Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from #Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, featured in style, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!
To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the #Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied.
Please keep in mind that if you do not see your submission here, you have not read the submission rules and/or you have not included some variation of the aforementioned note in your artist's comments.
Last Week's Writing Prompt
ocean to shoreit was the shudder of remembrance, the awakening of visceral feelings.
it was the goosebumps racing across arms and legs as lips brushed and nosed bumped.
it was in the tears that were shed after leaving and it was in the sobs as shirts were grabbed and arms flung across shoulders and held onto tightly.
it was in the unspoken moments; meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror and smiling that soft smile that only she knew was my real one. it was the way our hands found themselves hopelessly intertwined and the way she seemed to lean into me and me into her.
the soft sound of waves lapping the sand was what i felt when i was with her.
we would watch as the ocean offered her love to the earth again and again only to be sent back time after time and on nights like tonight, she would sob into my chest and tell me how unfair all of it is.
and i whisper calming words and stroke her hair because i know it could be no other way.
every time i leave it feels like my heart is breaking. every time i
She's Buying A Stairway To HeavenI don't quite remember how I wound up this way - wandering streets, jumping from one desperate man to another. Maybe that's because of the cocktail of drugs you just can't escape in this world, but something tells me that's not the truth. You know how in books and sometimes movies, the characters say that things just 'went by in a blur'? That's how it's like for me. From night to day; from the streets to the bed; from rich businessman to pathetic husband.
It's not like I don't have friends though. Contrary to what seems to be the popular belief of first-class society, there are people I chat with, joke with, laugh with. Like them, too, most of this is done over a table rich with the stench of alcohol, perched on barstools while stubbing out our cigarettes on the already charred wood. Now that I think about it, we must look like a strange lot: me, with my bleached blonde hair, fake-tan skin, curvy body and raunchy clothing that left little to the imagination. My childhood friend Christi
The RhapsodyGently, keys play a tune
A chorus of men appear
Singing about fantasy.
Then a single man.
I think he killed a man
His mother cried.
Carry on, carry on.
Nothing really matters.
Where did the keys go?
The Rhapsody speeds up.
Don't let him die...
Nothing really matters.
What even are Bohemians?
And why do they need a song?
Cousin DearCousin dear, how had you been?
Had life been as frosty as the blizzard's touch?
Had your mother released you from her painful clutch?
I miss you, I want you, I yearn for you,
For the past glories of our history,
For our era of guilelessness and childhood innocence,
But most of all for you,
And relieve myself of my fear for your safety.
Sometimes deep at night, echoes caress my ear,
Your laughter tinkled; your lips, a mocking smile,
Our friendly battles and peaceful days,
They were glued to my mind.
I ask myself if it is real: we were separated for life,
Could jealousy really bear so much malice?
Could they slice through our bonds,
Of companionship and of flesh?
And leave our wounds bleeding
Till our lives were drained and all that's left is death?
When paranoia hits me, I weep in fear,
That through time and distance I would disappear,
From your mind, your heart and your life forever,
Or that I might do so in return.
Only through fond memories we could connect,
Would we stay strong in o
ChosenSometimes we are chosen
From out of nowhere we are called
At times, it can be tragic
Everything you know is stripped away and everything you will ever be is just before you
It's frightening to see that path, your destiny right before you
Every hardship you will face, ever tear you will shed, and every decision you will have to make
What will I sacrifice?
Is it worth it?
Do I dare take that step forward?
What of the life I know?
In seconds, it could be gone. With just one step, I'm on my own.
With one step, I may just be all alone.
Yes there are faces, but are they ones I recognize?
Will I be the same person? Do I even want to change?
If I do, If I don't
Where will I be?
Can you live with saying no and walking away?
It is so easy to turn my back on that path, to pretend that it was never there even though it haunts you
Who am I? To be chosen?
Then, who am I to deny fate? No matter how cruel it may be.
