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.
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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, April 30, 2009

There She Sat...

Picture by AVR
Visit her blog ~
~
Suggested prompt...
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Is it love or a math test? Is she sad, waiting, happy?
Tell me her story creatively.



_________________

I saw her across the park. Sitting on the end of the slide in the playground. She was there yesterday, too, and the day before, always at the same time. In fact, thinking about it, she's been there every day at this time for at least a week. Always at the end of the slide, and only when I come out for my afternoon break. I see her when I come out the building door, and cross the street, then I lose sight of her when I turn to go into the corner shop. By the time I come out with my soda, she's gone. I never see her in the morning, not even the day I was late for work, and I never see her at lunch, or when I go home at night.

I want to know who she is, and what she is doing there, and if she is in a serious relationship, and why she looks so sad, and which parent gave her that gorgeous, silky brown hair. In short, I want to know everything about her.

Today, I finally work up my courage, and walk across the playing field of the park towards her. She sees me coming and stands up. When I reach the edge of the playground, she smiles. It lights up her whole face. She puts out her hand. "I've been waiting for you, Jack." Too late I see the sharp teeth in her mouth. She pulls me towards her, and the last thing I feel is her teeth sinking into my throat.

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, April 29, 2009

Sunflower

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42
for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Include a sunflower in your writing today
in any creative way you are inspired.



______________________

You started as a cast-off.
The birds knocked you off the feeder,
poking around for something sweeter.
And several weeks later, here you are.
No longer feed for the birds,
but a feast for my eyes,
and food for my soul.

azjanorama

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, April 28, 2009

Goddess

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
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Tell a tale using a goddess.



______________________

Goddess of Night,
Ruler of the Moon,
Mother of all.

You are my Guide,
You are my Teacher,
You are my Strength.

I raise my arms to you,
In wonder and praise,
In love and honour.

Guide me along my path,
Teach me how to follow,
Give me Strength to lead.

SMIB

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.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Stalking my prey...


Photo by Cyndy
For more of Cyndy's Photography visit
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Suggested prompt...
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Write this from first person... err... first feline...


_______________________________________

I lay in the sun and give myself a nice bath. Awe what a lovely day! Basking in the sun. So nice and warm! I lay down in the soft grass and just drink it in. I can barely keep my eyes open as I lay here. Prrr. It's the life. And none of those mini-people are around to chase me either. Prrrrr.

Hey! What's that! Hm... I saw something move over there. Ok, I'm up. I slowly creep toward the tree, eyes focused. I know I saw something there. Perhaps it was a bird. Perhaps it was a mouse! Mmm. I'll go extra slow so it doesn't scare off.

I'm just a few more feet from the tree. I'll be able to see around it any minute.

Then I hear it.
"Heeeere Kittykittykittykitty!"
I blink and turn toward the sound. Ah drat, those mini-people are back.

Ok then. Hunt's over.

I climb up the tree and curl up in it's branches to watch them jump up and try to reach me from below. At first I'm nervous and alert. Can they reach me?

No. So I settle in to watch them. Quite amusing, actually.

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.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

X - Sunday's Alphabet Prompt

Photo by Highlander
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Suggested prompt...
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Think of an X as a crossing...
crossing paths with someone, cross the things off your to-do list, crossing a river
use any thoughts that spring to mind creatively.

_______________________________


Lucy stood on the corner with a tear falling down her face. She wiped the hot salty tear off of her cheek, taking the smudge of her mother's lipstick with it. Clutching her lunch box against her chest, she waited bravely, knowing this would be the day that she would be a big girl. The first day of first grade.
She was prepared, with a box full of pencils and crayons and a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue, all with her name written on them in her own hand writing. A box full of things that belonged to Lucy was resting in her little back pack.
She looked across the street and saw taller girls doing cartwheels on the front lawn of the school yard, took a deep breath, and walked to the crosswalk. The woman in the orange vest came up, took her hand, and led her to the independent world called elementary school. It would be okay.

