Thinking in Images

Pick an abstract term from the list below and relate an image to it. This should be the first thing that comes to mind, whether its directly related or not. Once you have identified an image, write a short story, poem, or prose based on that image.

1 2 3 4 5 6
rage solitude mercy peace love death
order ecstasy pain war family violence
justice evil hunger history gift age
common gratitude god angel tragedy birth

Kristin’s Entry:

                       still
the clock moves in time with rhythm
set in increments, man-made
steady and c o n s i s t a n t
my heart, defiantly, leaps this way and that
sprinting forward believing in the finish line…
thunderous mind
                           racing to find still
interested in the I WIN! Scenario
       the I SUCK!
            Mind-
less       judgement
My brain says up or down
    This or that
Heaven
Hell


Breath in
Out   in out
Inout
The heaven hell chattering rambling compartmentalizing
     in and out
waves crashing receding
lovers colliding dividing
   my breath carries in life
carries out
life
is mind-
   less connection
to peace

Tabby’s Entry:

boxes filled with sweat
the place we first met
combinations forgotten
showers feel rotten
stories untold
shame unfolds
a place to dread
a memory to leave for dead

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12 Responses to “Thinking in Images”

  1. Truth Says:

    Justice
    The balance
    A woman
    Holds
    The scales
    Biases
    Threaten
    The balance
    Due to
    Friendship
    Truth cries out:
    “Stand up for justice!”
    Even
    Against
    Your kin
    Your family
    Your friends
    YOURSELF
    Stand up
    Like
    The woman
    Blind to
    The scales
    That judge
    With
    Justice
    Betray not
    The eyes
    Windows to
    The soul
    Once beautiful
    Still beautiful?
    Only to be
    Raised
    Blind
    On the Day of
    Justice
    By the King of
    Justice

  2. Allie Says:

    It was mid-January. And cold. So cold my fingers could hardly feel the handrail in the subway car. But somehow also so cold that the tears welling in my eyes felt sharp and painful. It’s funny. The way the cold dulls some sense but leaves others heightened. I would have laughed any other time. I laugh easily. But not today.

    Headed to 72nd Street. All the way from 145th. From Harlem to Central Park. My fingers had nearly thawed when I reached my destination. But the tears were still there in my eyes. Waiting.

    I headed up the well-worn stairs with the rest of the herd, into the cloudy gray afternoon. Normally I would have stopped to get something to eat on my way to the park. I would have picked up a Gray’s Papaya hot dog. Or popped in Buttercup Bake Shop for a cupcake and a cup of hot cocoa. Somehow I was always hungry. But not today.

    72nd Street finally led me to the park, two blocks down. Despite the cold weather it was filled with people. And everywhere I looked the people walked in twos. Two here. Two there. I bit my lip and kept walking.

    Straight to the heart of the park. Where the path opened into a wide bridge, with rows of benches and a beautifully curved stage on one side and two grand staircases leading down to the lake on the other. I walked slowly down the staircase. Paused and sat on the edge of the stone stairs, looking at the statue and the lake. On other days I might have brought a book along. And just sat and read. But not today.

    The statue is beautiful. I’ve seen it so many times before, but it never fails to take my breath away. An angel, reaching out, wings spread wide, high on a pedestal, with little cherubs beneath her.

    My hands are numb again. But I don’t care. My heart seems so much number than my hands could ever be. And yet, at the same time, it stings and aches just like my eyes had. Snow starts to come down in little flurries, landing gently on the wings of the angel. Her reaching hand seems to be reaching for me. Her still gaze somehow draws me in. She seems to be saying that maybe someday I’ll understand why. Why this thing had happened. Why I was sitting in the park crying and alone. Maybe someday I’d understand why. But not today.

  3. Emma Says:

    life at it’s most vulnerable.. reaching out, needing….learning….

