Our Host

Katrina teaches English and German in a rural community in Osage County, Oklahoma. She has worked in education her entire career. This is her 18th year in the classroom. She has a master’s degree in Higher Education Leadership from Northeastern State University. In addition to teaching, she spent part of her career in higher education in admissions and student services and financial aid. It was during the pandemic that she began writing with EthicalELA. The poetry-writing community has become a staple in her life. Edging toward retirement, she hopes to return to Germany for further language study, continue writing and teaching poetry, and saunter daily.

Inspiration 

Serendipitously, I recently discovered two poems which focus on a photograph or a collection of photographs. As much as we like to take and share photographs, I thought it would be fun to challenge my tenth grade students to write a poem about a picture from their photo stream. It turned out to be a fun and rewarding experience for them, as the writers, and me, as their reader.

Process

Read and enjoy these photographic poems by Rita Dove and Jacqueline Woodson. We can assume Dove’s poem is autobiographical. The speaker in Woodson’s poem is a young boy named Lonnie. 

Select a photo from your photostream or capture an image of a photo you have on hand. Ideally, you should appear in the photo. If you remember what was going on in the photo, draw from your memories to recreate the scene for us. If you do not remember what was happening when the photo was taken, use your imagination to create a scene. Read all of Rita Dove’s poem here and all of Jaqueline Woodson’s poem here.

Photographs
by Jacqueline Woodson

There’s two of me and Lili.
We were little then, dressed up at Easter time
Big smiles – me with two front teeth missing
and my head shaved Easter clean.

Here’s Mama and Daddy dancing,
Mama’s blurry foot lifted up in the air.
Look how she’s laughing.

When I look at the picture I can hear it.

Katrina’s Student’s Poem

Authored by a student in my 10th grade Pre AP class

It was a good day for me and the boys
We were very excited to go hunting that day,
even though it was a long drive away.
Old Gunner got very excited when we first saw some ducks fly by.
It was the day where I shot my first duck and goose,
With that old Wingmaster 20 gauge.
It was also the day I shot a decoy.
We went to a pond here, and we went to a pond there.
And when there were ducks on the pond,
We would go sneak up on them and jump up the ducks.
When it was all said and done, we had several geese and several ducks,
And me and the boys got Gunner and took a picture in the sunset.
We drove home in that white pick-up, and we cleaned the ducks,
And later made jerky and some good duck steaks.

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.

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Jeania White

Pure joy
In the smallest things
Grandson smiles
Games of Sorry
With no apparent rules.

He sits at the table
With the bear
Claiming, “First,my turn,
Then give Shampoo
A turn.”

Joy in the moment
Turns to wonder
As I contemplate the
Small, stuffed bear
Sitting on the table
Playing Sorry.
Grandson named him Shampoo.

Heidi Ames

December 25, 2023

There we all were
Posing for the annual holiday photo
Ten smiling faces
As the self-timer ticked down

How were we to know
This would be the last
That Christmas 2024 would find
One mother in a skilled nursing facility
And another in a memory care unit

Each year we knew we were lucky
But we could never have anticipated
any option besides Heaven
for our aging matriarchs

Christmas will never be the same
Thank God for the photos
Physical representations of love

Denise Krebs

Heidi, How poignant. We don’t know how old the aging matriarchs are, and I think that makes this even better. I think we should all have that sense of “Each year we knew we were lucky” And that last line “Physical representations of love” is truly what those photos are.

Kim Johnson

Heidi, I’m coming home from a wedding weekend today where thoughts like yours – a photo that preserves a moment – make me wonder about the ways that these snapshots will become precious in the future. We never know what a day holds.

weverard1

Kasey,
I love, love this piece on family togetherness and the unique trends that we indulge in as families. Your stanza about creating the corpse cracked me up. Loved this sentiment:
We are not regular folks or going with the fray
We fix what is broken ourselves and eschew trends”

Saba T.

Hey, Katrina. Thank you for this prompt. I learnt something new today – that this type of poetry is called ekphrastic poetry.

I scrolled through my Instagram for this photo. My two younger siblings were in Pakistan during the pandemic. This picture was taken after Eid ul Adha prayer in July 2022.

Two Eids a year.
Two & a half year of pandemic scares,
grounded flights,
& miles and miles between us.
Until the world slowly began
to return to (a new) normal
& you could come home again.
And after five Eids apart,
we were whole again.

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Susie Morice

Saba — I can’t even begin to tell you how this poem resonates with me. Those thieving Covid months/years (and even still) we’re crushingly cruel in what they took from us. You captured that through the words and now those smiles. I’m glad I returned tonight for this late night post. Hugs, Susie

Wendy Everard

Saba, I love this poem and this picture! ❤️❤️ Eid Mubarak, btw!

Glenda Funk

Saba,
You and your siblings are gorgeous, and that line “we were whole again” means so much in this broken world. Will we ever be made whole is my question for my country.

Denise Krebs

Saba, beautiful! I’m so glad you are together again. And a joyous Eid al-Fitr to you and your loved ones this week!

Jennifer Kowaczek

Katrina—
Thank you for today’s prompt. I really wanted to follow the process but my daughter’s track & field meet went much longer than expected. However, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss a day of writing poetry. So here is a quick haiku I jotted down.

Sky is blue, sun out
Bring on the relays, high jump!
Wish I had blankets.
©️Jennifer Lowaczek April 2024

Today was the first outdoor track & field meet (first first was cancelled).
My daughter ran two relays: 4×800 (1st track event of the meet, 6th place) and 4×400 (last track event of the meet, 4th place). It was a beautiful, but windy, day and I really do wish I had blankets. Those bleachers get COLD! Overall, the team came in 2nd place 😊 And the JV team came in 3rd place! 💛♥️💛

Scott M

I love the contrast in the first and third lines, Jennifer! “Sky is blue, sun out …. Wish I had blankets”! And congrats on the placings!

weverard1

Jennifer, Congrats to your daughter. I’m impressed that you had the wherewithal to write on that windy, chilly day — oh, April, why are you so irascible? Can’t wait for May.

Denise Krebs

Jennifer, wow! Glad you survived. I have bitter memories (not really) of cold track meets in Iowa. Sometimes we would just run out from the car in the wind and the rain and watch a quick race. Then back taking cover. And you had to wait until the very last race, which was always a favorite of mine! I love the juxtaposition of your first and last lines.

weverard1

Hinged together, they, nonetheless, seem far apart:
My great-grandfather Joseph, buttoned up tight
Ears straining to escape his comely face
My great-grandmother Charlotte,
Namesake of her own daughter.  Both gaze toward the future:
Could they foresee life in a new land with eleven girls?

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weverard1

P.S. Katrina…”I” do appear in this photo…lol.

Mo Daley

Wendy, I love your descriptions that make me feel your grandparents were straining against the frames they were put into. What’s terrific last line!

Sarah Fleming

I want to know the story too – eleven girls?!?! what beautiful pictures of such lives full of promise, “gaz[ing] toward the future.” What a lovely keepsake, so nice that you have it!

Stacey L. Joy

Hi Katrina,
Thank you for one of my favorite types of prompts. I absolutely adore Jacqueline Woodson and Rita Dove. Now, I want to re-read Brown Girl Dreaming. Your student’s poem really impresses me. I can’t imagine how life is in 10th grade these days. I don’t think I was writing such profound poetry in 10th grade. That’s a testament to you, their teacher!

11 years ago, I wrote for 30 days on a photo-a-day. I decided to look back at those poems to see if anything was worth re-sharing. I found one. I was in the midst of a ton of turmoil. HOWEVER, my poem shows me today that I still managed to seek JOY!

Sitting Silently Smiling

Sometimes I pull from deep inside my smile
to escape quietly from my frowns
Sometimes I pull from deep inside my silence
making noises that drown my cries
Sometimes I pull from deep inside my soul
to greet the me you see 
Sometimes I just sit 
silently smiling
and crying
from joy.

©Stacey L. Joy, September 5, 2012

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Mo Daley

What a gorgeous photo and poem! They both seem like YOU! Strong, resilient, powerful, and joyful. Love it!

Barbara Edler

Stacey, I love your beautiful photograph and your poem is incredible! I love the way you’ve formatted your poem and I love the repetition. I really liked “Sometimes I sit/silently smiling”…then leading to your ability to find joy even when you’re dealing with so many difficulties. Such a beautiful photo, too! Your powerful spirit shines through this photo and your poem!

Jennifer Kowaczek

Stacey, what a great idea to revisit those older poems! I think once April is over, I will focus on writing a poem a day based on photos. Having that goal might help keep up the habit during May.

Scott M

I love the poem and the photo, Stacey! There are a number of wonderful craft moves throughout — from those contrasts at the ends of the first four lines (“smile,” “frowns,” “silence,” “cries”) to the rhyme of “greet” the “me you see” to the alliteration of “sometimes” and “silently smiling.” Great! Thanks for revisiting and posting this!

Susie Morice

Stacey — I feel the struggle and wish I could wick it away for you. That photo is beautiful! And your capacity to find “my silence” speaks to your strength. The act of “escap[ing] from my frowns” is so beautifully put. You are a treasure in this space. Love, Susie

weverard1

Stacey, I loved how all of the sibilant sounds in this poem complemented the contemplative mood of it — beautiful!

Barbara Edler

On the Back Step with Pam

one of my favorite photographs
captures my sister and I
smiling on our back porch step

I remember I was too young
for the fun they’d planned that day
broken-hearted, wishing I was older

when they returned, my tears disolved
as they gave me a great big teddy bear
they’d won at the county fair

as I gaze at the photo
from so long ago, I just keep wondering
who in the heck cut our hair

Barb Edler
6 April 2024

Pam and Me.jpg
Allison Laura Berryhill

What a HOOT of a final line! You took me through all the emotions with the forgotten younger sister, the joy of having been remembered, the chagrin at looking back on old haircuts! I SEE you in that 4-year-old!

Mo Daley

I’m so glad you mentioned that hair, Barb! I looked at the photo and was amazed by both haircuts, but especially your sister’s. That piece out of place hair feels like such a joyful moment was captured. I feel that in your poem, too. And you are so easy to recognize in the photo!

