7/16 Weekly creativity contest winner & new prompt
Last week’s prompt — “My mother’s house” — was tough, but I’m so glad we used it, because otherwise I never would have read or seen the memorable work that came in, including Kelly Warren‘s stunningly beautiful submission. She literally gave me goosebumps and moved me to tears. Kelly is this week’s winner — congratulations, Kelly! Your $10 amazon.com gift certificate is en route. Simply due to its length, Kelly’s piece appears last, after the jump. New prompt is after the jump too — a comparatively accessible theme that hopefully translates to visual artists and jewelry designers, too, at least in colors 🙂
Cathy Coley writes: “My mother’s house included my father’s gardens, and his love of that was indelibly passed to me. My main creative endeavor may be writing, but the first I took seriously was photography, and some of those first photos were of his garden. These are of my gardens. I’m a bit rusty and haven’t really gotten into playing around with digital photos yet. I do miss a dark room.”
From Cathy Jennings:
i sit in my mother’s house.
i am small
eating beef stroganoff or spaghetti or fried eggs.
she smells nice.
she knits me hats and sweaters.
she sews me dresses.
she gives me paint and paper.
did she know where this would lead?
i sit in a different house.
i am grown.
i miss the beef stroganoff but i can make the spaghetti and fried eggs.
sometimes my son smells nice.
i am learning how to knit so i can make him hats and socks and sweaters.
i give him paint, paper and clay.
my son helps me reach back to her house
while standing in my own.
loving my son shows me how much i was loved.
does he know where this will lead?
From me (Miranda): I started with a haiku, but immediately realized that the concise format was just too spare for what I wanted to write. So I moved to an old favorite, the ultra-challenging (for me) Spenserian Sonnet. I love the riddle of syllable count, a specific rhyming order, and iambic pentameter. It’s kind of like a really hard crossword puzzle!
My Mother’s House
The pitted, dusty road that curves uphill
runs past the fallen beaver dam and pond
to where a sandy driveway follows still
and opens to my mother’s house beyond.
Red clapboards show behind each ferny frond
where gangly pines cast shade and dappled light;
indoors a barking poodle dog in blond
protects his mistress dear with ready bite.
For her, a life of solitude is right
and long defines the company she keeps
the dog and art and blooms are heart’s delight;
a multitude of cats in hairy heaps.
The house is strong, but not as strong as she,
who shares her heart and self and days with me.































