Concrete Imagery: Leah

Going up to Syracuse, New York every year is one of the most memorable memories I have from my childhood. Every time we went to Syracuse, we would go to Green Train bridge, a metal bridge which spans over a train track. At this bridge, there were ramps on both side of the bridge starting from the rocky and grainy parking lot connecting and leading up to one another that is separated from the actual tracks.  The bridge is surrounded by a fence that has rust taking over. As you walk up the ramps, you get higher and higher from the ground. Then once you get to the top, the bridge goes over the whole width of the old, dirty train tracks. As time goes by, we would just wait for the big, deathly machine to go underneath the green, old bridge. As they go underneath, the wind hits you in the face with a strong force that seems like you are in the middle of a hurricane. When we went this past winter, we looked out over the snowy tracks, holding onto the old, rusty pole.  When the train goes underneath you, you feel like you are invisible, because you would never think that you would be taller than this huge engine, transporter.  The only thing you hear is the big, deathly wheels riding against the rails. This is where my love for trains came from.

Vivid Imagery-Erin Diehl


A relaxing night on the crystal blue waters of the bay. He ran up the edge of the dock to find a lovely girl with her brown hair blowing in the wind like being fanned by a thousand tiny hummingbirds. She sat sitting on the edge of the dock with her long legs hanging over the edge into the freezing water of the bay with no care in the world. The colors in the sky change as if a painter was painting the sky. You can see the sun set in the background showing a peaceful night ahead as if all the animals in the world would make peace for one night. The docks lights start to shine in the setting sun like firefly’s flying around the dock. He sat down next to the girl as the sun goes down above the bay. When you go over to the edge of the dock you can see the colorful fish of orange and blue swimming below the clear blue water but fading away as the sun goes down above. Looking to the right he saw a halo like glow above the girl’s head as she laughed and smiled in the sun setting behind her. Looking to left you could see the house next to the dock becoming a dark shadow only lit up by the glowing light of thousands of tiny round porch lights. Everything was calm as the night was close to an end. Smiles were shared between the girl and the boy. The sound of the rustling leaves in the tree nearby, and the moving of the water in front of them like water swooshing inside a glass. His arm around her allowed her to rest her head on his chest. Closing her eyes and listening to the soft beating of his heart going faster and faster, like a train speeding up on a track whenever she looked into his handsome green eyes. Nothing could have been better as they sat on the edge of the dock.

Creative Imagery

Number 4


Suzuki 230

When I was younger I absolutely loved riding four-wheeler all around my house. It was all I ever wanted to do. One day my dad asked me around the dinner table if I wanted to go with him and a couple other riding. I was so happy I ran around as fast as I could as though I was a mouse running from a cat. Then the day finally came. It was enjoyable other than bouncing on rocks all day long.  After a couple hours of riding even a bumpy four-wheeler ride can make you feel like resting. I slowly clonked out up against my dad’s back, and woke up later to find my dad jumping off the four-wheeler while leaving me on it in the middle of a big puddle. I was calling out to my dad, “dad, dad!” until he explained what was happening. Them my dad tied a rope to another four-wheeler and told me to hang on. The first few feet were intense. I turned the wheels straight as they pushed through the mud. Eventually I was rescued. I gave my dad a big hug to resemble my gratitude. It was all worth it.

Abstract to concrete by Lena

Image result for desert planet

When I finally got out of the space ship I was terrified. All I could see were huge Midnight blue and plants which were reaching the clouds and blocked the view to the sky. Their turquoise leaves were waving in the wind which had a red undertone as i went through this jungle I could hear animals screaming as if they were tortured by the devil himself. I took a few steps further and suddenly the surrounding slowly changed around me and I saw a swirl of colors so bright I had to close my eyes. After a while I stood in the middle of a vast desert. My sight had to adjust to the bright light and my head hurt so badly I imagined a cow trumping on my brain.  I looked down to my knees and saw that my feet had burning marks on them. It looked like a bird with broken wings and I didn’t want to what that had to mean. I only heard rumors about a planet named Crestey which can change surroundings but experience it was just strange. My gaze went along the ocean of red sand and dust. I forgot the screaming animal and started listening to the soothing song of silence. As I looked further away I saw the burning sun slowly disappearing and leaving space for the stars. As I heard the wind waving I turned around and saw a grey wall flying towards me. I looked closer and I realized it were animals which looked like rays made of metal. Behind them I could see the space ship leaving the planet.

