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Image Prompt: Frosted Window

Title: Frosted Window © Neesha Hunter Illustration
Visit her blog site to see additional artwork.
The artist lives in Brunswick, Maine, and specializes in watercolors.

Artwork used with permission from Neesha Hunter.

9 comments:

Sarah Copeland said...

Frosted window panes
greet her sleep filled eyes,
the snow outside lending
to the cool blue
of her rooms interior.

This morning's colors
are washed over
a silenced land like shades
of watercolors
over cold pressed paper,
even her long blond hair
has been lovingly layered
with winter tinted colors.

Dave King said...

I saw your title and thought I was going to find one of those Jack Frost windows that I remember from childhood. Your image slightly disappointed at first, but then sent the mind off on a totally fifferent excursion. Thanks.

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

Sarah - I know I wasn't going to comment about anyone's writing, BUT, "..washed over a silenced land like shades of watercolors.." is just beautiful:)

David - I'm glad you weren't disappointed after all. I wouldn't want that! Had to look up what a Jack Frost window was, and I learned a new thing, thank you:)

Carole said...

As she sits by the frosted window
A cool breeze flows through
Tangling her dirty blong hair
Filling her flannel gown

She waits the passing of time
Screaming in silence
Though she is not ready to listen
Not ready to accept it

The traces are still visible
The marks on her pearly white skin
The food of life still flowing
The pain still throbbing

A fresh scar glowing
As a lifelong reminder
Of what could have been
Of what should have been

Her weeping the only sound
Warm tears in the chill
As she still waits
To accept her fate

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

I like this description, Carole: "The food of life still flowing.."

Thanks for stopping by and writing:)

Meandering Michael said...

I'm sitting by the window
The window
The window
I'm waiting by the window
But I can't see outside

A winter blizzard's blowing
It's snowing
and blowing
The vicious blizzard's growing
And it's not safe outside

My love is in the snowstorm
The windstorm
The snowstorm
He comes here through the snowstorm
With something to confide

The wind it blows so coldly
So coldly
So coldly
My lover comes so boldly
Together we'll abide

He comes to ask a question
A question
A question
He comes to ask a question
And I'll reply with pride

I pray that he will make
He'll make it
He'll make it
I pray that he will make it
My light will be his guide

Together we'll be married
Be married
Be married
Oh, God, I'll need a haircut
If I'm going to be a bride

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

Michael: I love surprise endings, and yours surprised! Thanks for visiting. Stay warm!:)

Julie-ann said...

Thank you for dropping by my blog and leaving a positive message about the aged angel. Really appreciated!
This painting is so beautiful.

Faith said...

How long has she sat
playing each possibility
each movement forward
countered. Frost on the windows
frost on the soles of her feet
frost in her heart. What can
and cannot be.
Where the dreaming lies
and the sleepers sleep
still inside the center of her storm
her calm, her angel self released.
There is no story told
no hero coming, no beast slain.
Her hair grown over the years,
you tell her age inch by inch.
The forgotten ones climb in,
the sorrow and the sparrow.
Oh, heart of hers shall always
always remember before
the frost laid her soul bare.

 

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