6/26/08 image prompt – soup kitchen witch

Hello everyone. Since we never really know what the day will bring (or when we will knock off and go home), I am putting this Thursday image prompt up early and offering both the original and a later (scribble witch) version of the image. Take your pick!

Have a taste my dear… from Tina, author of the poetry blog, tinatrivet

picking up the ladle, I smile at you… sunday scribblings from gautami tripathy, author of the blog, firmly rooted

. Soup Kitchen Witch, from Brad, the creator of the blog, Maekitso’s Cafe

. A Short-Short: the Soup Kitchen Witch, from Michael, author of the blog, daybookery

This entry was posted in angels, art, collaborative storybook, ecphrasis, ekphrasis, faith, image prompts, light, myths, oil painting, painting, picture prompts, poem, poetry, portraits, prose poem, soup kitchen witch, stories. Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to 6/26/08 image prompt – soup kitchen witch

  1. johemmant says:

    I love both, though the first is that tiny bit better.
    So no news then? I feel for Naomi, the last few days of waiting are so frustrating. My first came on his due date, my second was a week late……fingers crossed today’s the day. And a big hello to you *smile*


  2. johemmant says:

    Wwww, I got distracted mid comment and didn’t finish my first kitchen…..tiny bit better cos you can see the wings and I love angels……I know a few too *wink*.


  3. johemmant says:

    Right, third go, I swear to god I’m not pissed, I’ve been drinking nothing but coffee, and I’m sure I typed sentence above, not kitchen, I mean kitchne makes no sense at all……sigh. I will read this carefully before pressing send. Check. Sorry for blocking up your intray….


  4. Tina Trivett says:

    LOVE the painting….will be a fun one. 🙂


  5. Arkay says:

    Hey Rick! No word on the dough poppin out of the oven yet?

    Well, here’s a tiny distraction in the meantime:


    Tag, you’re it.

    Mostly ’cause I’m now 3 weeks behind in adding to the storybook.


  6. Okay, so the scribbles turned into wings. Hm. Okay, so I’m workin’ on it.


  7. johemmant says:

    Just had a weird, weird flash of baby coming……I’ve got that feeling….fingerscrossed.


  8. rick mobbs says:

    baby vibes are strong here, too. I’m off to work but I think there a good chance I’ll be called back. Thanks for your warm wishes. You guys will be the first to know…

    xox Rick


  9. Tina Trivett says:

    Here is mine…


    Good wishes on the new wee one… 🙂


  10. I am waiting for the news!

    Meanwhile, my post:

    picking up the ladle, I smile at you

    PS: And I am G-A-U-T-A-M-I which is pronounced Ga-oo-ta-mee!



  11. angryballerina says:

    omg that SHIT IS FUCKING EVIL!


  12. Pingback: Soup Kitchen Witch « Maekitso’s CafĂ©

  13. Brad says:

    I really enjoyed the release this image gave me. Thanks Rick.

    Mine’s up here 🙂



  14. marlowe44 says:

    It is refreshing to see the scope of your art, your talent. This cook may be a bit witchy, but she is also wistful, wise, and is creating perhaps a brew of white light, of succor, or hope. I prefer the first version, with the horns of whiteness standing behind her, the cosmic horseshoe. If she be a witch, then she be a white one, a good one, a being of goodness, humor, and positive projections. The second version kicks the image into the realm of MATRIX, into sci-fi, fantasy, and some darkness. Today I prefer the light.

    Glad to hear your gig on the movie set is keeping you busy. It you were only sitting at home, you could be a burden to the bun and the oven. What kind of film will it be? Perhaps you have already shared this, and I missed it.

    Look at Alex Shapiro’s blogsite when you get a moment. She writes about the wonders of pre-relationships, as many of us get to “know” each other on this cyberscope of reality. Interesting what blogging and commenting has done for me over this last year. It is like returning to college, or joining a new club, fraternity, or place of worship. It is like attending a Timothy Leary concert, and somehow the rant makes sense.


