A prompt or challenge can be just the helping hand an artist or writer needs to start climbing out of a creative slump. The Glengarry Writers, a small group of creatives who have been collaborating and coaching each other in creative pursuits since 2013, recently challenged themselves with the prompt of “When I look out the window.”  They did not set limits on genre, format, or approach for this exercise, but did keep brevity in mind to satisfy Collectif Creativity readers.  So, without further ado, four different responses to one prompt. 

Brenda Kennedy: When I Look out My Window

When I look out my window most of the upper pane is filled with sky and a few passing clouds. There are some scrubby branches at the top of a tree and a power line diagonally bisects one corner.

The lower pane is busier as it frames the horizon marked by a continuous band of grey, brown, and black trees. Below or in front of that is a field, pale gold in colour and boundaried on one side by a thin grey stripe where an occasional vehicle passes by.

The bottom third of the pane is taken up by a galvanized steel structure. It is very long so I don’t see the ends but mostly the roof as I am looking down on it from the second floor. It has no character except for the milk house which has a gabled roof, a window and a wooden door. It protrudes from the rest of the barn as if to welcome visitors.

Displayed in front of the barn I can see two tractors, a car, a trailer, two wood stoves, a table saw, kennel fencing, a tractor blade, a ladder and a steel tank.

Right now the late afternoon sun is illuminating the field. I wish I could see more of it but the barn is in my way.

 

Barbara Lehtiniemi:  When I Look out the Window

Day 1

When I look out the window I see the anguish

of sullen skies and moody clouds

exchanging desultory looks

and black thoughts

Day 2

When I look out the window I see the anger

thundering shouts and fire-y barbs

fading to rumbles

of simmering discontent

Day 3

When I look out the window I see the sadness

tears drenching windows and heaving sobs around the eaves

sulky leaves drooping

frowning down at the ground

Day 4

When I look out the window I see renewal

fresh-washed skies and tidy-white puffs

birds raise their song

in the clear, calm brilliance

Day 5

When I look out the window I see the parade

floating by on puffs of white

joyous crows flying alongside

exchanging screams of glee

Day 6

When I look out the window I see dancing

trees swaying and stretching their arms to the sky

cedar-frond skirts swishing

grass waving in delight

Day 7

When I look out the window I see the joy

merry blossoms and sunrise splashes

colour! colour! colour!

painted butterflies flung from the artist’s palette

 

Jessica MacLeod:  When I Look out the Window

When I look out the window

I’m looking for air to breathe

When I look out the window

I am doing as I please

When I look out the window

I am settling into me

When I look out the window

air is moving through the trees

sometimes I see, sometimes I feel

reckless dancing of wind and pine

sweeping, flying, bowing, gusting

boisterous, bold, and then

quiet joy can build in me

When I look out the window

grey but free old autumn leaves

race across the winterkilled grass

tumbling along in death with glee

rushing here or dawdling there

rising and falling in cold April air

When I look out the window

to feel the air within me move

I see dark maple branches, 

lines of veins and capillaries, 

bobbing gently but starkly 

against cerulean light 

When I look out the window 

I begin to know again 

through rough winter skins emerge

jewels vivid green or red, 

warm pulses in the spring sun

brilliant sparks of growth and life

Catherine V. Moise: Through the Window

I am five.

Snow falls – giant flakes drift downward, silent, beneath the glow of the streetlamp as I lay snuggled in my bed.

I am seven.

Sun sparkles – summer heat shimmers and dances to the rumble of lawnmowers as I fret in bed, far too old to nap.

I am ten.

Snow drifts – mounds of giant dunes pile halfway up the window pane as I gobble breakfast, afraid to see it disappear.

I am fifteen.

Rain pours – spring showers splat against the window and trail downward, my finger follows the droplets on their journey.

I am thirty.

Children play – laughter sprinkles the air with fun as I watch hidden, heart full, behind a curtain.

I am old.

Seasons change – a shadow wanders through the grass and lays down upon the snow, dances in the leaves and stops to breathe a scented flower. I watch myself go by.

Collectif members, share your creative impulses! Send JPG image(s) of your work/play to cagac.ca@gmail.com . Include up to 100 words per image describing what you did, materials used, inspiration, etc. Maybe share how/if creativity affects your life. Please include size (height by width), title & media for all images.  

Writers – we really want to hear from you too! Send us poetry, lyrics, an excerpt. Please try to include an illustration of some sort. 

Give us informative, inspiring Show & Tell demonstrating the creative mind.