Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Retro Writes (Tuesday) #3

The Rules:

Welcome to my new writing challenge!

Every Tuesday I will post some lovely retro-era eye candy as inspiration (think 50's-80's decades).  I will be posting photographs and advertisement ephemera that, perhaps, is quite different from modern day photography in hopes that it may inspire us to come up with parallels and concepts we might not otherwise make with modern art/photography.

Simply write a piece of poetry, fiction, flash fiction, or even create your own art-work.  Anything goes so long as you create/write something original!

Leave a link to your post so I (along with others) can visit and comment.  Please also link back to this page in your original post so others can find it.  

Most of all, have fun creating!

And now, for the prompt.

Retro Writes (Tuesday) #3

Look at the advertisement photo for a few moments and allow yourself to be inspired.

Here is my contribution:

Waitress at the Malt Shop

Everything was brighter on Fridays.  The neon-lit signs and pre-lit panels-full of overhead lights seemed far more illuminated than they were on, say, a Sunday or Tuesday.  It's all those kids, she thought to herself as she waited tables and pre-percolated the coffee.  The young crowd crowed in their raucous laughter and their after-school stories ruined the calm coffee-and-cigarette atmosphere come weekend. 

The teenage girls were always so bushy-browed, almost as if they were excited about life.  Ever-expecting something swell.  Katie Lou supposed they were.  They, at least, had love affairs to look forward to, and the zany marches of the women's lib movement.  They still had time, and they adhered their dreams across it like an invisible blackboard.  Ah, but later marriage and children would warp those sharp-toothed smiles, then the she-wares of the next generation would fill the diner tables.

Some things never changed,
like bitter coffee and smoke rings
she accepted her fate.


  1. Thank you, Stacy, for inspiration! Retro photos spark memories, as do scents. Here's one of my first efforts at open verse. I'm a hopeless rhymer, so this is fallow ground to me!
    SCENTS by Beverly Crawford

    In the attic of my mind, memories
    are like dust motes riding sunbeams,
    set in motion by scents linked to
    sometimes seemingly insignificant
    moments in life’s journey.

    The subtle scent of lilac takes
    me back to the yard gate of my
    childhood home, where the
    lilac bloomed profusely every
    Spring, its sweet fragrance a witness
    to my learning to roller skate, and
    later to my first kiss.

    The delicate scent of new-mown hay,
    its sweet smell released by the kiss
    of prairie sun, conjures memories
    of pedaling down country roads
    where pheasants nested in the fencerows
    and red-winged blackbirds perched on
    fence posts singing their joy to the world.

    The pungent scent of coffee brewing
    is reminiscent of the battered percolator on
    my grandmother’s big cook stove that
    sent a wake-up call to all and sundry to
    gather at the big round table for country ham,
    biscuits and gravy, and a huge platter of
    sunny side-up eggs glistening with ham drippings.

    The glorious smell of a coming rain
    kissing the air with its fragrance before
    it makes its way across fields of grain
    takes me to mother’s garden, where first
    drops raise puffs of dust before they
    soak into the rich black soil. nurturing
    the fruits of mother’s labor that
    sustain us through the winter.

    The smell of sunshine and sweat is linked
    to memories of my father returning from
    work in the field, responding to my cry of
    “Lift me, Daddy”, swinging me high in
    his strong arms, instilling in me a
    sense of being loved and special,
    the greatest gift of all.

    The smell of wood burning carries
    me to a cozy room with fireplace in
    the great Smoky Mountains, where
    I hear again the voices and laughter
    of dear friends now gone and
    awaiting me in the great

    Scents are the gossamer golden strands
    of our lives that enfold moments
    and people we hold dear, so that we
    might savor them time and time again.

    1. bev! you are an extraordinary poet. :) what a lovely account of your memories. thanks so much for writing with me and for sharing your work. you write as well as you create art. stunning.

    2. Thanks so much, Stacy. As I said, I am just dipping my toes into open verse, so I appreciate any feedback. I find your beautiful word mastery inspiring!

  2. Whoa! The picture you painted... how did you do that! Wow, just wow....

    1. i am glad you like it. you must write with me. :)


Thank you for taking the time to comment, it is so appreciated. Your thoughts and critiques are always welcome! I will be by to visit your blog soon!