Hiding

Picture prompt for Magpie Tales

Hiding from me
I cannot see
who
I
really
am

For The Mag

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte 

A week has passed and once again it is time to stretch our creative muscles for Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.  Each Sunday we get an art prompt that inspires us to write.  Join the fun.

Fear

Keeps us faceless

Be certain

Show your face

To the world

Shouting

I am worthy

I can write.

A Herculean Task of Multi-Prompts

Edward Hopper, 1922 

The Mag

Wordle

and for the daunting task of form

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.

Plastic people with alabaster skin
Walk the mine fields seeking disaster
Longing for chaos they will never win

Graphics limited only by the wind
High altitudes greatly enforce the thrill
Walk the mine fields seeking disaster

Force the climbing crowds to pick Asters
While buttered bread falls from picnic baskets
High altitudes greatly enforce the thrill

During the climb need something just ask it
These actions and words have no worth know this
While buttered bread falls from picnic baskets

Sad face with attitudes too bad mask it
Climb fast climb free stealing a kiss from me
While buttered bread falls from picnic baskets

Plastic people with alabaster skin
These actions and words have no worth know this
Longing for chaos they will never win
While buttered bread falls from picnic baskets

Oh, boy, I just felt like I was in school again.  Whose big idea was it to combine three prompts?? Mine!  I have used The Mag's picture prompt, Sunday Whirl's words (underlined) and have tried my hardest to write this nonsensical poem in the Terzanelle style that was our prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.   

I must get out more because this combined challenge was too much fun!

Words

For The Mag and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Chair With the Wings of a Vulture, 1960, Salvador Dali 

Wings grow to hide my wall
Fiery lights run hurt away
Thorns in palms fester
Blister on blister turn callous
You toughen
Grow stronger
Build a wall inside
Learn to wear gloves
So nothing can hurt

Mixing It Up On A Sunday...

Photo by Kelsey Hannah

The strap did not stop in mid swing. 

My thoughts could not suspend

The zip nor the power

Diamond tough

The details of "a lesson"

Broke through the barrier

Tears fell silently

Like a waterfall

While the unit waited

For me to press the pleat

"We must look proper on Sunday."

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Sunday Whirl, and The Mag prompts combined.

Thanks for the challenge.

Poet's Sleep

                                                                       Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn     

Tess Kincaid prompts us to create words inspired by her picture of choice.  The Mag is a weekly challenge at Magpie Tales.  Join the fun or just enjoy the writings of others.  Either way you will not be disappointed.

As the poet sleeps

Skulls of discarded words

Gather and cry

"Why not me?"

As the poet sleeps

Words lay like stones

To be crafted

Into a poetical statue

As the poet sleeps

He dreams

People will read

Enjoy his words

As the poet wakes

He fears

There is nothing

But skulls and rocks.

Painted Toes for The Mag

Tess Kincaid, Magpie Tales, The Mag

Tess's picture prompt for our word creation

PAINTED TOES

Dance on ivory keys 

Recalling the craziness 

As we rolled 

The piano outside

My sheer dress 

Slid across the piano top

As you called me

Your music queen

We made our own music

Chiffon fluttered in the breeze

You ran the scales

Higher than ever known

Our souls sang a duet

Creatures watched

In Nature we became

The Wild Things

The Mill

For The Mag.  Thanks, Tess.

The Mill by Andrew Wyeth

The mill was silent.  The stream frozen. The last wood was laid on the fire as the family gathered around the table to pray for spring.

Self Portrait For The Mag...

self-portrait, Francis Bacon

self-portrait, Gail

Do we reflect our goodness

To the people we meet?

Or does our badness show

As plainly as our feet

I can reflect on actions past

I can reflect the sun

But all reflections

Are things that are done

We must take this moment

Like a tiger by the tail

Reflect on consequences

Mark our decisions well

For only in a moment

Can we decide for sure

How we will reflect our light

Let it be good and pure

The Mag

Thanks, Tess.

Art With The Mag

le Jardin, 1962, by Max Ernst 

Orange, yellow, blue and green
Surround a woman underground
Not to bloom or blossom
but rather to rot or drown

Art is in the eye of the beholder
As poetry is in the heart
He painted what I could not see
I rambled...yet both are art

For The Mag with Tess Kincaid

The Mag 190

My name keeps me locked
Behind an inescapable fence
Every one fears my breed
It doesn't make sense

I'm like every other dog
I act how I am trained
I sadly watch as people pass
I needn't be restrained

Look into my baby blues
I am a dog
Like any other
Just a different hue

Join The Mag 190 prompt from Magpie Tales.