Kate

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, April 25, 2009

Birds

Photograph by Tammy Vitale
Visit her website - http://www.tammyvitale.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
It was as if they were waiting...



____________________

It was as if
They were waiting
For me to come
To show me the way
Back home

Trapped in the woods
Walking in circles
Afraid and alone
Unable to find my way
Back home

I stumbled into the clearing
On the verge of tears
Just wondering
When I would find the path
Back home

They rose up
And I followed them
Unsure why
But trusting they would carry me
Back home

Through the darkness
The darkest, thickest forest
I had ventured through yet
Hoping the darkness was on the way
Back home

Suddenly the trees thinned
And light streamed through
The gaps between them
The ravens had led me
Back home

Sam

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, April 24, 2009

The Square

Photo by Reno
~
Suggested prompt...
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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.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Little One

Photo by Monica
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Suggested prompt...
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Write of the moment you held her/him for the first time.



_____________________

He was like a little ball, all swaddled up tightly into a little blanket and with that little pink and blue hat. He was peeping out at me now and then. He looked as though he wasn't sure what he'd gotten into by coming into this world. Once in a while he would whimper again and let out a little squeak. What a protest. I loved him. But not like they always would say. I wasn't overwhelmed by love at the first moment as they say. The mother's love was supposed to hit me harder and I wondered. But I just had to get to know this little person and the love grows more and more each day. My heart now "walks outside my body" the way they say it should.

Then my other boy came. He was nothing like the first. Eyes wide even minutes after birth. He had come into this world wanting to experience everything! I could see it in his eyes. They still have a hard time closing, even to sleep.

At first I didn't know how to handle the love I felt for both. I felt like my heart was physically being torn in half as one part of it slept in his crib and the other in his cradle next to me. The two pieces of myself feeling so separate. It was a new sensation.

The time healed me. Now the love for both grows. If only I could keep them. Keep them here this way forever. Keep them from the terrors of the world, from the harsh criticisms, the tragic circumstances, and the way people can be so unfair.

But I can't.

So for now I enjoy each moment of innocence. I treasure them while it lasts. And when it's time for me to let go. I must simply...let go.

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.


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Quiet Morning

Art by Lynda Lehmann
visit Lynda's website to see more of her
photography and art - lyndalehmann.com
and she is a part of - World Wide Women Artists
~
Suggested prompt...
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I stood on the shore of the lake...



_________________________

I stood on the shore of the lake watching the mist rise off the surface of the water. My sleepiness wafted off of me in just the same way. There was coolness in the air that spoke of autumn whispers, not quite ready to be known.

As I inhaled the freshness of the morning I felt a renewed hope for what awaited us when we returned home. This little vacation was exactly what we had needed; that time to reconnect, to play together, the time to look into each others’ eyes.

His hand slipped around my waist, and I could feel the warmth reach the skin under my wrap. As he kissed my cheek and leaned his head against mine, I knew the promise of a new season was upon us.

shabby girl

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, April 21, 2009

Primal Scream...

Photo by Kane Hsieh
Visit his blog - Crimson-G-B
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Tell me his story tonight...



_________________

Little boy inside says
NOTICE ME
Dreaming musician inside says
HEAR ME
Uncertain citizen inside says
PROTECT ME
Outside me says
LAUGH IT OFF

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.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Vacation

Photo by Laura Jayne (hey, that is me!)
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Include a personal vacation in your writing today...
fiction, non-fiction or poetry... just get creative.


(On a personal note... I will be on vacation for a week. Daily prompts are ready and will be here at 12:01 a.m. daily as always, but the choosing of the daily front piece from a week ago will be delayed. I will catch-up my little tomatoes as soon as I return from the beaches of Cabo San Lucas.)


