Writing Prompt #11 Obsessions

Obsessions. Today’s prompt is about reflection, personal reflection. We all have obsessions. Don’t deny it. We like to put a shiny veneer on them by describing them as ‘passions’ or ‘callings,’ but in truth they’re obsessions. Today I came across this lovely post where two women shared their obsessions.

tree-lined country road“On February 21, 2011, Cynthia posted “Obsessions” : Pine trees that are all wiry and taller than the other trees so they stick out, different textures coming together, abandoned things and places, stairs and thresholds, rainy days and fog, sunrises and sunsets, doors and windows, trains and tracks, lines of laundry, row houses, fall leaves, a full moon, the ocean …”

knarled ancient treeHere’s another by Darelyn Saloom: “Southern live oaks with thick biceps and elbows, weathered tin roofs atop century-old houses and barns, horse stalls and walking wheels, back roads and antique malls, small-town squares with a courthouse and bookstore, sidewalks and trails, soaring hawks, still owls, an elusive chicken in my yard, Louisiana sunsets …

I was inspired – hope you will be too.

Today’s prompt: In prose or poetry, write about your obsessions. Post your paragraph here in the comments, or leave a link to your blog/website/google doc instead. If you’re on Facebook, post your obsessions there with a photo!

11 comments on “Writing Prompt #11 Obsessions

  1. Can’t say I agree with the theology, but I have to admit to being ‘taken’ by at times. Here’s my little ditty about those ‘Obsessed’ with following others:


    The funny thing about sand
    is that maybe it doesn’t want
    to bury you—it’s just following
    the crowd. A social suicide of
    sorts. And those grainy enough
    to survive just get blown away
    by the next wind of somebody
    else’s agenda.


  2. Life Through the Lens

    Don’t expect to get anywhere fast if we go for a walk–and I bring my camera.
    What? Don’t you see it?
    I know I’ve only moved a fraction of an inch
    But the bark on this tree is completely different here
    The swirls
    The colours
    The textures.
    Take a picture of the garden?
    Don’t be silly
    Not when I can capture
    This leaf
    This petal
    This stamen and pistol.
    Diamonds and rubies?
    Their brilliance doesn’t even compare with
    The droplets of dew clinging to grass
    And fallen autumn leaves.
    Group shots?
    Well, they’re all right
    I love to zoom in until
    An entire face fills the screen.
    Up close
    Seeing what others miss
    Reveling in the beauty of Creation
    I guess those are my obsessions
    Or at least some of the things that make me unique.

  3. This came out a little darker than I expected. I thought twice about posting it, but in the end, “Why Not?”

    The song fills the air and my spirit soars. I hum along and then sing out with abandon. It’s not like anyone can hear me. And if they could, would they listen? No. They always move on to someone else, a finer looking specimen. One with more panache and charisma. Fear holds me back. I want to jump up and say, “here I am!” But I know they will not choose me. So, I sit. I listen. My heart stirs as I hear the song – a song another wrote; a song another sings. And I dream of the day when my song fills the air.

  4. Old Books – the musty smell, yellow pages, faded print of times gone by. A treasure can be found in handwritten notes in the margins to be pondered and wondered about. Brand new books, to be opened and read, savored and kept. Other books, after reading a few pages, consigned to a junk pile, a let down, and a wish the money hadn’t been spent. Library books- so many to choose from, overwhelmed, but excited. One is introduced to new authors and ideas. Once the books are returned to the library, it’s onto the bookstore to purchase new favorites. Books, ebooks – the wonderful new world of being able to purchase them instantly. Good for fiction, but still a need for physical books, to underline, make notes in the margins, quotes to put in a quote book and treasures to put on a bookshelf.

  5. With head tilted back and eyes closed, I can take it in fully. The warmth of sun breaks through black eyelids turned red. It’s between the staccatos of the bird’s calls, that quiet wind, the air. And it’s only when it’s dripping with summer that I truly enjoy it, the mid afternoon air, soaking life right up from the earth. It has a smell, a sound that drenches me in peace and I know this, this world and all its vibrance is a gift.

    Summer is my obsession … and specifically that breath of fresh summer air!

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