Tags
art, books, creative, fiction, music, photography, piano, picture it & write, poetry, soldier, war, writing
I urge people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (provide a translation please 
). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph has been reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr.
My fingers nudged the door open; it was the last one standing. The battered room creaked in agony and groaned beneath my heavy footing. Despite the noise outside I felt alone. The silence of the room obliterated my senses. I could only see what was before me. Only a withered piano stood. Unable to resist I lunged towards it. My fingertips hesitated a centimeter above the keys. The image of my wife burned my mind, her delicate hands, her musical talent. I wasn’t sure if the piano would wheeze out the melodies within my mind or collapse beneath my hands. I couldn’t risk it collapsing, I needed to hold on to her. The sweet, melancholic tune flooded the barren room, my scorched mind. It was her playing, I could hear it. I closed my eyes for a moment – the door was suddenly kicked. “Soldier, let’s keep moving.”
- Ermisenda Alvarez
Everyone is welcome to use the button, just link them back to the Picture it & write category or Ermiliablog! Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish 
!
“My fingertips hesitated a centimeter above the keys.” This whole scene reminded me a little of The Pianist where he plays without ever touching the keys. Then the melancholy in my scorched mind suddenly becomes powerfully romantic, like an arrow through the heart, when I’m a soldier missing my wife at the end. This might be one of my favorite paragraphs of yours!
I love The Pianist. Amazing movie, I must have been unconsciously influenced because I actually didn’t have that in mind when I was writing it. Thank you, I really enjoyed writing it. Whenever I see a piano (I also play the piano) I can’t help but be whisked by the romanticism of it.
Can’t wait to see what you conjure up this week!
I play piano too and I share your romanticism. I can’t keep my hands off them, even got yelled at for playing the one in Tomorrowland at Disneyland once.
Here’s The Old Saloon. I broke my editing rule, so I probably have mistakes to fix.
Oops… oh well, the link works.
Beautiful, surreal. A very dream-y story. I loved this ‘The tired and rotten keys simply crumbled under the thick fingers that didn’t belong to me.’ The image of crumbling keys was vivid in my mind. I don’t think I’ve ever read a scene in an old saloon, I’ve watched movies with them but not read books. I didn’t want that scene to end. Continue writing! *Chants*
*Eliabeth joins in the chanting* More! More! More!
I loved that movie too! Great job Anne!!! Blessings…
Oh hi! Thanks, Terri.
Aniela tip toed down the hallway as an unknown melody echoed off the walls. She was just as musically gifted as her sister Tatiana, but not on the piano and never when it came to composing. Aniela ached to be able to sit down and write half as well as Tatiana composed without even a moment’s forethought. Aniela reached the door and felt the vibrations of the fortissimo, the gentle shudder of the decrescendo. Holding her breath, she pushed on the door and peered inside. Tatiana swayed with the music, her fingers moving rapidly as they danced across the keys, a sight Aniela was rarely allowed to see. Any sound, especially from Aniela would break the spell, this glimpse into her sister’s world. Tatiana’s face was always hidden, her back to the door and Aniela wondered what inspired this music that poured from Tatiana. As fleeting as a cactus in bloom, this music would never be written down, never be repeated.
Tatiana played for no one but herself.
-Eliabeth Hawthorne
Ooh! I was just watching Valentina Igoshina play Chopin today and this totally made me relive it! I love the names too!
Although Tatiana tried to contain her frustration she could hear it bleeding into her music. At first she lovingly caressed the keys, letting herself sink into the melody she spontaneously conjured. The notes intoxicated her, leaving her drowsy. she closed her eyes. The memory of her wretched mother and her angelic sister, Aniela made her nauseous. With that thought she began to play harder. The tips of her fingers ached as she smacked the keys. The momentum she created with her music surged like the ocean; brooding, dark and heavy. Something stirred behind her, she froze with her fingers gnarled. Her head snapped to the doorway to see nothing, no one. Silence soaked the room and scoured her mind.
(Hehe, Eliabeth decided to play Aniela who is a character from the novel we created, Blind Sight. We are in the midst of preparing to self-publish it. Tatiana is also another character from the novel, her sister. Just in case anyone is wondering/or confused. I couldn’t resist but play darling Tatiana.
