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Posts Tagged ‘This Photo Wants to be a Poem’

January has so far given us temperatures as high as 80 degrees and as low as 29. I’ve brought plants in (and back out and back in). I’ve gathered milkweed with monarch caterpillars. I’ve worn a heavy coat and shorts. Winter in South Louisiana has gotten weird. The Japanese magnolias are in full bloom. The sunrise and sunset are bright red. Since the New Year, I’ve released three monarch butterflies. And everywhere, Omicron Covid is on the steep rise. Nature is speaking. Is anyone listening?

Last night I had chosen a sunset photo from my phone; however, a sweep through Facebook revealed an amazing natural phenomenon from my friend and naturalist Susan H. Edmunds. She granted creative permission, so today I give you a rabbit hole you could choose to go down: frost flowers.

Frost flowers! When the temperature quickly drops, as it did last night in rural St. Martin Parish, sap remaining in the plants’ stems begin to freeze and crack the stem. When this liquid exudes through the minute cracks, it freezes and forms beautifully delicate frost flowers that vanish when the sun’s golden rays touch them. Isn’t nature just grand?

Susan H. Edmunds, Facebook Jan. 11, 2022
Frost flowers by Susan H. Edmunds

Golden light on frost
illuminates, melts away
cold morning moment.

Margaret Simon, draft

Write your own small poem in the comments. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.

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This week it’s snowing in the Blue Ridge Mountains, but last week the weather was mild. Cool enough to set a fire outside in the fire pit, yet warm enough to run and play without a jacket on. Our family vacation the week after Christmas was as good as it gets. I wrote about it here for Slice of Life.

Today’s photo was one I took in the late afternoon as the sun was setting over the hills beyond our mountain house. This photo captures the peaceful magic of time to do nothing much. As the weather has turned to winter storms and cold temperatures this week, I hope this photo brings a peaceful moment of warmth. Write with me. Leave your small poem in the comments and come back to respond to other writers. Happy new year of writing.

Pleasant perch on Blue Ridge Mountains

Muse in the magic
of a smoking fire
freeing your soul
to rest
on God’s roof.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Today I am nursing an upper respiratory virus. I am boosted and tested negative for both Covid and flu, but this cough is nagging, and the low grade fever has me curled up with hot tea watching Christmas movies. It should be much better by Christmas, let’s hope. Next week I’ll be traveling with my family, so I will take the week off from blogging. I’ll be back with a new photo on Jan. 5, 2022. Thank you for supporting this weekly photo prompt by writing, reading, and commenting. You have made my one little word “Inspire” glow with purpose and meaning.

This week I have taken a photo from Molly Hogan’s Facebook post. She is forever curious and explores with her camera. When I asked her about this photo, she told me her husband thought she was nuts leaning over a bucket of ice. In Maine, temperatures have turned to winter, and she captured the beauty and mystery of winter in this photo.

Photo by Molly Hogan

Frozen in fundamental shape
this
world
inside
rises
this
speck
becomes
seen
this
fundamental shape is frozen.

Margaret Simon, draft
Skinny form

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When taking photographs, you don’t always get the one you planned. We recently took my grandchildren to a local art museum. There were dancers in the gallery advertising an upcoming performance of The Nutcracker. I wanted my grandson Leo to take a picture with them. Well, he’s 3 and he was afraid of the dancers, so he kept his distance. I took this photo anyway. Now I look at it as a potential poem prompt.

The Nutcracker is as traditional in the United States as Christmas caroling. We all know the story. We can conjure the iconic music in our heads. It’s been years since I attended a performance of the ballet, but I have fond memories of going as a child. Play a bit of the music while musing on this photo, and place a small poem in the comments.

Gallery Dancers, by Margaret Simon

Snowflakes
flutter in–
a gallery dance

Margaret Simon, draft hay(na)ku

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On my daily walk, I pass a Japanese Magnolia tree. I’ve photographed this tree often, and written poems about it here and here. On a foggy grey morning, the dew drops glistened as I passed. I was compelled once again to photograph this tree.

Secrets of the night
revealed
on dew drops
come morning

Margaret Simon, draft

Leave your #smallpoems #poemsofpresence in the comments. You may post on our Facebook page as well. Please leave encouraging comments for your fellow writers.

