The Photograph
betrays the bonesof what lies beneath
a pastel's peaceful pose.
The master, with time
and colored chalk,
breathes life
back into the dance.
Written from image prompt: Mag 193
Progress
The familiar cold of a mid-November Sunday-- Atticus dutifully sniffs the path of his predecessor as dried leaves scrape across the paveme...
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Awareness in itself is healing. ~Fritz Pearls
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The percussion of automatic gunfire rings loud a year later rippling like a stone thrown in still waters as a surviving child drops cau...
6 comments:
I like that description of the negative betraying the bones.
Well said.
Nicely done
I like the line about betraying the bones too! Glad to have you back this week my friend!
It is very much like the bones beneath the painting...nice...
and the dance lives on....beautiful.
Thank you all! I'm still trying to catch up with all the reading. :)
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