Kettle Inn

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.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Ancient Warrior

Tapestry by Stephanie Taylor
For more of her art and creativity visit -
~
Suggest prompt...
~
Write a poem or a story inspired by this magnificent piece of art.



__________________________

I hide.

Behind the woven colors that caress my body,
Behind the beautiful fan I hold before my face,
Behind the frills of fabric,
the shine of my hair,

I hide.

They see a princess before them,
The beauty of a God.
They see a gentle dancer,
Celebrating their honor
Celebrating their kingdom-

But I hide-
my hand on my sword.

I will avenge you, father.

Dani

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.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Lotus

Photo by Lorelei
Visit her photo gallery at - http://www.pbase.com/birdseye
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer a haiku for a lotus.



______________________

Alluring goddess
serenades the white lotus
with impassioned kiss

Aroused by her touch
porcelain petals unfurl
in tempting delight

~She Poet~

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.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

At the Airport

Photo by Cyndy
For more of Cyndy's Photography visit
http://www.pbase.com/cyndycat
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write a scene that starts at the curb at an airport.



_____________________________

We met, so to say, on the internet three months ago. Two weeks after that first email, he had given me his phone number. I had nervously made that first call. We emailed numerous times a day. All day long. We'd talk on the phone in the evenings. We'd exchange late night phone calls.

But we still hadn't actually met. We had each emailed one photo, but that was it for any visual reference.

We had agreed to meet and actually set the date one week after that first call, three weeks after the emailing began.

My nerves were at their highest alert level when I stepped off the plane. I made my way to the baggage claim. I kept looking for the face from the photo, hoping to catch a glimpse of him before he spotted me.

I made my way to the curb outside the baggage claim, where we had agreed to meet. Three months. I had waited for this for three months.

I heard my name and turned. There he was, the man I had known for three months, the man I had longed to kiss and hold. The man who was on his knee, ring box open, asking me to marry him.

My life of happiness, our life filled with love, began on that curb at the airport.

Faith

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.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Who is Right?

Photo by Basir Seerat
visit Basir's photo blog at
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write in any way creative you like about the idea of
hate or intolerance for another person's religion.



________________________

RELIGIOUS HARMONY

I walk my path
I sing my song
I live my dream
I’m my Self

You walk your path
You sing your song
You live your dream
You’re your Self

Paths vary;
Songs vary;
Dreams vary;
Does Self?

Let’s walk our path
Let’s sing our song
Let’s live our dream
Let’s be ourselves!

manivannan

Bravo to all who wrote with such grace and elegance on this difficult subject. If you have yet to visit Basir's website (he is the contributing photographer for this day's prompt) I encourage you to view not only the beauty of his photography but the haunting views of his country that are often difficult to accept. This photo of a religious icon with its eyes shot out I found took my breath away. Some of you may find this article on CNN helps to understand the context of the photo - http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/05/10/afghan.buddhas/index.html - while I did not chose one of his photos of the empty holes in the cliff where the Buddhas once graced this valley, this image also captures the hatred the Taliban seems to revel in for their own country's culture.

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.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Simply Pretty

Photo by Simply Heather
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Use this simply pretty photo to inspire
a simple poem of no more than 5 lines today.



_____________________

Innocent little petals,
plucked one by one
in search of the eternal answer,
shatter dreams when they reply:
He loves me not.

Monica Manning

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.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Love Hearts

Photograpic Art by Abby
Visit her website http://www.tenkeyspread.deviantart.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Think of one person you love.
Offer them a poem.
Yes, feel free to get mushy. :)



___________________________

Always you,
my great love affair.
Our blood, our tears
intertwined like barbed wire
bound to memories
perceived differently
by each of us.

Our memoirs,
they read differently,
each cut and bruise
of childhood
remembered
so that blame is unfastened
from our backs.

The past
we carry on our backs
like turtle shells
to house us.
We retreat into it, now and then,
to remind us how we have the
same colored hair
and why we love each other.

In darkness
we played games
(like pull my feet)
when we should have
been asleep.

We argued,
you were always too messy,
I always took your clothes
(they always looked better on me).