Stacey L. Joy

OMG, this is hilarious because I can’t believe someone did this to your hair! LOL. I love you, your poem and this photo. I was always feeling like the young one missing out on all the fun the older sibling and her friends had. 😩

Glenda Funk

Barb,
The tone shift at the end is perfect. Here I was wrapped up in a tender, nostalgic moment, and then you hit us w/ the humor. You are not alone in asking the hair question.

Susie Morice

Barb — Your poem and the picture captures what we’re parallel experiences with my own sisters. When we got left behind, too young to venture off with the older sister, I too was a sad puppy. How sweet, though, was that teddy bear kindness. And punctuating the poem with the funny ending haircut… made me laugh. Love the nostalgia of it all. Sweet photo! Cutie! Hugs, Susie

weverard1

Barb, lol!!! That last line, And I loved how you tricked us with a contemplative tone right up to it. I LOVE the picture: what smiles! Beautiful imagery and scene-setting in this poem.

Rex Muston

Barb,

We share the same barber, though mine worked magic in the 1970s. I think there is a truth to your disolving tears with the return of others. That is such a memorable moment of growing up…look what we brought you! Just thinking too, there is so much more freedom with the back porch step compared to the front stoop…you can really let your hair down.

Denise Krebs

Barb, oh my goodness! That last stanza, “as I gaze…” so evocative of reminiscing and then on to that final line. What a fun surprise. And those smiles of you two girls! I love this so much. The hurt of not being able to go was balanced with the teddy bear.

Allison Laura Berryhill

I read the prompt earlier in the day and looked through dozens of possible photos. This evening (yearbook adviser) I helped with prom photos as the kids lined up to parade across the stage in what is called “Grand March.” Tonight when I returned to this prompt, the most recent photo on my phone seemed to be what I needed to write about.

Prom Grand March, April 6, 2024

Last in line, date-less.
He’s exchanged his habitual black t-shirt
for a black suit and topped the ensemble 
with a black pleather trenchcoat.
Dry black hair to the shoulders, teenage mustache, goatee.

The look is swagger, danger and blade
belied by searching eyes.

“Looking sharp,” I say “Is your card ready?”
His scrawl is unreadable 
so I scratch up a pencil and 
re-write his name. 
“Add Junior Joker” he says
proffering his phone, 
and an image of the video-game persona
that has inspired his
sartorial choices.

“We must get a selfie”
I insist and
–click–
before he heads to the stage
alone

except
for my shadow.

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Barbara Edler

Allison, your poem is provocative. I can feel your eyes on him, the emotions that a teacher can feel for a student who may be navigating important events alone. Your student seems like one who hears his own drumbeat which is wonderful to follow but sometimes it’s also a lonely journey. Thanks for sharing this relatable prom moment.

Mo Daley

I love your assessment of the poem, Barb. I can picture this student so clearly. I love the teenage mustache- I recognize that! Allison, your love for your students is so easy to see in this poem.

Allison Laura Berryhill

Thank you, Kasey. Your response nudged me forward. “Vulnerability…masquerading” hit it spot on.

Susie Morice

Allison! Hi there!! This description is so indelible… that “black… ensemble” screams at me… a student I have had as well & it is soo complicated to be that young man as he plays out where he fits in the world of HS and prom and the dating/not dating that whirls around him like the statement clothes in the picture. The irony of “Junior Joker” against how complex his world actually is makes me certain that you are just the teacher that he needed at that moment… you there caring enough to ask for a photo moment…a “shadow.” That’s so right, so good. You are an ace at delivering here tonight. The student probably has no idea how exciting he would be as the date of some lucky prom-goer. It would be a storied memory… told years later at a class reunion. I loved your poem! Hugs, Susie

weverard1

Allison, I loved this. It so captures teenager-hood. All of the details so capture his attitude and mood and yours. I loved this line:

“The look is swagger, danger and blade
belied by searching eyes.”

That vulnerability masked by outward bravado. This was great!

Sarah Fleming

Thank you for this wonderful prompt! I knew immediately that I wanted to write a poem in honor of my bestie Wendy, another poet on this site (and the host of our “Inspirational Places” poem a few days ago!). This picture is from a trip we took this summer to go to a concert together, to see Tori Amos. Love you, Wendy!

It may be just last summer
but it looks like we feel so young
Never mind that we’re trapped in our
middle aged bodies
with our middle aged worries;
regardless
our faces speak joy

it’s always a good time for a
road trip

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Allison Laura Berryhill

I love everything about this:
your smiles
your joy
your “middle aged worries”
and those beautiful middle-aged bodies.

<3

Barbara Edler

Sarah, I so enjoy the contrast of what one might be experiencing internally compared to the immediate joy surrounding you. Road trips with friends are the best and you capture that message well through your poem and photo. “Trapped” is an excellent word choice. I know my brain always thinks I am so much younger, but photos tell me otherwise.

weverard1

Sarah, this is one of my favorite pictures of us! What a great trip that was: love your poem (remember what Aaliyah said: Age ain’t nothing but a number) — here’s to many more! <3

Kim

I love a photo-inspired poem, but you threw me a twist when you recommended that it be a photo that included me in it! So here is my attempt.

In a Photo

Me
and my
camera
alone and yet
together just the
sea and me through the lens
focusing on light, shadow
narrow, wide find all the angles
nourishing mind and soul with each breath
never alone with camera in hand

Since I can’t get my photo to load in the comments, here is the link to my blog where the photo sits.
https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2024/04/06/in-a-photo-npm24-day-6/

Barbara Edler

Kim, what a beautiful etheree poem. Love your line “sea and me through the lens” and your final message is priceless. It’s amazing how an object such as a camera can help us feel connected and not all alone. Powerful poem!

Stacey L. Joy

Kim,
Thanks for the link because I was so eager to see the picture. I love both! As a lover of the sea and light/shadow pics, you’ve captivated me in photo and poem.

Glenda Funk

Kim,
That photo is stunning. I love the paradox in “alone and yet together.” To upload a photo you either have to edit it and make it smaller or screenshot it and then edit to remove the border resulting from taking a screenshot.

Denise Krebs

Kim, I love this smiling photo of you and the magic you do with your camera. “Just the sea and me” with the camera is perfect.

Margaret Simon

I thought I posted this morning, but I can’t find my comment, so I am trying again.
A shameless plug here: I post a photo each week on my blog for writers and students to write from. (This Photo Wants to be a Poem) All writers welcome.
Katrina, I love all the different perspectives you shared to get us going today.
This is a raw poem coming from my most recent visit with my mother who has Alzheimer’s.
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.

Barbara Edler

Magaret, I feel every emotion in your poem. You do a wonderful job of contrasting joy and grief between the two stanzas. I really liked “grief seeping” and “memories fleet”. Poignant, heart-wrenching poem.

Stacey L. Joy

Margaret,

Sending love your way.

This is raw and real and I know it hurts.

We are here for you.

💜

cmhutter

I started scrolling through my camera feed and this photo just jumped out at me. It is one that I will always treasure.

So Thankful for What I Didn’t Know Would be a Last

In August 2010
our two families
set off to Cape Cod
for a week long vacation.
This hadn’t happened since
my daughter was 2,
now 8.
I happily anticipated
a whole week with my big sis.
But your cancer was back
with
pain,
nausea.
Until that week together,
I never knew
how hard it was for you.
You never told me-
always the big sis protecting me.

But this moment-
Erica, Felicia, you and me
sitting in the sun
on the deck of a boat touring around
brought such a big smile.
The fresh air whisking across your face,
filling your lungs
brought a calm to your topsy-turvy tummy.
Your voice filled the air
with chatter
about the boats and houses around us.
This was you- the real you
enjoying life with us.
You leaned forward
to get a photo of all
4
girls. Click-
this moment captured in time.

You so loved your nieces
doted on them constantly,
Your love filled my life
brightening it with the attention of my big sis.
I treasure this photo memory-
your love radiating out of that smile
covering the rest of us
one more time with your
warmth and affection.

So thankful
for this captured family moment,
never knew it would be one of the last.

IMG_7081.JPG
Rita DiCarne

I am sorry for your loss. Your poem serves as a reminder to capture these moments while we can because we never know, do we? You captured so perfectly the sadness and the joy of that day.

cmhutter

Thank you. That photo brings both sadness and joy each time I look at it. Mostly happiness now as the years have passed.

Sarah Fleming

What a beautiful way to memorialize her, how lovely. And such a gift to have this image to look back upon.

cmhutter

Thank you. It is a photo I treasure.

Barbara Edler

I love all the details in your poem, and I feel the power of how photographs can capture a joyful moment. I’m so sorry you lost your big sister, and I can hear your love for her through every word in your poem. It’s amazing how siblings will suffer through a terrible disease and still try to protect their younger siblings from realizing the truth of their pain and illness. Powerful and heart-breaking poem. Thanks for sharing your truth so beautifully with us today.

cmhutter

Thank you. I’m glad my love for her came through in my words.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Cathy, what a precious photo and tribute poem to your big sister. I love all the smiles, and your sister with the fresh air that “brought a calm to your topsy-turvy tummy.” So glad this one spoke to you today.

cmhutter

Made me smile and remember that wonderful time together as I wrote. A few tears dripped too but overall it brought joy to my heart to think back.

Susie Morice

RABBITS AND BASTARDS

It never occurred to me
that a rabbit might be devious
until I painted one,
and then I saw that
indeed
critters in all sorts of camo,
be it soft fuzzy fur
or costumes
from red flags,
might well be
up to no good,
downright obsequious.

Perhaps all rabbits
are not what they seem,
and I’m getting better,
sifting fact from the dream,
at seeing laid-back ears,
eyes that scheme,
the splatter of blood
they stir in the air,
the sour habits,
the deviations
everywhere.

It made me think of hasenpfeffer
and stewing up
cheaters and liars
and feeding them
to the hounds
just for the pleasure.

by Susie Morice, April 6, 2024©



MoriceRabbit.jpg
rex muston

Susie,

I like the perspective of the devious rabbit as a revelation from your thoughts after having created it. AND, you are getting better at not judging them so harshly. We paint a picture and have to walk back from it, literally. and it does scare me a bit, like clowns in IT.

