welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


welcome, readers & writers!
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here is today's photo writing prompt - writers, poem, short story or creative non-fiction, write away!  click on comments to share. readers, comments are open to you as well. thanks to all for stopping by!

lost in a world of
simple words, antique stories
lovley ways and days


  1. Love this picture! I'm trying to think of something to write, but there are so many associations with those books that I'm having trouble narrowing down. Any ideas?

    Love your poem, by the way.

  2. There is a familiar look to old books, that I'm not sure I can describe. For some couple of decades, the forties and fifties, the covers of books for children seemed always to be colored in pastels, in my mind. They were larger than grown up books, of course, because the type was larger, to make it easier for unpracticed reading eyes, and I suspect, to fill a larger area of the visual field, making it less likely the mind would wander. And they were of a weaker, larger-particled cardboard, perhaps to keep the cost down, so they bent more easily, leaving jagged web lines, like a Van De Graff generator splayed around the face. For some unknown reason the Laura Ingalls Wilder books never got around to me, and I seldom watched TV in the days the televised version aired. At the tender age of seventy-four I don't easily remember the books of my youth. Oh, there was The Sleepy King, an adventure fairy tale, which I loved then, but now do not remember at all. I Googled it and found a site with the whole book, and I recalled the illustrations, but was surprised to read the first sentence which begins on Christmas Eve. And I remember falling in love with the drawing of Bluebell, the heroine of the story, I suppose, standing before the door into the fabulous castle the King was sleeping in. I hadn't realized for how long she had been the girl of dreams - probably over sixty years!
    There also the Penrod books, who also had marvelous adventures, and the Book of Cowboys which made me want to run away out west, and also one about the Mounties - The Royal Canadian Northwest Mounted Police, which also made me want to run away to Canada. And then a book about a bad boy, called, indeed, The Story of A Bad Boy, written right in the city I lived in by a man whose home was a National Historic Building, right down in the part of town we called the South End. I think may favorite, however was the Jumbo Fun Book, filled with puzzles, doggerel, odd facts, limericks, all manner of interesting a new things to do on every page. It was truly a young boy's delight,

  3. Bess - hello! thanks for checking in :) i know what you mean about there being so many associations with the book... i considered trying to write a passage in the same kind of style but then ran out of time. when i run out of time, haiku it is!

    Chuck - thanks for writing! it sounds like you and i were kindred spirits as kids. i could not get enough reading - and i went back to my favorites again and again. i guess i still do that. what i love is the magic that books are for kids. i look at books like "little house" now and they seem so small and so simple - still wonderful. yet when i was a kid they seemed so much thicker and more complicated - i guess because they worked like magic to transport me to other worlds and my imagination did the rest.

  4. it was my child that
    led me looking back across
    my shoulder and time