Every Relationship
has its conflicts,
we may go years without speaking,
(though we never would)
but the fact still remains,
we are sisters.

Bound by sisterhood,
our past,
our hair shines red,
our face is the same.

This is not an apology.
You are the better half,
not that we're, together, a whole.
Your heart is the heart
I wish I had beating inside me.
But I know it beats for me,
just as mine
beats for you.

Sister,
you'll be my greatest
love affair.

Tin Kettle Inn

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.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Art

Art Collage by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit-
http://www.pbase.com/katwilkens
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Recall a time when you saw a piece of artwork
that touched you, moved you, inspired you.
Use that thought, idea, experience creatively in your writing today.



___________________________

I’ve always loved art and have a true appreciation for the gift some people are given to bring life to pencil and paint. I am especially fond of the classics: Monet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt.

While in Sweden, we visited the National Museum in Stockholm. Knowing we were only interested in certain works, we carefully planned our visit, analyzing the visitor’s map, setting out our own personal tour. As with most art museums, each room was dedicated to either an artist or a particular period, with small foyers separating each area.

The Husband was reading the map, leading the way, and I simply wandered behind him, awed at the paintings I was seeing.

I glanced over my shoulder to see The Husband disappear around a corner. I followed him and found myself in a tiny darkened foyer. To my left was the entrance to a larger, brightly-lit room in which hung enormous paintings, at which The Husband was already gazing. I was about to follow him, when something caught my eye. The walls in this foyer were barren except for a glass-enclosed case to my right. I turned to look and the air rushed out of me as I gasped.

There, before me, was one of Rembrandt’s self-portraits, one he painted in 1630. It suddenly hit me—where I was, what I was experiencing. These were works I had only seen in books and slides in classrooms. Here I was, standing amidst paintings that were brushed hundreds of years ago, by legendary artists. Overcome with emotion, I began to tear and I stood like a fool gaping at this incredible artistry.

As I’m standing alone in this darkened room, gazing at the portrait, in walk four Chinese tourists. They do the same thing I did. They walk in, all gibbering to each other then stop cold as they see the self-portrait. There’s a moment of silence as it registers, then they all start chattering excitedly to each other in Chinese. Clearly, they can’t believe it either and are equally impressed. They see me—the only other person in the room—and point excitedly at the painting. I smile and nod with them, the excitement clear on my own face, I’m sure. They gather around me and we all stand there, in silence, gazing in wonder at this masterpiece.

I sniffle, trying to swallow the enormous lump in my throat. One of the men pats my shoulder and murmurs something comforting in Chinese, smiles at me and they go off into the next room, the bond broken, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

Crazy Mo

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.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Where She Fell...


Photograph by John Hinten
for more of John's photography visit -
http://tricountyphotography.shutterfly.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Really look at the photograph,
let it inspire your writing today.
Don't worry about right or wrong, dark or light
just offer your creativity as you are inspired.


______________________________

This is the worst of it.

The moments of the morning when I am fully awake and fully aware. It's the same moments that I realize she is not fully awake nor fully aware.

So, I grab my coffee and the car keys and make the quick trip over to her place. I pull into the driveway and am thankful there's no one else's car there but hers. And, then I pray. For her, for me.

I take a few deep breaths as I open the door trying to brace myself for what lies ahead. The door creaks loudly and swings open with a heavy feel to it.

And...

I smell her addiction.

I feel her helplessness.

I hear her hopelessness.

I move past the bottles and the unwashed dishes and the overflowing ashtrays. I peer into her bedroom and see her lying there on the floor.

Again.

again. and again. and again!

I feel the frustration within me rise.

And, just as quickly, I feel mercy push it back down.

I stoop down and lift her up into my arms so that I can lay her on the bed. She doesn't even open an eye or make a sound while I pull the covers over her.

And, I begin my morning.

Or, her morning.

Or, our morning.

And, I pray.

~ Denise ~



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.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Memorial

Suggested prompt...
~
Use this provocative image in any way you are inspired
to be creative with your writing today.



______________________

Walk me not through that field
of worry, grief, neglect.