___________________

My husband and I were going on our first real big vacation together. Our baby was only almost five months old and we were flying to Florida. I remembered how much he scolded me for giving into the telemarketer offering a "free" vacation almost a year ago. How he had told me it was all a scam and that we would end up spending too much money. For newly-weds with a brand new baby, the cost was high for a vacation like that. But I wanted to take the offer. I wanted to risk it and go to Florida- just to go. Just to see it. To feel the sand on the beach. To feel the humidity on my skin. So I accepted it and we were tied down into this vacation by obligation because in order to receive the "free" vacation, I had paid $200. So now we sat on the plane, baby on my lap, eyes peering out the little rectangular window. Little did we know that we would be having the most wonderful and most terrible vacation of our lives thus far! What awaited us would be a hotel room flooded with an inch of water (nonexchangeable), a long day of traveling with no way of renting a car without spending too much, brownish-yellow bathwater, hours of salesmen trying to convince us to buy timeshares we couldn't afford, warm humid wind blowing against our faces, a baby that rolls over and finds his toes, the warm salty waters of the Atlantic, the smiles of Sea World life, time to hold hands and share moments of "just us". No regrets.

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.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

W - Sunday's Alphabet Prompt

Photo by C. John Edwards his blogs are -
~
Suggested prompt...
~

W for wealth... write of money today in any creative way you wish.



_________________________

On Not Giving Money to the Homeless

He said, you don’t know what it’s like to be black.
He asked us why we were scared. Why we were
jumpy. We weren’t jumpy. He
was paranoid. All this outside Trinity

Cathedral, where he probably
slept on the front steps if it wasn’t raining.
He was wearing blue scrubs, said he
needed money for coffee.

How many people do you think have already
said to him, “I honestly don’t have any money” ?
I honestly didn’t. What happened to him? Was
he just lazy? Was

he still ashamed to ask for other people’s money?
Or was he numb, mentally
calloused? Am I the cause of his shame?
By looking sideways at him, do I make

his burden worse? We walked away, although
my friend, a little more
innocent than I, looked back,
as if by listening she could save him.
But she didn’t know that we
aren’t supposed to look back, to see that he

cannot be saved.

Kate

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, April 18, 2009

In the Mist

Photo by Lorelei
Visit her photo gallary at - http://www.pbase.com/birdseye
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Tell the story of or create a poem for this amazing photo.



___________________

I hadn't laughed so hard in my life. Or at least I couldn't remember it. This was the most fun I had had in decades. I looked up, eyes watering, and felt so alive. My body was invigorated! I looked back at him and his eyes, too, glistened in moisture from laughter. How charming he looked with that moisture clinging at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away.

"Awe, if only we could go on walks like this every day." I said, letting the longing slip out into my voice. I wanted so much for him to know how much I truly meant the words.

"Yes. Me too." He replied. I looked at him hopefully but he added, "But it's impossible."

Somehow the fog created a cover that was so protective to us. No one could see us. But suddenly I realized that meant I couldn't see if someone was listening. I looked around myself a little uncomfortable at the thought. He caught my arm. "We're safe. It's too early."

"How long do we have now?" I asked.

"Ok, let's not go into this now." He said, smiling widely. His charms melted all my jitters away. How did he always make me feel so comfortable? "Let's just enjoy this moment while it lasts."

I agreed that was what I wanted. I looked forward and just loved the way the fog made the streetlights look so much more romantic- their warm glow would hit his skin in the most lovely way whenever we grew close to them. How I loved him. I wish I could tell him.

"So, shall we stop in for some coffee then?" He put his arm around me and I cuddled in closer. So soft and warm. I wanted to stay here forever.

"Yes. Let's stop in for coffee."

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.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Pagoda

Photo by Rachel Cotterill
More of her photos can be found on her Flickr Photostream
and visit her Rachel's Ramblings blog
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Step inside this special place and let it inspire your creativity...


_____________

The old gray tree leans towards the bright red orange screens, wishing for colors. The fly loops in and out of the pagoda but then lights on the gray trunk. The breezes stir the calligraphy on the octagonal table inside, and Chien Lung puts down his pen and rubs his eyes. He looks down at the writing and knows he could do better, but it's not bad. He loves to write, and enjoys every brush stroke. He gets up and goes down the creek 100 yards to the little tavern where he can get piso. He watches the water and knows life is good.