)
- Ermisenda
[squeaks] Very believable sister dynamic. Haha, I’m vested here! Promise me you won’t claw each others’ eyes out and stop talking to each other!
YAY! Thank you <3 Well, they would have to start talking to each other in order to stop, but they don't claw each other's eyes out. They have a very complicated relationship, as many siblings do and it plays out through the whole series. My favorite thing about our two volume format (each volume through a single character's POV) is that when you read the story through Aniela's POV, you get one image of Tatiana in your mind, but when you read through Leocardo's POV, you see a different side of her that she doesn't allow Aniela to see. It's still the same characters, not so different to be unbelievable, but without the sibling rivalry and bitterness. Then, you see the complete personality (because there are things hidden from Leocard too) in book 2 when the second part of this story is told through Tatiana's POV.
I really hope we've piqued your interest enough to read it when it comes out.
-Eliabeth
Wow, great job everyone!
I sat down on the piano bench. At home, music was my only escape from the world. Here, in front of all my classmates, it was something I wished I could escape. Their cruel voices echoed in my mind, Loser. Freak. My whole body shook violently, my fingers most of all. I tried to place them on the keys, but I couldn’t keep them still. Everyone was watching me. I felt a pang in my stomach. My throat was dry. There was no way I could do this. I ran off the stage.
Aw. Having this phrase split in two with the full stop provides that extra impact ‘I felt a pang in my stomach. My throat was dry.’ I get nerves whenever I play in front of anyone, fortunately they don’t insult/boo/hiss me… at least not out loud.
Thanks for contributing this week Agent SD!
Thanks! I feel the same way whenever I share my writing with others…
I’m getting better.
For any snobs out there who ever criticized another musician… we cared enough to practice, we practiced enough to perform, we performed enough to care. Music was always intended to bring soul into this world. Grow one please.
…takes a deeeeeep breath… Breathe Annie. Breathe.
I really felt this, Agent!
Yes! Emotion! Thanks Anne.
I totally agree! *Restrains the urge to get very emotional as well* It never made sense to me that someone can ridicule a musician (let alone anyone else) when it’s clear that the musician has made himself/herself vulnerable by playing. Respect them and their efforts, even if they play bad. Push the ridiculer on stage and see if they can do any better (that’s my 2 cent!). That should stop them from bullying musicians. ^^
I think I already read this tonight, but AMEN!
Darn it! It’s still not even Sunday yet here. I know Terri saw this already… It’s like Christmas Eve in the middle of November!
Haha. <3 Picture it & write. Yeah the Sunday thing is a rough date since we have bloggers all over the world. Which is awesome! I love the internet.
Haha! To quote myself… “This is SO gonna be my new favorite place on Sundays.”
<3 Ermisenda is pure genius! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this. We have the time zone set at GMT or something close. I know it posts 6 PM Central US time, no idea what time it posts for Ermi in Australia. Usually these are scheduled to post just after midnight "blog time" whatever time zone we're in, so for some of you, it'll come Saturday evening if you want to get a jump start on it. I just love that it kinda starts and ends a week at the same time.
-Elia
Your work is all so great! Loving the varied takes on the picture. Will give it a try now:
neither broken keys nor hearts
could still the etudes suspended between them
preludes never to be played
Hey Aurora. Your poem was short, delicate and bittersweet. Exquisite.
I can’t choose a favourite part. It was all my favourite! 
I’m glad you left a contribution to the growing pile.
[bows] Varied takes? I am in Haiku awe! I’ve never seen 7 – 11 – 7, but I recognize it! ♥
…didn’t someone throw a legit Limerick at us a couple of weeks ago?
My teacher was broad and outspoken
The keys were all messed up and broken
I tried best I could
On that broken old wood
And decided that Teach must be smokin
<3 Smokin'.
[shh] I didn’t see any rules about contributing twice.
There aren’t any
Plus, you just saw Ermi do it this week.
-Elia
LOL! I’ll add on to that with this:
And truth be known
her mind was blown
she was so far out
forgot what it’s about
for talent to be grown!
Yay! Everyone contribute twice! ^^
I just realized I wrote poetry.
