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Posts Tagged ‘This Photo Wants to be a Poem’

I spent the weekend in Ridgeland, MS just north of Jackson. I stayed in a hotel near a lake and walked each morning both for exercise and meditation. I took some video while walking. This morning I wrote a haiku and created a video using Canva.

Today is the longest day…summer solstice. Think about what this day means to you. Add your own small poem in the comments. Please click over to this post about my personal fundraiser for the Alzheimer’s Association in honor of my mother’s 87th birthday.

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Happy Summer! As the sun rises toward the summer solstice, today I’m offering a swallowtail butterfly from Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee inspires me in many ways. She’s a wonderful poet, teacher, gardener, critique partner, presentation collaborator, and friend. Recently, she has been watching her overwintering swallowtails emerge. I’ve only had this happen once in my life and its quite amazing. The brown, dead looking chrysalis lasts a long time. And by some miracle of nature, it emerges once the temperatures warm up.

Swallowtail by Mary Lee Hahn

Nature always fascinates me. This week my grandchildren and I are exploring nature every day at Simon Family Camp (We even have an official t-shirt). The cicadas are alive and “yowd!” Every day we find another exoskeleton to add to our collection. I’m exhausted but having the time of my life with Leo, 4.5, Thomas, 3.5, and Stella, 2.5. Explore is the theme of this inaugural family camp. Yesterday we discovered a mountain. The mountain was a dirt pile at a neighbor’s house covered with a tarp. When the boys started to throw dirt clods, we moved on with our hike.

Leo and Thomas discover a mountain!

I don’t usually choose two pictures for this photo prompt, but I know that some of my readers who write are more naturalist than grandparent. Bonus points if you can combine the two images.

Write a small poem in the comments and give encouraging feedback to other writers. Most of all, have fun!

We can be
explorers,
conquerers,
one-of-a-kind aviators
lifting our strong bodies
above the world
while holding
out our wings
in kindness.

Margaret Simon, draft

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For National Poetry Month, Molly Hogan and I committed to a flexible schedule of writing different forms of poetry, but I insisted on a weekly space for writing to a photograph. While out on my walks these days, I may open the Notes app and hit the microphone to dictate a poem. Yesterday while I walked, I contemplated the Ethical ELA prompt from Jennifer Jowett to write from an ungrammatical stance making nouns into verbs. See her prompt here. I observed the trees along my path, and spoke the words, “When I tree.” Then I saw the shadows from an overhead street light. Shadows are intriguing. I took this photo.

Shadows, by Margaret Simon

Broken Dawn

When I tree,
bayou-bell’s song echoes in me.
Yellow twinkle of sweet olive scents
my breath. Legs ache
from last night’s climb.
Turn to eastern broken dawn.

Margaret Simon, draft

Please leave a small poem in the comments and respond to other writers with encouraging words. Are you poeming daily this month? Here is a safe place to play with words.

The Progressive Poem is with Rose Cappelli today at Imagine the Possibilities.

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And now, folks, for something different. I’ve been working on a collage that I thought I was going to use as a prompt in Laura Shovan’s February project, but another idea came to me. I decided to offer it to you today as a photo prompt.

Collage work is intriguing to me. I cut out images that evoke some emotion in me and build it like a puzzle. I feel like my response poem will be different from yours because I have spent more time with it. Although, as I type this, I haven’t written a poem yet.

Think about the story that is happening in the collage as though it was a magazine photo. Interview the woman. Who is she? Where is she? Why is she there? Or take a more descriptive stance. Describe the scene using your senses. Whatever you decide, please share a bit with us. Remember this is quick draft writing, so leave only encouraging comments to others.

Magazine collage by Margaret Simon

Fire Girl

My adventures usually begin in my mind.
I wander the savannah, discover beauty,
feel the rush of adrenaline…

Then there is the mountain to climb,
the people I may leave behind,
so I settle in, next to our small fire
and thumb pages to find my bookmark.

Margaret Simon, draft

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I do not live in a cold climate (In South Louisiana it’s cold when the temperature falls below 50.)and most of the time, that is fine with me. But I am fascinated and mesmerized by photos of snow. My friend and fellow Inkling Molly Hogan lives in Maine. She was telling us at our Zoom meeting about her experience photographing in single digit weather. She loves taking photographs of nature. She posted about this experience on her blog post on Tuesday. I “found” a haiku in her post along with an amazing photograph for today’s prompt. You should go to her post to see and read more: Nix the Comfort Zone.

