Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.
Friday 5
crash
yogurt
straw
gravel
ochre
by Wongster 121
artwork Chrome Dominoes
from Photobucket
originally uploaded here
Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.
Chrome Dominoes was originally uploaded to Photobucket by Wongster 121.
Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.
Friday 5
shell
comic book
discarded soapbox
rubber soles
postcard
Check out more prompts at Creative Writing Prompts website.
movie You Belong To Me
date 2008
poems A Man's Requirements
Sonnets From the Portuguese #43
Life In Love
authors Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Robert Browning
A Man's Requirements and Sonnets From the Portuguese #43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Life In Love by Robert Browning can be found in its entirety below. Lines used in the movie are in bold. Please leave comments below.
A Man's Requirements
by Haironie_91
artwork Abstract
from Photobucket
originally uploaded here
Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.
Abstract was originally uploaded to Photobucket by Haironie_91.
show Criminal Minds
episode Tabula Rasa
date 2008
poem Ode On Intimations of Immortality
from Recollections of Early Childhood
author William Wordsworth
You can read Ode On Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by William Wordsworth below. I have put in bold the part used in the episode.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,--
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;--
Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!
Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning
This sweet May-morning;
And the children are culling
On every side
In a thousand valleys far and wide
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed, without the sense of sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thoughts where we in waiting lie;
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
0 joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That Nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
--Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings,
Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us--cherish--and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence, in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel thither--
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We, in thought, will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway;
I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.
Friday 5
mechanic
spaghetti
bathtub
stool
chalk
Four of the five words came from Creative Writing Prompts website.
Spring winds scud across our faces where earth's lilt language serves as a backdrop to our walk along Olivet Church road and 1247. If we listen hard enough we can hear purple flowers growing despite our moving feet.
We approach an abandoned house from the east side. Running across expanding green features we fall to our hands and knees in search of a small treasure. Digging underneath the house's west corner we excavate a white marble with yellow swirls. I imagine it belongs to the previous owner's son.
After dinner, we drove our walking route to see how far we had walked.
Slowing in front of the abandoned house we explain to my husband where the marble was previously found. There upon the hillside we saw a red fox. She was the color of fire. Rays of sunlight fallen and compressed to her skin. She was beautiful. Then in the murmur of our voices she disappeared.
Before we drove off we saw four baby foxes scurrying from the same west corner as where the marble was found. Imagine our excitement at seeing a red, mother fox and her babies. Below you can find a picture (click to enlarge) and video of the four baby foxes.
by Andrew Mrt1976
artwork Fingerprint
from flickr
originally uploaded here
Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.
Fingerprint was originally uploaded to Flickr by Andrew Mrt1976. Beneath the photo he states that the fingerprint is the logo of Te Papa Museum.
Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.
Friday 5
plastic bottle
hockey puck
dirty handkerchief
crumpled note
unhinged door
Today's Friday 5 is from the creative writing prompts website.
by Brian Harnett
artwork Doodling
from Photobucket
originally uploaded here
Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.
Doodling was originally uploaded to Photobucket by Brian Harnett. I think these three characters look like nuts. And, after writing everyday for 30 days I thought this would be an appropriate Monday Mural. Happy Writing~
Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.
Friday 5
a pigeon
two rabbits
an abacus
tovarich
gravelines
.JPG)
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