Dirty greasy broken keys
Tobacco decaying teeth
Rotting corpses and smoking guns
Bloody elephant tusks
Smells of spilt whiskey smoke
Sticky base pleasures
Fueled by frenzied tunes
Bach, Mozart, Beethoven
Dead, buried, forgotten
Whore and gold fill the void
LOL…I played the piano for a decade…teaching my son first movement of Moonlight Sonata…Beethoven still lives.
A very grungy piece. It’s great to have such variety! I like the fragmented nature of the poem. Piano is amazing and I love Moonlight Sonata as well. Thanks for dropping by and contributing this week! I hope to see you come by again in the future.
I am glad you have an open mind…I was mainly having fun with Annalisa…I can write more uplifting fragments:) Give me a picture of clouds, ocean, mountains, Orcas, Dolphins, Stars…
Maybe next week
Yuck! Classical music as dead as the keyboard. Good job, Tinc! You should have put the title up (he called it Fragments in my comments).
The title is “Grungy Fragments”. Unfortunately, my style of poetry is nothing but fragments…fits the nature of the day…where people can’t sit or think for more than 30 seconds on a given topic. Not only is classical music dead, but so might I add, is poetry, art, and thought:) Just some uplifting notes for the day Annalisa.
I’m not quite sure it’s dead… It’s definitely not the most popular form at the moment though. But it can never be dead, the very fact we’re talking about it shows that it’s still out there – a weak fluttering heartbeat but it’s beating!
I think that’s great that fragments fits the nature of the day, it’s very true in this day and age (Western Societies in particular, especially in cities). I love when the structure of a poem gives an extra layer of depth and meaning.
LOL..fluttering heartbeat…indeed…I have been told I suffer from Golden Age envy…my favorite periods of art include Ancient Greece, Rome, the Renaissance, and then a few geniuses have risen after those peaks…Goethe, Beethoven, Mozart, Nietzche…etc…we seem to be in a big valley or trench right now…seems to have coincided with the rise of industry and economic comfort/focus/worship. Well, parts of this WordPress community is an attempt to pull us out of the lifeless trench:)
I studied Ancient History in high school and I wish I could have studied it longer. It was so fascinating. Art was always one of my favourite aspects (along with the religion, particularly in Egypt) of these eras. What about Rococo furniture/art/buildings from the European period? I love European architecture to bits, when I go visit my family in Spain I just soak it all in. I’m not a big fan of the modern ‘contemporary’ sleek look. It seems sterile and emotionless to me.
Glad you got exposure in highschool. I stumbled onto it in undergraduate and ended up majoring in Rhetoric which incorporated most of writings from Ancient Greece and Rome. My first job out of college was in Europe where I lived for five years. I absolutely love the architecture and the parks/sculpture gardens. Took a year off from work while over there to travel, read some of the great works, and explored many museums…it was during this time in my life that I realized time does not equal progress as it relates to art, culture etc…it isn’t necessarily linear with time…case in point…as you mentioned…our current cold economic structures.
That is very true. Culture/art etc definitely don’t progress linearly. Ultimately, it’s subjective. Anything based on human’s taste cannot possibly be directed in a straight line. Humans are the most “curly” of animals. ^^ A big reason behind that too is convenience and money. Churches had so much money to spend on these majestic buildings but nowadays the money is generally more ‘evenly spread’ to the people (many would disagree with me there, but for the sake of the argument let’s pretend I’m right
). We live a much better quality in life in developed countries and to pay for that kind of art/furniture becomes ridiculously expensive ridiculously quickly. If I could my room would look like it came from the European Rococo era but I couldn’t even come close to paying for it. *Sighs sadly*
My last post on this for it deviates from purpose of your post…but it was nice chatting with you. Before churches…empires paid for beauty and nurtured artists…and later in time (Renaissance) rich business people that had a taste for culture (Medici family for example)nurtured arts and sciences…it takes people with spirit and money to create beauty and culture. But I believe, in my naive little child eyes, that the human being could achieve great heights without the concept of money…economics should serve us…not vice versa…and with sacrafice, long-term visions, and hard word, we could again reach another peak…of enlightenment, quality of life, art, beauty, and culture. We are so far from this concept right now…but one can always imagine Utopian visions and speak their mind. Enough.
Well said.
It was nice chatting to you too. Let’s hope the next age of enlightenment is coming soon (and we’re at the forefront!)
