This page, WRITE TO A PICTURE, is an invitation to our regular writers and to our visitors. Send an original poem, a story, or your recollections. Share your thoughts and experiences with those who like to READ what others write. Send to me at LaraOct7@aol.com.

 Early 'Write To A Picture' pages are archived. The links are here:

Beach Scene "1" Old Train Station "2"
The Carousel "3" The Fifties "4"
Summer Picnic "5" From The Heart "6"
Cloudy Moon "7" September Morn "8"
Passing The Time "9" Apples "10"
Rain "11" Pumpkins "12"
Halloween "13" Big City "14"
Remembrance Day "15" Autumn Harvest "16"
A Cozy Nook "17" Migration "18"
The Kitchen On Memory Lane "19" Holding Hands "20"
Indoor Gardening "21" Playing In The Snow "22"
Bonding With Children "23" Old House "24"
The General Store "25" Friends and Friendship "26"
The Kitchen Window "27" Gentle Hearts "28"
Our Sweet Tooth "29" Cars "30"
Our Good Morning! "31" Pictures on the Wall "32"



 


Pictures on The Walls

By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)







I remember the times when my parents would take my brother and me to visit my aunt and uncle in the country. I remember a lot about those visits. My aunt and uncle lived on top of a hill and the property was fenced. Someone, usually my brother, would have to get out of the car and open the gate before my dad could drive up the hill. The house was low and rambling and it had a lot of rooms.

I don't know why it has stayed with me, but I remember the pictures my aunt had on her walls. I also remember the pictures that hung in the home of my great-grandfather. Odd, isn't it that I remember things like that?

The pictures in my aunt and uncle's house were relatives from years past. The men had long white beards and the women were usually wearing black. I don't recall any smiles for the camera.

Do you have pictures of past generations? Are they hanging on your walls? I have pictures of several generations back but I keep them in albums. The pictures on my walls are inexpensive prints. I do have a painting that belonged to my great-grandfather. But no, I don't have any pictures of long-bearded ancestors my walls.

I hope you'll take a few minutes to think about your family pictures. Musings, poetry, or prose. Fiction or fact, we look forward to your entry.








 


Pictures on The Walls

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)





I have a picture of my Grandpa Freeman on my wall in here, and have pictures of Grandma and Grandpa Hamm like that. Sort of stark are they not?

What I remember is a lot of the old houses were so dark and dreary with a picture like that on the wall. Since everyone used kerosene lamps and there were stoves in most every room, the interior became dark with the soot from the lamps and stoves. Folks back then did not repaint or repaper very often so the houses gradually became dark.

I remember visiting relatives and being with my mother when she visited her student's homes. Some of those were still like the early 1800s.










 


Pictures on The Walls

By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)





PICTURES ON MY WALL
SNIPS AND PHOTOS, CLEAN AND NEAT
LIL BABIES, PUPPIES SWEET
ON AND ON I COULD GO
WHERE TO STORE THEM I WANT TO KNOW


FROM GRANDMA AND GRAND DAD IN OVAL FRAMES
TO MY OWN KIDS PLAY INSIDE GAMES
I HAVE PITURES OF EVERY TREE
FROM SAN FRAN ACROSS THE LAND OF THE FREE


I HAVE ALBUMS, SHOEBOXES AND MORE
JUST TELL ME WHAT PICTURE YOU'RE LOOKING FOR
I EVEN HAVE PICTURES OF AN OLD STORE
AND SAD PICTURES OF THE WAR.











 


Forever

By Joy (JOY3032@aol.com)





When my time has come
And the veil comes down
And the images die
And there is no sound


In whom I have loved
I shall remain
A spirit remembered
Of pleasure and pain


The images in mind
Shall fade away
But the photos we cherish
Shall always stay


They hang on the wall
Like echoes of life
Lived to the fullest
In joy and in strife


Visit me there
When when winds are warm
Send prayers in Winter
Save them from harm


When I go beyond
And I am dead
In fields of flowers
Make there my bed


But leave the photos
To remind you of me
The way I was
And will always be


And when you, so far
Are called back home
Eternities together
Where we may roam


For e'er together
There we shall be
Companions ethereal
Those I love and me











 


Pictures

By Richard McCusker (rmrickmack@aol.com)





Pictures on the wall tell the story
Of the life that has flowed through this house.
Military men shine in glory,
Medals pinned to their uniform blouse.