Walk me towards that hope
of souls free of fear.

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.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Thoughts of Speed

Photograph by Highlander
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer his internal dialog at this moment.



________________________________

The crowd cheers and I hit the throttle to give them more of what they came for, pushing the bike until it's vibrating so hard that my hands start to go numb.

New leather drags over grooved rubber as my fingers begin to slip and I tighten my grip, lean into the curve, and wait for gravity to come out and play.

And then it's here. That moment I've been craving, the one where the world goes quiet and suddenly nothing exists except the bike and the pavement and that interminable moment of helpless freefall before I accelerate through the turn and leave it's grasping danger behind.


That's the high. That's why I'm out here every weekend risking life and limb for some brass plated trophy I couldn't even get ten bucks for at a pawn shop.

And yeah, maybe the ex was right and I'm so addicted to the hum of adreneline racing through my blood that I can't feel alive unless I'm facing death.

Maybe I've got a thing for playing with fire and tempting fate.

Who cares?

We've all got to go sometime. At least my way pays the bills.

Sanity

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.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Brave Men

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer your writing about someone brave today.



__________________

Stand tall before the leaping flames,
With brothers you take careful aim.
You haven't come here for the fame,
No one needs to know your name.

So many lives depend on you,
To turn these black skies back to blue;
But when your job is finally through,
Do you really get your due?

Marc

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.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Blue Heron

Art by Tammy Vitale
Visit her website - http://www.tammyvitale.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Let this image inspire your writing today.



______________________

Warm night with a peaceful mist
the frogs sung and the cicadas hissed
The lake reflected the very first light
of the sun peeking from underneath the night

Twas only then I saw her sleek form
moving slightly toward the brand new morn
A Heron of blue, she turned to face
and grant a wish to the human race

I scrambled to think of something grand
like an end to the war that plagued this land
But before I realized what I had done
the wish was granted and up rose the sun

She spread her wings and lifted into the sky
and flew till she was only a speck to my eyes
I didn't know then what would come of my thoughts
But the war was not over, it's still being fought

That very next night, I rocked in my chair
and looked out to the lake hoping she would be there
The night was warm with a peaceful mist...
and I knew I had gotten exactly what I had wished

Cynthia

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.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Young Bird

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42
for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Use this wonderful image to be creative with your writing today.
Perhaps a children's story about a baby bird.
A poem about leaving the nest ... literally or metaphorically.
Perhaps a tale from your life where you rescued a young bird.
Look at it for a while and let what ever comes to mind flow to your fingertips.



____________________

it wouldn't work out, not at all
for you are a monet painting
and i'm a scratch on the wall.

the oaks stand tall
casting shadows over bushes, small.

as a raindrop i tap dance on umbrellas,
lightly, like astaire,
but what am i to you, a snowflake,
pirouetting through the air.

words i dart like stones at mirrors,
coarsing through verse like fevers.
but you are a pen, and i am a page,
virgin soil for you to stain.

i once was an elegant meadowlark,
my chorus was heard throughout the park.
but you were a hunter, and you clipped my wings,
i had once dreamed i could be many things.

thorny vines, bitterest root,
i am bound hand and foot.

Tin Kettle Inn

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.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Full Moon


Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Let your writing be inspired in some
creative way by this beautiful full moon.


____________________

Jackson "Jack" Clemons wasn't a man who scared easily, but even the bravest amoung us have their limit.... and as he nervously watched the treeline surrounding his property through frost-dusted glass, Jack had to admit he'd long ago reached his.

There had been a full moon the first time he'd spotted them scurrying through the snow behind his house.

Hearing one of the metal trashcans beside his shed fall over, Jack had gone out to scare off whatever possum or raccoon had come to investigate his leftovers. Midnight guests were nothing out of the ordinary since the further man backed civilization up to nature the harder nature seemed to push back against civilization, but this time when he rounded the side of the house he hadn't found a racoon. He'd found Them.

Half a dozen bleached blue eyes flashed red in the glow of his flashlight and he'd stood statue still while three grotesquely humanoid shapes jumped down from the shiny tin can and fled, their nearly translucent skin hairless and blending far too easily into the late December snow.