Hmm… I think Tinc might be hooked.
Mwahahaha. *Evil grin* Another one!
Flower & Ermilia…yes…Tinc has a bias for creative female blogs…beauty and the beast:)
Well, I’m not sure about this one but here it is:
http://terri0729.wordpress.com/2011/11/20/reluctant-soldier/
hope you like it. Blessings, Terri
How can you not be sure? It was lovely and bittersweet. I really liked the last stanza, the poor couple. War is such a silly thing (to put lightly). I’m so glad you contributed this week. Your use of dialogue is so great, it’s authentic yet still embodies poetic rhythm. Thanks for sharing your lovely work Terri!
It is always my pleasure to be able to join in the fun
I don’t know about how you could ever not be sure, being all crazy talented like that. You followed Ermisenda’s paragraph perfectly.
Thanks Anne! You actually made me blush, lol.
“It’s okay to enter now.” The fireman pointed at the now charred entrance to my house. I walked up to the door while thinking about how could this have happened. I gently pushed the door open. It squeeked as it opened. The front room was destroyed. I moved through the hall way to the den. “Is it still here?” I searched the corner of the room and found the old piano. The keys were bent out of shape. “I doubt that it can be fixed.” I walked over to it and placed my hands on the keys. I have never learned to play but my husband used to play before he died a few years ago. I didn’t have the heart to sell the piano because it reminds me of him. He’d sit down and play it. The music sounded horrible but he kept practicing in the hopes of being able to play…
Nicely done! And bittersweet. Blessings, Terri
Hey Rainbowheartlove.
Thanks for contributing this week. I really liked this idea that he was entering a ‘den’ – it has a dangerous feel to it. I like that you mentioned the husband was actually bad at playing, so he practiced. Often we hear about how good people are but they practiced, once they were bad. 
I hope to see you next week!
The devastation of a fire lends such a feeling of loss. I like that you missed his horrible music.
I really liked this piece. It made a specific image in my mind.
broken keys:
your old piano bench,
left cold and covered up
the notes, carved into the landscape:
forever in my mind.
only here i can decide-
and then i thought of the broken keys,
held closely in my heart
the melody, soft and sweet,
clutching your last words.
these black and white surfaces create
such balances of love and liquid lies.
shoved-off songs, remembered
i’ll make you see that these broken keys
can create a canvas of stolen smiles
Stunning. I really loved these phrases: ‘such balances of love and liquid lies’ and ‘these broken keys can create a canvas of stolen smiles’. Very elegant. Thanks for contributing this week lazylilacs, it’s always a pleasure to have your work displayed here.
Thank you. I never know what to write, and your “picture it and write it” posts always get my creativity flowing.
Lovely piece! Very well done. Blessings, Terri
Wow, I missed out on a lot hehe!! This picture it & write idea is really growing popular!!
Here’s my little contribution:
http://masochisticqueen.wordpress.com/2011/11/21/__-picture-it-write-6/
I’m thinking of editing it because I don’t find it as effective as I would like it to be :/
I liked the conversational feel of the story. I also liked the imagery of a beaten-up piano. Picture it & write definitely is growing popular, and so it should. You guys are fantastic for contributing so regularly and with such great, eclectic works. I hope to see you next week Eliza.
Very insecure about this one because some of the sentences have dutch expressions in them, for example listening breathlessly. I hope it works out just as well in English and that you enjoy reading my short poem.
Haar handen glijden over de toetsen.
Geïnspireerd door het lugubere aangezicht
begint ze te spelen, meegevoerd door
de passie gaat ze verder voor
koude, kille, zwijgende toeschouwers
die ademloos luisteren, naar
het melodieuze spel van de dood.
Her hands are gliding over the keys.
Inspired by the ghastly view
she starts to play, carried away by
the passion, she continues playing for
the cold, chilly, silent spectators
who are listening breathlessly to
the melodic piece of death.
- Otheus
I had to use google translate a little, but I really loved this piece. c:
You are a courageous individual posting your Dutch poem and giving us the translation. Don’t feel insecure, it was lovely! I thought that this phrase created a great image ‘the cold, chilly, silent spectators/who are listening breathlessly’. Great work! It was haunting. Thanks for contributing this week Otheus!
I thought so too. A ghost audience for a piece on the ghost instrument.
