POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

PROMPT #105. Ekphrastic Poetry – 2013 Photo Prompt #3

Photo Credit:  Barbara Young

Photo Credit:  Barbara Young


Thanks to Barbara Young for use of her photo. 

If you are interested in submitting a photo for consideration as a future photo prompt, please see submission instructions at:  http://poeticbloomings.com/2013/01/10/call-for-photos/


even the eagle
is unable to soar
until it is free
© Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013



The eternal question:
“Which came first?”
The answer is unclear,
but my guess is here,
the chicken has left the building!

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013


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262 thoughts on “PROMPT #105. Ekphrastic Poetry – 2013 Photo Prompt #3

  1. You caught me at a good time. It’s 7:30 PM here. We’re just calming does after a long, full day. 🙂

    Growing Up

    She’s left the nest, and egg, behind her,
    Looking for a fresh start, her wings
    Spread the first time without her mother,
    Unsteady at first, slowly beating.

    She’s growing up, almost sixteen,
    Finding new interests, setting a quick pace;
    It’s hard for a mom to watch her daughter growing,
    I see it in her loving, worried face.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  2. Beautiful offerings Walt & Marie Elena!

  3. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Meg……YES!! Walt, 🙂 !!

  4. Thanks again, Ben-n-Hen! 😀

    Marie Elena

  5. Walt: eggs-ample? Hardy harr harr! 😀

    Marie Eeee

  6. Whipped up a quick one this morning, will attempt to concoct something a bit lengthier later on. 🙂

    Sometimes a good egg,
    Scrambled by life’s twists and turns,
    Finds herself broken.

  7. Marie!!! *sigh* you have my vote for bloom…I LOVE your response. ♥

  8. flashpoetguy on said:


    when the egg is broken
    determines what you will find
    breakfast yolk or gold chick

    all of life is in the timing
    those distractedly deaf
    to the opportune knock

    cannot go back in time
    and kindly request
    a second hearing

    in that moment
    when you can show kindness
    do so without hesitation


  9. An eggshell
    Lying in the grass
    Ancient past
    But yet once so important
    Requesting respect

  10. Pingback: Broken (a piku) | echoes from the silence

  11. Pardon my bluntness. I just learned we again have an abortion clinic in Kansas performing late-term abortions. The next e-mail I opened was this prompt.

    Abortionists cut short God’s plans
    before one day is lived.

    Abortionists ply their trade
    while they tell themselves
    they’re “Doing a service.”

    Who are the really serving?

  12. The last line should read:
    Who are they really serving?

  13. janeshlensky on said:

    Two Birds

    Some hearts break
    like eggshells, cheap plates—
    they fracture
    crack, splinter.
    Mauled hearts can bear pain, learn joy,
    freed for feathers, flight.

  14. Love your, Walt and Marie. I’ll follow Jane’s lead:


    On the ground
    lies a broken shell.
    Mother bird,
    feathers dull,
    no longer sings her Spring song.
    She sees the cat’s smile.

  15. Treasure Hunt

    She came upon the eggshell in the grass,
    All broken and forlorn
    Yet proof of something born
    This dew-specked morning.

    Don’t bother her today, our star-eyed lass.
    She’s hunting for a pet,
    A baby dragonet:
    New dreams a-borning.

    (I’m tempted to make this longer, or to make a variation on the theme… but here’s this, so far!)


  16. “The poet’s heart”

    The poets’ heart is a fragile form
    nested upon wings of instinct
    and prosody,

    lay bare in fractured patience

    listening to the
    silent tender voices the world

    never notices.

  17. On the Spreading of Young Wings

    From cradle to grave
    there will be dependence
    on the love of guardians
    on the wits hard earned in the school of hard knocks
    on the strength of a beloved partner
    sharing trials and tribulations
    on the doting offspring when dotage sets in

    Time nurtured in the nest
    comes to its end sooner than believed
    for the loving caring parents
    at last and none-to-soon
    for the fledgling eager to
    go their own way

    Once the time has come
    then there is no holding the young
    they must spread their wings and fly forth
    they must break free the loving shackles
    and become themselves
    show the courage instilled by example
    show the good grace and consideration
    instilled by love
    but nevertheless the time arrives
    and it’s time to leave home

    Words of wisdom ring clear and loud in the inner ear
    you can’t make an omelette
    without breaking eggs
    you can’t do it all by yourself
    learn from your mistakes
    take the rough with the smooth
    and when your time comes
    to nest
    and when their time comes
    set them free


  18. Beyond Repair (A Shadorma)

    A shell of
    her former self, she
    was lost in
    a field of
    gray, a void, she didn’t know if
    life was possible.

