Simple Sunday Picture Challenge Finds a Home On The Range!
Welcome to the CPC’s Simple Sunday Picture Challenge!
This week we are featuring an American
who is self described only as a “hobbyist,”
and who goes by the DeviantArt display name *coldasylum,
and the letters SDMF.
He or she has been on DeviantArt.com for seven years,
and specializes in sharp color and black and white photography
of singular objects or places.
Our featured image is one of our featured photographer’s latest works,
titled simply “Old School House Summer”
Write what your poetic muse sees in or imagines from this image
Please click on the number next to the heart
at the top of this blog to register your support of this challenge!
Hello everyone .. Bob will be a bit late yet will be here soon .. Welcome to this week art work .. Let your muse be inspire as to what you see .. Huggings Now .. Thank you .. :love: :love:
THE BUILDING
~^~
Far far out in
The middle of no where
Sits this old house
With bell on top
When so ring
The people comes
In times of peace
Even a gatherin of somethin wrong
The fields surroundin it seen quite and unused
Yet the path be travel on
Sundays when meetin are so held
And in times of war are a bettle many will flock
Never judge a buildin by site along
Many seen empty
Yet may just be
A safe haven for someone
Are somethin in time of need
~^~
Written By: Bettie Davis —————————————————- © September 21 , 2o13
http://youtu.be/FzAJyK0ovo8
Anyone remember this on Sat mornings.
http://youtu.be/xpxd3pZAVHI
FRONTIER RELIC
Back in the old days, on the plains,
when sturdy pioneers took pains
to make a homestead, grow their food,
their children were educated
at home or in school created
by all hands, for the common good,.
Dust Bowl blew the families off
with a smothering, choking cough.
Now remnants of past lives, in wood.
Nove Otto Copyright September 21st 2013 RGD
http://youtu.be/Y_9sB92dJzM
Archived image unavailable
WITHIN THESE WALLS
She stands alone now,
her classrooms empty,
her swings clanging
one against the other
as the hot August winds
carry with them
memories of another day,
another time.
And as I approach
her now-silent walls,
I still hear the laughter
of children playing
their games of tag
and hide-and-seek
and marbles
in the dusty yard.
And the dry days of August
begin to give way
to brilliant golds and reds,
as the children of autumn
return to begin a new
school year adventure,
sunburned and eager
to share another
summer vacation
before being tucked away
for safekeeping
in that place
where precious memories
of youth are kept.
(c) barbara kausteklis 9-23-13