Lorelei

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, April 16, 2009

The Urn

Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood and
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Together they put/placed/hid it in the urn...



________________________

The Burial of Terran

When the earth god Terran died, his children, Aqua and Gia, took his body and buried it in a great pit. They called on the dragons that lived in the centre of the earth and asked them to breathe their fire onto Terran, as a last act of respect. Then they visited the giants in the mountains that people call the spine of the world, and they asked the giants to carry enormous slabs of granite and basalt to Terran’s pit. When the stones had been laid over the tomb, trapping the heat of the dragons’ breath inside, Aqua and Gia waited. While they waited they sang, and their songs brought life out of the ground and their tears nourished the soil. When enough time had passed and the stones over their father’s grave had grown cool to the touch, the two faithful daughters removed them and dug into the dirt. Terran’s body was no more. It had transformed, with the heat and the pressure, into a luminous diamond. Aqua and Gia lifted the diamond from its resting place and brushed the black graphite from it with great care. Then, carrying it together, they went to the urn in their mother’s garden and placed the diamond inside. Safely ensconced in earth once more, the diamond started to glow with a golden light that shone through the sides of the urn and illuminated the garden. When their mother saw what they had done, she hugged her daughters. She stood in the soft light, her face transfixed with love.

‘Your father is with us again,’ she said.

Inkpot

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, April 15, 2009

Hummingbird

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Offer a poem for this lovely photo.



_____________________

Swiftly through the air
Beats her wings of seduction.
Drawn to the Acacia blossom,
An eternal source of honey-sweet blessings,
At least until the season ends.

Her beating heart does not race,
But marks out a steady beat
As the air at the wingtips murmurs
And rumbles a daytime sonata.

Her presence is tiny
Her focus is humble,
She gathers the nectar
To nourish her young.

How much can she tell us
In the ease of her being?
How much will we learn
In the fleetest of moments,
When time becomes frozen
And the heart swells with joy?

She hovers in still time,
Making it flower
With petals of hope.
A reminder of innocence,
Life kept in balance,
When air, earth and flower
Melt into one.

Sacha van Straten

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, April 14, 2009

Joy

Photo by Basir Seerat
visit Basir's photo blog at
http://www.basirseerat.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
She ran with joy...



__________________________

Take these flowers to your mother.She ran. Catching the grass beneath her dress, mindless of the thorns and burrs riding along her legs. Her father's instructions were clear.

She passed the market. The blurry sea of smiling faces parted for her. Everyone knew what day it was when she was running.

The steps were long and cold. The road grew hot and dusty. She reached the slender willow, panting, leaning against its shaded embrace and letting her breath catch up.

Mother was waiting for her. Open arms, stone and cold like the earth. Her smiling face reflected the setting sun and she took the flowers, held them to her name and cried with the coming rain. Papa would be glad.

Though he couldn't bear to see the numbers on Mama's face, he never forgot what day it was.

~
Sarah

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, April 13, 2009

Dried Mud

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42 for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
It was like dry mud...



___________________

It was like dried mud. The little flower jar that she was forming on her pottery wheel, just would not cooperate and her time was limited. She wanted with all of her heart to finish this before the time came. She glanced out the window at the flowers and thought about her mother. She remembered those days when they’d planted the garden together, on their knees and laughing.

The thoughts of gardening with her mother and this dried mud of a vase reminded her of the day they argued with nature. The two of them, determined to plant the flowers in that ground; regardless of nature’s timing. It wasn’t dried mud that day, no; it was more like swamp water in the garden.

They didn’t need any tools, but only their bare hands because it was so muddy. Together, they built that garden and the flowers grew beautifully; as did their relationship. That was almost ten years ago. She was only five then, now a young lady; trying with every bit of desire to retain those good memories.

