Photo Title: Rain Wet © Sarah Copeland - Hyacinth-ChildVisit her site to see additional photos.
The photographer lives in Canada, and writes poetry while studying
Psychology and Social Sciences.
Photo Prompt
Photo Prompt
You have serious WRITER'S BLOCK!! You discover this photograph.
Study it, then write a few words that come into your mind.
Using those words, write a story, a poem, or thoughts
about what you see and what you experience.
Study it, then write a few words that come into your mind.
Using those words, write a story, a poem, or thoughts
about what you see and what you experience.
Photo used by permission from Sarah Copeland
8 comments:
i am disoriented because i can not focus on my life
it has become so unclear lately, and i think i know where i am heading i think i'm sure of the direction i'm going in
i look again and realize i've been wrong along
my sight has been clouded and i need to re-focus before it is too late
before i lose sight completely
"It's raining agian
loud on your car
like bullets on tin."
Moby
The spoon inside last nights coffee cup rattled as the bass kicked in on my stereo, the time, six am, filled my room with an unearthly glow. Outside the only light came from a winter crescent moon, its silver light passed on to the clouds, trees and grass, like a disease. I lay in bed for a few moments watching the tree tops sway back and forth, as the wind picked up its speed it gained a howling voice as it squeezed itself through the cracks in my one room cabin. A sharp snap like bones cracking almost made me sick to my stomach as the green glow of my stereo disappeared and relative silence regained its presence. What was the point of paying for electricity when it only worked reliably for four months out of the year. Darkness was creeping back in as purple clouds, like angry bruises, began to cover the sky; the sun’s repression their mandate.
Clumsily I found the light button on my watch, ten after six, I swung numbed legs over the side of my cot, its regular protesting creeks silenced by the crashing rain that had begun to bombard the earth, every drop making its own crater in the thawing ground. I pulled on jeans and a t shirt then groped about in the darkness until I found a sweatshirt hanging over the back of my orange and green couch, I was glad the miracle of power had been taken away as it conveniently hid the dizzying paisley swirls. I could barely hear myself curse over the deafening roar of rain as I stubbed my right toes on a corner of the frozen iron stove. Squinting into the darkness I found my lighter and the box of kindling, after some pleading and coaxing I succeeded in lighting a half charred log on fire. With the discovery of light once again I became aware of a sudden change, I stood for a moment in front of the stove pondering this, trying desperately to regain feeling in various places. I turned and began my journey of five steps towards the kitchen in search of my kettle, the floorboards creaking beneath my winter weight, I froze. Silence had again returned, slipping unfeeling feet into damp hiking boots I barged through the front door and into a blinding world. Almost every trace of shadow was gone, hidden beneath a blanket of the purest white tinted orange by the first rays of a winter sun.
My eyes do not know
the pain you feel
or how much you question
yourself about every step
you take, how you shy away
from the noise and confusion
of the crowded, city streets.
My eyes can only see the
innocence of your beautiful face
I need to look closer
My doctor said many years ago that I won't need glasses until I hit 40. And now, I'm 41. And sometimes I catch myself staring longer at small text, trying to decipher the letters that seem to merge with each other in little pools of black. But I am in denial. So I see the world at times as if from behind panes of dewy glass. Hazy. Unreal. Pretty in a blur.
I can relate, islandhopper! Especially when I drive. And, though I love foreign movies, I can't read the subtitles on the movie or TV screen :( Guess, it's time to face the truth.
Thanks for your comment on my poetry blog. Yes, the time divide story is ours. I'm a late owl, and my husband is an early-to-bed person. But yes, the beauty of marriage is overcoming those differences and still finding time and place to enjoy one another's uniqueness.
I love your blog. I think I'll be a frequent visitor here.
Thank you, Gege! I love positive responses as I'm still learning this "blogging" thing. And, I hope you will visit and write often.
Whether it be truth or fiction, thank you for sharing your stories :)
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