rust brittle orange flaking away each layer eating history that lies below i scratch with fingernail breaking away pieces of past crushing it between fingers now stained with iron oxide metal blood from the past now gone forever
Another ekphrastic poetry prompt, this time from a dVerse prompt from Sanaa based on the image below.
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 
“each layer eating history that lies below,”.. yes! My goodness this is such an astute observation .. further fueled by; “i scratch with fingernail breaking away pieces of past crushing it between fingers.” Love the approach and the raw emotions which you have poured here .. thank you so much for writing to the prompt! 💝💝
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Thank you for the fun prompt and supporting someone from my neck of the woods with the pictures.
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beautiful imagery here. rust eating away history. iron oxide metal blood. I like how you step in and obliterate pieces of it.
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The duality of the creator, both making and destroying.
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I guess we are our own gods aren’t we.
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Well I know I’m relying on none other than myself, so fingers crossed.
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I think this is my favorite piece here for the prompt, tbh. Just the dark imagery and the tint that blends well with the photograph that makes it all the more mournful.
Like Sanaa, I really adored these lines:
“each layer
eating history
that lies below”
Makes me feel as if we have the capability to taint the past with our present reality, such as in these lines:
“pieces of past
crushing it
between fingers
now stained
with iron oxide”
If I take it more literally, the car is old, was used for its time, and is stuck in its own “past” with history on its features of rust. This is so beautifully penned.
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It’s always my feeling when I explore or touch old things, is that I’m destroying some piece of it. While nature would have done the job eventually, we definitely have the ability to speed ruin by our presence.
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I really liked this. Whenever I touch something old I think I feel the energy. Even though the car was old and rusty it held memories and you held them in between your fingers. Maybe you did relieve it from its past. Wonderful write! ☺️
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You do feel like you’re taking a piece of the past when you touch rust. When you see it you know you’re observing something that has feels to disrepair and has a certain age to it.
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Great poem. I really like this “metal blood from the past.”
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Lovely minimalist poem. I enjoyed the colours here: “Iron oxide / metal blood.”
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Metal blood… I like that! Great poem. Looks like great minds think alike! I picked this one too! …:>)
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I’m privileged to be in such good company.
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Haha! Isn’t it great!
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Tactile! Tasty!
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Very enjoyable take on my image and the prompt; terrific word-smithing. So ironic that steel seems to be indestructible, can be brought low by a handful of patina.
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They were excellent pictures. I was cheering the choice of someone in Washington (and on this sides of the cascades it’s not hard to find things rusting from all the rain). I’m hoping to do some exploring over towards Yakima this summer to take some pictures and maybe see a few more stars than Seattle affords.
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Enjoyed how just a fingernail can flake away the past, once it’s been decomposed enough. Your words give a deeper meaning to the photograph. Enjoyed.
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Everything is falling apart, just not everything is aware of it yet.
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True of ourselves, too, I imagine. That hard look in the mirror after time has passed. The decay we can’t perceive.
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Everything old has a past, present and future. When the last two stagnate, then the past illuminates. Well written. 🙂
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Things not tended to in the present start dying their slow march to future decomposition.
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So true.
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I love the connection you draw between blood and rust in this piece. When blood dries it looks so much like red rust!
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It does, and we carry iron in our blood, so maybe there’s a connection.
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I believe so!
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Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, metal memories turn to rust.
Reminds me how fragile and short Earthly existence is.
Focusing on the rust captured the most minimal of the minimal. Well done!
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We’re all in progress towards turning to rust (and since their is iron in our blood, I wonder if we do rust a bit when we’re not here anymore).
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An interesting idea. 🙂
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Your poem is exquisite ….
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Thank you!
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Rust as metal blood… love the image.
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