Glenda Funk

Susie,
Your description of rabbits as “obsequious” reminds me of their bulging eyes darting around while they devour a garden. Yes, they “may be up to no good.” Superb rhyme in the second verse. But it’s that third verse and the stew you brew to feed to “cheater and liars” that’s my favorite. I know a thing or two about poems and rabbits occupying the same territory and the trouble that causes. Your rabbit does have a bit of a conniving flint in its eye mirrored in your delightful poem.

Scott M

I really enjoyed this, Susie! And your painting is very good, too! And after Watership Down, I can totally believe that rabbits “are not what they seem”!

Allison Laura Berryhill

Susie! So good to find you here.
Thank you for inviting me to learn “hasenpfeffer”!
Your opening line is one I might offer to my students as a prompt: “It never occurred to me…” Such a delicious invitation to keep reading!

I also loved the unexpected rhyme:
“sifting fact from the dream,
at seeing laid-back ears,
eyes that scheme”

I simply love reading your poems!

Barbara Edler

Susie, I am in awe of the way you cleverly build to the end of your poem. As I read this, I sense an underlying desire for retribution that might be beyond the rabbits causing havoc from your line “cheaters and liars.” Your final stanza is so provocative. The pleasure of revenge seems especially strong with your line “just for the pleasure”. I’m guessing you painting the photo. Wow, you are such a talented writer, musician and artist. Thanks for sharing your fantastic poem today!

Carriann

I took this picture last weekend at my church’s Easter service and it reminds me daily of Jesus’s sacrifice.

THE CROSS

He left his throne
in Heaven
to become poor
on earth.
He traded glory
and splendor
for unbelief
and humiliation.
He gave his life
willingly
to bridge Heaven
and earth.
To make a way
for me.
He was beaten-
and bloodied-
and nailed
to a cross.
He was murdered.

But he defeated death!
He rose,
arrested death,
defeated the grave.

And he lives.

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Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Carriann, For Christians, this photo is a sad, glad one. We who celebrate Easter as Resurrection Sunday understand the allusions, descriptions, and references to the purpose of the events you share as they are recorded in the Holy Bible. Thanks for sharing.

Carriann

Thank you for commenting!

Susan

Cariann,
This poem is simply beautiful! You capture what we Christians feel–or should. I especially appreciate these lines . . .

He gave his life

willingly

to bridge Heaven

and earth.

Carriann

Thank you Susan! ♥️

Mo Daley

Stuff and Things
By Mo Daley 4/6/24

It was a warm day for mid- November
In 2017 in southern Illinois
When the three of us gathered
For an unofficial housewarming
For the house you never wanted.
After you lost everything you’d owned
In the fire, you were ready to walk away,
Defeated.
You never cared for stuff and things anyway.
The insurance company demanded you rebuild
Or accept a(nother) huge loss
So you let your daughter make all the decisions,
As you were too traumatized.
So we did what best friends do-
We loaded up the car with dishes, towels, sheets,
And anything else we thought you could use.
And wine. Lots and lots of wine.
We drove five hours to show you we loved you
And that stuff and things don’t matter.
You do.
But let’s acknowledge that we all need stuff and things.
But mostly friends.
And wine.

Mo Daley

Here we are!

Mo Daley

Trying to post the photo!

IMG_0422_Original.jpeg
rex muston

Mo,

I am at that age where the distance of the drive is often a qualifier of the commitment to the person or the cause. A five hour drive is a good show of commitment. I like the wine repeat as a reinforcing of the friendship, tying in to shared wine in earlier days. Interesting that you are fighting her her sense of defeat by bringing wine. The staggering of the last three lines as syllables go gives closure that ends on an up note.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Mo, Thanks for including the photo…but your poem helped to create the scene we now see in the picture. Our family, too, suffered three family fires, two in one home, one caused by me! The last one occurred during one of those Southern California fires in 2003, where whole neighborhoods were burned to the ground, including the house next door to ours! Ours survived, but our neighbor experienced what your photo and poem show.
It is the evidence of the love of family and friends that so many folks who experience loss need to survive the loss of THINGS.
Thanks for sharing.

Susie Morice

Gosh, Anna — I’m so sorry to learn that you, too, have walked in these shoes. Whoa! Thank heavens you and your family survived. Tragic and scary. Hugs to you and yours, Susie

Anna J. Roseboro

Thanks, Susie. We were blessed. My youngest on was home alone in second fire. He wasn’t allowed, at that time, to cook, so he turned on electric eye to be hot and ready for me to cook when I got home! Another story!

Susie Morice

Oh gosh, Mo, thank heavens for friends. You are a gem. What a tragic story of loss though…my gosh…”traumatized” indeed! Whoof! Wine and friends…darn dandy combo. I love the title. We all need someone like YOU! Hugs, Susie

Sarah Fleming

“So we did what best friends do” – this speaks volumes. I can hear in these words the closeness that the picture depicts. Lovely!

Barbara Edler

Mo, I love your narrative poem. It shows the importance and power of friendship. I was really struck by the line “For the house you never wanted”. I can’t even begin to imagine the trauma of losing everything. Absolutely adore your closing lines. Yes, to wine and friends. Powerful and poignant poem.

WOWilkinson

They squint into the
sun while I pine for
the past. Their fuzzy hair
and goofy grins
say “Hurry up! We
have waves to swim
and sand to play in!”

It feels like I just added
this lock screen
but now they
are in high school
​and I feel old.

cmhutter

Oh, I understand that feeling. Time seems to pass so quickly as we watch our children grow. “They squint in the sun as I pine for the past” really touched my mom heart.

Kim

Ah! That passage of time–how is it that kids age when we adults don’t? “I feel like I just added this lock screen”–such a great line!

Glenda Funk

This captures the essence of mom feelings. My oldest turned 40 😳😬 in February. Lock screen doesn’t work on our children.

Larin Wade

Thank you for this prompt, Katrina! I enjoyed a little jaunt through my photos to see which memory I wanted to write about. I think my students would love this, too, so hopefully I will get to share it with them sometime!

Billy Bob’s, March 23rd, 2024
Old and new friends
Boots and jeans
Cute tops
Ranch waters
and excited smiles

We were ready to
celebrate Addyson’s 23rd.

Strangers all around
celebrating on their own
a bar on the side
to get drinks for the show
We got our drinks
and tried to get good spots
before the band played
“Lovin’ You Is Fun”

Singin’ and swayin’
Addyson knew the songs
Bryanna liked the beats
Cambry got to meet her sister’s friends
And I loved celebrating with them
at this dance hall together
While I hoped we would celebrate
Many more birthdays together
Despite new chapters and time and distance

Glenda Funk

Larin,
This memory poem is so much fun. I miss those youthful days of going out w/ the girls. And this poem has me thinking about a girlfriend weekend in Jackson Hole, a popular local singer/songwriter, someone from his team coming out onto the boardwalk to get my friends and me to come in and go on stage as *backup performers* (not singers) for him. That was a wild night! Memories!

Barbara Edler

Larin, your poem shares a wonderful celebration, the beauty of youth and how precious this moment is. At 23 life can take anyone in a whole different direction, and I feel in your poem the desire to hold onto the precious friendships that are present in this moment. I really liked the specific detail for the song you were waiting to hear.

Glenda Funk

Katrina,
Thanks for hosting. I’m a huge fan of ekphrastic poetry so was excited to see today’s prompt. I’m not in many photos, even as a child, so decided to write about a sign (I took a photo) in Saguaro National Park. I knew when I took the photo it would become a poem. I chose haiku sonnet as my form.

Saguaro Hotel 

each cohabitant
at the saguaro hotel
knows they belong here 

chilling with their friends— 
snacking at the restaurant 
features spring flowers 

well insulated 
atop the presidential
suite desert life rests 

fleshy tissue stores 
ample water & side wings 
sport sun-decked balconies 

welcome desert owls bats snakes 
et al. (NO two-legs allowed) 

Glenda Funk
4-6-24

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Jeania White

I LOVE THIS! Having just experienced saguaro cacti and driving through their “resort” it beautifully captures the feel of dessert environments. Bravo!

Susie Morice

Glenda — This is especially fun for me, as I lived briefly in Tucson and my eldest sister lived there for some 50 years…she still misses the saguaros and the smell of creosote in the desert. I can smell that right now….ahhh…loved it. The cactus wrens were particularly sweet. I loved thinking of these monumental plants as a hotel…indeed! You captured the details of their architecture so perfectly! Way to go. I have to send this to my sister…she will love it as well. Thank you for the memory. Hugs, Susie

Larin Wade

Glenda, what a lovely poem! I was about halfway through before I realized the hotel was an actual cactus–such a cool element there in the poem, and it was cool to discover. I particularly love the line “side wings sport sun-decked balconies” for its alliteration and creativity as the balconies are the arms of the cactus. Great imagery here!

Also–I’ve gotten to see saguaros before, and they are SO cool. You’re inspiring me to use nature as poetic inspiration!

Barbara Edler

Glenda, brilliant poem. From the start you establish the metaphor, and I adored “chilling with their friends”. All of your words are precisely chosen to show how the saguaro feeds, survives, and protects desert life. Your poem is truly a celebration of nature. I love how your poem looks on the attached photo. Each word is expertly placed, and the title is genius. Loved your final line “No two-legs allowed” because it adds the sense that this precious life needs to be protected and not trampled on by humans.

Denise Krebs

Oh, this is perfect, Glenda. I loved looking at the photo after I read your haiku sonnet. What a fun form! I think of those at the top of the food chain get to enjoy staying and enjoying life “atop the presidential / suite desert life rests”

Rachel Lee

Hi there!
I couldn’t find the picture in my house, but was the first one that came to my mind when I read the prompt. My puppy and I asleep on the kitchen floor a few years ago:

Puppy 

My mother always said that a person should have a puppy at least once
And here…
15 years later, I had fallen asleep with mine 
on the kitchen floor 
of our Chicago apartment 
The sun, bright and warm on her pig belly 
We dreamed together on that rug 
A memory captured by a past love 
I’m glad she did
Gracie awoke with her tail thump, thump, thumping 
A sweet little lick to my chin 
My mother was right

Jinan

Thank you, Rachel, for sharing such a lovely poem based on such a wonderful memory. I especially appreciate the line “we dreamed together on that rug/a memory captured by a past love”. Hope you have many more memories with your sweet pup!

