Picture it & Write

Tags

drought, family, fiction, photography, poetry, realism, roots, writing, writing exercise, writing prompt

Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite 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 (please provide a translation).

Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.

Original image found here: http://www.thedesignwork.com/weird-pictures

You need strong roots to survive. When the wind blows and the foundation of your life cracks and crumbles, strong roots hold deep. They reach down and keep you grounded. Unlike a tree, my roots consist of people. My friends, my family. When my bank account runs dry, when I’m battered and bruised, I know I can go home. I know where I can crash. My roots are strong because they know they can expect the same from me.

–Eliabeth Hawthorne

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  !

__picture it & write

Tags

community, control, family, independence, inspiration, life, poetry, puppet, stories, 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 will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

Every fortnight we hope to host a photograph suggested by contributors. So, keep those photograph recommendations coming. Submit your favourite images (with credit) for next week’s Picture it & write!

There was always someone who thought best. When it wasn’t my mother telling me how to comb my hair, my father telling me what to study, my sisters how to dress, I had my friends whispering about who I should date. Once I got employed, employees were hassling me to take a break while my boss urged me to work more. Marrying a man with jealous tendencies had me frequently avoiding social events to make sure arguments wouldn’t arise. But no longer. My life was being shredded apart by those close and not so close to me. I would move on, cutting those controlling ties and restructuring the ones I wanted to keep. No longer a puppet, only I would control me.

– 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  !

Want to be a published author?  Contributions to this post qualify for the Picture it & Write Publication.

__picture it & write

Tags

dreams, family, inspiration, keys, life, love, photography, poetry, stories, wealth, 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 will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook.

Every fortnight we hope to host a photograph suggested by contributors. So, keep those photograph recommendations coming. Submit your favourite images (with credit) for next week’s Picture it & write!

Which one should I choose? A couple dozen keys were littered out in front of me. The elderly woman with gnarled hands and a crooked nose spread them out. This couldn’t be real. Surely it was just hocus pocus. But, what if it wasn’t? The woman stared at me intently, waiting for my choice. “All I want is a new start,” I sighed. These keys wouldn’t help that journey. The woman responded in a hoarse voice, “What do you value most, young man?” Dreams, love, heart, memory, life, wealth, health… and countless more keys glistened. I wanted to grab them all. Which one should I choose?

– 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 !

__picture it & write

Tags

baby, family, inspiration, life, miscarriage, ocean, photography, poetry, stories, 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 will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook.

Every fortnight we hope to host a photograph suggested by contributors. So, keep those photograph recommendations coming. Submit your favourite images (with credit) for next week’s Picture it & write!

By Bob DeHoff

She gripped onto her flimsy cardigan which billowed violently due to the temperamental winds. She stared out. The ship left a milky white trail as if a snail. There was nothing in sight. The bruise of clouds that discoloured the skies growled. Soon there would be rain, she shut her eyes. Her fingers hesitantly touched her abdomen. The baby was lost. It was now a lost fragment of who she had been. An insignificant ripple in the tumultuous ocean of her past.

– 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 !

__happy birthday Eliabeth!

Tags

birthday, cake, family, food, friendship, writing

Happy Birthday to my amazing co-author Eliabeth! She turns 24 today. Shower her with lovely birthday wishes! *Gives her cake and a cuddle*

Love
Ermisenda 

__they have eaten me alive

Tags

babies, breast feeding, family, gwen harwood, in the park, life, motherhood, mothers, nature, poetry, spiders, writing

In the Park
by Gwen Harwood

She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.
Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.
A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt
Someone she loved once passed by – too late
to feign indifference to that casual nod.
“How nice” et cetera. “Time holds great surprises.”
From his neat head unquestionably rises
a small balloon…”but for the grace of God…”

They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing
the children’s names and birthdays. “It’s so sweet
to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive,”
she says to his departing smile. Then, nursing
the youngest child, sits staring at her feet.

To the wind she says, “They have eaten me alive.”

__children addressing adults by their first name

Tags

adults, children, family, life, names, writing

On Facebook an article popped up and it talked about how children shouldn’t address adults by their first name but by Mr./Mrs. Last Name. Part of their reasoning was that it put a barrier between children and adults. That adults were more mature and they deserved that kind of respect. It provided that ‘mystery’ to adults and it was part of that rite of passage to becoming older. I quickly… if not a bit rudely replied to the comment. This was my hasty reply:

I disagree. We’re not equal? I’ve met many children who are more mature than their parents. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you passed any rite of passage. Respect for being old? Everyone should earn their respect and not because they aged. Addressing adults by their last names is just cold and formal. That’s not what I’d do for family or friends. It’s an excuse for adults to feel important and to distant themselves from children. If the children use your first name out of warmth and love what kind of adult will correct that? It’s ridiculous.

I do have to admit, I think that children who address other parents with Mr or Mrs are being polite but once they are friends and not merely strangers, why should they keep such formalities? Growing up amongst my parent’s friends they never asked me to call them Mr or Mrs something. What about those women who are not Mrs? The whole Mrs/Miss issue is another one of my pet peeves. I don’t understand why women have to be classified yet men are always Mr… not that it’s their fault.

What do you think about children calling adults by their first names? Is it bratty/rude? Should they speak to adults using Mr/Mrs/Miss/Dr/Prof. etc? I think it’s an excuse for adults to feel special and superior. People are always talking about how adulthood is this and that and ‘superior’ because they’re old. But I think a lot of adults need to stop acting like children are inferior. Do you agree with me? Sorry, do you agree with me, Mr/Mrs/Miss Reader?

– Ermisenda Alvarez

 

__picture it & write

Tags

blood, books, family, fiction, photography, poetry, stories, tea, teacup, 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 aunt placed the tea on the table before exiting. These family reunions were always uncomfortable. The conversations grew hot quickly from the grinding friction of personalities. I counted the hours until I would be home again. Instead of fiddling with the hem of my shirt I decided to drink the tea my aunt had offered me. She had a fascination with buying ornate plates, cutlery and cups. The intricate, golden design winked at me. What disconcerted me was the content. Blood-red tea reflected my anxious expression. I took the teacup and rested the cool ceramic against my bottom lip. I was only being paranoid. This was normal tea. The sickly sweet liquid broke past the seal of my lips. I convinced myself the blood-red tea was a fitting choice. After all, wasn’t it blood that had forced us to converse this evening? Somebody had to inherit our grandparent’s money.

– 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 😉 !

__picture it & write

Tags

family, photography, picture it & write, rain, 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.

The children screamed. The mother tapped the steering wheel as she waited for the bickering between children to cease. It didn’t. She turned around and yelled at them to stop and grow up. The whimpering six and eight year old continued to pull on the toy they both wanted to keep. The rain pelted against the window. The mother wanted the sun, she wanted summer to return. The children would be passed onto her ex-husband and she could enjoy the warming heat of the summer sun alone, in peace. The traffic was building up on the road and the children continued to shriek. With her nerves frayed she began smacking her hand against the horn.

– Ermisenda Alvarez