    …soothed, quiet….
    a dormant volcano…

    engaging.. acting..
    memories created and stored, times shared..
    messy plates….noisy fear

    until time comes again for it’s little head to rest once more…

  4. Marie* Andreè Says:

    ————-I time travel with my mind… -everywhere I go , everytIME I feel the
    ——wind in my face,the love in my —heart,the peace in the place…Every ————little thing ,EVERY DETAIL –reminds ME of you…
    —It doesn`t matter if we have our cold ——–moments! because everytime I time —-travel with my mind ,the only feeling I –remember it`s warm in my heart…

  5. Marie* Andreè Says:

    TIME TRAVEL IN MY HEART…

    I time travel with my mind…
    everywhere I go , everyTIME I feel the
    wind in my face,the love in my -heart,
    the peace in the place…
    Every little thing ,EVERY DETAIL reminds ME of you..
    It doesn`t matter if we have our cold moments!
    Because everytime
    I time travel with my mind ,the only feeling I remember it`s warm in my heart…

    SORRY FOR THE ERRORS IN THE OTHER ONE HOPE YOU LIKE IT GIRLS!
    W/LOVE
    xoxox Marie

  6. skahahoo Says:

    yo allieeeeeeee! representin’ the NYC! 😀 how do you take your gray’s papaya? i usually go the sauerkraut and mustard route. though occasionally, when i’m feeling really wild, i’ll go for the onions instead. 😉

    i saw the numbers in the prompt and i got all excited. why? cuz math rocks! whoohoo! i wrote a poem on a piece of paper somewhere, but i forgot where i put it. to be continued.

  7. skahahoo Says:

    I mostly go unnoticed.
    See, I may be
    smooth around the edges
    but whether I get
    added or subtracted
    the fact is
    it makes no difference.
    Indifferently
    others look at me.
    Or they jeer at
    my lowly rank.
    Or they fear
    they’ll disappear
    if our paths should cross
    and multiply.
    And so, I’m avoided
    as though devoid of
    feelings, leaving me reeling from
    an emptiness
    with no solution.

    Then a critical contribution
    from you.
    A straight and narrow character,
    the leader of the pack
    with untold fans stacked in back
    attracted to the acclaim
    your compact frame commands.
    And I stand there stunned.
    Bummed, I wonder,
    “You’re not even a prime number!
    You’re so upright you seem uptight!
    You’re a toothpick, a sickly stick!
    Dude, why are you so skinny??”
    But under your skin
    I never got.
    Your vertical virtue
    refused to stoop to
    such negativity.
    A wholly positive entity
    instead you were a friend to me
    the first I’d ever met.
    Better yet
    you were atypically tickled
    by my elliptical sense
    and that’s when I knew
    you were odd.

    What I’m trying to say
    in my roundabout way
    is that you are a
    singularity.
    With crystal clarity
    you helped put me on parity
    with my own significance.
    I learned to work it
    so us two together we’re a perfect
    ten.
    If we collide
    and divide each other
    we’re either
    nothing or undefined.
    But side by side
    we can rock this ride.
    and take the world by storm.
    We’ll form
    a thunderous hit
    we two beautiful bits
    with our brilliant binary code.

  8. Allie Says:

    @Skahahoo -I usually just take mine plain, lol, I know I’m kind of boring in that regard! And I’m not in NY anymore unfortunately 😦 I miss it terribly though. Love your poem btw! It’s got a great rhythm to it!

  9. skahahoo Says:

    @Allie – lol…Allie, Allie, Allie….not “boring”! Pfft! Far from it! Those who take their Gray’s Papaya plain are simply “low maintenance.” That and you are a true connoisseur because you can appreciate Gray’s Papaya in its pure form. I guess this makes me high maintenance then….since I need both the sauerkraut AND the mustard. 😉

    And I like your story! It made me sad. But that means you did a good job! 🙂

  10. Maxima Says:

    “Have you ever heard me cry from within……
    the look on my face does not tell the whole story….
    I’m eager to shine, but only let the brightness through, not my appearance….
    Have you ever heard me laugh from a distance……
    if so, do tell…but not just yet……I’m not ready!
    I’m anxious to be, without the weight of knowing how…
    Have you ever heard me say “I’m not alone”…have you?
    …..You will.

  11. Allie Says:

    @Skahahoo- Lol, more like I was always in such a hurry that I never had time to sample the different flavors! You, on the other hand, are not high maintenance at all! You like to stop and smell the roses….or in this case taste the papaya dogs…lol

  12. Rain Says:

    Nice one Tabby, love yours too Kristin! You guys are so creative and inspiring. Love you guys! = )

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