Larin Wade

Rachel, I can feel the sun and warmth (physical and emotional) of this moment with your puppy. Wow, such a lovely memory here! I especially love the description of “pig belly,” which is the perfect way to describe a puppy’s sweet little stomach. And the joy at the end of the poem with the lick to your chin–how poignant. Thank you for sharing!

WOWilkinson

Thanks for sharing. I love the line about the sun “on her pig belly.”

rex muston

Rachel,

Nothing says love like the thump thump thumping of the tail. Sometimes it is with their eyes closed, and just hearing our voice. It shows a tenderness wrapped in the double bonus of Mom being right. Two different loves we sometimes take for granted…not being taken for granted.

Scott M

Detective McDougal Littell
Harcourt Norton sized up
the perp across the
battered, pockmarked 
table, What are we gonna
do with this Clown?

(Granted, the suspect
was, indeed, a graduate
of Clown College, and,
was, in fact, at this very
moment, dressed in full
clown regalia, red nose,
red curly fright wig,
face paint, the works.)

He had to turn up the
heat, had to turn this
simmer into a boil.

This crook seemed to
be as cool as a cucumber,
seemed to have ice
in his veins; he hadn’t
made a peep for the whole
forty-five minutes they’d
been in the box.

Detective McDougal Littell
Harcourt Norton surged
to his feet, flinging his
hands wildly and a bit 
too widely, for he sent the
lone interrogation light
swaying back and forth.

“I have rights!” the perp
finally squeaked.

Finger pointing, face
flushed, “Oh, you’ll have
your rights, you’ll have
your rights served with
a side of warm butter!

“It says here in your rap
sheet that you have a 
slight allergy to lobster,
scallops, and shrimp.

“You’ve, obviously,
heard of Good Cop /
Bad Cop, but have
you heard of Good
Cop / Bad Cop / Shellfish
Cop?

“We didn’t think so.

“If you don’t start answering
our questions and tell
us where you were
on the night in question,

“Bam! We’re gonna kick
it up a notch in here!

“We’re gonna bring in
The Intimidation
Crab Meat!”

_____________________________________________________________

Thank you, Katrina, for this fun, ekphrastic prompt!  (And thank your student for sharing the poem with us, too!)  For my offering, once I saw the picture that I was going to use, I had to “frame it,” so to speak, so I revisited a character I used last year in one of our April #VerseLove prompts, the one from Darius Phelps  – https://www.ethicalela.com/house-in-the-sky/ .

April 6.jpg
Jinan

This was so fun to read Scott! I imagined the voice of at first one of those film noir detective voices (like 1940s), before moving into perhaps a child playing with their siblings/friends. I was looking forward to the picture reference and was pleasantly surprised I was wrong! Thank you for an enjoyable, funny poem with play on words such as “intimidation crab meat” and the detective’s name.

Larin Wade

Scott, this made me laugh! I love the aside in parentheses about the clown actually being a clown–so funny! What creativity you have in framing the photo with the poem. Thank you for sharing!

Susie Morice

Oh my gosh — you have a mind that is in orbit! Just cray-cray! I kept hearing a Joizy accent…and one of the Sopranos smacking that light. So funny! And the McD-Littell…that really had me going. The clown image… just crazy…! If someone crawled inside your poet-brain they would pull out waaaay more than a clown….they’d pull out a Looney Tune genius! You gave me a whole lotta fun this afternoon! Thank you again and again. Susie

Donnetta D Norris

Something New

I ordered the Espresso Macchiato.
She…the Breakfast Bowl.
We really didn’t know one another well.
I tried to ask the right questions.

Eating…she explains how things work.
I try to take notes
(know I won’t remember it all).

She shows me what to do
I try to keep up
(knowing I don’t understand it all).

Nonetheless, we both enjoy
the breaking of bread
getting acquainted
the start of something new

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Rachel Lee

This was so cute! I like the idea of communicating with kitchen items:)

Erica J

I love the asides in parentheses and honoring your confusion while still capturing this moment of community and growth!

Larin Wade

Donnetta, I’m not sure if this is what you meant, but one getting the espresso and the other getting the breakfast bowl show the separation from the start. I feel like the etiquette for a get-to-know-you over coffee is for both of you to get a drink…so I feel the subtle divide there! I also like your parenthetical asides to inside your head as you show how your actions and thoughts don’t necessarily align. I often nod even when I know I won’t remember or understand. So, I felt this! Thank you for sharing a poem of such an intriguing meeting!

Tammi Belko

Katrina — Thank you for your prompt. I loved the conversational voice of the your student’s poem and the sense of adventure through wandering to find the ducks.
“We went to a pond here, and we went to a pond there.”

I am almost an empty nester and began to feel a bit nostalgic as I scrolled through my photos.

Colors

You stand in front of the
blinking Christmas tree. 
I remember the disagreement
about the color of the lights
how you three out voted dad and me.
How our choice of white turned to
red, green and blue.

I remember
hustle and bustle 
of comings and going
of gymnastics meets &
fencing tournaments
of band shows & after school work schedules
of our home humming
with conversations & sometimes disagreements
but, mostly,
laughter
and
love like bursting fireworks,
effulgent colors spooling around us, 
cocooning our family.

Now, with two of the three moved out,
a state sprawling between us, 
and only one child in the house, 
I feel the miles stretching
feel the silence like an eclipse.
The house whispers now.
Less comings and goings.
Less bustle and hustle.
The colors are muted

&

I long for noisy family love. 

I stretch to reach you.

Rachel S

My mom’s in the same spot as you right now – just her youngest at home – and she is having such a hard time! I think your poem captures it really well – the “noisy family love” contrasted to the “whispers.” I love the COLOR theme throughout. Also I had to laugh at the Christmas tree light argument – my family had the same one every year. I was on the white team, too. Sending peace ❤️

Susan A

Tammi,
this is beautiful and the feelings are familiar.

Juliette

Tammi, I enjoyed the way you shared the different colors (many activities and experiences with the family) and how now, “The colors are muted.” I’m also almost an empty nester so understand the emotions in this poem.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Tammi, my heart breaks with the memories and the yearning in your poem. I love the vignette of them out voting you on the colorful lights. That is precious. I love these lines as a result:

love like bursting fireworks,

effulgent colors spooling around us, 

cocooning our family.

Susan

Katrina,
I love it when I am prompted to write about a picture. The options are limitless. Thank you for steering me toward this writing on this beautiful Saturday.

fragile strings

a candid moment
within a posed picture session
when the smiles
were real and
the bond
strong.

it was before 
they changed . . .
each of them 
and consequently 
all of them

it was before 
when he was still small-town
not yet 
spreading his wings
or outspending his savings.

it was before
his heart became totally hers
not yet
basing every decision around her
and dreaming of big city life.

it was before 
she rocketed past us in earnings
not yet
relishing life in NashVegas
establishing her independence.

it was before 
she took a different path
not yet
living with a secret 
surrounded by a hard shell

it was before 
the strong bonds
became fragile strings
tying them together
forever

but
fragile strings are 
better than nothing.

`~Susan Ahlbrand
6 April 2024

IMG_6425.jpeg
Rachel Lee

I enjoyed this 🙂 It felt thoughtful and leaves me wondering…

Jinan

Thank you for sharing this lovely photo and beautiful poem, Susan. The repetition of the lines “it was before” makes me think about how our photos take us back in time when we did not know what the future had in store. Also, the underlying hope with the lines “fragile strings are better than nothing”. It makes me think about how our connections/bonds even if they thin out, as long as they are there, there is hope. As Rachel said, it leaves me thoughtful and wondering….so thank you!

WOWilkinson

I really like how you repeated the “it was before” line. Great job developing the mood.

rex muston

Susan,

The last stanza gets me, and then it is working back with the different players in the different stanzas. You really capture that time when we are young and certain, but insecure enough to really rely on each other. And we really are hungry to touch base again over the years, but the shared references are further away, further away. The fragile strings are still a blessing.

Glenda Funk

Susan,
I can totally relate to your mom aches in this poem. The repetition of “It was before” effectively magnifies the changes and the heartache and hope. Hugs.

Kim Johnson

Susan, I applaud your bravery and openness in sharing the befores. Somehow, the writing of poems like this one opens the floodgates for all the acceptance of the way things are and the ways people change. Yes, fragile strings can strengthen again.

Rita B DiCarne

Katrina, thank you for this prompt that brought me to an unexpected place today.

Patrice (2)

We were so young in the 80s.
Young women
Young wives
Young mothers

That watermelon basket 
took us SO LONG to make.
My wrist hurt from making melon balls!

I told you NEVER AGAIN and
we laughed and laughed and laughed!

We were joined by the love for two brothers. 
Sisters-in-law
“Sisters” in life

We thought we would grow old together,
but that was not to be.

Forty years of adventures was not enough.
Ten years without you is a LONG time.
Sometimes it feels like a lifetime.

Rita & Patrice.jpg
brcrandall

Rita, this photo captures the love…the happiness (as do your words). “We thought we would grow old together,” is the heart of it all. Beautiful.

Donnetta D Norris

Rita, I can almost see you and your sister-in-law laughing and laughing and laughing. I think my favorite line is

We were joined by the love for two brothers.

Rachel Lee

I love this photo – I hope it is hung up somewhere. What a wonderful memory to hold tight.

Rachel S

That basket is IMPRESSIVE. My wrist aches just looking at it! But I love the interaction of the two of you in this picture, and the way your poem brings it to life. What a beautiful bond, and I’m so sorry it had to end early.

Susan A

Rita,I hope your heart felt warmed by revisiting this moment and the feelings associated with your sister-in-law. It captures the trip back in time very well.

Maureen Y Ingram

Everything Was Black and White Then

I can hear our boisterous
unfettered laughter 
we’ve climbed up on top 
of some backyard table or 
is it a couple sawhorses and 
a sheet of plywood
clowning around
I can barely make out the date 
1962?
there’s three year old me
in the thick of six boys
my two older brothers
teetering on the edge
going to fall off
three of their pals holding on tight
little brother’s at my side
holding his precious ‘beekemah’ – 
he dragged that old scrap 
of a blanket everywhere
look at that big jeering grin 
on my face
what was I shouting?
and look how I’m seated 
my legs wide, a ‘man’s spread’
this was before they insisted
I act like a lady

Denise Krebs

Maureen, at times reading this, I thought there was going to be disaster. The “going to fall off.” But I was happy to continue with all the sweet details like the “beekemah” and the “big jeering grin” and “my legs wide.” I love that you were at least allowed to be “in the thick of” the boy crew in those early years.