She realized that the vase wouldn’t form, was drying up, because she just couldn’t concentrate on keeping it together. Quickly, she focused on completing this creation but she just wasn’t satisfied with it. She set it on the shelf to dry.

The sun was shining so beautifully outside, on this crisp summer morning; leading her to the garden, she picked a few of her mother’s favorite flowers. That was the reason she was making the vase, but unsatisfied with it, she grabbed one from the kitchen and placed the flowers inside. The phone rang and she heard her father talking to someone, he sounded frustrated and angry but she couldn’t hear his words. He talked so quietly. She knew that he was hiding this conversation from her.

Her dad came into the room and told her that they should go visit her mother earlier today than they usually do. The drive is two hours long to get there and they’d have to get moving. Deep in thought for most of the ride, she realized that they were almost there and she’d forgotten the flowers on the counter in the kitchen. She had nothing to bring to her mother and it hurt her inside. She always brought something; always wanting to see her mother’s bright eyes smiling, and this time she had nothing to bring.

Upon entering the room, her mother sat up and the look on her face was different than usual, brighter than any other time. She didn’t understand why her mother looked so happy, so content…almost as if she’d brought her the gift with the vase that she intended on bringing. Her mother said, “Honey, you are so beautiful. Seeing you here right now makes my heart smile. Today is the day, my dear daughter.” “Today is what day, mom? What are you talking about? Are you coming home?” she asked. “No, honey; but I am going home today.”

When her mother said those words, she knew what was meant. It’d been five years as her mother battled with this cancer, five years longer than anyone expected. She didn’t know how to feel, what to think or even how to respond. Her eyes began tearing up and her mother wiped away the tears. “Honey, I know you’ll miss me; but you can trust that I’ll remain with you all of your days. We share the same spirit and you know how to listen, don’t you? You’ve shown me that all of your life, sweetheart. You’ve always had a wise soul. Don’t be sad, you know where I’m going.”

A few hours later, as they all sat in the room together; it filled with a warm radiance and her mother breathed these words to them, one last time…she said, “I love you”.

~ Simply Heather

Read Heather's conclusion of this powerful story on Tuesday's prompt... The Urn.

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, April 12, 2009

V - Sunday's Alphabet Prompt

Photo by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit -
http://www.pbase.com/katwilkens
~
Suggested prompt...
~
V for vinyl... include a record, scratchy needle sounds and all,
in your writing today in any way you like creatively.



____________________

Walking through the doors of Vintage Vinyl, a small 2nd hand record shop, the mix of patchouli incense and the scent of old moldy record jackets filled the air. As I was thumbing through my life alphabetically, Tea for the Tillerman, Threshold of a Dream, Led Zepplin, Uriah Heap, Tom Rush, Tommy and all the others help dust off the corners of a life long forgotten.

Then I heard a familiar sound that caught my attention...the hiss-pop anticipation of a needle on vinyl. MP3s go from silence to the music with no anticipation...a vinyl always builds to the song because you know when that hiss-pop starts...music will follow.

Francois Hardy..."Je t'aime" began to play. Francois Hardy was the hottest artist that summer in Europe. Everywhere there was music playing...there was Francois Hardy. I was back at the Cafe du Monde in Paris...1972 with my traveling companion, a French Canadian from Nestor Falls, Ontario. This was the departure we both dreaded. After 3 months of hitch hiking the Gold Coast of Spain to the hash bars of Amsterdam, she was headed back for school. Just like that Jackie Dumont walked out of my life just as she came in...no fanfare...just gone...

The song over, I gathered my composure, paid for my teenage son's White Stripes album and left the store. Once outside, I looked back once more. I could swear I saw the reflection of a French Canadian I once knew in the window.

~ Dan Felstead

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, April 11, 2009

Sands of Traveling

Photo by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit -
~
Suggested prompt...
~
It was the sand of ______ that she would remember because...



