20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers

gentle brush


wash warm hues, gentle brush

across a heart forgotten.

it’s soft caress no sadness lingers

renew it’s every fray and tear.

create a masterpiece, my lovely

erase all coloring of fear.

nuance streamed light and shadows

our layered texture, sweet romance.

and devote each waking minute

as Monet with Lily Pads.


The Song


Charlotte Gainsbourg  AnOther


From a recent prompt – to write a piece on the above picture.



You left me
towards the door you
no smile no remorse

canvas bag
a gift from me
in the lining hidden
a ring long forgotten
a gift from you
thrown across the floor
it rolled

door slammed
I watched it
roll till it stopped

the records
the ones you will
return for
they are round
like the ring
but hold no

I sit
titles through tears
that drop silently onto
plastic covers
the ring motionless

makes no sound
as these records
never will
they will be silent
there will be no dance
no dip of love
just the stylus

like you
in my heart


The Take (The Prelude)


The Take. A tap, a smack, a pull somewhere from deep below or up on top. The rod bends, the line stretches, the pulse quickens. The swirl at the top, the first glimpse. A routine fish or an epic memory unfolding? How nice if one can take in the beauty, the angles ‘the moment’ rather than only worry about the mechanics of it all. The water’s surface is always a changing canvas of motion. Here a beautiful disruption between shadows and light, on the edge of giving delight.



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