On February 15, 2013, Kellie Elmore posted a picture of a house for our Free Write Friday prompt...not just any house, but a house that appeared to be flying through the air...at least that is what I saw in the picture. Others saw something different and wrote accordingly. Below is that picture and my response...a poem I titled Prairie Schooner.
Prairie Schooner Credit: Richard Baxter
To the left is the house prompt. To me at first glance, I immediately thought of those sailing ships with tall masts...a schooner.
Below is the poem I wrote as the FWF response to the picture.
Below is the poem I wrote as the FWF response to the picture.
Prairie Schooner
'Tis a mystery of the ages
this floating house
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Kicking up dust clouds
causing it to rain mud
This floating house
flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Look! Look!
They cried.
It's the Prairie Schooner
Come! Hurry! Look!
Before it's gone
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
The Prairie Schooner
it is called
The floating house
that holds a mystery
Help! Help!
They cry
Look up! See us!
Help us
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Holding a mystery inside
The family, the people
Hoping ever hoping
Someone anyone
Will see them
INSIDE!
(C) Annie 2013
'Tis a mystery of the ages
this floating house
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Kicking up dust clouds
causing it to rain mud
This floating house
flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Look! Look!
They cried.
It's the Prairie Schooner
Come! Hurry! Look!
Before it's gone
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
The Prairie Schooner
it is called
The floating house
that holds a mystery
Help! Help!
They cry
Look up! See us!
Help us
It flies across the prairie
searching ever searching
Holding a mystery inside
The family, the people
Hoping ever hoping
Someone anyone
Will see them
INSIDE!
(C) Annie 2013
It was a dark and stormy night! "Now stop that!" Holly wailed. "Robert, you are scaring me to death and there are severe thunderstorm and tornado watches and warnings everywhere."
Being the oldest and the only boy, Bobby loved teasing his youngest sister. She was extremely afraid of bad weather and tonight was going to be a doozie. The clouds rolled in boiling like a witches cauldron, lightening streaked across the sky, thunder boomed, and the wind was whipping trees in every direction. This was typical Springtime weather in the South Central part of Oklahoma. It seemed that storms were particularly severe and tornadoes frequent just across the Red River from Texas.
Sitting around the supper table, eveyone was anxious. Their mother had not made it home from work and each had their own fears for her safety. Their father has passed to the great wheat farm in the sky a few years earlier. All five kids had to grow up fast and take care of one another while their mom worked overtime to put food on the table and keep shoes on their feet. Luckily, they were seasoned farmers and were able to keep the farm alive and productive, but it was hard dirty stinky work for everyone.
Their house was comfortable, not the newest or fanciest, but home. It was the typical wood framed and shingled square box with an extension on the back added at some time when the two original bedrooms were just not enough for a family of seven.
Thunder continued and seemed to never stop as the storm seemed to stomp it's way over the small mountain to their north. Wind whipped pecan trees in the yard almost to the ground. So far, none of them had been blown over or snapped in two. Their golden delicousness was another means of making ends meet when pecans ripened in the Fall.
Talk turned again to previous killer storms and Holly just could not stand it. "All of you just stop...just be quiet...that kind of talk will jinks our good luck." she pleaded. Just then, their mom drove into the driveway and they breathed a collective sigh of relief. Mom was home and everything would be good now. The kitchen screen door screamed as the wind nearly claimed the first victim of the night.
"We need to get prepared," Georgia told everyone. "Get the mattresses off the beds and get to the central hallway. If we all huddle there, we should be able to ride out this storm together."
In a matter of minutes, everyone was shelterd in the hall by every mattress in the house. No sooner had they pulled the last one over all of them and wrapped in each other arms to hold on tight, than the house begin to rock. It shook and groaned, almost talking to the tornado. It fought back, but the tornado won...sucking them house and all into the night air...riding on the waves of the tornadic winds just like a huge sailing ship.
The family didn't realize they were no longer grounded...had no idea that they were flying through the air...sailing on the winds of the storm as it headed north to find Kansas and Missouri. When they all woke up the next morning, their flying house was still on the move. They were trapped, did not know where in hell they were, did not know how to get out of this mess, but stayed put for now and the house seemed to be enjoying it's freedom and ability to fly.
To be continued...
I hope this gives a bit of an idea where the poem originated. I still don't know what happens next. Hopefully soon, my Muse will give me the next installment and I can continue this journey along with the Jones family trapped in their flying house!
Always I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you LOVE.
As Ever, Annie
Being the oldest and the only boy, Bobby loved teasing his youngest sister. She was extremely afraid of bad weather and tonight was going to be a doozie. The clouds rolled in boiling like a witches cauldron, lightening streaked across the sky, thunder boomed, and the wind was whipping trees in every direction. This was typical Springtime weather in the South Central part of Oklahoma. It seemed that storms were particularly severe and tornadoes frequent just across the Red River from Texas.
Sitting around the supper table, eveyone was anxious. Their mother had not made it home from work and each had their own fears for her safety. Their father has passed to the great wheat farm in the sky a few years earlier. All five kids had to grow up fast and take care of one another while their mom worked overtime to put food on the table and keep shoes on their feet. Luckily, they were seasoned farmers and were able to keep the farm alive and productive, but it was hard dirty stinky work for everyone.
Their house was comfortable, not the newest or fanciest, but home. It was the typical wood framed and shingled square box with an extension on the back added at some time when the two original bedrooms were just not enough for a family of seven.
Thunder continued and seemed to never stop as the storm seemed to stomp it's way over the small mountain to their north. Wind whipped pecan trees in the yard almost to the ground. So far, none of them had been blown over or snapped in two. Their golden delicousness was another means of making ends meet when pecans ripened in the Fall.
Talk turned again to previous killer storms and Holly just could not stand it. "All of you just stop...just be quiet...that kind of talk will jinks our good luck." she pleaded. Just then, their mom drove into the driveway and they breathed a collective sigh of relief. Mom was home and everything would be good now. The kitchen screen door screamed as the wind nearly claimed the first victim of the night.
"We need to get prepared," Georgia told everyone. "Get the mattresses off the beds and get to the central hallway. If we all huddle there, we should be able to ride out this storm together."
In a matter of minutes, everyone was shelterd in the hall by every mattress in the house. No sooner had they pulled the last one over all of them and wrapped in each other arms to hold on tight, than the house begin to rock. It shook and groaned, almost talking to the tornado. It fought back, but the tornado won...sucking them house and all into the night air...riding on the waves of the tornadic winds just like a huge sailing ship.
The family didn't realize they were no longer grounded...had no idea that they were flying through the air...sailing on the winds of the storm as it headed north to find Kansas and Missouri. When they all woke up the next morning, their flying house was still on the move. They were trapped, did not know where in hell they were, did not know how to get out of this mess, but stayed put for now and the house seemed to be enjoying it's freedom and ability to fly.
To be continued...
I hope this gives a bit of an idea where the poem originated. I still don't know what happens next. Hopefully soon, my Muse will give me the next installment and I can continue this journey along with the Jones family trapped in their flying house!
Always I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you LOVE.
As Ever, Annie