________________

It was the sand of Cancun that she would remember. She would always remember feel of the soft sand beneath her body, the feel of the sand between her toes. It was from the vacation she took with her college friends that last summer before they would graduate and head off into the real world. It was a summer for fun and freedom.

They had taken the shuttle from the resort into town for another great evening. They danced and danced all night. Laughter and smiles and everything good were the memories being created.

Somehow in the crowd, she lost her friends. She waited. She looked. She went back to the last part of the dance floor where they had been together. She looked in the ladies' room. She went outside. Everything was just so crowded that she knew she would never find them. After thirty minutes, she walked to the local bus stop.

She hopped on the bus and paid the cheap fare. The bus was full of couples and groups of friends, everyone building their own great memories. She watched them all exit the bus at their stops as she rode out to her hotel, one of the farthest from the night life.

When she got off the bus, the two locals seated at the front got off, too. They grabbed her and headed to the beach.

On that beach a new memory was formed, one that would never leave her. She would never forget the feel of the soft sand beneath her body as the rough men took her innocence. She would never forget feel of the sand between her toes as she ran back to the resort.

She didn't need that jar of sand to remember that vacation. That sand etched a memory in her that haunts her every day.

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.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Tattoo and Motorcycle

Photo by Cyndy
For more of Cyndy's Photography visit
http://www.pbase.com/cyndycat
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew...



________________________

...that life would never, ever be the same. She had forbidden him. Plainly, and clearly, and without the gentle edge to her voice that he longed to hear. She had said it clearly:
"IF you get that tattoo of that floozy on your arm, so help me. You are no longer welcome in this house, and you should pack your stuff and get out. For good. Think hard about that!"

Johnny had thought hard about that. All the way to the tattoo parlor.

~ CDB



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, April 9, 2009

To the Market

Photo by Basir Seerat
visit Basir's photo blog at
~
Suggested prompt...
~
She is on her way to the market...
imagine her day and use a part of it creatively for your writing today.



__________________

My story wraps around my mind each morning as I ride to the market. I love these moments of solitude where I can craft my novel in secret. All those passerbys can't see my mind exploding with ideas. I smile when they nod with greetings as I lumber on by. I will go to the market and choose the food to prepare for today's meals. As I go, I will also lay out the feast of characters and ideas that will be my first novel. No one knows that my imagination is liberated behind this veil. My life is good.

~
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, April 8, 2009

Abandoned Coffee

Photo by Dan Felstead
Wood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
ETSY Shop: Wood andPixels - http://www.woodandpixels.etsy.com/
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Tell me the story of this picture.



_______________________

He set the steaming cup of coffee down on the table, and then went back for the sweet roll. He placed it lovingly next to the coffee and took a seat across from it.

He looked around the little coffee shop that used to bustle with the sounds of talk and laughter, and sometimes held the seriousness of a couple deep in conversation.

Since he’d lost her that day, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to come here. It was all he could do to drag out of bed in the mornings. Two months. Two months of loss and tears, of emptiness, of a lock on the door of their lives.

He wasn’t sure when he turned the key in that lock this morning if he would be able to stand it. As he walked in, old habits unconsciously took over. Mindlessly, he mixed the flour, sugar, fresh fruit, and put it in the oven. As the coffee brewed, he unpacked the satchel he’d brought from home. Those things she loved; her things. Gently he placed them in the window where the light of day could shine on them.

The shop smelled of sweetness, and the deep roast of strong coffee. As he sat across from his offering to her, he thought he just might make it after all. Tomorrow he might even be able to turn the sign to open.

~
shabby girl

Wow!!! Some wonderful and emotional writing for this evocative photograph. This has been on of my favorite prompts to date. Thank you to all who wrote here and to Dan as always for allowing me to share his talent.

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, April 7, 2009

Up the Steps


Photo by Kane Hsieh
Visit his blog - Crimson-G-B
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Use this photo literally or figuratively.
Tell what happens once you take that first step up.


________________________

Once into this...there is no turning back. I can't continue to contribute to this facade of lies any more.