Tammi Belko

Maureen,

You’ve certainly captured the joy and free spiritedness of childhood in your poem. I can totally visualize this image. Love the last few lines: “my legs wide, a ‘man’s spread’
this was before they insisted/I act like a lady”

Barbara Edler

Maureen, I love the way you describe the details in the photograph, and I absolutely adore your poem’s title. “Everything Was Black and White Then” which adds a whole subtext to the poem. I’m not sure what a “beekemah” is, but it sounds interesting, and I appreciate the way you want to be one of the boys which is revealed with your final lines. Powerful poem.

Glenda Funk

Maureen,
You’ve really captured a moment in time in specific detail. The poem reads like a reel of advancing film playing while you narrate. Yes, being told to “act like a lady” is such a kill joy.

Denise Krebs

Your
Grammy
Holds on, but
Your dimples dance,
Feasting on freedom,
Sipping steep grades, your joy.
Restrain your rapture? Never!
When you summit this stony slant
You’ll keep going, for you carry stars

_______________________________________
Katrina, thank you for this simple, yet so effective prompt. I had fun scrolling through photos. So many possibilities for poetry. I had fun reading the three mentors. Please tell your student thank you for sharing their poem. I loved the extra honest details of “It was also the day I shot a decoy.” So sweet.

milo.jpg
Maureen Y Ingram

So precious, Denise!
Your dimples dance,
Feasting on freedom”

Tammi Belko

Denise,
I feel your love and pride for your grandson in your words: “Your dimples dance” andYou’ll keep going, for you carry stars.” Enjoy your grandparenting adventures!

Leilya Pitre

Denise, the first thing I notice is how your poem reflects this “stony slant” you grandson is climbing. Such a joyous image. You carefully guard his efforts. “Your dimples dance” will stay with me for a long-long time. The poem and the image are heartwarming. Thank you, friend!

cmhutter

Your poem captures the energy and awe of the world for young ones. “Restrain your rapture? Never!”- this stood out to me and may his curiosity ever grown.

Kim

Perfect! “your dimples dance, feasting on freedom” I love the energy of those lines, forward moving motion…

Barbara Edler

Denise, your word choices are fantastic in this poem. I love “dimples dance” and “feasting on freedom”. Your final line is loving and poignant. Very moving poem. I can hear the love for your grandchild through every word.

Glenda Funk

Denise,
Ypu chose the perfect form today. It shows the progression of your grandchild over time and their achieving precious milestones. Lovely alliteration in “dimples danced” and “feasting on freedom.”

Sarah

I was thirty-five something in this picture
Born too serious behind the eyes sitting beside J and J
On the rooftop of the van
Dad balancing on a maple tree swing
Nikon dangling in between shots
As we posed for stills never told
To cheese or fake joy only silence
In these father-daughters weekend
Camps years before the layoff
That would blur the lens of our futures

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Denise Krebs

Sarah, oh my goodness. Those first two lines are perfect. You know yourself, so you can write it, but the picture perfectly punctuates the “serious behind the eyes.” This could be part of a verse memoir. We are left wanting to know so much more. More of life “before the layoff” and after. So rich and lovely.

brcrandall

Agreed, Denise…what a wonderful way to capture an old soul’s perspective born into a younger self making sense of the moment. It’s the power of these fist two lines.

Maureen Y Ingram

I got a shiver down my neck at, “never told/To cheese or fake joy only silence” – these words made me feel as if I was there, too. Love the photographic double-entendre of “blur the lens”.

Tammi Belko

Sarah,

I agree with Denise, this poem could be a the beginning of a verse memoir. Your images of “Dad balancing on a maple tree swing/Nikon dangling in between shots” were so vivid and there is so much emotion in your words: “Born too serious behind the eyes” and “As we posed for stills never told.” Just beautiful.

Susie Morice

Sarah — This is so rich…the sense of a child who was way too aware, watching a “Dad” that “would blur the lens of our futures”….I so know this feeling…you transported me to moments I remember in my own past with my dad present…and not present. The juxtaposition of youthful innocence and crushing reality that freezes the photo in place….the very tough stuff, Sarah. Sending hugs, Susie

Dave Wooley

Sarah,
there’s so much to love in this poem. I love the couplet “as we posed for stills never told/ to cheese or fake smiles only silence”. It intimates a real earnestness. And the “layoff that would blur the lens of our future” is a devastating ending—especially as you use the lens imagery.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Sarah, the looks in the eyes of each of these children evoke stories of their own! I can just imagine how different they would be. Is this photo one that predicted the individualism into which each have grown. You, if that is you on the right, do have the thoughtful, cogitating look we often seen in ZOOM meeting as you consider the input of others. You are a thoughtful listener who helps us think, too.

Thanks for sharing the photo … and for maintaining the platform where we teachers can see and learn together.

Dave Wooley

Katrina, This is a great prompt and I love the exemplar poems. This is one that I’ll use with students, for sure!

This gave me the chance to look through some recent photos of a HS journalism conference that me and my co-adviser took our newspaper to at Columbia University. This will be my last year at the school, and we have been co-advising the paper for 18 years (or so). This is based on a picture that one of our kids took of us doing our last presentation together.

Proportion

Co-presenting
Co-advising,
Always finding a balance,
Sharing a stage
offering some (hopefully)
sage wisdom for
green journalists.

Try not to make things

Bigger

than they are,

Foreground the truth,
find symmetry and balance
in your reporting.

But this one is different,
I’m steps from the exit,
and you’re positioned
in the foreground.

One last presentation–
the magnitude amplified–
has knocked me off balance.

This one at CSPA.JPEG
MathSciGuy

Thanks for sharing your poem! I like the math words that you used!

Sarah

Dave,

Leaving the school? Retiring or changing jobs?

I love the stage and sage sounds and play on these words often combined in teaching phrases but separated here offering new meaning. Yes, there is hope in the truth. And I am holding onto this message of not making things bigger than they are.

Sarah

Dave Wooley

Hi Sarah,

Leaving the school. Heading to Penn State next semester, joining my partner. Transitions are tough though!

Maureen Y Ingram

What a cool thing to notice –
I’m steps from the exit,
and you’re positioned
in the foreground.”

Denise Krebs

Dave, what an interesting perspective. If this had just been another presentation during the 18 years of your work, this poem wouldn’t have been born. I love how you noticed your few “steps from the exit” and the other person more upfront. Then the honesty of being off balance at this new juncture and change for you. This is just one of the many ways you’ll adjust to a new chapter. All the best to you!

Tammi Belko

Dave,

These lines felt so relevant in today’s climate “Try not to make things/Bigger/than they are.”
Your message of finding balance, not only in one’s life, but also in responsible reporting is so important.

Allison Laura Berryhill

Dave, as a fellow journalism adviser, I felt your poem on all the levels. Two lines gave me needed reflection:

“Try not to make things
Bigger
than they are”

and
the magnitude amplified–
has knocked me off balance”

At 64, I’m right behind you. Thank you for a poem that gave me both a window and a mirror.

rex muston

Katrina,

I loved this prompt. Nothing is more evocative that photos, and I go further and go with the black and white shots. I included the photo at the bottom of the poem, but am not sure if it will show up enough to do the poem justice, and visa versa. Regardless, thanks for pushing me to capture the words tied to that morning.

When it hit 
I quietly took a picture.

There were still bells,
noticeable echoing in halls filled with silence,
but no students.

And I watched the light 
fight with the darkness,
and create a photo of hope,
strangely illuminating  
all the scratches and smudges
of our brilliant awkward indiscretions,
our humanity.

I stepped a little easier from my fear
knowing we would be gone for now,
knowing we’d return.

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gayle sands

Empty school halls always fill me with the feelings your poem offers. Melancholy and hope…. Beautiful!

Rachel S

I’m not sure if this poem is intentionally about Covid or not, but that’s what it made me think of! The poem & (stunning) picture both bring back such strong emotions from that time. I love your first two lines, especially.

Sarah

Rex,

These are the times we live in, when I read your poem and think of hall’s vacated by a shooting rather than a banal end of day hurry to after school events. And I hear it in your words in the indiscretion and the scratches and smudges. Humanity is also a powerful word with possibilities of harm and healing. Lots of emotions foe me in this poem and photo.

Sarah

Maureen Y Ingram

So beautiful –
the light 
fight with the darkness,
and create a photo of hope,”

Rita B DiCarne

Rex,
“When it hit 
I quietly took a picture.”

Your poem is beautiful and your picture is amazing. These lines hit me hard. Your picture brought me back to 2012 when the Catholic school where I taught closed (merged) with two other schools. There were so many memories and sounds living in those empty hallways.

Susie Morice

Rex – I loved both the photo and the poem. The somber tone of bells, silence, and the echo lingering…very rich. “…the light/ fight the darkness”… I LOVE that. “Our brilliant, awkward indiscretions”… that says so much about who and where you are at that moment…I love the reflective nature of that. The whole mood of this is really wonderful. Thank you. Susie

Susan

Rex,
I’m assuming that this photo was from the Covid shutdown. The photo is gorgeous in its black and white splendor and I love the poem, especially these lines:

And I watched the light 

fight with the darkness,

and create a photo of hope,

Juliette

Katrina, thank you for the prompt and the mentors. My photograph, in my photostream was taken at our rebuilt, childhood home- taken with my daughter, sister and her daughter.

Four Musketeers

Four musketeers
at it again
vowed to snoop 
ambling through
expansive rooms 
high ceilings
understated chandeliers
transparent banisters 
giddy on the steep stairs
everything seemed perfect
we stood in front of the 
empty building
asked for lights 
smiled, as the long arm was 
stretched to the side
SNAP!
“We were here first!” the photo shouts
darkness behind us, the lit outline
of this beauty, completed the look.

Sarah

Such wonderful images of musketeers and chandelier and banisters. The snooping. So fun but intense.