Women and girls look ever so prim,
Every hair tucked into its place.
The matriarch posing rather grim -
Perhaps, worldly worries lined her face.


For generations, the house has been
Shielding family from threats outside.
In most photos of children is seen
Glee. No hard choices yet to decide.


But the young must one day come of age,
Many to don their own uniform,
To travel where distant battles rage,
Where danger can bring them to great harm.


Or might they meet with an accident,
Beyond home's safety, maybe not far,
To spend long lives broken and bent,
Because of a joyride in some car?


But photos tell of happier times,
Wall-hung albums of what used to be,
When only mother feared front door chimes
Meant news of family tragedy.











 


Pictures On The Wall

By Sharon (Sunyskys@aol.com)





Pictures on the wall. Well I used to have about fifteen celebrity photos with autographs, hanging in one hallway. I called it my famous people hall. But our grandson who visits several times a year and stays a week each time, said it was creepy. He didn't like the strangers hanging on the wall outside the bedroom he sleeps in. So I gave all the autographed pictures to our oldest son and his wife, who both are fascinated with celebrities. And in their place, I now hang pictures of our children and grandchildren. Our grandson is much happier about the pictures.










 


Pictures On The Wall

By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)





At the bottom of the stairs hang pictures on the wall,
Faces long lost in faded memories that we can't quite recall.


We look lovingly into their eyes faded with time,
And wish we could have kept them close while they were in their prime.


They are reduced to images on paper hanging for antiquity to dissolve,
Until all have passed who their lives can recall.


We will join them someday caught in frames lost in time,
Dust covered and forgotten except in this rhyme.











 


Pictures On The Wall

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)





My Mother, at age sixteen
Looking so much younger.
Posing with her friends.
Newly minted from high school.


The Prudential Building in Newark,
Lunchtime on the rooftop.
Linking arms and smiling
Almost painful in their youth.


She is wearing her 'Flapper' dress,
That her mother made her.
A cloche hat that matches it,
And a smile that blinds the sun.


They are kicking out their legs.
A make-believe chorus line.
You can hear them giggling.
The first blush of being a woman.


It is the year 1923.
So many things hadn't happened yet.
A time for a young girl to laugh.
For a little while anyway.











 


Pictures On The Wall

By Tom (TOMWYO@aol.com)





Pictures, pictures everywhere,
The walls are covered,
But not the floor,
Pictures cover the furniture.


Grandpa Zach and Grandma Zelda,
And of course the sepia
Of Great-Granddad Elmer
And the General, Cousin Joe.


The walls are dingy and sort of dark,
But there they are,
Not really standing out.
Except for that stare.


The tables and shelves are
With pictures strewn,
Most of grandchildren -
Every one.


Frames here, frames there,
Pictures even sticking in
The edges of frames,
Pictures of folk I do not know.


Then there under the coffee table,
Are twelve albums of the children.
Pictures of all shapes and sizes,
Even Joe with no front teeth.


Why the obsession, why the desire,
To show all of our friends and relatives?
Why not more albums?











 


A Wedding Collage

By Jeanie (Mingo184@aol.com)





I started a wedding collage of pictures and put them on my buffet hutch. There isn't one of me because I never married. In the center, in a pewter frame, I have placed the wedding picture of my parents who married in 1934. Mom was 25 yrs old and Dad was 26. Mom told me once that she paid $25 for her gown and that was a hard amount to come by at that time. I still have her gown, wrapped in tissue paper in a box in my closet. The veil is missing, though, because she used it to cover our carriages when we were put outside in the backyard to take an afternoon nap. The veil protected us from flies or bees. When I think of it, I smile.

In the collage, is a wedding picture of my Mom's parents...circa 1905. Immigrants from Poland, they look so serious standing side by side. My grandmother, after bearing 3 children here in the U.S.A.,my mother included, went back to Poland as she was homesick. Mom grew up in Poland and came back to this country when she was 19 yrs old.