Once I enter the chamber and take the oath, I am committed to exposing the the real Washington D.C. that has spread through me like a cancer for the last 20 years. It began with a promotion and metastasized into spider like tentacles that control my every thought.......

" I solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, So help me God."

"Do you have any hard proof that the outlandish accusations you have just laid out before us have any shred of reality?"

"Senator, I am in possession of tape recordings of the conversations that I have just described but I will not give them over until I have an assurance that my family will be safe."

"Sir, let me remind you that Congress will determine what you turn over...regardless of your demands being met. We will subpoena the tapes if necessary."

"Senator, the players in this drama include some of your colleagues in this room."

"Point to and identify the colleagues you are accusing."

"The Sec


............."Please stand by, we have lost the signal from Capital Hill. There has been an explosion in the Chambers and we have correspondents on the scene."


Dan Felstead



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, April 6, 2009

Dreams of Something More

Photo by Kathryn
for more of Kathryn's photography visit -
http://www.pbase.com/katwilkens
~
Suggested prompt...
~
She dreams of something more...



_____________________

She hurts inside, having to leave her children at home every night but has no other choice than to work. Her husband is an alcoholic, not in any shape of holding a steady job; this is all she has and all that she is able to do to earn the money that she needs to take care of her family.

Most days, no one would even know her story. Most days, she comes to work with a smile on her face and ready to please; not today. Today, she’s distracted. A familiar face entered the shop today and noticed what she was unable to hide. “What’s wrong, sweetie? What’s got you down today?”

She just tells them “nothing”; shakes it off and continues her duties. Being the last one at work, she shuts down and locks up for the night; returning home to find her husband passed out on the couch. The kids are wandering around, eating candy and drinking soda, watching TV. and it’s so late. She’s exhausted, unable to even care anymore.

What happened to her life? Who has she become? She was once the mother and wife that she wanted to be. Where did it all go wrong?

She flops on the couch and the kids jump on top of her. The littlest one smiling in her face, saying “welcome home, Mommy” and she puts on her face…again…the smile that is worn as a mask; the mask that hides her dreams and sets her up to perform. She thinks of how she should have become an actress, because she’s so good at it.

Somehow, she manages to get the little ones cleaned up and off to bed; returning to the living area to pick up, and do the dishes. He wakes up from the couch expecting another performance, the one that he expects every night but isn’t able to catch. She doesn’t even see the man that she once fell in love with. He has become a bottle in her eyes. She misses that man she once loved.

She manages to find the bed and in pure exhaustion, she collapses; only to awaken to another day waiting for her attention. The kids are up; bouncing on the bed and ready for breakfast and her husband is gone off to his few hours of work.

Later in the day, she finds herself back at work with the same smile on her face. She glances off for only a moment and catches a glimpse of her past and a fresh outlook for her future…and…she dreams.

~
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.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

U - Sunday's Alphabet Prompt

Photo by Brett Trafford
visit his site 365 to 42 for more beautiful photographs.
~
Suggested Prompt...
~
Start or end your writing today with this line...
Under the spreading branches...



_____________________

I stand alone atop this hill.

I’ve given millions of leaves to the earth over seventy-five years,
But not remain. They’ve all blown away.

I’ve shed tens of thousands of seeds, year after year,
But none have escaped the grazing animals.

I’ve seen thousands of sunrises,
But I never grow tired of them.

What am I? Alone and lonely?
No.

I am a host.

Under my spreading branches
Children have played.

Under my spreading branches
Picnics have been made.

Under my spreading branches
Young have been born.

Under my spreading branches
Old have lain down for the last time.

I am a host,
To man and beast.

I am a host,
To bird and bug.

I am a sight for sore eyes.
I am a reminder of pleasant days.

Beneath my boughs,
Life happens.

Over and over again.

I am a host.

~
Don

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, April 4, 2009

A Kiss

Photo by Cyndy~
For more of Cyndy's Photography visit
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write poetically of a kiss today.



