Photo Title: Old Socks © Cole Thompson PhotographyVisit his site to see additional photos.
The photographer lives in Laporte, Colorado, and specializes
in black and white fine art photography.
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Writing Prompt
Who is this couple, and what are they doing?
Be creative and write a short fictional piece.
Include dialogue.
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Photo used with permission from Cole Thompson.
9 comments:
Love this. To sit by someone and just be happy wearing our old socks.
SOMETHING IN THE AIR
"Honey, did you poot?"
Asked young hubby with a sigh.
"No, I thought you did"
Was her thoughtful, sweet reply.
"Well something really stinks,
I guarantee you that"
"I know exactly what you mean.
Did you put out the cat?"
"I don't think that Little Kitty
was what set my nose to twitchin'
But it just might be the cabbage,
You have cooking in the kitchen"
"Maybe the odor of our shoes...
Those well-worn, battered Crocs.
But this stinkin's got me thinking,
It's been two weeks since we changed socks.
Well envisaged and captured - it certainly does tell a story, can't wait to hear it develop!
Cheers,
Mark
www.highton-ridley.co.uk
The only kind of socks I wear, when I wear any, which is practically never.
I am trying to figure out why I like this picture so much.
Love Renee xoxo
'may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)'
ee cummings
Greetings from London.
Look at them , do you see all these people , there scrolling down to see which one they like, do you think they'll stop at ours, I don't know we're a bit different , I don't think they realized were watching them, that's Ok we're having fun , look this one thinking real hard, and him he doesn't know what to say, I like her best she writing about us looking at her, do you think she's figure it out, I don't know, Is this our life , I guess it is , until we find something better to do, quit talking let's look............... what they say I didn't catch that, it's good they write it in that little comment box !
(poem by Therese L. Broderick of Albany, NY, USA)
A COMPLAINT ON THE NATURE OF WOOLEN SOCKS
A simple lie he told me last night,
of no more magnitude than if
he had said he had a hole
in the toe of his woolen sock
when he didn't. I would never have
known he wasn't telling the truth
if only he had kept the lie a secret,
kept wearing his leather moccasins
of deceit. But there's something about
a lie that's like a hole in a sock.
It has to be poked, stretched, shown
to others. Slippers off, he laughed
at me as he ripped it even larger.
I think I like this because they sit side by side, shoes off, possibly talking, and just kicking back. The person with the colored socks seems to be moving his feet up and down and has drunk a nice glass of sometihng or other.They both are minding their own business. I like it. I always wear socks.
Have a great week Nancy.
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