To accept death, to accept life.
To stand up, To speak.
To run, to hold yo
Midnight MusingsAs I sit and ponder by the river's bed,
a familiar presence keeps watch 'bove my head,
and while my thoughts drift upon the autumn breeze,
two bright eyes peer out from the sheltering trees.
In companion silence we pass the hours,
all alone except for the drift of flowers,
passing clouds of lilies, each the purest white,
like earthly stars in this cerulean night.
Dawn's coming disturbs our precious reverie,
unbinds twilight's silken chains to set us free,
so that we can be reborn in sun's first glow,
you aloft while I'm content down here below.
Most would seek to know who (what?) you really are,
'fraid by mystery these perfect nights would mar,
but I will wait for you to come forth to me,
for in friendship sometimes things need only be.
ParisI chose to pack my bags again,
Because I don't have a family, and
I don't have a house,
I don't have a dog, and I don't have friends.
And though I need a story,
It doesn't need to make sense.
I bought a fast track ticket
Faster than a speeding car.
And now I'll fly away from here
And have myself a new start.
Maybe the world is round,
But there are many places to explore.
Maybe I'll fall in love in Paris.
Maybe the lights will do me good.
Or I'll go camping in the forest somewhere in Europe,
And call the places I lay my head my home.
Maybe I'll fall in love with Paris.
I got a job at a hotel
Sweeping, mopping shiny floors.
It may not sound glamorous,
But what is obligation shouldn't count.
Because in my flights of fancy
I can see worldwide delights
With my own naked eye.
Maybe I'll fall in love in Paris.
Maybe the streets will do me good.
Or I'll go strolling through the forest somewhere in Europe,
And call the stars I will see my home.
Maybe I'll fall in love with Paris.
And I'd cry if
Dearly BelovedDearly Beloved,
Who have withstood untold pains,
Who have suffered in silence,
And have still opened your heart,
And have still loved despite the pain
Or because of it.
You who have cried,
Who have tried to hide your tears
And the wounds in your heart.
You who are at your lowest
Yet have stood the tallest,
But ache to remove the mask
You wear to protect your heart.
You who know the pain of words
That scar as badly
As the pain of the physical.
You are not alone.
You are not unloved.
You are not weak.
You are not broken.
You are not useless.
You are not a mistake.
You are not someone's toy.
You are not a loser.
You are not junk.
You are not nothing.
I know the pains you suffer,
I know the wounds
As I bare them also,
I know your loneliness
And I know the tears
That I have hidden,
I know your despair,
I know the ache
That continues to haunt
Long after the words
have been said.
I do not know you, but I love you.
I do not know the spe
RebirthMy eyes fluttered open and I sat up. I looked around and saw a vast plain of grass that danced with the breeze. I could hear the ocean washing up a shore in the distance. I stood up and noticed that I was wearing only a white silk dress. It wasn't something that you would wear in public and I concluded that I was on the Path of Rebirth.
Any normal person would have lost their mind almost immediately, but I was special. I've been able to come to this place at will since I was a child. I don't know how I came to possess such a power, but I also knew that I wasn't the only person that could travel to this place at will.
Knowing that I was momentarily trapped I started walking. On the Path, there is no sense of direction and there is no time. For all I knew, I could have already been on the Path for months in the real world. I wasn't going anywhere specific. I mainly wanted to find where the sound of the water was coming from. But each time I thought I was close, I would get turned around
This week's writing prompt, from November 5 to November 11, is:
Respond to the selected art:
The Mona Lisa: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia…
Sorry for the delay, folks. I would've put this up a week earlier, but a hurricane begged to differ. I'm interested to see the responses to this, as I've always found this painting to be mysterious.
As for the last musical prompt, I'm not sure if we'll keep doing that. Maybe we'll make it a cycle, from the normal phrase prompt to musical to artwork. I'd welcome feedback about your ideas for the prompt, so please feel free to leave a comment.