____________________

For Annie, who lives across the Water


Through the wires
And across the distance
Your love rings out to me.

The water between our countries
And the space we cannot fill
Are no barriers to the journeys
I make across the landscapes
We have created,
Forged in the certainty
That one day our lips will touch.

It is night time and the day is spent.
I lift the receiver to my ear and listen
Intently, as the soothing honey of your mellow
Voice drips its tenderness into my being.

We have waited too long for the intimate
Joining of souls split apart,
Reconnected and renewing that which was lost.
To touch your slender lips against mine,
To feel warmth of breath against my cheek,
Recognising the familiar and the unexpected,
In a second filled with perfection,
Filled with union,
To be in the moment, sensing such distillation
Of anticipated bliss…

The touch of your lips will linger
Long after the kiss is done.

Sacha van Straten

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, April 3, 2009

Around the Corner

Photo by Louise Bostock,
and visit her blog - A View from Carmine Superiore
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Take a walk down this cobbled street and around the corner...



_________________

The trip had been talked about for years. They dreamed of going on their honeymoon but could never afford it. Their kids were through college, the mortgage was paid, and now they could take the vacation of a lifetime. They would walk the cobbled streets, dine al fresco, visit museums, get lost in the city turning down alleys and backroads, just wandering.

Walking down one more cobbled street, she turns the corner and sees a tiny little chapel. The open door and faint light welcomes her inside. A priest is at the front of the sanctuary and turns to smile at her. She walks partially down the aisle and sits in a pew.

The long awaited vacation had been planned, had been paid for. The travel guides had been paged trhough endlessly. Then he became ill. On his deathbed, he insisted she take that trip and think of him.

She thought of him as she sat in that pew alone, crying.

~ 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.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

What to Make of It?

Art by Lynda Lehmann
visit Lynda's website to see more of her
photography and art - lyndalehmann.com
and she is a part of - World Wide Women Artists
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Use this art to inspire your writing today.



____________________

it's the city
everywhere
people running, rushing
everyone
going on with their own life
once in a while
life's colors blend,
meet, and merge,
stop to notice
the other hues
each on their own path

~ An Open Book

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, April 1, 2009

Surfer

Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit"
Jim's Photography can be found at Picasa and Fotothing
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Imagine the joy in this moment... use that in your writing today.



__________________________

I wasn't very good at this. For the tenth time today I was being knocked around by this monstrous water. Why was I even agreeing to this? I mean, I've always been the one with no talent...
"Hey, you wanna go again?" my twin beckoned to me, walking up the sand, salty water dripping from his hair.
"Ok." I said, hesitating.
"Awe come-on, you'll get it." He said, handing me my board that I had dropped before plopping myself onto the sand to toast in the sun a bit. The board was warm and almost inviting. But...as I looked up it seemed that the water still was angry with me. It roared at me. Didn't look very inviting.
Matt was already splashing into the water. He looked back at me and waved me forward. Sighing, I started toward my fate again. Maybe this time I'll get really slammed and he'll let me go home.
We swam out together, he and I. I couldn't help smiling a little at how eager he was. What was it about this sport that made him glow so much? His eyes sparkled in excitement as he looked at me and grinned.
"Ok...here we go. Just concentrate and let the water do the work."
And her came the wave. I worked to keep my body on the board. It was wet and slippery. How did he ever stay on it? The water came up and I couldn't see Matt anymore. But I was really going to try this time. I kept my feet on the board and felt the water lift me. A spray of water hit my face and I put out my hands to block it.
Whoosh. The air seemed to crystallize on my face and hair. My heartbeat raced with exhilaration and it was a release I had never felt before.
Amazing.
Then it was over.
I looked up to see Matt still out in the water. He hadn't caught the wave. Throwing his hands into the air he let out a big WHOOOP for me and I felt a warm glow growing inside my chest.
Running and splashing back out in the water to him, I yelled, "Let's go again!"

~
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.