This Photo Wants to be a Poem | Reflections on the Teche

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Found Art

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Kim Douillard, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triolet form on December 13, 2023| 6 Comments »

Kim Douillard lives near San Diego, California. She teaches first graders using art and writing. I’m sure she is a kid at heart after I saw this image on Instagram. A beach snowman? Muddy monster? With a stick as a nose and seashell eyes, I found it/him/her engaging. Today I will introduce Cousin It to my students and hope their imaginations will ignite and find a poem. Where does your imagination go? Write a small poem and share it in the comments. We are a caring community of writers. Respond to others with encouraging words.

I gave myself the challenge of writing a triolet this morning. I find that working in form can draw out something new, maybe even weird, that’s been buried under the surface of my judgement.

Champion

In the shape of soil and mud
lives a creature of the night
who transforms as we should
from a shape of soil and mud
to survivors of the flood
holding roots in hope of flight
we bear the shape of soil and mud
living creatures day and night.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: The Rear View

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, country roads, sunrise on December 6, 2023| 19 Comments »

December is a time of diminishing light. Days are getting shorter. Sunrise is later in the morning. Sunset is earlier in the afternoon. The change of light leads us to winter solstice with more darkness, cooler temperatures. Do you feel the change? Does your mood change? What does diminishing light in the rear view mirror symbolize to you?

Rear view window on a country road (Coteau Road)

Driving on the Coteau Road
rushing toward my day,

I looked in the rear view mirror,
noticing the rising light.

Beacon to feel the past
push me toward future
with healing hope.
Margaret Simon, draft

My poetry writing happens early in the morning when the hum of the heater makes me want to pull the covers up and sleep. For This Photo, I draft directly into the post. I accept whatever comes. I hope you will give yourself a moment of meditation and write a small poem draft in the comments. Meet yourself where you are, without judgement. Leave your draft in the comments and encourage each other as writers who give a piece of themselves to the page.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Perspective Moon

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, luc bat poetry form, moon poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on November 29, 2023| 44 Comments »

Leigh Anne Eck has been naming moons. I was taken by this photo she posted and her commentary about it:

I have been naming skies for a few months now. Typically I capture the morning sky on my way to school. Tonight I captured this one on my way home from a basketball game.

I have named it “perspective.” Sometimes when we look at something from another perspective, our eyes and hearts become open to new possibilities! I hope you see something with new eyes this week!
Leigh Anne (Facebook post)

When I was walking in the early morning on Tuesday, the sky was a deep blue with the moon glowing its heart out before the sunrise. We are often mused by the moon, I know, but I hope you will write another time and another about this mysterious and magical being. Leave a small poem in the comments and write encouraging words for other writers. Your vulnerability is safe here.

I’ve been listening to The Book of Common Courage by K. J. Ramsey. She writes poems and prayers as she is going through a healing journey. I loved the term “holy margins” and borrowed it here to write a luc bat short verse.

Sometimes clouds bloom above
clouding the image of your light.
An orb of love this night
you fold in my tears, tight and true
with holy margins blue.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Sunset Photo

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Ada Limón, Ethical ELA, Golden Shovel, Kim Johnson, small poems, sunset, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on November 22, 2023| 20 Comments »

While I was in Ohio for NCTE, my husband sent me this photo of a harvested sugarcane field under an awe-inspiring sunset. He described it to me this morning, “It covered the whole world!” Ethical ELA held its Open Write this week. Kim Johnson prompted us to write a poem using Ada Limón’s poem Give Me This. I wrote a golden shovel about this photo using a striking line: “Why am I not allowed delight?”

So many sunset photos, I wonder why

attraction to orange, pink, purple sky is what I am

with you. Loving this mirror–I

with you, noticing. We are not

the same, yet we’re always allowed

a sunset delight.
Margaret Simon, after Ada Limón

I invite you to write an ekphrastic poem about this photo. Imagine the bigness of the sky, the awe-inspiring sunset, a field of brown…wherever the muse takes you. I hope you take a moment away from your Thanksgiving preparations to write. Come back if you can to comment on others’ poems with encouraging words. Most of all, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Just a Rock?

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged On Being, ordinary object, Padreg O Tuama, pantoum, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on November 15, 2023| 8 Comments »

Rock through a jewel loupe, by Margaret Simon

I discovered The Private Eye Project years ago and have a set of jewel loupes in my classrooms. For our nature field trip last week, I brought them with us. One of our goals was to look at nature from different perspectives, as art and as explorers.

I took this picture of a rock one of my students shared with me. There is a whole kingdom inside one sedimentary rock. Use your imagination to write about this ordinary object in an extraordinary way. Make a list of what the rock looks like. You can create an extended metaphor poem. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers.

I used a formula for writing a pantoum about an ordinary object by PÁDRAIG Ó TUAMA from On Being.

A rock can be a kingdom
if you look through a jewel loupe.
Pick a small rock on a walk
before you embark on a new journey.

If you look through a jewel loupe,
this rock seems insignificant,
but you can embark on a journey.
If you look closely, you may find yourself.

This rock may seem insignificant
but a student thought it a gift.
If you look closely, you may find yourself.
When I hold it tight, I feel warmth.