I also have my paternal grandparents wedding picture, Dads parents..circa 1907. This one is a Xerox copy, run off from the original that my aunt owns. Why, in those early 1900 pictures do people look so serious?

I had wedding pictures of my niece and, also, the 2nd wedding picture of her father, my brother. Those have been put away as they both are now divorced. Another old vintage picture on the buffet hutch is one of my Dad when he made his first communion. He is about 10 yrs old and is standing next to his mother, my Babci. And a picture of my Mom and Dad with my older brother, who looks to be about 2 yrs old, before I was born. There are no early pictures of my mother. None when taken when she was little so I don't know what she looked like as a child. They were too poor to have pictures taken in Poland. The earliest picture I have of her is her passport picture when came back to America in 1928. I treasure that photo. She looks so scared in it..she did not speak English and made it to this country and on to Connecticut where her aunt lived.

The old pictures are all in pewter frames. Just looking at them you wonder about the life they started in those days long ago.

On a wall in my hallway, I made a collage of pictures of myself and my 2 brothers. Hanging there is our high school graduation pictures, our baby pictures and a photo I had taken of us 2 yrs ago as we are today. How we do change!!










 


Pictures on The Wall

By Barbara (Brierhillbarbara@aol.com)





On one wall of my living room, near the front door, are pictures. Pictures of my grand parents, pictures of my family when all the children were here with us, four sons and two daughters, and now five grandchildren. Now every holiday brings more pictures for my wall, not to mention the albums bursting with pictures. One big painting on wall, my mothers sister painted. It is a child's hand holding yellow flowers up to a larger hand. I guess all children like collecting flowers and giving then to a loved one. I smile at the thought of me giving my gram dandelions to put in a vase. She replied they make you wet the bed. lol So funny now. She had a great poppy plant and i pulled the buds off every summer. I was old enough to go to school before she ever saw the poppy bloom.

Some things are more important than flowers or candy, there's picking them with love and giving them to a loved one. Now I take silk flowers to her and grand dad's graves. I sit a few minutes and tell them the latest family news and how proud they would be of my children. I like to think they would be proud of me for doing all i could to raise them right. So pictures on the wall, from newborns to 45 yrs old, all lined up, the pride of their mom and dad. Frames of silver and gold, even wood, a few plastic ones too, all holding the loves of my life..










 


Pictures on The Wall

By Connie (CSThomas@aol.com)





When we look at old photos - what do we see? Do we see the despair and hardships of those before? Could we trade places with them? Could we tolerate the non existence of things we have become so accustomed to? Things we take for granted, like all the medical and the fine hospitals? Back then they had to treat themselves with old time remedies - a lot of which failed. No washing machines, but an old black iron tub with a fire under it to heat water and dip the clothes in and out or to heat water for a bath in the winter. The tub was also used to make soap which was made from lye. They had no running water but had to draw from a well or a cistern. They had a telephone, if lucky, and certain rings were for you cause others were connected to that same line. Most never had an automobile, but had horses for riding to the little store 15 miles away and mules for plowing the fields.

What I see in old photos is a Mother working all day cooking on those old iron wood stoves which made breakfast and dinner. Fire places were for some who didn't have a wood stove. Now, not all people were this poor, but it's what I saw in how my grandparents had to live. Yes, we have come a long way in all electrical conveniences and automobiles at our disposal. Things we take for granted. I doubt if anyone could tolerate living back then. We should be ever so thankful ------- but are we?










 


Pictures on The Wall

By Marty (mjford19@aol.com)





What great memories come back to me
As I gaze on my family's photo tree,
My father and mother, when they were young
My little brother who died before his time,
Many photos bring a lot of joy and some pain,
But I cherish each photo, as I look upon each precious face,
My children growing up, their children now,
The two precious great-grandchildren that I've gotten to see,
The picture's on my wall, how I love them all,
Each week this family tree seems to grow,
Making new memories, filling my picture wall.