Sarah

Leilya Pitre

Hi, Juliette, I like how you tell the story behind this photo. And I remember your yesterday’s poem (I left a little comment there for you too) with “news aplenty,” and, for some reason, I am connecting them.
“”We were here first!” the photo shouts” allows to imagine your smiling faces in front of the house. Some great images here with expansive rooms, understated chandeliers, steep stairs.
Thank you!

Leilya Pitre

Thank you for this prompt, Katrina! I knew exactly what story I will tell you today. This is one of my favorite pictures with my girls about 6 years ago.

Why Don’t you Try It On?

This is how it happened:
New York, Airbnb apartment,
We met for my daughter’s (left)
30th birthday flying in from UK,
Louisiana, and Ohio, accordingly.
As always, we exchange gifts
And little things, just because.

The birthday girl:
– Jana (right), I got me a lipstick,
Don’t think it looks good on me.
– Let me try! Nah, it’s not for me.
 Mom (middle), why don’t you try it on?
– I know it’s not for me, but if you insist…
  I’ll just spike up my hair,
  Maybe it’ll look better 🙂

Leilya_Dilya_Jana,New York, September 2018.jpg
brcrandall

You MUST wear black lipstick the next time I see you, Leilya….this photograph is priceless and fun…the light was good for you that day, too.

gayle sands

This is WONDERFUL! The poem, the photo, the occasion (the look?!?)

Sarah

Love this trio and the story behind the photo. Perfect in the off color hue.

Juliette

Leilya, this made me smile. You made use of something that was not so perfect. I enjoyed this: “I’ll just spike up my hair,
   Maybe it’ll look better”

Kim

I love this story poem! The spiked hair makes all the difference.

Sarah Fleming

I love that the title of this poem is a line of dialog suggested by the storytelling – it’s really cool, Leilya!

Glenda Funk

Leilya,
OMG! 🤣 I agree w/ Bryan; wear the black lipstick. The contrast between the serious and funny w/ the dialogue is fabulous.

Denise Krebs

Oh, my goodness. What explosions of fun here! I so love those faces, and the conversations around the said lipstick is priceless!

brcrandall

Katrina, there’s nothing better than a reminder to scroll through photographs to prompt a love for verse (#VerseLove ’24). “Old Gunner got very excited when we first saw some ducks fly by” – thanks for sharing a poem written by a student (such voice)…after all, upholding student voice is what most of us are about. Beautiful. It prompted me to scroll through the many young people who changed my life for the better. (This one for “Shafac”, Mr. Abdi)

Pool Day, 2014
the light was good that day,
& swimming seemed a magical idea –
brothers & nephews
leaping into chlorinated
possibilities,
well past ethnographies
& a responsibility to speak out:
Bantu enslavement,
hunger, the the disillusionment
that comes from nomadic wandering.

“Cuz in war, people spread out
to save their lives.’. 

i was studying (wondering) postcolonial literature 
the year he was born – his mother
burying six siblings along the path 
from Hagadera to Kakuma, 

“we had no shoes, no clothes,” he remembered.

my nephew is a senior now,
ready to engineer a better world
for children with disabilities,

Abdi is now a father  
who drives trucks with American goods.

The light was good that day, indeed.

TheLightWasGoodThatDay.jpg
Leilya Pitre

This is priceless, Bryan! “The light was good that day, indeed” is the best way to put it. The light that brought Abdi in your life was even better.
These two lines resonate with me the most:
“Cuz in war, people spread out
to save their lives.’
What a painful reality for a child to realize. Thank you for your words today!

gayle sands

I have read this three times now, and experienced the joy in the photo and the road traveled by those boys with greater wonder each time…

Rita B DiCarne

Bryan, what a perfect picture! What a dichotomy between the boys’ then and now stories.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

I couldn’t love this more! What a celebration of joy and light and overcoming. This really strikes hard: “in war, people spread out to save their lives.”

Sarah Fleming

The researcher / storyteller in my got pulled in by these lines: “well past ethnographies / & a responsibility to speak out.” What a tremendous story you have to tell, friend…

Glenda Funk

Bryan,
The water symbolism here is powerful, especially given what we know about water scarcity in so many places, those you all didn’t speak out about. I’m diving into these lines:
“leaping into chlorinated
possibilities,
well past ethnographies”
And I’m thinking about the ethnographic study inherent in your complicated, powerful poem. I’ve had a migraine all day, but I’m really glad I managed to read your poem today. I love it.

Erica J

Thank you for sharing this prompt today. I have a bad habit of taking a lot of pictures and then not looking back at them ever — I’m sure I’m not alone.

I didn’t want to get bogged down in the searching and writing, so I decided to keep it simple with a tricube.

Greenbrier Adventure on July 24, 2021
by Erica J

Green water,
green trees, but
azure skies.

Tiger bright
life vests tight:
we kayak.

A small pond
thumbs up means
we glide on.

Leilya Pitre

Erica, you painted such a vivid picture with so few words. i can “see” you kayaking in the pond wearing tiger bight life vests. A tricube works great!

Heather Morris

The tricube is perfect for this kayaking moment. The colors paint a beautiful picture of the setting.

Rachel S

Some of my most treasured poems are of photographs. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to write another one, Katrina!!

Shhhhh

They didn’t want us to take a picture
even though this was the first time 
they met you and your sister

but I wanted you to remember 
the way Aunt Mary held your hand
and walked you around the house

the way Grandma hugged you 
in her pink turban and red flower dress
and showed you her pig rock

the way they doted on you
and gave you their heirloom doll bed
made by your great, great, great grandfather

the way they looked at you 
like you were their life’s fulfillment 
their joy, their hope for the future 

so I stealthily snapped one 
through the car window 
as daddy was helping you say goodbye
_____________

They would have my neck if they found out I posted the picture online, so I guess I’ll just give you the words!

MathSciGuy

Rachel, thanks for sharing this precious moment – words are more than enough! Children truly are “hope for the future” – loved that line!

MathSciGuy

Thanks, Katrina! I enjoyed writing about a memory I captured recently with my son at the beach 🙂

Laying on a bed of rocks

Impromptu photoshoot
We discovered the joy of rocks today
On the lakeshore
You smash rocks together
One in each hand
Giggling, eyes lit up with joy
Like the sun shining on the water

Uh oh – you don’t really want to eat those!

Rachel S

I can imagine this was such a sweet moment, his “eyes lit up with joy”. Rocks never get old to kids! But something always has to interrupt the blissful moments 😆 thanks for sharing!

Susie Morice

MSG — I enjoyed the sweet image of you with your kiddo…lovely and funny at the end. 🙂 You did bring forth “joy”…lovely. Susie

Heather Morris

Thank you for the invitation to write about a photograph.  I cherish the memories from our family vacation last summer.  We always traveled with family and friends, and this was the first vacation any of us could remember with just the four of us.  It holds a special place in my heart because we are rarely together these days as the kids are off starting their own paths in life. I wrote a tanka for this favorite picture.

Floating in milky
geothermal seawater
recounting wonders
of Icelandic adventure
our family bond strengthens

Screen Shot 2024-04-06 at 10.05.51 AM.png
MathSciGuy

I love your poem & reflection about time with family – each word in your poem packs a powerful punch!

Rachel S

What an exciting vacation!! We always end up traveling with extended family too – time with just your clan is special, indeed. I love the image of the “milk” water, and your last line.

Glenda Funk

Heather,
I saw this photo and immediately thought of Iceland, the Blue Lagoon, and the face masks. Okay, I also thought about the swim-up bar! Greet photo. Good times in the poem

Sharon Roy

Katrina,

Thanks for hosting and providing these three beautiful mentor poems. I love the slow, careful descriptions of your student’s poem. I love how the mistakes and the victories are both told matter-of-factly.

It was the day where I shot my first duck and goose,

With that old Wingmaster 20 gauge.

It was also the day I shot a decoy.

Thanks for this fun trip down memory lane. I wrote my first nonet.

I stop, snap a photo on the bridge
you cycle up behind me, smiling
both selfie and action shot
our city lights behind us
feeling the freedom
of our motion
bike date night
just us
joy

Heather Morris

This sounds like a wonderful date night. I can see the picture described by your words.

Katrina Morrison

Sharon, I like the way your nonet, which is visually captivating, focuses our eye on the capturer rather than the captured. In other words, my eye was drawn to you taking the photo rather than the photo taken, which makes it active rather than passive. (Pardon my rambling, I haven’t had a full cup of coffee yet).

Joanne Emery

Thank you, Katrina for coaxing me to go back to actually look at my photographs! I looked through a bunch from a spring trip to Vermont and wrote this.

Mountain Meditation
 
The golden meadow
laced with wildflowers,
The stand of pine trees
gently sloping along
the quiet ridge,
Just beyond –
the mountains rise,
one after the other –
A play of light and shadow.
Silver clouds drift
Swiftly north,
Dusting the mountaintops,
Beckoning
Evening rain.

Christine Baldiga

Joanne, how appropriate that I am reading this now – driving to Vermont for the eclipse. We just passed a meadow and your words captured that scene so perfectly!

Sharon Roy

Joanne,

Thank you for this beautiful trip to Vermont.

i like how each line is an image and your short lines slow us down, inviting us to meditate along with you. As soon as I read it, I reread it to linger in this peaceful place.

My favorite line:

Beckoning

Such a gentle word in such a peaceful poem.

Heather Morris

Your poem paints a peaceful scene. I love “silver clouds drift/swiftly north,/dusting the mountaintops.”

Katrina Morrison

Joanne, I love the silver and gold of your poem and the priceless view you describe.

Glenda Funk

Joanne,
This is a lovely snapshot of a Vermont mountain

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Thanks, Katrina, for giving us a platform to reflect and, in my case, to brag about the work done by NCTE these past fifteen years to support educators of color like me.

NCTE, National Council of Teachers of English, sponsors the Early Career Educators of Color program for educators from racial groups often underrepresented in leadership roles. I was invited to mentor and co-direct the program in 2008. Shekema, on the right, was in that first cohort. She remained active and mentored the 2011-12 cohort, of which Jeff was a part. Then, in 2017, Jeff, in the middle, joined me as co-director of the program! It was at an annual convention of NCTE that we took this picture. Looking at it now, I do get teary, but they’re tears of joy that the program still continues to thrive! Check it out on the NCTE website.