Creativity Stations: Narrating a Picture

This image requires alt text, but the alt text is currently blank. Either add alt text or mark the image as decorative. en-fallboyLR24may-Fall Out Boy performs at the Sound Academy in Toronto, Ontario, May 24, 2013. (Aaron Harris/Toronto Star)

We had our hands up in the air throwing “rock on” gestures towards the band members of Fall Out Boy as Patrick Stump sang the chorus to “Save Rock and Roll”. Elton John joined him as the crowd’s cheering got louder. Orange stage lights scanned the almost endless rows of people in the crowd, they were so bright you could only make out the silhouettes of the band members and Elton John. This was it, this was the peak of the concert. Fans screamed the lyrics loudly as the Patrick got ready to sing the last lyric, once the song came to an end, the lights died down. “Thank you!” Patrick shouted as the guitar ceased it’s strumming and the crowd’s cheers quickly died, only to rise up from the dead as they started the next song. Girls wouldn’t stop screaming about how much they wanted Pete Wentz to marry them. When the chorus to “Young Volcanoes” started up, Patrick jumped off the stage, breaking into a stage dive, surfing the crowd. The fans felt so blessed that their hands touched his back and they wouldn’t stop screaming to one another about it, the only bad thing about helping Patrick stage surf, was that, whenever someone lifted their hands up to grab him, you could smell the sweat. After the concert came to an end, fans got in line to receive and watch Fall Out Boy sign autographs. 

Concrete imagery

Prompt 4: Dream – As I started dreaming I felt like I was ripped from my own body. It was like a strange force pulled on me until I started to fly. But I wasn’t flying, I was swimming. I was deep under water, and it was dark. I looked up and it seemed to be storming above the water. I could breathe but knew I had to get to the surface anyway. I swam up and up and up and the water got warmer and warmer until I reached the top. I popped my head up and took a deep breathe. I swallowed some water but it was sweet like nectar, not salty. There were white flowers with floating as far as the eye could see in the water. It wasn’t storming and was quite beautiful. It was incredibly sunny and warm, sort of tropical but not. I saw an island with only sand about 10 feet long and 3 feet wide I swam to it. I walked down the island and as I did I looked back and saw my foot prints along with another pair. But there was no one there. I turned back and just gazed off into the distance. Infinite ocean filled with flowers. It was beautiful. I remember starring at it for a while until a large gust of wind blew against me and it was very cold. It got gradually harder, and harder until it blew back into the water. I looked up at the sky and it was the truest blue I had ever seen. I started to sink in the water, fast. I looked down and saw myself asleep in my bed. I was moving very fast until I seemed to land back in my bed. I jolted awake, and that’s when it ended.

Vivid Imagery – Rachel Hungerford

The scene opens on a dimly lit bar. The sconces on the wall look like spheres of honey in the twilight. There’s a sax crooning on stage—but even those fluorescent beams are dim in this place’s atmosphere. It’s as though time has slowed in the midst of eveningfall.

There’s a girl—dark curls swept up, big pearl earrings, flashy diamond necklace—see her? No, not her, the other one. The one talking to the barkeep. Yeah, there you go. Go over there.

You stammer out a hello, and she spares you a sharp glance. “Put it on my tab,” you hear her say. She’s got a strong accent—Boston, maybe? What the heck’s she doing here, you think.

“What business?” she’s asking you. You’re still taking her in. Green eyes to match the emerald of her dress.

“Just wanted a dance,” you say, and you’re not even sure if that’s what you want.

She cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Whatever,” she concedes. She takes your shoulder. You take her waist.

Her dress shimmers as you sway. The solo switches to the piano. “Who’s the band?” you ask.

Her eyes cut to the stage behind you. You’re sorry for the loss of her gaze. “Don’t know,” she grumbles. “You’re not much for conversation, are you?”

You’re a little stung. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

She shrugs, a graceful little bounce of her shoulders. The lavender-tinted light plays with the hue of her skin. “Where’re you from?” she asks you.

“Right here,” you say.

She gives a harsh laugh. Your eyes cut to her red lips. “From the bar?”

Your hand tightens on her shoulder. “New York,” you grind out.