A student gave me a gift–
a small rock.
When I hold it tight, I feel warmth.
A rock can be a kingdom.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Ancient Door

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Jefferson Island, luc bat poetry form, Rip Van WInkle Gardens on November 8, 2023| 16 Comments »

Garden Door, by Margaret Simon (located on Jefferson Island, Rip Van Winkle Gardens)

Last Saturday I attended a silent retreat at Jefferson Island. I wrote about the retreat here. This photo is an ancient doorway to nowhere. It is set in the gardens near an old wishing well. There is not much need for context today. Meander in your mind and find this doorway. Where does it lead you? Is it a place of rest? Is it a challenge to pass through? Is it guarded, or left open?

I recently came upon a new to me form called a luc bat.

The luc bat is a Vietnamese poetic form that means “six-eight.” In fact, the poem consists of alternating lines of six and eight syllables. This poem is interesting in its rhyme scheme that renews at the end of every eight-syllable line and rhymes on the sixth syllable of both lines. You can find a graphic on the Writer’s Digest. My own model draft took longer than usual to write. Rhymezone is my friend.

Retreat Door

Today I release need–
Unmet purpose to feed my worth.
This ancient door will birth
new sight into our earth’s strong care.
Inner eyes long to share
wisdom carried from there to here.
Look in my new seer,
a vision that is clear and pure.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Golden Rod

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #haiku, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, #Thisphotowantstobeapoem on November 1, 2023| 21 Comments »

I wrote about finding beauty yesterday for Slice of Life and Spiritual Journey. Along with the post, I wrote a haiku based on the scientific name for Goldenrod. I enjoy writing with word play. For the haiku, I embedded the name into the words of the poem. The form is similar to taking a word for a walk posted on Ethical ELA here by Anna J. Small Roseboro. She suggested taking an abstract word and writing it as the first word in the first line, second word in the next line, and so on until the word becomes the last word in the line. Six lines of six words each.

Of course, as always, you are welcome to enter this prompt in any way that works for you. Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses.

Solidago*

Meadow soul soother
I turn toward your day light
Don’t go. Don’t go.
Margaret Simon

*scientific name for goldenrod, solidus meaning “to make whole”

This is the poem I wrote for the word walk prompt:

Sympathy begins with sad eye contact.
Then sympathy reads your sad thoughts.
I express sympathy for your loss.
You may scorn sympathy as insincere.
But I see you, sympathy, walking
along the worn road of sympathy.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Sky Octopus

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, clouds, small poems, sunset on October 25, 2023| 32 Comments »

In her weekly newsletter, Maggie Smith asked the question, “What can a poem do?” Her conclusion is a poem can remind us of us, of who we are as humanity. We need poems now as much as ever. When times are hard, look to the sky and see poetry.

Last weekend while my husband was driving us home one evening, we saw the sky light up at sunset with this amazing cloud formation that disappeared into the night within minutes. I rolled down the window to take the picture. I saw an octopus. What do you see?

Oh, octopus, octopus of the sky,
what do you see as you pass by?
A world of creatures down below
Chasing time and on the go.

Oh octopus, octopus of the sky,
what wisdom lies in your eyes?
I stop to watch your tendril glow,
breathe in deep, heart beats slow.
Margaret Simon, draft

Take a minute to breathe and see what you may see. Use your imagination to tell a story with a poem. Respond to others who are writing vulnerably today. Encourage with your comments.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Niagara Falls

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #writeout, Emily Lee Luan, Nature poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on October 18, 2023| 15 Comments »

For Fall break, my husband and I visited Niagara Falls. This trip was a bucket list item for me. The Falls did not disappoint. They are an amazing feat of nature, the kind that cannot be captured in a photo or video. You have to be there to hear the sounds of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water falling each second. I took a lot of pictures, but when I look at them now, they pale in comparison to the real live event. I’m so happy we did this trip. I highly recommend it. If you are planning to go, let me know. I have suggestions.

This morning’s Poem-a-Day from the Academy of American Poets was by Emily Lee Luan The warble of melting snow is the river. I borrowed her form for my own poem. I find that using a form helps me get out of my head and allowing creativity to do its magic.

The chant of rocks is the falls (after Emily Lee Luan)

is the rush of gravity
is the impulse of water*
is the pull of a mother… child
is the everlasting light of the sun
is the building of power
is the electricity of ages
is the reflection of rainbows
is the promise of peace
is the waking of a dream
is the shift of river
to fall.
Margaret Simon, draft

When you are inspired to write, please leave your poem in the comments so we can share. Write encouraging comments for other writers.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Mossy Sunrise

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #writeout, haiku, small poems, Spanish moss on October 11, 2023| 25 Comments »

Most mornings I take a walk in my neighborhood. As the days get shorter, I am usually headed home by the time the sun begins to rise. The neighbor’s oak tree drapes over the street and I was drawn to the mossy tendrils hanging. It’s getting close to Halloween, so spooky is on the brain. But maybe this image isn’t spooky at all. Maybe it’s comforting, a sign of almost home, a signature of southern oaks.

My students and I have been writing short poems, haiku and six-word stories, the first two days of Write Out. What I’ve realized and shared with them is that short forms mean every word has to count. On the Write Out poetry page, I found a video by Rich Novack about found poetry. He suggests using nonfiction text from National Park trails to collect words for poetry. For my poem, I googled Spanish Moss and collected a list of words to use in a haiku.

Mother nature braids
her harmless silver ghost–
Sunrise silken shade
Margaret Simon, draft

Consider joining me and my students in writing outside today, observing nature. Perhaps you will find a text to build a poem from. Have fun! Leave your poems in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

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