Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Welcome to This Photo Wants to be a Poem. If this is your first time here, let me explain. Originating with Laura Purdie Salas’s weekly writing prompt 15 Words or Less, This Photo is a weekly photo-inspired writing prompt. Each Wednesday I post a photo and invite you to write a small poem in response in the comments section. If you write a poem, please write encouraging comments to other poets by replying to their comments. This is a safe place to play with poetry. No worries. No critics.
This week I am posting a photo that my daughter Maggie took of her 3 year old, my grandson Leo as they were leaving a diner. That’s as much as I want to tell you because when I saw this picture, I thought there’s a story in this photo. You can write the story in your small poem. Have fun with it.
Photo by Maggie Simon LeBlanc
Did you have your coffee? Do you see the door? I’m ready to explore. Won’t you come with me?
Whimsy doesn’t care if you are the driver or the passenger; all that matters is that you are on your way. [Bob Goff]
Just like exercise, drinking water, and calling your mom, whimsy should be a part of your day. But you can’t really create whimsy. If you relax and smell the roses, is that whimsy or wonder? No matter! This is Ruth’s invitation: “Look around your corner of the world and find something whimsical. Take a picture. Write about it. (Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.)”
The weather has turned quite chilly, so I’m not spending much time outside. But yesterday when the recess bell rang, I walked outside to chat with colleagues and shot a photo of the sky. My friend Erica said, “You always stop to smell the roses.” Doesn’t everyone? If you are not one of those people who looks up, smells the cool air, and takes time to notice the wildflowers, then take a little advice from me; start now!
January Sky by Margaret Simon
My grandchildren are an endless source of wonder and whimsy. When I was with them last weekend, my daughter was trying to put hooks on the back of a framed painting. She had gotten out all the tools she needed and put them on the counter. Leo, age 3, loves to work with real people tools. When he started whining that he had to see his mother, I knew what he really wanted was to “help” her fix the frame.
I called to him as he clung to Maggie’s leg crying “I want Mommy!”
“I have a tool here and some yarn that needs fixing.” I held up a crochet needle and a strip of red yarn and a toilet paper tube. He came running, sat down next to me, and patiently wove the yarn in and out of the TP tube. It was a brief moment of whimsy and wonder and his mother was able to finish her project.
Some of us in the PF world are working on poems for a big competition inspired by Taylor Mali’s metaphor dice. I wouldn’t post anything I thought could be a contender but this draft was fun, whimsical practice. (Metaphor roll: my heart, bright, brand new toy)
The Possibility of Death; The chance for Wonder
Hold me, he whines, straining to see what cool tools Mom has gathered for a project. She raises the toddler to sit on the counter-top and walks away to find more supplies. Meanwhile, the coasters in metallic gold look shiny in the toaster. Then “NO!” Daddy saves the boy and the toaster of coasters.
Each day holds the possibility of death.
My heart is like a bright brand new toy, which is to say Mamère has cool tools, too– crochet needle, yarn, and a cardboard tube that temporarily become a magic wand sprinkling sparklers through a telescope.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Join our weekly writing prompt by leaving a poem in the comments or a link to your blog post. You may use this image and the prompt image with a pingback to this site.
Usually on this weekly photo prompt I post a photo from nature. But this week I wanted to try something new. Abstract art by my grandson, Leo. He loves doing art, especially painting. His parents are proud of his work and place it in a gallery on the kitchen wall. Obviously Leo’s daycare teachers have an amazing amount of patience and skill to get this art piece. Is it possible to recognize someone by their handprint?
While I was visiting on Sunday, Leo had a tumble and scraped his finger. We continued our walk to the park, but I noticed he was shaking his hand. He said, “Burns.” I offered to take him back home and clean it up. On the way, he said, “Don’t cry Leo.” I told him crying was OK when he was hurt.
We washed the boo boo, but he did not want a band-aid. On FaceTime Monday, he said, “Mamere, finger better.”
This image may take you to a child you know, a memory of hand print art, or to the idea of spring and rainbows, health and healing. Follow the muse wherever it goes. Leave a small poem in the comments (or a link to your blog post). We appreciate encouraging responses to other writers.
Rainbow Hands by Leo LeBlanc, age 2.
Familiar fingers reach for the sky touch a cloud release a rainbow.
I live on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. I love teaching, poetry, my dog Charlie, my three daughters, and dancing with my husband. This space is where I capture my thoughts, share my insights, and make connections with the world. Welcome! Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 