  19. Little Bird, Free

    “I’m youth, I’m joy, I’m a little bird that has broken out of the egg.” ~J.M. Barrie

    The story
    goes a bit like this:
    I am free.
    I’ve broken
    out of my shell. I can fly
    on my own.


  20. He Was A Good Egg

    His name was Shell White
    A good old egg
    As eggs go
    A little scrambled at times
    But always upbeat
    Living on the sunny side
    He loved to yoke around

    Until one day
    His son, Little Shell
    Told him a funny joke
    And it cracked him up



    The shell has been broken…
    Our only memory of her kindness.
    Her former timidity remains vacant.
    When the time came she flew the coop by leaps and bounds.

  22. Existing / Life

    By David De Jong

    Delicate, protected
    Frail in a shell
    All appears well

    But to fully taste it
    You must crack it
    And pour it out

  23. Broken

    Lying broken
    in the clover

    cast off

    an empty shell
    without meaning

    or purpose

    stripped of my core
    my being

    then tossed away

  24. Robert Lee Brewer’s Shadorma prompt for today inspired me to write another.

    SHE (shadorma)

    Just wishing
    To be cracked open –
    Freed from this
    Lonely shell
    Of her own making, but not
    Of her own choosing.

    © Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013

  25. Pingback: Broken | Awakened Words

  26. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    New Life

    Tiny, blue
    eggshells, with little
    dark speckles
    in teeny
    shade shadows of little leaf
    clusters, in the grass.

  27. janeshlensky on said:

    I’m enjoying these takes on the pic. Loved yours, Marie and Walt.

    Of Use

    Walking, she
    found half an egg shell
    picked it up
    inspected it
    imagined it with seedlings
    tucked inside, fed, safe.

  28. Walt and Marie, Eggscellent!

    You cannot see me
    up here, out on a limb
    of a different tree.
    won’t you be surprised
    when you carry dinner
    home to our nest, only
    to find what you thought
    would never happen.
    Your last egg–with some
    determination, mind you–
    finally cracked his shell
    and left the nest.

  29. Pingback: Sufficient | Metaphors and Smiles

    • Sufficient

      When the world and all its crazy becomes stifling,
      sing of an ivory-shelled beginning.
      When life and its quick winged way forces its design
      resign to the small hollow center where truth resides.
      Find for yourself a feather loosed in the woods,
      discover an egg, fallen, empty and glowing white;
      a beam of sun shines through the dense canopy-
      womb’s illuminated on russet pine needled floor.
      It sits near the roots of grandfather oak,
      place yourself in near silence and soak in this presence.
      There’s authenticity in this natural sanctuary,
      there’s certainty in this empty shell,
      symbolism in this unoccupied casing;
      the Life we seek has broken free
      and its sacred attributes are ours to attain-
      If we gaze deeply we’ll surely find Peace.

      Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  30. Barbara!! Thank you for sharing your image with us!!

    Great writing everyone!

    Thank you for leading the way Walt and Marie!!

    :)’s to everyone and a happy week!

  31. Pingback: Six of One | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  32. Six of One

    Not everything bent
    is broken, not everything
    cracked gets tossed.

    Not everything spent
    is spoken, not everything
    broken is lost.

  33. Starting Point (a Shadorma)

    Has a beginning,
    A fragile
    Starting point;
    And everything, at sometime,
    Leaves that point behind.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  34. (Presented with apologies after watching too many episodes of the BBCs “Sherlock” back-to-back.)


    There is no bird, Watson.
    But . . .
    Open your eyes
    to what is there to be seen
    and see it
    without bias.
    An egg tooth makes
    distinctive marks
    during pipping
    as it presses outward.
    Seeking release.
    These marks
    were made by teeth,
    and notice . . .

    I do not wish to notice.

    But this is life
    laid bare
    if only you can see.

  35. DebiSwim on said:


    Broken egg shell, empty –
    tells a story. Happy or sad?
    Proud Mom or grieving?
    Successful raid or normal release?
    Nature gives clues and we fill in the blanks.
    Either way, I feel a strange sadness
    at the broken shell and don’t know why.

