
(Photo: Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)
Impressed, she was.
The image etched into her mind.
The angle of his neck,
Head bent over the
Guitar,
Engraved
Onto her heart.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of Engrave in 23 words
(Photo: Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)
Impressed, she was.
The image etched into her mind.
The angle of his neck,
Head bent over the
Guitar,
Engraved
Onto her heart.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of Engrave in 23 words
“Can you see her?” Emma rose on tiptoes and lifted her chin to add inches to her five-foot frame.
I smiled. What Emma lacked in stature, she made up for in sheer stubbornness. She felt tall.
We had parked on the far side of the marina and were approaching from behind the stage, facing the crowd. A sea of heads corralled by masts.
“She isn’t in the first row,” I noted, puzzled. Aunt Tilda was a front-row fixture in all local concerts.
“Look again,” Emma insisted. “If it’s free, you bet she’d staked her claim since the day before yesterday.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo: Amitai Asif
Off they go
With the harp
And the sounds
In their hearts.
Off they go
To work hard
And music’s soul
To impart.
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Music
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
They emerge deep at night
To play tunes out of sight
Giants, trolls, hoards of sprites
To the bridge they alight
Where they’ll sing till first light.
If you listen, you might
Catch a tune fleeting bright
Ode to sax stuck upright.
For the A Photo A Week Challenge: Music
Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev
Fields of Gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love among the fields of barley?
We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so upon the fields of barley.
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left we’ll walk in fields of gold
We’ll walk in fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down among the fields of gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold, when we walked in fields of gold
Here’s the version as sang by Sting in 1993:
And one of my favorite renditions by Eva Cassidy (RIP, Eva, your music goes on):
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Field
Photo: Inbar Asif
He may be a bit eccentric
And his music may be bold,
But his mama will be happy
That his head will not be cold,
That someone is watching over
Just in case he should be told,
That it is time to eat the snack
Before his energy will fold.
This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”
Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!
For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.
“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!
The new piece unfolded in his head during the long flight. The chords danced to the beat of the flickering red light on the airplane’s wing and the turbulence lent base to the melody. It was perfect. He’d have written the notes right there and then had it not been for his propensity to motion sickness. Staring out the window was the only remedy. Sometimes the best inspiration.
“Let it go, let it go!” his daughter’s singing in her room welcomed him home.
And the nascent harmonies obeyed, dispersed, let gone.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Skirl a tune
Blow the pipes
Upon Highlands’
Tall banks.
Through deep lochs
And rocky lakes
May beauty keep
Your soul awake.
This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”
Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!
For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.
“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Take your song
Right along
Let the tune
Warble on
Let your soul
Be as strong
As the trill
Of birdsong
All day long
Chirping on.
For The Daily Post
Photo credit: Vito Perrini
May the percussion of your heart
Beat not staccato in your core
But breathe legato in your soul
To sing vibrato to your whole.
For The Daily Post
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