Proud Mommy with No Regrets

Writing about the other
As though I were their mother
Brings tears to my eyes
As we say goodbyes
Following our annual NCTE.

NCTE is where we met
A time and place we’ll not regret
Who even would take a bet
That our friendships still would be.

You see, I mentored her
She mentored him
Then he became the head of us all
Time for me to go. I heard the call.

But, NCTE kept me on
And, I got to see them again
Three generations of EC-EOC
Who met years ago at NCTE.

EC-EOC Shekema Jeff and Anna.jpeg
Stacey Joy

Anna! This is one to cherish and thank you for sharing this with us! You continue to pave the way and that is a blessing!

🩵

Joanne Emery

Quite a bond NCTE makes. Love this. You need to share this photo and poem with them, if you haven’t already!

Sharon Roy

Anna,

I love the pride of mentorship and how that pride swells and spreads as your mentee becomes a mentor. What a beautiful cycle. And then you are humbly ready to step away, but called back to continue to serve. Lovely.

Thank you for sharing.

Katrina Morrison

Anna, my favorite lines are “You see, I mentored her/She mentored him/Then he became the head of us all.” How rewarding to see your life’s work lived out in others and theirs lived out in you.

Susie Morice

Hi, Anna — You oughta send this to NCTE. It is the start of so many wonderful and lasting moments! Yea! Susie

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Thanks, Susie, for the confirmation. I posted on our EC-EOC group page.

opager.judi@gmail.com

What a marvelous topic! I never really thought about the gazillions of pictures I have floating about, but this topic made me think of those few that come to my mind often – and now I’m crazed because I need to know why they do!

Photographs

There always seem to be
two or three actual photographs
that stick in our minds
like acid-burned copper etchings
and I wonder why that is.

Me at just under two years old,
all chubby and happy and wiggly,
and decked out in my Easter finery
taken at Grandma’s house.

The one taken with us four older kids,
surrounding Dad at Como Park
with autumn’s tree branches
stark and barren in the background.

Me at 12 years old, bending down after my bath
wearing my bathrobe and PJ’s
scooping up my baby sister
to have a snuggle with her.

Jack sitting sideways in a chair,
the day before I moved to California,
with eyes that said, “don’t go”
so bittersweet.

My friend, Polly, standing at
the open doorway to the cabin
we had rented for the weekend
so much love and happiness

I must think on these things
to try to learn why they,
in particular,
remain so vivid in my head.

Sharon Roy

Wow!

Judi,

I love how you have captured a life in images. So many different stages and relationships and emotions.

Your whole poem is beautiful and I especially liked these lines:

like acid-burned copper etchings

and

Jack sitting sideways in a chair,

the day before I moved to California,

with eyes that said, “don’t go”

so bittersweet.

What a heartbreaking stanza.

Followed by the joy of

so much love and happiness

Your poem has so many of the elements of life: family, celebrations, every day affection, the pain of separation, the love and joy of friendship, and the wondering about how we make meaning.

Thanks for sharing.

opager.judi@gmail.com

Thank you so much for your response – doesn’t it ever make you wonder why you hold some photographs dear while others not-so-much!

Sharon Roy

Yes, I feel like this would be a good poetry prompt. Write about the photos that stick in your memory. Need to try it myself.

opager.judi@gmail.com

I know this may not actually belong in this category but I couldn’t help but put it in – I was so proud of my special girl for writing it. I asked the girls in my Butterfly Club
to write a poem about leadership and one of my very special student wrote this

It’s hard to image myself as
a leader because I’m so quiet but
I go about everyday treating
other people the way that I want to be treated.

I do the things that are right for me
but may not be right for
anyone else
and that is okay

If you ever needed my help
I would always be there
in my own quiet sort of way

I have learned that
although my voice is quiet,
that together with 100 other quiet voices
we can create a shout

I have learned to set boundaries for me
especially at school where kids
like to tease and bully me
and I pretend that mean girls just don’t exist to me

This year I’ve learned that
only people who are not happy with
themselves
are mean to other people.

I learned that leaders have to
be learning all the time
and sometimes
they have to be alone.

Krista R – 7th Grade

Joanne Emery

Oh Judi! Krista is an amazing leader. Wow! I’d love to share her poem with my students. I’m quite sure I wasn’t that reflective in 7th grade, but I would have sought out Krista as a friend. She feels safe with you to share this poem. That is the gift of an empathetic teacher. Thank you!

opager.judi@gmail.com

Joanne, thank you – Krista is truly one of my very special needs kids and is blossoming in her own quiet way. I was surprised she entered our Poetry Contest. She also belongs to a girl’s club I created on campus “The Butterfly Club” where everything and anything is ‘safe’ to talk about.

Stacey Joy

Judi, Krista is a Shero! I needed a Krista when I was in middle school. Please let her know I love her poem and her courage! She is living life the way it’s meant to be lived. IN KINDNESS!

opager.judi@gmail.com

Thank you Stacey, I will share your message with her. I know it will mean an awful lot to her.

Ashley

My feet used to be
Covered in red dirt
Now on the weekends
Covered in sand

Barefoot walks
To the drive way
Hit differently
In the ‘burbs

Although I belong
To the land
When I say hey
I’m 1300 miles away

Screenshot 2024-04-06 at 9.11.59 AM.png
opager.judi@gmail.com

Wow, Ashley – being from Minnesota now living in Redondo Beach California your poem hit home – WRITE MORE ABOUT IT!!!!!!!

Heather Morris

I love the beach, and I long to have my feet “covered in the sand” on the weekends.

Fran Haley

Ashley, what a gorgeous photo. To me your poem imparts a love of that red dirt of home, the land to which you belong, so far away…although I am currently longing for the beach, myself!

rex muston

Ashley,

The last two lines have so much depth. A rhyme, an accent, and saying home when there is an obvious incredible distance. Subtle use of the feet, and the footprints are where we have been and where we are now. I am hearing the beach from the photo. Thank you.

Glenda Funk

Ashley,
Those feet covered in red evoke memories. In February we went to Hawaii and visited a black sand beach, so I wrote a poem about my black sand beach feet. Beaches provide so many poem possibilities.

Fran Haley

Katrina, thank you for this inspiring prompt that sends my mind running in a hundred directions this morning. The possibilities are endless, really. These mentor texts – including your student’s – encapsulate and convey exactly what poetry is about: the preservation of an image and its meanings. So many photos of my childhood returned to mind… yet today, as I sit to write, the news here near Raleigh, NC, is full of the NCAA Championship game tonight. Reveal: I am not much of a sports enthusiast (gasp!) but in this neck of the woods, basketball is practically a religion (I know some of y’all out there can relate).

So today, it’s not a photographic poem for me that I write…it’s one for my capital city, and all the fans, and a legend remembered. It’s the scene first thing this morning on the local news…

Raleigh Remembers

Soft pink morning 
unveils
the charcoal-gray stone
standing alone
save for flowers
and trinkets
piled upon 
its base

tissue-wrapped roses
rest beside
foil-covered pots 
of pink cyclamen
and a faded
basketball
as first light
catches dewdrops
in a thousand
tiny rainbow glints
fire-bright

in a little while
hopeful pilgrims
will return
with more offerings

not looking for
a ghost
a resurrection
a conquering
warrior-angel

but just to say
we remember
the magic

there is no sound
save the breeze
stirring trees

shivering
scattering
sweet white
blossoms

that roll on and on
across the ground
toward the woods

where a wolf
standing alone
watches

sunrise
glimmering red
in his eyes…

he nods 
before turning back
to his own

somehow knowing
after forty-one years
his pack
has the run
of their lives
tonight.

*******

In memory of
Coach Jim Valvano
(1946-1993)
who led the 
North Carolina State Wolfpack
to NCAA tournament victory
in 1983.
In this neck of the woods,
the legend lives on.

Ashley

Fran,

Your poem is a love letter to how people can impact a community. The imagery transports me to the court, and the cadence of your poem hums like a whisper.

Joanne Emery

I love the vivid picture you paint in words.The first two stanza create such a poignant tone. The reader can see it and feel it and be there with you to remember.

brcrandall

Fran, I love this,

where a wolf

standing alone

watches

Susan A

Oh, Fran, this mingles the beauty of nature with the impact of legends so well. I have shown the Jimmy V ESPY speech to my class for years so I feel close to him. You honor him so well.

my guys are in Phoenix as they are rabid Purdue fans. Should be a fun night of hoops!

Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

Katrina, such fun! I can see kids really getting into this. Thank you for sharing a great idea, mentor poems, and a student’s writing with us. I don’t take very many photos of myself but this one always brings a smile. A small team works to plan our staff retreats. This year’s theme was Joy.

3…2…1… 

We three had worked so hard
putting together 
the staff retreat,
celebrating one another,
sharing JOY,
J sticking out her tongue
me with my face scrunched sideways
S laughing to tears
between us two,
capturing an ussie
to slot into the end
of the gathering song video
bringing our staff together
as one.

0-6.jpg
Sarah

Oh, I love this word “ussie” and this begins the scenes moment of planning that faculty rarely see. And the phrase “gathering song” is lovely.

Ashley

This picture exudes joy. In your poem, the imagery you use shows the photo and also what a photo can’t capture–the spirit behind it.

Fran Haley

Jennifer, this “ussie” is fabulous! The joy in it, and in your poem, are palpable. The collective effort here reminds me that “labor” is in the middle of “collaboration” – here, so clearly a labor of love that surely unites the staff. We all need more JOY in our daily work! Here’s to making it happen!

Heather Morris

Fabulous picture and poem of JOY. I love the word ussie. It is joyful when you bring others together by doing it together.

Susie Morice

Jennifer — I love that bond that you 3 have here. Just right…hard work and ending with an “ussie”… perfect. It was fun to read and I loved the pic. Hugs, Susie

Glenda Funk

Jennifer,
You’re word play is so clever. “capturing an ussie” is so on brand for you. Love it!

Margaret Simon

A shameless plug here: I post a photo each week on my blog for writers and students to write from. (This Photo Wants to be a Poem) All writers welcome.
I love all the different perspectives you shared to get us going today.
This is a raw poem coming from my most recent visit with my mother who has Alzheimer’s.
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.

