The Mag 147: The Map

I love this challenge.  Every week Tess gives a wonderful image and challenges us to spin a tale with no limits on our words or our style.  We just have to keep it clean.  Visit Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales to join the fun, you can write and you can read others.  I promise you won't be disappointed.

Photo Source

THE MAP

Some thought the map was lost

Of how the world used to be

They did not know the ancients

Carved the map on me

One girl of each generation

Was chosen to wear the cover

The carving the ink

Of past history's grand oeuvre

Now Earth's law was "No History"

No names to places past

I must remain forever covered

No one can see my ass.

The Mag, Dire Consequences

Time again for Tess's prompt at The Mag.  Join the fun or just read other tales.  Keep it short sweet and clean.

Object to be Destroyed by Man Ray

Tick Tock

Count the knocks
Testosterone played
Estrogen lost
Today

Tick Tock
Nine-one-one
Fred wanted to play
Sally fell
They carried her away.

Tick Tock
Sally's home
To Fred, "Wanna play?''
Thinking he would win
He jumped right in.

Tick-Tock
Sally cleaned his clock
"No more," she said
As she bashed his head

They hauled them both away.

The Mag 143

Verdun, 1917 by Felix Vallotton

February through December

 The earth was torn apart 

As people perished

 By each other hands.

  We learned nothing except 

More efficient ways to kill

How to war is not a talent

The artist shows it well.

The Earth cries

With the destruction

And humanity cries

For ones who do not return.

I make a habit of not researching anything on the picture or the artist until I have written my piece.  I read no others so my take will be my own.  Somewhere in my outdated hard drive of a brain Verdun said war and the picture backed me up.  It is a good artist who can represent the destruction and desolation of war in the strokes on his canvas.

Visit Magpie Tales  with Ms Tess Kincaid.  Read many talented writers contributing to her fabulous blog and join in the challenge.

Thank you, Tess, for remembering. 

The Mag 142

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

Today's the day to put on your creative pants and create to share.

Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937 by Edward Weston

Charis meaning grace and kindness was not quite what I had pictured.  I knew His grace would set you free but somehow I imagined a different form.

The battle was full blown
When  Grace showed up
Armed with swords,
Knives and such.

The field was strewn
With giants and men
We remembered the beginning
But knew not the end.

There was monsters galore
Surrounding the field
The ones from lore
Were truly real.

With face set grimly
And legs wide spread
Grace took a stance
Filling enemies with dread.

Grace battled on
Now flanked by support
The monsters kept coming
They thought it was sport.

The circle kept tightening
Grace we did embrace
She was leading the battle
Against the horrors we faced.

After time unmeasured
And the dust cleared
The enemy lay around us
Grace showing no fear.

The few despots still standing
Left the battle field at a run
This day's battle was over
With our acceptance Grace had won.

Who knows the battles ahead
They can reach far and wide
But we will always be the victor
If Grace is by our side.

The Mag 140...The Birth

Oh, Tess, Tess, Tess.  You  have outdone yourself with this challenge.  So many directions I could go from here.  I never read the others until after I've posted mine.  It's amazing the creative variety that is birthed from the viewing of a single image.

Join the challenge, follow directions and create a masterpiece of words for Magpie Tales.

THE BIRTH

Thomas, Benjamin and John assigned to create the image that must say it all.  Much discussion and many drinks drove the creators to the brink.  Committees later years past due they chose this seal for me and you.

Gracing our money is The Eye of Providence, the all seeing eye beaming above an unfinished pyramid.  "Favor our undertakings" engraved on the top and "New Order of the Ages" inscribed below.

Oh, the time spent by generations reading conspiracy and danger into a simple doodle thrown together by a few drinking men. 

The Birth Of A Doodle

For years they doodled

All through the nights they drew

What symbol for the nation

What sign for me and you

John, Ben, and Tom were stumped

They wanted a symbol to say

How great the new nation

today tomorrow and yesterday

A nation unfinished as the pyramid

With the Eye watching we will not fail

Hey, how about New World Order

As they sipped their ale

We'll never know the meaning

No matter how we try

The secret left the world with them

Like all the men before they died.

Mag 129...The Drummer

Tess Kincaid challenges us to stretch our creative muscles

 with her pictorial challenges.  Join in the fun at Magpie Tales.

A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent

The man sold his wares
Traveling from town to town
They joked about the drummer
When he wasn't around.

He sold the ladies housewares
And sold the men some tools
He wooed this lady
By gifting her with jewels.

She tries so hard
You can see it in her face
The boredom overcomes
Even in this elegant place.

The red triangle of light
Sparkles on her jewels
The Drummer keeps on talking
Bragging about his tools.

As the evening drags
She gets a little drunk
When asked for another date
She said, "I'd rather eat a skunk!"

The Mag 125

Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton

Once again,

I am stumped

The picture's real

I'm in a slump.

Farmer John has hay

And green grass galore

We have nothing

Just dead grass and spores.

I guess I'm suffering

From hay envy now.

Can't cut, can't rake

Can't even plow.

Cattle auctions are full

Selling into the night

Trailers lined up

Far outta sight.

Trying not to fail

Survival mode in place

This county is going to...well,

Pray for rain and say Grace.

Join the fun at THE MAG.

Mag 124 Ophelia

Ophelia by Odilion Redon

The dysfunction of a family
Is acted out in parts
Everyone is guessing
No one know what lies within the heart.

Distrust and lies
Murder and lust
Mattered not in the end
They all returned to dust.