Fool that he was, he'd been more intrigued than fearful at first, leaving them food in hopes of tempting them back, eager to unravel the mystery of the ugly little creatures hiding in the forest...

After close to forty years of walking the woods behind his little house, part of him just couldn't believe anything in the forest he'd come to know neary as well as his own backyard could hurt him.

He'd been wrong..

The moonlight made it worse, it's cold grey-blue light coating the skeletal branches that stretched out beyond the clearing, filling the night with shifting shadows that played on his fears and concealed his enemies.

How many of them were out there this time? Their souless eyes staring back at him from the darkness, bloodless lips pulled back over jagged, razor sharp teeth in a silent snarl...

Dozens? Hundreds? More?

He couldn't be sure.

Movement in the trees caught his attention and Jack tightened his hand on the gun, the cold steel heavy and awkward in his trembling grip.

He wasn't sure if he could shoot left handed, but it wasn't like he had a lot of choice since the mangled fingers of his right had been rendered useless beneath the thick gauze bandage covering them.

No one believed him, not that he could really blame them since there were times when he could barely believe himself.

Even his own daughter had been asking questions.. the kind of gently probing questions you ask someone when you think they might be getting soft in the head.

"Dad, are you sure you're alright? What did Dr. Micheals say? Have you been taking your heart medication? Why don't you come down to Miami for a couple of months? The kids would love to see you."

He was tempted, but he couldn't leave. Not yet. He might be sixty seven years old, but he wasn't senile, and there was no way he was letting those things out there drive him from his own home.

No matter what anyone else thought, there was something in those woods. Something that stalked it's prey and waited for the moon to become full between attacks. Something that civilization had managed to stupidly awaken with ithe sudden onslaught of superhighways and cookie-cutter ranch style suburbs.

Jack watched the slithering shadows inch closer over the falling snow while the wind howled forlornly in the distance.

"Please," Jack whispered to the moon soaked night, "let it be the wind..."

Sanity


Some wonderful lunar inspired writing for this prompt. Sanity... this was wonderful, I wanted more. :) ~ Laura Jayne

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.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Eye See

Photo Collage by Abby
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Offer a poem to this unique image.



_____________________________

EYE SEE

I see you every morning when you awake
I see you fixing your lunch and preparing for work
I see you when you kiss me goodbye, wishing me a good day

I see you every afternoon as I look around our comfortable home
I see you even when you aren't here
I see you when you call with the 30 minute warning as I prepare our supper

I see you with a happy heart when you finally arrive for the night
I see you as you relish your meal and settle in for the evening
I see you as we share our day, sometimes in words or in comfortable silence

I see you as we call it a night, express our love and head for bed
I see you in my fractured dreams, you're always on my mind
I see your essence, I see your heart, my eyes can see your love

...... Bobbi

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.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Where They Roam


Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Describe this scene as if it is the first time you have seen a buffalo.
Imagine yourself a settler in a new and wild America.


________________________

Something inside me feels what they feel; these beautiful creatures larger than I. It’s as though we sense one another’s meaning on this earth. I quiver to think that the huge mass of breathing life is able to feel this fear inside of me. I can’t run; simply stand in awe of this moment. Just look at them, there are so many and here I am, myself, all alone; yet it is me that they are in fear of.

I stand here, in this moment of gaze and I wait for them to turn from me. As the sun begins to set, the last of the many turns to join his herd and a sigh of relief comes over me. I pack my belongings that I had dropped in that first quivering of time and begin walking away when I suddenly feel the earth trembling beneath my feet.

Afraid to look, but with a deep desire to know, I turn my head and the trembling stops. There before me is that last buffalo, standing strong and looking me in the eye. You’d have thought I was full of fear, but I wasn’t. I stood there and in that striking moment, it was as if he was telling me something.

We both turned in the direction of our homes, never to be in one another’s company again. Not again.

It wasn’t until much later when I found this photo in with the rest and I saw that one buffalo, the one that approached me, standing alone, peering in my direction. He must have known that I was stealing a piece from him that day but it was just a small piece. It was nothing in comparison to what the others would do in time.

