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Welcome back to This Photo Wants to be a Poem, a low stress way to wake up your creativity by writing and sharing a short poem. Please leave your poem in the comments and encourage other writers by writing comments on other poems. We are not looking for brilliance here, just a playful way to be writers together.

by Molly Hogan

This photo seems to want to be a whole story. Who was here? What was he or she doing? Could it be an artist’s still life?

Buried Treasure

With shovel and ax.
we poke and dig
while gold lies
in the search.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Karen Edmisten.

Linda Baie shared a video on Facebook that I immediately took up as a writing prompt. It’s a beautiful short film by Louie Schwartzberg. (See link below to watch the video)

I took a quote from the young girl at the beginning and made a golden shovel. “The path could lead to a beach or something.”

Cultivate a response to the
day; open your eyes and a path
could be there, weather could
change, and lead
to water, to
a new way to see, a
gift as joyful as a beach,
waves blessing you or
moving you to touch something.

Margaret Simon, draft response
Photo by Margaret Simon, Santa Rosa Beach Florida

Kathy Mazurowski is the winner of the book giveaway for After Dark: Poems About Nocturnal Animals by David L. Harrison, illustrated by Stephanie Laberis. Click the link to read how I used the book with my students and wrote nonfiction poems.

Take a minute to write a quick 15 word poem to this week’s This Photo Wants to be a Poem. This week is a beautiful photo by Molly Hogan.

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Poetry Friday Round-up is here today!

Poetry Friday Round-up is here today!

deception pass 1

This summer I have been thinking a lot about images, how images can fuel writing and creativity. I made a six-image memoir in response to a prompt by Kevin Hodgson on the Make Learning Connected site. Kim Douillard’s posts on Thinking Through my Lens make me think about the images I take responding to a theme. This week, Kim wrote about water, “Like water, there is power in writing. Power to connect, to heal, to think and reflect. We sometimes forget that writing in unexpected places creates new urgency and agency for our writing. So go outside, find a place by a river, on the curb, under a tree, or even sit on the car bumper and see what writing comes when you change your lens.”

Deception rocks

I climbed the high rock on the beach at Deception Pass on Whitbey Island, Washington on Tuesday. I took my notebook with me, a little pocket-sized one. Here is my journal entry:

You have to know the tides. Deception is easy looking off at the horizon reflecting on blue water, showing Mt. Baker–snowtopped snowball. The rocky beach offers smooth stones for your collection, stones of every color & size. We don’t have rocks like these at home in the south where the beaches are sand & shells, Gulf, not Pacific. Yet, I can close my eyes & breathe in the salty air, listen to the soft hum of the waves.
Beaches are like this–offering to us along with a sense of adventure, danger, of deception, the feeling of comfort, peace, of all being right with the world. I have my place on top of this huge jutting black rock. I can see Canada from here. I taste the seaweed & salt.
God wants us to marvel every day, to be alert, pay attention. Be still and know. I am grateful for this gift of sea, air, smooth stones, and a space to sit, reflect, write, and know that even though I am a mere speck of sand or a single stone, I have a name.

deception pass 3

This entry became a poem for Carol Varsalona’s Gallery Collection “Reflect with Me Summer Serenity.” This is only draft three, so you can offer revision suggestions.

Deception Pass, Whidbey Island, July, 2014

The clouds always keep us guessing,
so you have to know the tides.

Deception is easy, looking only
at the horizon line. Sometimes masked as a cloud,

the snow-topped mountain in the distance
deceives us, too.

The rocky beach becomes my foot hold,
a path of colorful stones washed smooth

by the constant lapping of the water.
I close my eyes to the salty air, listen

to the hum-swish of waves crashing the shore,
hear in them the possibility of danger.

Guided by the presence of the moon,
the sea gives and takes.

In the grit on my tongue, I can taste
the unleavened bread of sacrifice.

Be still and know is all I must do.
Marvel at the wonders of rock and air and sea.

Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Join in the Poetry Friday fun with your link. Use Mr. Linky. Don’t forget to come back and check out the links. I hope to comment to everyone (at least that is my goal.)

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