photo poem | Reflections on the Teche

Posts Tagged ‘photo poem’

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Spiral Stair

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Bayou Landing, fibonacci poem, photo poem, spiral staircase on July 3, 2024| 20 Comments »

My grandson Thomas “Tuffy” (age 4.5) is visiting. I took him to get ice cream at a shopping center near the bayou. There is a gazebo that has a bayou lookout up a small metal spiral staircase. I was worried about going up and coming down, but Tuffy and I did it. Tuffy did it over and over, coming carefully down by sitting on each stair.

I had my phone out to take pictures. When I gave it to him, he knew exactly what to do. Some of the shots were selfies of his face in different expressions. But one of them missed his head altogether and became an intriguing photo of the spiral stair. This made me think of the Fibonacci sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13…) that mathematically makes a spiral. Today I am echoing Langston Hughes’ line “Life is no crystal stair.”

Life
can
be a
spiral stair
anchored gracefully
to solid ground–imagining
a future full of open sky, pathway to purpose.
Margaret Simon, draft

Please respond with your own small poem. You can use the Fib form if you choose. Leave encouraging comments to other writers.

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NPM 24: Great Grandmother Visit

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged 2024 Kidlit Progressive Poem, Alzheimer's, NPM2024, photo poem on April 7, 2024| 6 Comments »

Visits with my mother are hard on me. I don’t live near enough to get used to her Alzheimer’s silence, the confused look in her eyes. I keep thinking one of these days I will accept this. But it seems so unfair. She was such a vibrant and thoughtful person. She is safe and happy and generally in good health, so I convince myself I should feel gratitude. Despair and grief take over. I can’t even look at this photo without tears welling up.

At Ethical ELA, we were prompted by Katrina to write about a photograph. I chose the one above.

We see
a child
delighted to hug
his great grandmother
generations of love
passed on with a kiss
on top of his head.

We don’t see
the grief seeping
into the moment
the loss of a mother
whose memories fleet
past through empty eyes
always questioning.
Margaret Simon, draft

The Progressive Poem is with Marcie Atkins today.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem

Posted in Photography, Poetry, tagged Bayou Teche, butterweed, photo poem, small poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on January 28, 2021| 24 Comments »

Welcome to a weekly writing prompt. The steps are easy, if you choose to try them. Listen to your muse. Write a small poem in the comments. Leave encouraging responses to other writers. This is a safe and sacred place to write. Begin.

Butterweed by Margaret Simon. I took this photo on my iPhone using the app Camera+ 2.

Cypress knee with butterweed, photo by Margaret Simon

I took these photos in my backyard on Bayou Teche in Louisiana. These are wild flowers known as butterweed that grow before my yard man (husband) has a chance to mow. Sometimes he will mow around them because he knows I love them. They offer a bright spot in a winter yard of bare cypress trees and brown lawn. Here’s a bit of research I found.

Weary of its winter bed
bursts of yellow whisper
secrets of Eos.*
Margaret Simon, draft *Goddess of dawn

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Celebrating Resurrection Fern

Posted in Celebration Saturday, Photography, Writing, tagged Diane Mayr, dog walk, live oaks, photo poem, resurrection fern on August 6, 2016| 6 Comments »

Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.

I take a walk in my neighborhood. One of the gifts of living in South Louisiana are the live oak trees. We have been getting rain every day this summer. It helps to keep temperatures reasonable, in the 80’s rather than the 90’s, and it resurrects the resurrection fern.

This morning the sun was up and glowing on the fern. I often refer to this phenomenon in my poetry. A word search on my blog turned up 9 results. To celebrate the fern today, I am re-using the lines in a photo-poem.

My senses awake like resurrection fern after the rain,

Grandmother Oak holds her jewels
of resurrection fern and Spanish moss
like modest ornaments.

Fern glistens in the emerging sun.

Her branches open wide for resurrection fern.

Being present is easy
when the light shines
on resurrection fern
making shadows to
fascinate me.

Live oaks reveal God’s name,
open resurrection fern.

I also found this poem gift from Diane Mayr.

Image by Diane Mayr

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Grandmother Oak: A Photo Poem

Posted in Celebration Saturday, Photography, Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged celebrating live oaks, Grandmother Oak, photo poem on February 27, 2016| 14 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up with Liz Steinglass.

Kim Douillard who blogs at Thinking Through my Lens hosts a photo challenge each week. The theme this week is “One Tree.” Armed with my new camera, I decided to create a photo poem about the Grandmother Oak who stands in my backyard.

Mr. Jim tells me this oak is more than 200 years old.
Her name is Grandmother.
Yes, my tree has a name.
Her name defines her
as strong and old and able to bear
the weight of the whole world
as gently as she would hold
a small child
or a cardinal’s nest.

She holds the weight of the world as gently as she holds a cardinal’s nest.

A rope swing waits
swinging in the soft breeze
remembering the children
taking turns to ride
and lean back to view the sky,
squealing delight,
making Grandmother smile.

Rope swing

Branches as wide as she is tall
twist and reach across
the yard, a place of shade
protection form the harsh sun
or the whipping wind
of hurricanes; she’s seen a few.
She knows when to shed and when to hold.
She knows how far to bend before she’ll break.
She knows.

branches wide and open

When I look up, the smallest branches
spread a canopy of tiny leaves
high and open to the blue
of sky, clusters of brothers
and sisters, a playground for squirrels,
a nesting place for Mr. Jay and his mate.

Branches high and small
open to the blue of sky.

Grandmother Oak holds her jewels
of resurrection fern and Spanish moss
like modest ornaments.
As a grandparent would, her home
is clean and fresh,
waiting and wanting
for you to stop by
and have a cup of tea.
–Margaret Simon

For Celebration Saturday, I offer this celebration of Grandmother Oak.