Looking back on that day, in the beauty of that piece of earth; I recall the serenity, the nature of the setting and wonder if he knew as well as I did that it would not remain. It would not remain.

Simply Heather



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.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Up

Photo by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit-
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer a bit of your creative writing for this wonderful image.



_______________________

Gaia is boiling. At first the hints she gave were subtle, and could only be detected by the experts and scientists within the Confederation, the men and women we called our innovators, but in recent years here cries have been more pleading, more severe. Her wrath can be destructive to humans, and has proven to be, yes, but the lashings the human race receive from Gaia are the result of her trying to heal herself by compensating for loss and destruction caused by human hands.

The hole scientists discovered is her way of telling us that she is a soul and will go on living, the Earth being only a body to contain her, but this body holds other lives, it's held responsible and accountable for other lives. The human race has been biting the hand that feeds it, cutting down trees that supply oxygen and driving vehicles from place to place that emit harmful pollution, causing the hole to grow bigger and acid rain to fall on the Earth, on people.

Our innovators thought their role was messenger. They thought Gaia wanted them to tell everyone - from the heads of the Confederation to the farmer, from the car salesman to the writer, from the upper class and elite to the poor and forgotten - that they have to change their lives so the damage may be reversed, so the planet may be changed for the better. Our messengers didn't think this message applied to them. After all, they are innovators who use their knowledge to discover how things work, why things happen and, perhaps, most importantly, what these things mean for the future. They're innovators, mainly, because of how they go about this, the tools they use. Nothing in the Confederation is as simple as it once was, and perhaps this has to do with knowledge, with science, with technological advancement.

Oracles, such as myself, within the Confederation have found that the innovators are just as short-sighted as the elite and the heads of state. Year after year has brought a new advancement to solve a problem at hand, only to now have the consequences of its implementation be realized. Innovators have machinized everything so that the Confederation relies on electricity to function and everything that operates within it is difficult to recycle.

I heard Gaia whisper, and I heard her cry, too.

"The Earth," she said, "the Earth takes care of people, oh, why can't people take care of the Earth?"

Gaia reminded the Oracles of the Confederation that man and planet once coexisted, and they can again. My people are Oracles, we live in a floating city, and we believe in Gaia. We followed her to where the planet ends, through the ozone hole in unchartered territory. We left behind the Confederation, their technology, their short-term answers and their destructive ways.

The air has replaced our ground. We fly weightless, traveling in balloons instead of planes, trains and automobiles. We escaped the Confederation, leaving that part of the planet like smoke through a chimney. My people live amongst clouds in colorful balloons that utilize nature to mobilize us, to carry us from ruins to freedom. Oracles are free of the planet, and now we have to act as its heart, even though we're only a small part. We've lifted off and we may never come back down, unfortunately.

Tin Kettle Inn

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.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Open Door

Photo by Simply Heather
Visit her Blog - http://joyfulbussin.blogspot.com/
And her Photo Blog - http://simplyjoyfulphotos.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write today about a door opening.
Use this idea in any creative way that moves you.



_____________________

My secret place
Nobody but me
Free to dream
Free to just be

The door leads the way
To paths unknown
Step inside now
Before you're too grown.

Mandy

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.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Butterfly Love

Photo by C. John Edwards his blogs are -
http://scriptorsenex.blogspot.com/
Suggested prompt...
~
On his blog C. John writes of this photo...
A female Common Blue with a male flying in
in the hope of having his wicked way with her.
~
Offer a poem of butterfly love or maybe his poem to her.



_____________________

Awe, your beauty asstounds me
Your colors
The way your move
I want to come closer
I want to be near you
To feel the air's movement around you
To feel your slight warmth
To hear your sweet breath

Awe, my love
You are everything to me
The joy you bring swells within my breast
And I am overcome
Please turn to me
Please hold my heart
Put me out of my longing, this miserable yearning

Awe, my love
You make my soul fly
It soars above us, as we nestle here in the grass together
It leaps amongst the clouds
And lands amongst the sun
My sweet

My butterfly

Dani

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.