Her smile is knife-like. “Boston,” she replies, inclining her head in a way that’s just sarcastic enough to be self-deprecating.

So you were right in your first impression. “What are you doing here?”

The music crescendos into full big band, and she keeps her mouth shut for a while. Finally, when the song ends, she says, “I wanted a change of pace.”

“So you thought dancing and drinks would help?” you ask, quiet under the cracks of applause.

Her face contorts in disgust. It’s a little disturbing, to see something beautiful twisted. “Not much of drinks,” she murmurs, and then, stepping closer so that the toe of her shoe falls on yours, “and not much of dancing.”

She’s gone before you can reply, somehow disappeared into the haze of the bar, but it’s a beat or two before your breath comes back.

The scarlet of the EXIT sign is the only clear thing in this place, so you follow the clarity into the near-approaching night.



Concrete Imagery – Creative Stations

Stefan G

Station 4

Surprisingly, I can remember this day in rich detail even though it happened so long ago. I was either four or five years old, very young, too young to be playing in the midget soccer league.  I was watching one of the games. Everything was going normally; the little kids were just giving it their all and trying to get their little feet to kick the ball far. Suddenly, out of nowhere this one kid just starts crying. Not just crying, he was balling his eyes out. I was wondering what is wrong that is making this kid cry so much. This lady then comes over and lifts up the back of his shirt and realizes that he was stung by a bee. I am pretty sure that this is where I developed my fear of bees. I have also never been stung by one, so I never knew the true pain. The only image I have of a bee sting is that kid crying like the world had just ended. Now I can’t imagine what it feels like to be stung by one. Every time I see one I try to act calm, but if it approaches I quickly run in the other direction. People like to say that if you don’t bother the bees, then they won’t bother you. This is wrong! I don’t do anything to these creatures but they swarm to me like I am some sort of magnet. In fact, I try to stay away as far as possible from them. This memory from my childhood has led to this theory that explains why I am afraid of bees.

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Anastasia Mercer

I’m sitting at a fancy table with a white cotton tablecloth draped over the sides. There are multiple different forks next to my shiny glass plate and a wine glass right at the top of my table setting. The lights are dimmed slightly with a golden glow coming from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There is a stage in front of us all where there is a black grand piano and a set of drums and a man playing a saxophone. Over the slight chatter in the room, you can hear the music playing from all these instruments. People are smiling and watching the musicians with awe. Everybody wearing an evening gown or an expensive tux. Women wearing shiny earrings that hang from their ears and almost to their shoulders with their hair in up-dos that probably took hours to do. Wearing dark red lipstick sitting next to their husbands who are smiling and sitting with them with their hands in their wives’ laps. People are just enjoying the music until their food comes out.This image requires alt text, but the alt text is currently blank. Either add alt text or mark the image as decorative.

Concrete imagery- dream/nightmare Adin Martin

I wake in a grassy field with gently rolling ground, endless in every direction until it meets a blue sky on the horizon. I look up and see winged people in the air, people I know and love are soaring in the sky like birds, gracefully, purposefully. I leap to join them with my own wings that I suddenly have but my smile fades as I slowly glide back to the ground. The flecks of white in the sky seem to collect around me, a funnel beckoning me upward. I jump again, this time with a determined tilt to my jaw and a sharp angle to my wingtips, but once more awkwardly float down. I see individual faces now, my girlfriend, my closest school friends. They circle at the bottom of the cyclone of white and I reach for their grasping hands, pushing off the ground once more. Their hands reach my shoulders, but we seem like oil and water, their fingers slick against my skin and unable to find purchase. Once more I tumble down, this time the impact hurts. They circle faster, the effort twisting their faces into pain. They aren’t really flying now, but being pulled along in a current so that they dance like tangled marionettes. The questing cyclone of white pulls itself back off into the sky, my friends seemingly having forgotten me despite the protests of one or two. I sit down, and as soon as I relax, the grass around me fades, the life draining out of it in an emerald stream towards the sky. My wings fall off, two formless hunks of melting off-white that no longer belong to me and burn to my touch. I am cold, huddling up with my knees pressed against my face to try and preserve some vestige of warmth, of life. The now brown landscape seems a stark contrast to the pristine sky. The flock of people moves away across the heavens, and the sun goes with them. I sit, cold and alone until the darkness fades away into the ringing of my morning alarm.