    ***perhaps you could use my opening paragraph, or pieces of many of the brilliant comments that show up on your site, in your storybook collaborative, as specific responses to your art.


  15. marlowe44 says:


    Hey, man I must return to the scene of the art. Your image stuck with me this morning, and I needed to look at it further, more closely; for I feel like I knew this woman, in this or some other dimension.

    Leeks and Love

    She stands there
    short and stoop-shouldered,
    the large white chef’s hat
    softly squatting
    on her small head;
    her silver locks long
    and pulled back
    into a soft bun,
    tied gently
    with a garland
    of white daisies—
    her large blue eyes twinkling
    with kindness,
    with eyebrows raised
    in anxious anticipation
    of you bravely
    taking a taste
    of her amorphous white bubbling brew,
    thrust forward
    in her strong old hands
    in that smooth wooden spoon;
    an aged face,
    but the skin is smooth,
    almost youthful
    and only carrying
    shallow wrinkles.

    She looks familiar,
    like a maiden aunt,
    or your stepfather’s
    cooking joyfully
    in a Cajun frying pan.

    Yes, this cook may appear
    a bit witchy
    in the deep shadows
    of her kitchen,
    but no,
    for me she could just as easily be
    wistful, wise, and wonderful
    as she brewed up
    a frothy batch
    of white light,
    of succor,
    of hope;
    offering up
    vanilla dreams
    and tapioca textures.

    So relax
    and fully comprehend
    the tall horns
    of whiteness,
    the cosmic horseshoe,
    standing tall
    behind her—
    if she be a witch,
    she be a white one,
    a unique entity
    of goodness,
    and positive resonance
    radiating love
    hidden in the heat
    of her cuisine.

    I tell you
    there is nothing here
    that smacks of darkness,
    newt’s eyes,
    lizard’s tail,
    raven feathers,
    or cat’s whiskers.

    She offers up
    a steaming spoon
    of the whitest puree,
    and I will put it
    to my lips,
    and take a taste,
    for today I prefer
    the light.

    Glenn Buttkus June 28, 2008


  16. rick mobbs says:

    Thank you, everyone. Angry, could you expand on that a little bit?

    Gautami and Brad, I’ll post your pieces when I get through with work.

    Glen, try posting your poem on your site and then letting us know here when it is up. I’ll then link to it so others can find you. Thanks for all the ideas.

    Peace, everyone. I’m off to the land of smoke and mirrors.

    As to that baby… hopefully we’ll know more later today. Will keep you updated, for sure.

    xox Rick


  17. marlowe44 says:

    Goddamn the Pusherman, and those turds, the cyber gnomes! My comment shuffled off to Buffalo, or Bumpfach, Egypt, for all I know. I had mentioned that newcomer newt Mobbs is taking her/his sweet time for the grand entrance to this plane. I warned you about getting smoke in your eyes, and to pay very little attention to your image in mirrors, cuz it is only the pale reflection of your spiritual meat. I mentioned that I had posted LEEKS AND LOVE already on FEEL FREE TO READ, as well as both your THE DAUGHTER, and THE DANCER IN MY BELLY which seemed prophetic and lovely.



  18. christine says:

    I love how she’s looking right at me, with a sparkle in her eye. She knows she’s made a concoction worthy of…. that’s the mystery!

    I did come by to hear of news about the bambino. How does a baby know it’s time? That’s another mystery. I remember staring out the window, still pregnant five days after the due date. Very frustrating. Played a lot of Scrabble, went for a lot of walks.

    I’ve heard that pizza, beer, and sex are good for starting up labor.


  19. rantingraj says:



  20. daybookery says:

    I stumbled here haphazardly just this morning and thought it could be fun to write to your prompt. It came out like superstitious factoids and there’s no story arc, but I found it just excessively diverting and good fun.

    “Hers was a charitable smile that was shaped like the moon – and she had eyes like no man. She was rune-etched by wrinkles but not by hard time, but hypnotic and brushstroked and mad, and when she laughed her witch-cackle and she threw back her head you could read fortunes in the crick of her neck,” etc.

    I posted it here:


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