Fingertips dancing along the broken ivory.
Lying neatly playing a sullen melody
Interlaced with a mocking counter-bass.
Tantalizing the secrets from his heart
And laying it bear, like the strings
Peaking innocently from behind
The cracked exoskeleton of the baby grand.
The soft tones counterbalancing the
Agony of lost time, and the beginning of the end.
Moving silently with purpose he moves
Across the room, and through the doorway.
It’s twenty years previous, the hall
Brimming with life and sounds.
His siren, playing her song.
Covered in Chantilly lace she was an angel,
Her halo created by the dissonant lights
That danced courageously around her brow.
Her voice echoed a wonderful crooning,
Caressing the crowd with beautiful luxury
Grasping out and holding on tightly
To the moment, not letting the melody free.
He swayed to the beat, joining her soprano
With his cool and blusterous baritone.
Sneaking up like a storm, his voice coupled
With the fragrant vocals emanating from
The magnificent creature training the sounds.
She held the world by her fingertips
Clutching his lead, but he was hers.
Then it disappeared his heart deflates
As the blood rushes back into the reservoir
Leaving behind the corset,
Whose ribbons had clutched at his lover
The women who had held his soul,
She was gone, forgotten, like this piano.
Forever a living echo in his dreams.
It’s so great to see another one of your poems! I think the final stanza is just divine. I loved the imagery of the corset in his hands, ‘whose ribbons had clutched at his lover’ – fantastic! This is another great haunting poem, classic and romantic. I hope to see you again next week.
This is probably one of my favorites, I really enjoy your blog and how it helps to garner inspiration. I love reading the submissions and contributing. Thank you!
Inspiration and passion is the fuel for us mere mortals (well, for me at least
). I’m glad you enjoy it so much, it’s great to have another brilliant and creative mind with us. 
I kinda liked the way you cracked the piano open like crab too.
Thanks
I just had this image in my head and cracked was the best word I thought for it.
Wow, I’m loving these posts. Ok let me try this….
Too late
The damage had already been done
As I watched her with her son
Such tenderness
That seemed to mock the violence etched
In her face
A scene that reminded me of that place
In my grandmother’s home
That housed that old piano
Forgotten, neglected, and abused
Keys broken like missing teeth
Heartbreakingly out of tune
But kept
If only for the memories
Of the melodies
It used to produce
Yay, another contribution! I loved the second half of your poem to bits – ‘keys broken like missing teeth’ and ‘but kept/ if only for the memories/ of the melodies/ it used to produce’. Wonderful! Bittersweet poetry is great and I really enjoyed reading yours. I hope to see you swing by one of our future Picture it & write posts (they post every Sunday
!
Wow. That was like ouch! A second reference to teeth, but so different from the first above. Tenderness mocking the violence etched in her face really stood out for me once the parallel was drawn. Chills.
Life is ephemeral. Nothing lasts forever.
These quotes hung in her mind as she slowly walked into the damaged house.
A sense of familiarity swept through her as the once polished and majestic piano stood before her.
But nothing was familiar anymore.
She had been gone for only a few days, but it seemed like months had passed.
Everything has changed.
She has changed.
A few days ago, she had fled, for her own sake. She had fled to save herself. Now she was free… but everyone was gone.
It would never be the same…
The piano has been destroyed; she will never touch it again.
It stared at her as she went away, and closed the door behind her.
Alright that’s my inspiration for this picture. Don’t really know what I meant in those words LOL anyway it’s a beautiful picture!!
Hey evilnymphstuff! It is a beautiful picture, I only choose the best for Picture it & write
. I really loved this part of your story ‘It stared at her as she went away, and closed the door behind her.’ It was eerie yet touching. I’m intrigued to know why she had fled, you have me hooked! Thanks for contributing this week. 
Crackin me up, sister. Your Tumblr is an endless stream of nothing but the best pictures!
Evilnymph, I think your picture is beautiful too. Someone else mentioned a fire above destroying a home, and here you give us a picture of just that feeling of loss… of utter gone-ness.
Oh stop it, you’re making me blush.
