Members of the message board were challenged to write either a poem or some prose around the word frame(s). Their entries are below and if you enjoy them, why not send them a note?












Frame

By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)


It was the last frame, and Beverly wanted to win the bowling tournament in the worst way. It was her first Professional Bowling tour. She was destined to be a bowling queen. The competition was stiff, but she had confidence.

She wanted to get a strike, and she did. She won the tournament, and now she was on her way.

Her best friend, Mattie, was also an excellent bowler. They often competed against one another, but not this time. She didn't have to worry about beating Mattie. Mattie was out with the flu. The trophy looked good on her trophy table in her room back home.

Bowling on TV was a new experience. All her family was watching, but she tried not to think about that. She had overcome; she had won.










Framed Picture

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)


the silhouette of a tree
not that symmetrical
not that pretty
but there it hung on the wall
right above the large TV


cut out of some black paper
with an old paper sack as the background
a little off center and nothing else
you could still see the creases
the glass that old fashioned kind
that proves glass is not amorphous


the frame caught my eye
it was made from an old board
weatherworn very much so
was it from a house, a barn, a fence
maybe even the chicken coop?


three or more inches wide the boards
set at an steep angle
so the picture looked like it was set back
the more I looked the more I was attracted
the more character this simple piece had


Looking from all sorts of angles,
trying to vary the perspective
soon I was standing in awe
its simplicity and composition
enthralled me


just the silhouette of a tree in
a crude homemade frame
just a simple thing it was
but it was so endearing
it was a beautiful piece of art.











The Frame of My Life

By susi (Texaswishr@aol.com)


If I could hang my life upon a wall
If I could write a poem to tell it all
It would take up so very little space
But the frame would be one of style and grace


The frame would not be of gilt or gold
The story would not be one that could be sold
No one would buy it or take it from a library
My life is one of plain and ordinary


Even so, I'd hope it would be read
So folks would know how I lived and what I said
They would know my life fit me like a glove
And see that the frame of my life was made with love










Picture Frames

By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)


In picture frames upon the wall
Hanging in the center hall
Family faces smiling there
Those of all who I do care


Each child grown into person fine
Grandchildren too with love devine
Though we live so far apart
These frames bring them to my heart


I look at them and start to cry
How fortunate is such as I
To have family for to love
Gifts from angels up above










The Artist

By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)


through his eyes the world we view
the wonderful images his hands have construed.


we may picture a street of rain
the artist sees a beautiful frame
within this frame
nothing stays the same


he creates the scene from within his brain.
with the stroke of a brush
an adrenalin rush
with his magical touch
he creates for us


a masterpiece










First Born

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)


Around her face, her curls did frame
The pouty lips of tiny Jane,
Strawberry as her mother‘s mane,
First little born.


Tumbling she skinned her little knee,
On skates the kind with an old skate key,
Her curls dropping on her forehead be,
On a spring morn.


In high school she met Jimmy Jack,
Jimmy carried her book back pack,
Cute and tall, he did not lack
Desire to stay around.


College, they both went away,
Thought love would die - it had its day,
But holidays kept fire to stay,
Engagement bound.


The old church had grand window frames,
Handcarved, imported, where blushing Jane
Stood for her portrait in the rain, to
Wedding March sound.












Best Friend

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)


Of all the frames that could be done,
This was the most miserable one.
To think that my best friend
Would send me to this, a bitter end.


I was framed, don't you see?
The one who did it wasn't me.
Nope. Not me. I didn't do it.
Now I'll have to go through it.


Didn't steal no underpants!
No matter who raves and rants.
Why would I steal a size six?
I wear a 12, that couldn't fix.


A set up was this song and dance.
Skinny Amy took a chance.
Victoria's Secret closed the door.
And she won't shop there any more!















Birds

Thoughts on a Snowy February Day

Use All of Your Senses (several writers)


An original 'toon by Swampetta

Detective Story

My Valentine

The First Time

Valentine's Day

True Love (several writers)




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http://graphicsbymarilyn.com

graphicsbymarilyn@yahoo.com