Once again, I am inspired by Molly Hogan’s photography. She starts each day with a blank canvas, or what would have been once called an empty roll of film. And she opens her lens for discoveries and wonder.
This photo appeared last week in my Facebook feed. The whimsy of it grabbed me. Molly thinks the duckling is a common eider, not a duck we have in the deep south.
Please join me in writing a small poem today, inspired by this image. Leave your poem in the comments. Read other poems and comment. Come back to read any comments you receive. Here there is no judgement; we hold each other up.
Summer is here with peaceful mornings before temperatures rise. This image popped up on my Instagram feed. My friend, Jen Gray, owns a farm in Breaux Bridge, LA where she rents two houses for artist retreats. Unfortunately, I haven’t made my usual retreat there this year. I miss this place.
Jen’s photographic eye fascinates me. This photo has so much to offer, a foggy sunrise and dewdrop spider web. What will you write about? Please leave a small poem in the comments and comment on other poems. Thanks for stopping by.
What remains from a slow walk in the field? Dewdrop tears for a peaceful world.
Margaret Simon, flash draft
A note about process: While writing my flash draft, I typed in about 21 words. In cutting it to 15, I found what the poem really wanted to say. There’s something to be said for small poems.
This week I chose one of my own photographs. I’ve struggled to put into words what I am feeling, but I can walk for peace. I can trace letters on a white board. I can be part of the change.
Whether you attended a march or not, I know your feelings run deep. Poets are like that. We feel things. We notice. We process. We write.
Take a minute, not too many, then pick up your pen and scribble 15 words or fewer, maybe more, in response to this photo. Go for your first thought. See where it takes you. Please do not leave without writing a few encouraging words to another writer. Thanks!
Before the storm, we listened to passionate words, a list of names, a prayer. Then we walked with each other.
Photographs fascinate me. How a beam of light can change a perspective. How switching to black and white (which can now be done with a click of a button) can focus on a single aspect.
My friend and writing group partner, Molly Hogan, loves taking photos in the early morning. I love the morning, too, but in Maine, I imagine mornings are quite cold. Molly embraces the cold and manages to capture amazing detail in her photographs. She often posts photos on her blog and will write a poem to them. For a treat, click on over and scroll.
This week she posted this photo on Facebook. It’s dandelion season and for Molly, that means lots of photo study of the fascinating flower. In this photo, she took a close up of the dandelion with dew still present and shifted it to black and white. The effect is perfect for a poem or two.
Dandelion by Molly Hogan, used with permission.
We are all stardust making our way to sparkling.
Margaret Simon, draft
Leave your own small poem in the comments. Please respond to other writers. We are all in this together.
This photo appeared on my Facebook feed from local artist and children’s book author Paul Schexnayder. Paul has an ironic sense of humor, especially in the everyday. His photo reflects that sense.
Mary’s Lizard by Paul Schexnayder
When I asked Paul if I could use this photo for a poem, he said, “I was hoping you’d ask? I almost asked you to write one!!!”
Please consider leaving your own small poem in the comments. Leave a comment for a few participants. Fun writing practice to wake up your creative self. No pressure. No judgement. Thanks for coming by.
A lonely lizard seeks shade in the arms of Mary. She stoically abides.
The weeks are whizzing by, even with staying at home every day. At first the pace was slow, but now a rhythm has set in, and it’s hard to believe that Thursday is here again.
My husband usually has little to say about my writing life. But when we were canoeing on Mother’s Day, he saw an old cabin and commented, “This photo wants to be a poem.” Oh, yeah? I guess I better take the picture then.
Every time we go out on the bayou and paddle, something new draws our attention. I’m sure this old cabin, storage shed, whatever has been there a long time. We only just noticed. I’m inclined to think that this place may need a whole story, maybe even a ghost story. You can decide.
Leave a small poem in the comments and be sure to comment on a few other responders. Building a community of writers is a goal for this weekly prompt.
The place out back, one room, wood-slatted floors, straw broom for sweeping roaches… home.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
My feelings are all over the place. Starting the day later because I can sleep longer wakes me rested, ready. A walk outside on a perfect spring morning energizes. But then the weight of all that is different, all that is not happening, not normal comes with cleaning out a classroom or picking up items at the store or watching the news.
Poetry helps me cope. In my email inbox, on my Instagram feed, or on the bedside table, I can find a poem that soothes, comforts, or inspires me.
On Twitter this month, a group of us teacher-poets are writing #Poemsof Presence. These poems capture a single moment in time. They honor the present without regard or worry over the future or past. I can find connection and hope in this task. If you are a poem dabbler, join us.
This poem by ADA LIMÓN has come across my path a few times. Today from Gratefulness.org. I love how the title Instructions on Not Giving Up tells me what she wants me to learn from nature. And the poem fills me with a beautiful image.
More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees that really gets to me.
This Photo Wants to be a Poem is a low pressure, quick writing prompt I post each week. Consider joining in the playful poetry today. Leave a comment with 15 words or less structured as a poem. Write encouraging comments on other responses. That’s it. No judgement. Just be present.
Speaking of being present, a group of poet dabblers are writing a poem of presence each day of May on Twitter using the hashtag #PoemsofPresence. This grew out of my Ditty of the Month interview. You can also write a poem of presence on the padlet that Michelle is curating.
Today’s photo was taken last week when we were out on a family walk with Leo, who is 17 months today. He is learning about mischief, and he took Baby Thomas’s hat from his stroller and put it on and ran. It was all such a fun game. I was lucky to capture this shot in the multitude of photos I took.
Catch me if you can! photo by Margaret Simon
Let me run in the sun. Hat askew, can’t catch you.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Friday, Michelle Heindrich Barnes lovingly posted an interview with me over at Today’s Little Ditty. With her Reader’s Spotlights, she asks us to prompt a writing challenge. I wrote this challenge:
The practice of writing poetry is an exercise in mindfulness. To be open to the universe of words and to put them down on a page is nothing short of a miracle. Mary Oliver said, “There is no nothingness—With these little atoms that run around too little for us to see. But, put together, they make something. And that to me is a miracle. Where it came from, I don’t know. But it’s a miracle, and I think it’s enough to keep a person afloat.”
Write a mindful poem about the present moment.
To my pleasant surprise, Heidi Mordhorst and Mary Lee Hahn created a Twitter hashtag #PoemsofPresence to invite poets to write a small poem every day in May. The idea has gathered some following. Michelle created a graphic.
The last of my monarch chrysalises emerged. Last week, I successfully released 7 new monarchs into the sky. My friend and neighbor, who is also a teacher and a photographer, asked to come over to photograph a release. Here’s one of her amazing photos.
Photo by Lory Landry
Monarch Release
Fly, friend, fly! while I walk and walk watching your wings glow like the sunset.
During this pandemic stay-at-home time, new symbols are emerging. One of them is the banana, a staple in many homes is now ripening into home cooked banana bread. Repurposing food is comforting. Creating a recipe from scratch gives you something to do, something wholesome to accomplish.
Today’s photo appeared on my Facebook feed. A friend and neighbor, Susan Edmunds posted a photo that captured a light beam coming through the window. She gave me permission to publish the photo this week as a poetry muse.
Bananas by Susan Hester Edmunds
A glow of light nourishes, comforts, sustains health and hope.
Margaret Simon, draft
Write your own small poem in the comments. Please comment to a few other poets.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 