I knew your music before the storm came
fingers long and thin dancing over ivory keys
your old bones
know ebony homes
carved from stone
that only old souls with blind eyes can see
I found your pulse before the music birthed
for you were the beat in every measure
the vibration of each brass string
the quivering of our lips under breaths being held
Pluck my vertebrate
tap my tune
cease all daylight for morning’s too soon
Your eyes that shut
your palms that graze
pick each note
give each its praise
I loved your heart before the snow fell
heavy on the alabaster keys
turning them all
to gold
the frost hugged each key of your grand instrument
the way the lost hug a place they’ve never found
“Teach me to see with open ears,” I said.
Your old bones shattered the frost,
your breath melted the storm
Ashley Barela
22 November, 2011
Mesmerising. Thanks for contributing here Ashley, I really liked your poem. I thought this part was just captivating ‘I found your pulse before the music birthed/for you were the beat in every measure/the vibration of each brass string/the quivering of our lips under breaths being held’. ‘Pluck my vertebrate’ was another fantastic moment. A great, striking piece. I hope to see you next week!
Haha, that left my tune waiting to be tapped.
Remnants of beauty linger here,
Though the melodies have long since gone;
All that remain are glimpses of years
And the keys that they traveled along.
Cracks and shadows mar the face
Of the vision once so bright,
But black and white, which now embrace,
Impose on each other their fright.
Once they sang a marvelous tune
Wherein their harmonies danced,
But time’s assault arrived too soon
And music lost her chance.
Edges blur and notes interfere
On these keys where joy once belonged;
But despite the sadness that lingers here,
There plays a beautiful song.
Hey Alexandersoul. I thought your ending was incredibly powerful ‘but despite the sadness that lingers here/there plays a beautiful song’. The beat and rhythm of your song was really well executed, especially since it’s talking about music. Exquisite.
I hope to see you and your contributions in the future!
Thanks Ermilia, I really enjoyed the picture it & write. I’m glad you directed me here, and thank you for the comment on my other poem as well. I will be sure to check back for more images that captivate me!
I’m glad you did.
Don’t thank me, they were wonderful. Thank you for sharing them! We’ll be waiting for another one of your contributions in the near future 
.
Very nicely rhymed! I really liked “But black and white, which now embrace, Impose on each other their fright.”
Wow…. completely excellent!! High-fiveable, hope to see more stuff from you soon!
Pingback: Piano, “picture it & write” prompt « Ashley Barela Writes
I played that song so, so many times.
Played rhythms, sang rhymes,
Worked so hard for a dime.
I would pound on the keys and play it all out,
Play for a dime from men sitting about.
And I never did worry,
Never did complain,
I never considered the constant sucking drain,
I never once thought of the restlessness about,
The lurking black hand that would practically shout
In my ear,
Shout words of truth,
Each tiny tick brought
A tightening noose.
A killer on the loose,
An ultimatum coming soon.
And now its too late.
Far, far too late.
The keys are all broken and chipped,
Yellowed and crooked with age like me.
The song stayed the same,
But now there’s a different melody.
What took small time fame and brought blood stained misery?
Time took it all away from me…
Through all the ages, a song changes not.
But keeping time is a skill often forgot.
I really liked the ending. ‘Through all the ages, a song changes not. But keeping time is a skill often forgot.’ They are very wise words and lovely poetry. Thanks for contributing to this Picture it & write!
Pingback: Keeping Time (Picture it & write #4) « The Only Joe
There the paino stood, tucked away in the corner like a dirty rag that was discarded and forgotten. The room was dusty, inces of grit and grime covered nearly every surface. The old wood frame mirror hung just above where the piano rested reflecting the times when both it and the paino were young and alive. The bar had been the hot spot back in the day. People would come from all around to hear Johnny “fingers” Jones tap away on the keys. Johnny used to play that piano like it was his lover and they were both passionately embracing each other…
someone pick up from here…
Touching final sentence ‘and they were both passionately embracing each other..’. Great descriptive phrases you’ve used. I like the image of the piano being tucked away like a ‘dirty rag’. It’s great to read another contribution to this Picture it & write post. I hope to see more work from you Safetydude, possibly for the newest edition of Picture it & write.
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https://geminiwords.wordpress.com/2012/10/28/if-i-could-play-the-piano/
A sweet poem. Thanks for contributing to this Picture it & write, Gemini. I love your blog, it’s so well designed. It’s delicious eye-candy!