In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Broken.”
A cardboard box. Broken chalks and pastels, every shade, nestling in powdery remains. A scrap of paper, blue and creased. An empty coffee mug, stained with colour, half full of muddy liquid, abandoned in a burst of inspiration.
Who would have thought that these tiny damaged chalky stubs could be transformed into images of such energy and verve? Such vivacity. Artist and dancer, Sam, sweeps colours over paper, lost in creativity. A dancer begins to take shape, flies across the page, head thrown back, limbs wide, feet off the floor…..pure joy.
The pastels might be broken but the dancers are still dancing…….
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Enveloped.”
My eldest grandson, Rio, grabbed the sheet being used as a tent by his young cousins, and enveloped himself in it, before tearing round the garden, wailing like a ghost. Sonny and Millie were highly amused and quite happy for the versatile sheet to be converted into ghostly attire.
Who needs expensive toys when grandma’s got a forty year old sheet requiring only a little imagination?
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Love.”
It’s a funny thing, this ‘love business’ It’s not all kissing and canoodling, despite what we hear.
I was wandering about with my camera on holiday, observing the people on the beach. There were young couples everywhere, arms and legs thrown across each other, sweet nothings being whispered in ears, little pecks on the cheek or mouth or neck. The heat was having its desired effect.
I watched the couple in the picture for several minutes. No kissing or caressing for them. She spent some minutes examining his face, running her hands over his cheeks and forehead, before forming her fingers into a pincer movement and going in for a spot on his chin. He seemed quite happy for her to continue grooming him whilst he soaked up the sun. At least, I didn’t stay long enough to see whether he objected.
Now that’s what I call true love….
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Forces of Nature.”
Living as I do, just off the Prom in Blackpool, I see the weather change sometimes as often as every hour. More than any other element we suffer from the high winds gusting in from the Irish sea, bringing with them clouds of sand that sting the eyes, score the walls and work their way insidiously into our attic and under our windowsills.
Last Thursday, I woke to rain pounding at the windows, which eased off as the morning drew to a close. The sun burst through as I finished my lunch, and by the time I left a meeting as early evening approached, the sky was a stunning mix of blue and yellow. I took a few photos as I waited for the tram, and uploaded them the following day.
Examining this picture in the light of the photo challenge I thought about how the pier had been ravaged by the elements. Wind, sand and water had joined forces to rip off cladding, graze the paintwork and rust the structure’s sturdy legs. Below it, the sand had been shaped by another mighty force, the sea. Rivulets curved gracefully across the beach, forming islands and pools where the waves had crashed and pulled and crashed again, until finally admitting defeat and retreating with reluctance back from whence they came.
Tomorrow would be another day.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Intricate.”
Glancing through the window of the Manchester to Blackpool train I couldn’t help marvelling at the intricacy of the the old railway bridge and all the overhead wires….