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I volunteered to host a holiday party way back in the summer when the living was easy. My Thanksgiving week was busy with family events, but we managed to squeeze in Christmas decorating as well. My youngest daughter Martha was visiting, and she has a good eye for design. She created a piece with candles and cedar branches and berries. When I lit the candles, I was surprised at the atmosphere of warmth and welcome they created. On a tricube roll, I wrote a gratitude poem for these candles.

Christmas candles by Margaret Simon

Holiday
open doors
candles lit

flickering
welcoming
visitors

fireplace glows
everyone
knows we’re home

Margaret Simon, draft

Welcome to this photo. Write a small poem, any form, in the comments and encourage other writers with your words. Happy Holidays!

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Opossum in a persimmon tree–say it three times fast. I caught this guy one morning on my walk with Charlie through the neighborhood. Does he look guilty to you? He didn’t move at all while I wandered to different perspectives to take his portrait. He was suspicious, yes, but completely still. Charlie didn’t bark. I don’t think he saw the opossum. We, opossum and I, however, locked eyes, and I will never be the same. These creatures usually freak me out, but this one…this one…was different somehow. Maybe it was the persimmon tree backdrop or his innocent guilty stare. Tempted to name him, I’ll just post his portrait here for you to muse about.

Opossum in persimmon tree, by Margaret Simon

Leave a small poem in the comments. I’ll be back to post mine. Be kind in your responses to other writers. Enjoy!

Opossum in a persimmon tree
Staring right back at me
Did I catch a thief
or make a new friend? 

Margaret Simon, draft

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Yesterday I wrote about taking a walk with my two-year-old grandsons through our neighborhood. One of my neighbors collects folk art. Their collection has been shown in museums and is quite extensive. Their yard is no exception. As soon as Leo could walk on his own, he enjoyed meandering into this yard to see all the sculptures. One of his favorites is the gigantic bunny sitting on a bench reading. It is made of thousands of wires. And of course, around Halloween, he has a skeleton companion.

Studious Wire Rabbit, collection of Becky and Wyatt Collins.
photo by Margaret Simon

I may twitch
I may rust
Up on my bench
My story you can trust

Margaret Simon, draft

In keeping with the tradition of 15 words or Less, I have written a 15 word ditty-on-the-spot. Write your own quick poem in the comments and respond to other writers with kindness. You can also participate in our Facebook group.

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After hurricanes and weeks and weeks of heat, things in the deep south are finally feeling like fall. Fall is one of my favorite seasons. Surprisingly not for the colorful foliage of today’s image, but for the scents in the air. Here in Louisiana, the sweet olive blooms. The satsuma ripens, and the sugarcane is harvested. A plethora of scent-sations. And don’t get me started on gumbo. If someone is making a roux, you can smell it for miles around.

This photo comes from the Northwest where my blogging friend Ramona Behnke lives and writes at Pleasures from the Page. We do not get this kind of color here. Most of our trees are live oaks and pines that stay green and cypress trees that drop brown fuzzies. But I do love a good photograph of fall leaves.

Fall leaves by Ramona Behnke

If the trees could play
a melody the wind
would sing, we’d know
the secrets of the song
and blend with
harmony.

Margaret Simon, draft

Write a small poem in the comments. Let the muse take you where it will. I have no idea where my little poem came from. Writing is like that, mysterious and magical in so many ways. Be sure to come back and write encouraging comments to each other. I love it when someone sees something in my poem in a new and different way than I did.

Today is the National Day on Writing, an initiative of NCTE and National Writing Project. Use the hashtag #WhyIWrite.

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Nature never ceases to amaze me. Amanda Potts shares photos on her Instagram feed of nature through a close-up lens. When I don’t have a photo of my own to share, I know I can turn to hers. Like me, she walks every day. Me in South Louisiana and she in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada…a world apart. Yet there are dragonflies here and there. This week’s photos (I couldn’t pick just one) come from her Instagram feed. Follow her.

Photo by Amanda Potts
Photo by Amanda Potts

Tessellation wing
an intricate map open
to wonder windows.

Margaret Simon, haiku draft

Write a small poem in the comments and leave encouraging comments to other writers. Above all, relax and let words flow.

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