1) Check in on Friday’s to the “where in the world ?” link, right here on Word Traveling
2. Grab a guess at where (or what) the image is…
3. WRITE. WRITE. WRITE. Poems, thoughts, inspirations, short stories…. wherever the words take you.
Post your words in the comments below! Homeschoolers and poets are WELCOME and encouraged to participate!
4. Enter your email at right to follow my blog. LIKE us on Facebook. Link your words and my contest to your site! (please share the link love)
5. Come back the the following Friday (unless I’m traveling,) I’ll announce the winner of the signed, matted 5×7 image which inspired the winning words, and it will be in the winner’s mailbox in 4-6 weeks!
6. Write again. There will be a new image to inspire words! The instructions will remain, but the image will change! Scroll through past comments to see other entires as they take flight!
THIS WEEKS IMAGE:
Cobbled Heart
I have stumbled
a thousand
and one
broken miles
to find you.
Please
walk these veins
and trace my lanes
and trail my world
behind
you.
Great to hear your voice in words again De after a week of eternity away and a few more days rocking to get back into a swing 🙂
Shards of History
We remember walking in our tiny village
Rionero in Vultur, where the streets
Are brick or cobblestone
And the wine-cellars still dug
Into the hills, like caves, with wooden doors
And bars on the windows like prisons
Evenings were the best; we walked
Downtown just to be part of the community
When every member of every family
Gathered in the park off the main piazza
There amongst trees older than time
Nonnos played checkers or chatted and joked
And Nonnas,their arms folded across their chests
Gossiped, and watched all that went on with hawk-like
Vigilance—their grandchildren, their kids, everyone’s—
Their tongues wagging like flags in a stiff breeze
The conversation punctuated with laughter pealing,
The sound not unlike the ubiquitous bells
Heard so often in this part of the world
There is something reassuring about ritual
This ingrained where all ages intermingle
Every evening, regular as train-time
Even the teenagers, milling about in groups
They’re in the park too—off by themselves
But still a part of the whole—
And they speak when spoken to
Which admittedly does not seem to be often
However, they also do not seem bent
On getting into any serious trouble…
When we return to North America we ponder
The phenomenon, wonder how we could bring
It across the ocean with us, start the practise
Here with our family, our communities…
Three years of musing and speculating and still
We’re no closer to figuring out a way, but we dream…
S.E.Ingraham©
(this lovely shot looks definitely European to me and Italian – it cou
Agh – I hate when that happens – posts before I’m finished typing…just was going to say, it could be any small town in Europe, and in probably any country (France, Spain, Italy etc.) but my guess is southern Italy – no definite place tho’.
I am completely with you, Sharon- we too have been, and are, there…
” When we return to North America we ponder
The phenomenon, wonder how we could bring
It across the ocean with us, start the practise
Here with our family, our communities…”
Watch my blog for our attempt this week 🙂
BTW- it’s St. Emilion, France- but yes, could be almost anywhere in Europe:)
Just beautiful, Sharon. I feel like I am there with you. So lovely.
I am stuck in one place.
and you’re moving on.
I am rooted in my spot.
and you’re leaving me.
You are walking away.
and I’m left behind.
Love this, Mel-
Feel your pain. Thanks for sharing.