STORY THREE – YOUR TOWN

 

(c) All rights reserved June Perkins 'Tully Town'

OBJECTIVE: Above is June Perkins’ home town, your job to write about your own town with a series of pictures/images in mind.

My Town is……………………………

(c) Prompt June Perkins, all rights reserved

My Town

My town, my original town is an old town. i remember it as a child: buildings blackened by the coal dust from the fires and heavy industry. I remember the decision to stop burning coal then the clean up began. Buildings covered for months on end as the men slowly worked around the town cleaning off the thick soot. The tarpaulins and scaffolding came down and bright beautiful georgian and victorian buildings gleamed clean. i saw my town in its newly washed state. it marked the end of an era. no more coal meant fewer mining jobs and then they brought in open cast that meant men could be replaced with machines. in my town the people were hurt so badly parts of my town died and never recovered other parts with more resourceful people set to work making silk purses out of sows ears turning the mine head workings into museums to celebrate what was once great about my town.

(c) Diane Finlay, all rights reserved

My town is wet. The air is thick with white—an unceasing mist of winter rain. When the patter of rain stills, the trickle of runoff takes up the daily song, running down eaves, down drains, down leaves and walls and tree trunks. Creek beds chuckle, housing shrimp and small fish, hiding amid the endless tumble of bronze leaves.

The sun breaks, lighting up the crystal dew, burning a rainbow across the sky, but for mere moments. The rain sweeps across again, the mist settles and rolls down the steep green walls of mountains to touch the edge of my town.

My town is wet all over again.

(c) Traditional Evolution, all rights reserved.

Tags: gumbootspearlz

STORY TWO: Sunbirds

OBJECTIVE: To write your own poem to go with this series of images.

(c) Sunbirding by June Perkins, all rights reserved

Click on comments below to see some poetic responses to these images.

Click on Sunbird Story if you’d like to see what I wrote with these images.

(c) June Perkins for Prompt

Oh sun bird, can you hear my voice calling out your name?
You take not, what you want but, only what you need.
And your heart beats so fast, and I’m wondering how you do that..
it’s a slow evolving song which make me think it will be something special

(c) Submitted by Jeremiah

Tags: gumbootspearlz

STORY ONE – CLARA

 

(c) June Perkins all rights reserved. Believe in the possibility - dream 2007 Photograph

 

 

OBJECTIVE: Develop a story about the adventures of a little girl in pink gumboots.

This is the story about the girl in the pink gumboots…

(c) June Perkins, Prompt

So Clara finds herself at the edge of the banana fields wondering how many snakes and spiders and scary animals are peering back. For a moment she hesitates… then yells, “I’m not scared of you, silly animals!” The little girl looks defiant, determined, and proud, ready to take on the world and it seems she will, instead Clara stands quietly, continuing to look towards the banana fields.

(Mick Bromage)

A sticky silence comes back at her on the sweet, dessert-scented air. Clara lifts an eyebrow suspciously. She breathes in, digging the toes of her beautiful new boots against the soft earth, edging deeper by beetle and caterpillar steps into the plantation, when suddenly… “We’re not silly!” A shrill, nasaly voice screams thinly at her from a behind a splay of leaves off to her right. “Yeah,” comes another voice further ahead, this one pitched so high Clara fights the compulsion to plug her ears. Silly boys, she thinks, rolling her eyes and stomping forward heavily.
“Leave me alone!” she hollars, sending her voice through the arches, marching recklessly through the lines of plants, pressing determinedly forward. She hears snickering, and a crack of branches behind her. “Ouch!” David grumbles. “Stupid bananas,” he says. He was always complaining about the bananas. She doesn’t look back. Probably he’s cut his leg on one of the green shoots, or stood on something sharp – he’s such a sissy, she thinks, and he always wears those useless, comic hero flip flops. Clara glances proudly down at her beautiful boots, fuschia and silver in the sunlight. Now those are good boots for an adventure, she thinks, smiling and lifting her chin up into the valley before her.

(Anne Clarke)

Clara feels brave in her gumboots. A feeling she could take on anything – even the biggest spider. As she moves on through the banana plants a passing cloud begins to cover the sun, a dense raincloud – the air feels heavy, a drop of rain lands on her bare shoulder – quickly followed by another and another … the heavens open and she runs. Instantly she is wet and cold not knowing where to run for shelter but her gumboots seem to know. She feels them lifting her feet making her run fast skimming the grass – she’s hovering above the ground – she’s not in control. Her gumboots are taking her away…

(Diane Finlay)

She is on her way over the banana fields, over the cane. The cane has tiny birds, flying in
and out of the fluffy white tops.

She is heading for an adventure and looking behind her to see if David is coming too.
Will he see her. Will he put on his boots? Does he believe enough or is he too grown up now?

(June Perkins)

Clara couldn’t see David following her. Would he be worried about her? She called out his name as loud as she could. She tried to spot him by peering harder through the banana leaves. Her voice startled the tiny birds and they flew away from her, deeper into the cane they had been playing in. She would have liked to have their feathers, she felt cold suddenly, flying high above the bananas and cane. She should be warmer she thought, she was closer to the sun.
As she looked down at the banana fields and cane she glanced at her beautiful new boots, they had sugarcane fluff on them. She blinked. The fluff was moving, little arms and legs seemed to be emerging. These arms and legs held the fluff to her boots. As the fluff held on, it slowly moved, climbing higher and higher up her legs. It kept climbing… she wasn’t scared. The fluff was kind of tickley nice. It was warm too.

(Jacque Duffy)

Tags: gumbootspearlz

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