 


Pictures on My Wall

By susi (Texaswishr@aol.com)





my bedroom wall is full of family faces
some in "good morning" others in "good night" places
some that I see when I walk into the room
all dispel any feelings of gloom


my bedroom is quiet, a place to rest
to read a book, to say my prayers, to feel blest
cat will sit on the bed with me
and i'll tell her tales about the pictures I see


there's the family picture with all of us there
it wasn't long after when there was an empty chair
a picture of Norma Jean and I on vacation
and one of brother Bob at a railway station


my brother, Ted and I in Boston one day
I miss him so much since he went away
pictures are so I can keep them all close
in the winter months when I miss them the most


my older sister, Dorothy Lee, our birthdays one day apart
her smiling face engraved on my heart
and brother, Glen, blue eyed, handsome and tall
we were the Taylor Family, Mom and Dad completed us all


scattered everywhere now, families of their own
many more pictures of greats and great grands, all grown
sometimes, gathered , my table they surround
a day full of laughter, and memories abound


the old box of pictures will always come out
and we have so much fun, there is no doubt
going thru them, old faces, and old times
no attention paid to the clock that chimes


their faces never change as they smile from the wall
never different, just stay the way I recall
the lights in their eyes always will be the same
as they hang on my family wall of fame


It's night-time now, the day is over
I go into my room, turn down the cover
But before I reach to turn out the light
I smile and tell all my loved ones goodnight











 


Picture on The Wall

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)





Hello. You follow with your eyes from your main place on the wall. Your smiling gray eyes I knew so well preserved in black and white. You were happier then than I ever knew you to be and it shows! There is a contented glow emanating from your proud face in the big, black oval frame. Though you are gone you should know you are immortal in our hearts. And I am the chosen one, the keeper, of the exact replica of your "Master" portrait. You know the one. It still hangs in the old Masonic Hall, the hall where a little boy who sold papers on the street at six and only made it through the sixth grade grew to be honored as "Master." Blessed I am to be the child of the "Picture on the Wall."










 


Generations of Pictures on The Wall

By Evelyn (Evenccw@aol.com)





Lost in Time’s linen folds are stories behind the “Generations of Pictures” displayed on walls and tucked inside albums throughout our family. Somewhere behind those unsmiling eyes and somber faces lies my heritage and the heritage of my children. These stalwart souls crossed the oceans to make new lives for themselves. The paper trail they left is sparse. Their extant is nonexistent. As time rushes by it is left to us to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that is our heritage. As family historian, it is a daunting challenge.

Behind the eyes of each image in an antique photograph there’s a story that dwells somewhere in Time’s linen folds. Marble and granite engravings reveal little. Registrar and baptism records reveal precious little more. It is fortunate to have precious scraps of history in pictures where I can trace an eye, a lip, an eyebrow, a jaw line, hair line, a forehead and see from “whence I or my children came!” I asked for and received two such priceless early portraits of Tom’s fraternal grandparents that I displayed on our living room wall for many years. The antique portraits in their gilded frames were always quite the conversation piece! These grand portraits are now memorialized by prints that were made of them to be enjoyed by generations of McCuskers to come!

Mary O’Connell came from Ireland where she met and married her husband, born of Irish immigrants, in Baltimore, Maryland. A “feisty” one she was, they say. They were married February 2, 1888 and raised three sons and a daughter. My father-in-law was the ‘baby’ of the family, born in 1899. William Alexander was an Irish cop. Tom has memories of his Grandma McCusker who lived in a Baltimore row house near the Pimlico Race Track. He recalls that he gave his parents quite a fright when one day he went across town on his tricycle to visit his Grandma!




Mary O'Connell McCusker
Born February 21, 1862
Married February 2, 1888
Died April 13, 1940





William Alexander McCusker
Born April 10, 1863
Married February 2, 1888
Died February 14, 1934



Among my precious souvenirs are the wedding portraits of my grandparents. Antonia Richter crossed the Atlantic to Cullman, Alabama from East Prussia in Germany at age nineteen. Joseph Berrens, ten years her senior, became smitten and they were married April 24,1891. The shoes he wore were made by his father, Nicholas, a cobbler. Antonia stitched her blue wedding dress by hand. Grandpa built their home on one third of the land homesteaded, and deeded to him, by his father, Nicholas. They had thirteen children of whom my mother, Cecilia, was number eight. The house that he built in 1891 still stands. It is the house where I was born. Grandma died in 1924. Grandpa died in 1933.




