This Photo Wants to be a Poem

Posts Tagged ‘This Photo Wants to be a Poem’

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Amanda Potts, milkweed, Ottawa, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on March 27, 2024| 54 Comments »

Amanda Potts on Instagram is @persistenceandpedagogy. She’s become quite the photographer on her daily walks in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. She posted this one last week of an open pod of milkweed seeds. I am waiting for my milkweed to sprout, but I’m worried that the freeze killed it.

Amanda’s photo stirred an emotion in me. Look for the light. These seeds seem to be glowing from the center. They have places to go, places to land, places to nurture our most precious monarch caterpillars.

Write a small poem inspired by this photo and leave it in the comments. Please encourage other writers with your responses.

Parachute on wind
gentle flight for precious gems
whirl to wake the world.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Chicken

Posted in Slice of Life, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged cherita, chickens, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on March 20, 2024| 37 Comments »

I wrote a book years ago about a girl who loved a chicken. Her name was Blessen. Blessen still lives in my heart. I don’t know her, but I know her because I created her. Here is a child I don’t know. She is hugging a chicken. I love the image and I borrowed it from Facebook. I don’t have permission to publish it, so please do not take it.

Can you create a character in a poem today? A child who loves chickens or all animals? Who is she? Explore her with a fictional poem. Today I am choosing the form of cherita which is a 6-lined poem broken into 3 stanzas. (stanza 1: one line; stanza 2: 2 lines; stanza 3: 3 lines.) Cherita means story, so the poem should tell a story. An example from Mary Lee is here.

Curly locks and black feathers

hold on to each other–
friend to friend

Cherishing a moment
before the parade
when black feathers will fly.
Margaret Simon, draft

There is a weird tradition here in South Louisiana at Mardi Gras when country folks chase a chicken for a gumbo. It’s a drunken, barbaric affair that I struggle with. Many believe it is harmless fun.

Leave your own poem (cherita or other small poem) in the comments. Give encouraging responses to other writers.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Mountain House

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged Dahlonega Georgia, elfchen, family vacation, fire pit, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on January 3, 2024| 29 Comments »

Mountain House in North Georgia by Margaret Simon

Instead of Christmas presents, we gave our children and their families a house in the Appalachian mountains of North Georgia. This is a view of the house from the lake below. I don’t think I could have picked a more perfect spot. Today it becomes an image for inspiration. You may focus on the green moss on the log, the act of looking up, or the idea of a perfect place to rest. Happy New Year! I hope it brings you joy and renewal.

I am still ruminating on my One Little Word for 2024. It may or may not be the word at the end of this poem. I’ve been having fun playing with the elfchen (elevenie) form. The basis is 1 word, 2 words, 3 words, 4 words, 1 word. The magic of the form seems to happen when writing about the first word leads to a conclusion in the last word.

Tomorrow I will host Spiritual Thursday. We are writing about our One Little Word choices. Please join us.

Mountain House

Wood
chopped, stacked
the fire pit
where secrets are shared–
Connection
Margaret Simon, draft

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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: 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: 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: Ghosts

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged cinquain, Halloween poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on October 4, 2023| 28 Comments »

My neighbor’s ghosts are hanging around, over the sidewalk. On my early morning walk, I pass through them like passing through a curtain. The wind pulls them toward me, and I admit a little uneasiness. I saw Melissa in the store yesterday, and she grinned when she talked about them. She said, “I love my ghosts!”

Halloween is around the corner, literally. Follow the ghostly muse to write a small poem today. Post in the comments. Encourage other writers with your response. I wanted to try a cinquain (pronounced “sink-cane”). Syllable count of 2,4,6,8,2. There are other variations you can try. Here is a guide to the form.

Morning Walk in October

Ghostly
shapes in the wind.
Shivers ripple my skin.
I step lightly through the curtain
of gauze.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Dragonfly

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, dragonfly, haiku, small poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on August 9, 2023| 18 Comments »

Deep down south we have many varieties of dragonflies. I love to watch them. They fascinate me and take me away from worry to a place of gratitude. Who doesn’t love a good Google search for meaning?

“Dragonfly’s can be a symbol of self that comes with maturity. They can symbolize going past self-created illusions that limit our growth and ability to change. The Dragonfly has been a symbol of happiness, new beginnings and change for many centuries. The Dragonfly means hope, change, and love.” https://dragonflytransitions.com/why-the-dragonfly

That first sentence grabbed me “self that comes with maturity” because this is the week of my birthday. I will be 62. If there is an age of maturity, I’d go with anything past 50, but now that I’m in my 60’s, stuff keeps happening that requires me to be mature, to change the things I can, and accept the things I cannot change.

Consider writing with us today. You can choose one of the many things that a dragonfly symbolizes or write whatever comes. This is a safe place to explore. Perhaps time yourself for 7-10 minutes. Turn off the critic and let the words flow. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.