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Posts Tagged ‘This Photo Wants to be a Poem’

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Found Art

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , on December 13, 2023| 6 Comments »

Found art by Kim Douillard

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 , , , , on November 29, 2023| 44 Comments »

Perspective by Leigh Anne Eck

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 , , , , , , 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 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 , , , , on October 18, 2023| 15 Comments »

Wildflowers at Niagara Falls, Oct. 2023

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 , , 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 , , , , 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.

Dragonfly dazzles
a dry branch, revealing
self-purity

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo (Video) Wants to be a Poem: Summer Solstice

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged , , on June 21, 2023| 17 Comments »

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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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Black Swallowtail

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , , on June 14, 2023| 17 Comments »

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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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Shadows

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , on April 5, 2023| 63 Comments »

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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