Some found solace in insanity
Others in death and plots
The innocent were not protected
A joyous tale it was not.

Poor insane Ophelia
was not alone
The entire bunch was crazy
To the bone.

Ophelia waits for no one
Singing away her day
The river called her softly
She obeyed.

Join in the fun at Magpie Tales.

Mag 121

Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte

Ms Tess knows how to challenge the writer in all of us.  Many people view this pictorial prompt and produce quite a creative variety.  Stop by, visit, join in the fun.

My Take

His life on one wall.
That is all.

Mag 118

The Circus Witch and The Yellow Clown, Chagall

The crowd watched as the strong man romanced the circus witch.

No one noticed the clown shedding invisible tears.

Tess Kincaid, creator of The Mag, challenger of writers every where, has picked a doozie this week!  I was left behind in the dust.  Hop over to visit Magpie Tales.  There are many wonderful contributions from creative people there.

Thanks, Tess, give me an easy one next week!

Mag 116 Escape

 River Irwell by R.A.D. Stainforth

She had been carrying water from the river when the camp was attacked.  Hiding she knew there was nothing she could do to save her family.  It was over almost as soon as she heard the war cries.

With nothing but a bucket and the brown calico dress she wore, she quietly swiftly pushed the canoe into the water.  She lay hidden in the canoe as it floated down the river, her only escape. 

The trees and the sky were her view for miles as she silently cried for her lost family. 

Day turned to night and she viewed the stars, allowing the river to carry her where it would.

She heard children playing in the distance and hoped maybe she had reached a settlement.  The current moved toward the bank here.  Exhausted with no paddle she simply lay in the canoe.  Her fate was in the hands of the river.

Splashing, splashing, then hands on the canoe pulling her toward the shore.  Feeling the canoe dragging on solid ground she struggled to sit after so many hours of hiding curled in the bottom of the canoe.

Rising, there were tepees as far as the eye could see.  From a distance she heard the same war cry.  She answered it with her own screams.

May 114

Tess Kincaid knows how to stretch your writing muscles.  Each week she presents a picture and you're challenged to write a piece according to her directions at Magpie Tales.

Image by Alex Stoddard

The Frog and the Princess

The Evil Doer had long ago cast a spell on the handsome prince to spend his remaining life time as a frog.  He became accustomed to the life he lived but discovered he still thought like a prince.

One day as he was hopping and croaking around the stream in the woods a young beautiful maiden bent to drink.  Thinking like the male he was, he immediately jumped into the low cut bodice of her dress.  The maiden laughed at the boldness of the frog.  After gently removing him, she planted a soft kiss on his shiny green head.

POOF! 

Before her stood a handsome prince.  The young maiden was not surprised.  She had heard many tales about good luck when kissing a frog.  The only thing that shocked her was the poor prince having popped out of his frog skin stood before her completely naked.

Lending him her cloak, she helped him back to his home where he was greeted with great delight.  They had thought the prince has met some ghastly fate (which he actually had) and would never return to them.

Oh, how they celebrated his return and during it all, the young maiden stayed by his side. 

They were married shortly thereafter and The Prince and Princess were very happy with only one problem.

Having spent most of his life as a frog the handsome prince could not stay out of the water.  The royal aquarium was built in the woods near the castle and when the prince felt a need for the comfort of water, he climbed in. 

The Princess insisted he wear underwear and they lived happily ever after.

Mag 112

A writing prompt from The Mag.  This was a tough one for me.  Check out The Mag and join in this wonderful challenge. 

And God created Woman,
 second only to Man's Best Friend.

The Mag

A challenge...

the picture is linked to many more who answered it.

• Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species -- man -- acquired significant power to alter the nature of his world. 

• No witchcraft, no enemy action had silenced the rebirth of new life in this stricken world. The people had done it themselves. 

Quotes from the author of  "Silent Spring" Rachael Carson

SILENT SPRING

IF WE HAD ONLY LISTENED TO RACHAEL

OUR FATE COULD HAVE CHANGED

IF WE HAD ONLY LISTENED

THERE WOULD BE NO NEED

FOR USELESS ATTEMPTS

TO REPAIR MOTHER EARTH.

THE SCIENTISTS SCRAMBLE FOR SOLUTIONS

BUT NO ONE WAS LISTENING

WHEN RACHAEL SPOKE

AND THEY STILL DON'T BELIEVE.

The MAG 108...Fishing?

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.

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

A delightful fun way to stretch your imagination and let your fingers do the talking.  This is the picture posted to let our imaginations run wild.

Quietly, she stood, making sure no more bubbles surfaced.  It had been a difficult venture but she was up for it, tough person that she was.

Those beautiful eyes looked at her as she lowered him into the water, holding him under, waiting...she took her time.  She wanted this to be done right.

When he could be seen no more, receding into the deep waters, she stood...and she wondered.

Why did she fish, if she only sets them free?

A Poor Attempt...

Today, I'm trying something new.  The Mag has a creative challenge using this picture as your inspiration.
Here goes nothing.

THE EYES HAUNTED HIM

Everywhere he turned
He didn't want to think of her
But those haunting eyes
Loomed on the horizon of his mind
Constantly,
Continually,
Asking him, why?

She didn't have to die
If she'd only stopped looking
With that piercing gaze
But she looked,
Sadly,
Silently,
As he squeezed her porcelain throat.

He thought her death
Would end it all
Erase her from his mind
No more chocolate eyes,
Pleading,
Placating,
Gone but forever in his mind, the eyes cried, Guilty!