  36. Little One, Wait, Wait…

    Why the hurry, the impatience, the unbridled
    Eagerness to get out, out, out into that brightly
    Beckoning world?

    Why this carelessness in tossing the past away,
    that safe, comfortable world where you were
    surrounded by love and your every need was tended?

    Oh, tender little birdie, are your wings strong
    Enough, fast enough so you can sail yourself
    Away from danger’s desperate grasp?

    Will you recognize danger when it comes
    Calling, a snake whispering through the grass,
    A vulture crying from above, the soft, padded
    Footsteps of every mammal beneath the sun?

    Little one, little one, in your haste do not
    Forget to look around, list en to that voice
    Inside your head, the words your mama
    Told you “Careful,” she said, “Take care”
    Listen! Stay as still as you can and you
    Can still hear the love surrounding you.

  37. claudsy on said:

    I finally made it. I always have such a good time doing this form. Thank you Walt and Marie for bringing it back.


    Half an Easter eggshell,
    Ju-ju bean left
    Hiding under a leaf,
    A tiny yellow bead
    Fit for little girl’s gem;
    Remnants of her
    Passing this way on
    Her path elsewhere,
    Toting her Barbie
    Overnight case and
    Dora’s explorer jacket,
    Making a matched set.

    • Sweet, Claudsy! I can totally visualize this scene. 🙂

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      🙂 !

    • DebiSwim on said:

      Such a realistic picture… and so sweet. Nice,claudsy

    • Clauds, I can read this more than one way. One is just darling and upbeat. The other is immensely sad. I’m not sure which way you meant it, but it’s an excellent piece either way … and both ways.

      Marie Elena

      • claudsy on said:

        Thank you, Marie. Actually, I don’t know that I meant it more in one direction or the other. It was merely an observance of how circumstance and interpretation determine our view of the world and our place within its confines.

        Our lives do play out in both the light and the dark, of day and night, of good fortune and the not-so-good fortune. How we roll with the punches, how we look at our memories gathered over our lifetime influences whether we see an end in death, bad fortune, or worse, or merely in the darkness of night at the end of the day.

        It really is up to interpretation. However you view it, it does make one think and that was it’s first purpose.

        • claudsy on said:

          Sorry, Marie. For some reason I thought you were commenting on a different poem.

          Let’s start again. On this one, I meant it as upbeat and sad. The upbeat with memories of such a little girl and those things left behind during that stage of her life, but also the passing of her from little girl to older girl who would never again leave behind such tiny memories of mementos such these given.

          Love and enjoy the old memories even as the little girl grows up to make new ones. I suppose that’s the message.

  38. Freedom is Scary

    I’ve busted out
    I’ve been set free
    What in the world
    Will become of me
    I was all snug
    Tucked inside
    Expanse to explore
    Where can I abide
    I can’t go back
    Scary to go on
    I guess I’ll survive
    One step at a time

  39. Emptiness

    Bright white and so visible
    Against the dark background
    A curious three leaf clover
    Ganders inside at the emptiness
    Of this empty half shell
    Wondering what once was there
    And where it may have gone

  40. A Broken Memory (a Garland)

    She found
    A little egg
    That stirred a memory,
    A fragment of her childhood:
    A piece:

    A broken egg,
    Just like her porcelain doll
    She used to play with so often,

    She stooped
    To pick it up,
    And held it to her heart,
    Just like that memory that stirred
    In her:

    That day,
    That someone lost,
    That shattered day she wept;
    She softly put it back in place,
    And sighed;

    She turned,
    Started to walk
    Away from it and left
    Her memory, and it, behind;
    She cried.

    She found
    A broken egg,
    And held it to her heart;
    She softly put it back in place;
    She cried.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

    With thanks to Hannah Gosselin for introducing me to this form. 🙂

  41. William Preston on said:


    Half a loaf is better than none,
    or so most folks would say,
    but one exception proves the rule:
    love doesn’t work that way.

    Half a love is moonlit sky
    imitating the sun;
    casting some light upon the earth
    but leaving all growth undone.

    Half a love is January
    never approaching July;
    it might appeal to mind and sense
    but fails at heart and eye.

    Half a love is spring and fall,
    cautious, timid, wary;
    afraid that winter and summertime
    are too extreme to marry.

    And so of love, most folks would say.
    You must not fear its call:
    half a love’s no better than none;
    you’ve got to give your all.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

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