The Mag, The Moth and the Lamp

The Moth and the Lamp, Cesar Santos

Beautiful in death
She had no belief
In tales of dangerous desire
Drawn to the light
She perished by fire

Thanks for the challenge, Tess.

The Mag 183...

They realized someone had taken the message literally when they found the bodies just to the right of the sign.

photo by Steven Kelly 

Visit The Mag

The Mag 166

A nonsensical ditty for The Mag

ILLUSTRATION BY HELEN WARD

THE MENU HAD BEEN DISCUSSED

WEEKS AND WEEKS BEFORE

THE TOAD WANTED RESTRAINT

THE BADGER WANTED MORE

THE MEAL WAS CHOSEN

THE SILVER AND THE DATE

ALL LEFT TO DECIDE

WAS WHO SAT FACE TO FACE

THE PLANNERS AND THE GUESTS

WERE DIVIDED BY THE TABLE

NO ONE HAD FAITH

THAT TEMPERS WOULD BE STABLE

THE WEASELS ARRIVED 

CHECKED ATTITUDE AT THE DOOR

THE HOSTS EXPECTED LESS

AND HID WEAPONS IN THE FLOOR

THINGS BEGAN CIVIL

UNTIL MUSHROOMS HIT THE PLATE

THE INTOXICATION

FIRED THE GREAT DEBATE

HEALTH CARE AND GUN CONTROL

WERE SUBJECTS FORBIDDEN

WHEN TWO GROUPS ARE MEETING

FROM BOTH SIDES OF THAT RIBBON

SO CLUBS WERE PULLED

AND TEETH WERE BARED

WAS ANYBODY'S GUESS

HOW EACH SIDE FARED

THE RUMOR IS THE FIGHT GOES ON

TO THIS VERY DAY

EACH SIDE KNOWS BEST

THERE'S NO MEETING HALF WAY

                      

The Mag 165: The School Teacher

Instructions

1) Write a poem or short vignette using the picture featured in this post as your inspiration. Feel free to take the image to use for your post. 

2) Link back to Magpie Tales from your post.

3) Sign up in the Mr. Linky list, linking directly to your post,AFTER you've posted.

Joining the challenge at Magpie Tales

Monhegan's Schoolteacher, 2004 by Jamie Wyeth 

The School Teacher

I'm so pleased I did not have

A teacher such as she

With not a brain to cover up

When it's minus twelve degrees.

The Mag 154

For Magpie Tales

Central Library, Manchester, U.K., by Robin Gosnall 

What creations topped the columns

For everyone to see

Could it be angels 

Or is it dragons

Guarding their wordy lair

It could be alien leaders

That often touched our world

Or it could simply be

Beautiful architectural swirls.

The Mag: Hand in Hand

This blog is dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well. 

Tess Kincaid's words, not mine.  Tess posts challenge us each Sunday to reach through our self-imposed barricades drawing out the hidden words giving them life to share with  others.

So reach deep, keep it nice and create.  For more creations visit The Mag.

Hand in hand

We adventure

Trusting blindly

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Our heart skips

As we do

The safety of two

Hand in hand

There are no limits

Creating within

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Dusk approaches

Returning home

The safety of two.

Hand in hand

Awaiting our return

Back lit silhouettes copy

The safety of two.

Forty Years Of Love

Writing Prompt from The Mag

First I saw your eyes

Then I saw the rest of you

Knew you were my life

Falling in love with

The feel of your denim

The tobacco smell

And the touch of your hands

Even now

The touch of denim

The smell of tobacco

Reminds me of real love.

The Mag 149 Thoughts

Sunday and time for The Mag!

FIRST THOUGHT

The length of time
From cig to butt
Is short by most standards
Then it’s discarded
In the streets
In the fields
In the gutters
To travel endlessly
Stripped of tobacco
Stripped of identity
It becomes a filter
A filter of nothing
Whose main purpose
For years ahead
Is to simply exist
With all clutter

SECOND THOUGHT
He waited
He watched
He smoked.

He checked the time
Checked it again
Time ran out.

The length of
Four cigarettes
Decided her fate.

The unfaithful
Took her last breath
As he smoked.

The Mag 148

Sunday, always a good day for creation, brings us the challenge I have grown to love from Magpie Tales.  Tess Kincaid spends many hours, I'm sure, trolling for a most excellent visual aid for our creation and your entertainment at Magpie Tales.  Not many rules but we have to play nice.

Snow and ice                                      Photo by Andy Magee 
To fog and rain
Made coming down
Easier than
Going up has been.