Maternal Grandparents
Joseph and Antonia Richter Berrens
Married April 24, 1891





Paternal Grandparents
John and Philomena Adam Leuenberger
circa 1888



The wedding portrait of John and Philomena Adam Leuenberger, circa 1888, is a somber one also. They emigrated from Geneva, Switzerland to Chile, South America. She did not seem to have the young-girl vulnerability of Antonia on her wedding day. She seems much more worldly wise and purposeful. His dark good looks were imaged in my father, my brother and nephews, my brother’s sons. My father emigrated to this country in 1926 and married my mother in 1929. He never returned to Chile.

In the years beyond my recall and in my early years,“rite of passage” in my family was marked by portraits, particularly of First Holy Communions and by weddings. Among my treasures are the First Holy Communion pictures of all of my mother’s sisters and brothers and their wedding pictures. They had large families and little money. Fortunately they took pride in these occasions and saw the importance of “rite of passage” portraits, and shared them among family and friends. These are true heirlooms!

In my genealogy search with my cousins I found two old tin types which my Aunt Liz validated as her Grandfather Nicholas and her Aunt Annie Berrens Schiehl. The find was priceless! We figure that the man standing beside Nicholas is his eldest son and was taken before the family left Scranton, Pennsylvania in 1869. Uncle Tony is buried in the woods under pines and oaks on the land Nicholas homesteaded. He cut his knee with an adz while building their log house. He developed blood poisoning and died. As early settlers there was no cemetery so they buried him in the woods. Uncle Tony’s grave is a shrine of sorts. I visit it when I go “back home.”




Great Grandpa Nicholas Berrens
Great Uncle Tony Berrens
circa 1869





Great Aunt Annie Berrens Schiehl
Cousin Frank Schiehl
circa 1889



The tin type of Great Aunt Annie and Cousin Frank, circa 1889, inspired me to write a poem.



Validation Of A Moment Frozen In Time



this darkened
ancient tintype
validates a moment
frozen in time. with
her arms akimbo great
aunt annie presents
her first born as if
on the altar of time.
her validated moments
are not lost in time's
linen folds but caught
between sedimentary
layers for me to uncover
as with life's pick I dig
for shards and remnants
of my past, sifting and
sorting her moments
from my own from
whence they spring











 


Old Photographs

By Lilly (Lilprincessitali@aol.com)





MY PHOTOGRAPHS ARE NOT HUNG ON THE WALL
THEY ARE IN A BOX SAFELY AWAY FROM HARM
I HAVE A LARGE SHELVING UNIT AND DECIDED
TO PUT MANY PHOTOS IN FRAMES THEN ON SHELF.
I REMEMBER MY GRANDPARENTS HAD SUNNY HOMES
AND THE ONLY THING THEY HAD OF PHOTOGRAPHS
WERE THEIR WEDDING PICTURES, HUNG ON THE WALL
EVERYTIME I VISIT I LOOK ON THE WALL AND SEE
HOW THEIR LOOKS CHANGED, AS THE YEARS GO BY
IN MY HOME I LOOK AT PICTURES ON THE SHELVES
AND SEE HOW I AND MY FAMILY CHANGE IN LOOKS
VERY INTERESTING TO ME AND I LOVE IT THAT WAY
MY CUCKOO CLOCK HUNG NEXT TO THAT ON WALL
MINUTES HOURS DAYS YEARS HAVE PASSED BY ALL
WITH MANY HAPPY SMILES NEVER A DULL MOMENT









 

 

 

 



Watch these pages for more of these "Write to a Picture" pages.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.


Wild Flowers

Frannie Sue: Chapter 4

A View To The Sky

In The Evening

My Dwelling Place

My Cherry Dale

Good Morning ( 12 Authors)




Lara's Den has free E-cards. I make them and offer them to our visitors and authors.
Click the button to access the index.


And.......for many others, click the index image.



 

Graphics by Marilyn
http://graphicsbymarilyn.com

graphicsbymarilyn@yahoo.com