Hoarfrost by Molly Hogan

Winter wonderland
enchanted intricate beauty
bedazzled gratitude

Margaret Simon, found haiku from Molly Hogan’s blog.

Leave a small poem in the comments and support other writers with your comments. Thanks for stopping by.

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I can’t resist a good sunset photo. I don’t think I’m alone in this. A brightly colored sunset reminds us that things will be alright. I saw this wonderful photo on Mary Howard’s Facebook. She often posts sunsets from her new home in Hawaii, but this one is from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She happily granted permission for me to use it.

 “I was in Myrtle Beach SC for a SERRRA presentation. Each night I’d walked the beach to get sunset photos. On this day I noticed that I could actually walk under this and it made for a perfect photo. I’m learning to pay attention to my gut!” Mary Howard

Please post a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouraging responses. I will be posting my own poem later today.

Sun reluctantly sets
in golden glow
sending us a message
of hope.

Margaret Simon, draft

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I read somewhere that the earliest sunset is on December 13th. Did you think, like me, that it would be on Winter Solstice Dec. 21st? After carpool duty, I was walking to my car and saw this beautiful ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds. I noticed the sun was lower in the sky. My school is situated out in the country among sugarcane fields. This single horse only recently appeared in the field next door. At the end of a long day, this scene brought me peace.

Jefferson Island Road

Winter sun slyly slips
lower in the sky
beckoning me to slow down
and be still.

Margaret Simon, draft

Write a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouraging words. Thanks for stopping by.

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Leave a small poem response to the photo in the comments. Be sure to support other writers with encouraging words.

If you’ve been here before, you know that one of my favorite photographers is a critique partner, Inkling Molly Hogan. Molly lives in Maine and is an amazing photographer. Please take a moment to read her Tuesday post about “gathering calm” through nature.

When I go out to take pictures, I usually have at least the location in mind, which dictates some of what I’ll see. Ocean versus marsh versus river. Forests or fields. Still, there are surprises here, too. I never know what will capture my attention at that particular time. Will the fog call to me, or shadows or spider webs? Will interesting patterns emerge in sand, water or sky? 

Molly Hogan

What does the poet see? What will draw your attention? The ocean waves? The striking bird? The patterns in the sand?

Fledgling tern cries to be fed, photo by Molly Hogan

Hunger…

makes the baby cry
the great owl hunt
the fledgling squeal
Hunger opens our souls
for feeding

Margaret Simon, draft

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Let the photo inspire you to write. Leave a small poem in the comments.

We have had a string of rainy days here in South Louisiana. It happens most summers and helps to regulate the rising temperatures. Some days you feel as though you will never dry out. The air is wet. The ground is wet. Your body is wet.

The grass loves all this moisture and it grows and grows. In a nearby empty lot, the grass is almost as tall as I am. On a recent walk I stopped to look at it. Even the weeds of nature that grow out of control are beautiful. Nature is ongoing, reliably replenishing, and ever growing. Maybe your area of the world is hot and dry. Wash yourself in the lushness of the bayou side.

photo by Margaret Simon

Nature makes no demands.
Listen to the wind through the grass.
Earth’s song in harmony.

Modern haiku, Margaret Simon, draft

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Welcome to my weekly musing. Leave a small poem in the comments and share encouraging support to other writers.

The last five days I was with my mother at her retirement home. I have so many mixed emotions when I visit. I miss Dad who died in April. I have gotten to know many of the residents and staff and enjoy spending time with them. I worry about Mom who has early Alzheimer’s. I am surrounded by childhood memories.

This weekend I was helping to move Mom down the hall to a smaller apartment. My girls and their spouses and toddlers came in on Saturday to help. It was chaos that was efficient. The men moved the big furniture pieces with ease. The toddlers bounced on the bed mattress and played with a basket full of toys and generally screamed as toddlers do. I was grateful for the help. After they left I worked on organizing, culling, and hanging paintings and photographs. By the time I left yesterday, Mom was settled and happy in her new space.

All that is really beside the point of the photo today. In the midst of mayhem and moving, I walked with Mom to Dad’s tree. We had a sycamore tree planted on the grounds. Mom loves going out to visit the tree. It has already grown about 2 feet in three months. It’s not even close to the height of the surrounding pines, but there is something serene and strong about it.

Have you ever planted a memorial tree?

Sycamore Tree in memory of John Gibson, 11/11/33-4/22/22
Summerhouse Beaux Ridge Independent Living

In the face of storms and sun,
you stand, grow, reach
for the heavenly space
where God is good.

Margaret Simon, draft

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