Kim Johnson

Margaret, that last line – – the always questioning part of the empty eyes – – this is the real grieving time, isn’t it? I feel like I lost my mother long before I said goodbye.

Keith Newvine

This ekphrastic relationship between two forms of art is one of my favorite things to learn about with students!

This picture of me and my wife, Emma, on our way to the plastic surgeon. I was about to have some facial reconstructive surgery and it was a beautiful day and I was with my beautiful wife—and this poem came to me in the ride to Albany, NY.

Imag(e)ining

Before now
I never did things with intention
I just did things
I breathed in
I breathed out
I just did
This
Or that
It didn’t matter
I just did it.

Now, every thought has intent or purpose
I don’t know why or how.
I can feel a difference in being. 
Being
Be
ing
Being present
Pres
eh.
Present.
Nothing ever seems as nice as being there.

Black-capped chickadee.
That’s my grandpa’s bird
It whistled to me
Every day
As I walked up the road
To get the mail.

And I whistled back.

I still do. 

It’s my favorite thing to do;
talk to a chickadee.

Margaret Simon

The fragility of this moment is evident in your poem that leads us to the longing for the chickadee. Longing for memory and to have life go on.

Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

Keith, your poem slows in the middle, separating words into syllables, causing us to slow as well, to take notice of the intention right along with you. It allows us to notice the chickadee as well, in its coloring and sound. This is so lovely.

Sarah

Keith,

The line breaks here work like the breaths and reflections within. Maybe even the whistles of the chickadee and the memories of grandpa flitting in and out. Lovely.

Sarah

Ashley

Keith,

The vulnerability of going into surgery paralleled with the vulnerability of childhood creates a reverent tone. The lines “Being/be/ing/ Being present/ pres/eh” seemed to convey the longing for normalcy, peace, and the after.

opager.judi@gmail.com

Just plain WOWOWOWOW – “being there” is such a beautiful concept – I love the structure of your poem and your complete disregard of grammatical correctness – it makes me FEEL when I read it – it makes me want to whistle to a black-capped chickadee!

brcrandall

Being

Be

ing

Being present

Pres

eh.

Present.

Need any more be said. Dang, Keith. Another t-shirt is made. I want to wear this.

Sarah Fleming

Here’s to being present, friend.

Kim Johnson

The real moment feeling is captured so eloquently here! I love that you talk to chickadees. Somehow, I feel the presence of those no longer with me when I hear their favorite birdsongs. I’m with you – whistling back. Lovely!

Angie

Thanks for the prompt and the three poems you shared, Katrina. Love your experience using this with your students. I tried the sevenling mentioned yesterday.

This is 36

Catamaranin’ around South Mauritius
Pushin’ cares to the side for some time
Celebratin’ my birthday with my husband 

Sun-kissed skin meets transition glasses at this age 
Wavy hair flowing in the wind, captured by the selfie
Embraced by my favorite turquoise blues

Clichély blessed to see another year

IMG_6095.jpeg
Margaret Simon

Look at those waves in your hair, the amazing color of the water against the sky. You captured the fleeting moment of gratitude.

Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

Angie, I love the freedom in this, from the “catamaranin'” (what a great word) to the pushing cares aside to the way your curls are frolicking right alongside you. What a beautiful moment!

Sarah

Oh, thank you for letting us witness this moment and read your noticing, your reading and poeming of each feature. Beauty.

Sarah

Susie Morice

Angie — Beautiful photo…beautiful you…beautiful poem captures a very joy-filled moment! Susie

gayle sands

Katrina— I have always loved working with photographs for poetry. Thanks for the chance to recall one of my favorite teacher memories.

Out of Context

“Let’s go to a drag show!”
We needed a night out, so why not?
I’d never been to a drag show before.

Three middle aged, 
middle-schooled teachers, 
respectably wine-ful.
A small adventure,
for good friends, 
expanding horizons.

Exiting the restroom at intermission,
A deep, shocked voice surprised me.
I wouldn’t know anyone else here, would I?

“Mrs. Saaaands?”
I heard the exclamation points.
“Mrs. SANDS?!!?”
I have never encountered a student more out of context 
than that moment.
In that corridor.

You never know who you’re going to run into.
Or who they will become.

GJ Sands

IMG_0616.jpg
Linda Mitchell

Oh, my gosh! How wonderful. I love this…that former student could have totally passed by you without saying a word. This is a spectacular poem….especially the word, “wine-ful.” Sounds like my kind of night.

Angie

This is so awesome! Thanks for sharing the pic. I also love “wine-ful” so fun!!

Leilya Pitre

What a surprise! A memorable, picture-worthy moment, Gayle! These lines build up suspension so skillfully:
“A deep, shocked voice surprised me.
I wouldn’t know anyone else here, would I?”
Thank you!

Margaret Simon

Oh my goodness! Your face says it all. I am here to have fun, but wait! Who am I really?

Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

Gayle, look at the two of you and the celebration that is captured in that photo – of who each other is.

opager.judi@gmail.com

OMG – how I love this! Genuine brilliance and fun! Next time call me and I would definitely join the festivities!

Rita Kenefic

I love the way you set up this situation and could almost hear the laughter when you came up with “wineful” idea. The shock of seeing a student must have filled you with many varied emotions. It simply made me laugh. This is hilarious.

Dave Wooley

Gayle, you had me at “respectably wine-ful”! LMAO! And then the great story that followed, and the perfect title. Love this all!

brcrandall

“or who they will become” – ah, the joys of teaching, Gayle.

Susie Morice

Gayle — What a priceless moment! It’s true…teacher run into that “Hey, Mrs. Saa….” all the time… ya neva know! LOL! Fun photo and fun time! Susie

Kim Johnson

Katrina, thank you so much for the invitation to share photos of our lives. If ever there were a way to motivate kids to write, asking them to take out their phones and look at their pictures is it! I love that Davy Crockett hat in the mentor poem today – my brother used to wear one, too. This brings some memories, especially as he is getting married today! Thanks for hosting us!

They Do 

these two join hands, hearts
forever as one today 
my brother, his bride

their blind date restored 
hope, led to love, commitment ~
two become one flesh

Kim Johnson

Here they are at their rehearsal yesterday!

IMG_4201.jpeg
Susan A

This is precious, Kim! And so full of hope. Enjoy the day!

Susie Morice

Awwww, sweet! Love it, Kim! Susie

Linda Mitchell

Oh, how beautiful! Lucky them—lucky you to be there and get photos.

Leilya Pitre

Congratulations to your brother and his bride, Kim! Enjoy the wedding today. These words touch my heart: “their blind date restored hope.” Beautifully said!

Christine Baldiga

These two join hands, hearts… love these words

Angie

Almost missed the title. Love “They Do” and, like Leilya, I also love “their blind date restored” best wishes to them!

Margaret Simon

I’m so glad you made it to the wedding! What joy you have shared in this union of two people you love dearly.

Dave Wooley

Kim,

Great poem! I feel like this is exactly what the prompt is calling us to do–recall the beautiful, unique stories behind these images.

Glenda Funk

Kim,
I hope you had a lovely day celebrating your brother and his bride, We both know how precious this second time around love can be.

Christine Baldiga

Katrina, thank you for the wonderful mentor poems. I didn’t need to see the picture in any of them! Thank you also for giving me permission to scroll through my photos. Having four active grandchildren made it difficult to choose which one to write about so I went with the latest!

Commands

Two in the front
Two on the top step
Watch your muddy feet
Be careful of your brother
Look this way
Stop squinting
Smile
Now look this way
Smile
Again
One more time
Perfect…
For four wiggly kids that is

Kevin

I like how “smile” sets the rhythm of the moment
Kevin

Leilya Pitre

Christine, this is a photographic poem about a photographic moment! I can see your four grandkids! “One more time,” I said it to mine so many times. Love “wiggly kids” too.

Linda Mitchell

Oh, my goodness…I can only imagine how wiggly. What a great capture of this pic in a poem. I think it just might be a gift poem.

Angie

Haha I can picture this happening. How funny that it takes so long to get a picture with kids. Love seeing when people post all the pictures leading up to the one that was “perfect…for four wiggly kids that is” lol

opager.judi@gmail.com

Love, love, love your perspective from behind the camera! “Stop squinting” – I can hear my mother saying that to us over and over again.

Heather Morris

I love how the commands turned into a poem. I love the last two lines. It certainly sounds perfect.

Katrina Morrison

“Look this way/Stop squinting/Smile” captures the challenge of capturing just the right image of a restless bunch of kids.

Linda Mitchell

What fun scrolling through my photos. The people that I love are there…I keep them in my pocket with me. Your student’s poem captures youth–“And me and the boys got Gunner and took a picture in the sunset.” Isn’t that the time in a bottle we are all looking for? I love the student’s care in capturing details to preserve.

I love a good nonet. I’ve been writing a few these days:

In the sunroom, our old lady faces fresh-washed
ready for a long visit – at least a day
maybe a night too. I brought a water
glass for you. We knew we’d talk
about the chemo and radiation
but just that moment
your camera snapped
my smile
young

Kevin

Linda,
Your poem is lovely and I lingered on the phrasing of:

… I brought a water
glass for you …

I’m not sure why but that seemed an act of generosity.
Kevin

Leilya Pitre

Linda, this is a good nonet! I like how it begins with longer lines and then slows down for a suitable picture moment. “The chemo and radiation” sound so scary, but you brave that “young” smile.

Christine Baldiga

You set the stage with beginning in the sunroom – I felt the warmth from the get go

Margaret Simon

I love how you take us along here into the sunroom and to the glass of water and what was really happening. That’s the thing about photos. We know what is really happening in the scene even if the photo itself does not tell the same story.

opager.judi@gmail.com

Your poem captured my heart for some reason! “my smile young” – brilliant conclusion

brcrandall

Linda, the gesture of bringing water and the delivery of lines from more to less are simply brilliant in this poem. “In the sunroom,” too, is such a great beginning…warmth and light…the old lady faces.

Susie Morice

Linda — This is so tender. Beautifully written…right down to the last word. Hugs, Susie

Kevin

Great prompt, Katrina — I love using images to spark writing.
Kevin

Louis Prima –
he ain’t gonna whisper,
nope, Louis’ gonna shout –
gonna shout my ear out
but I’m all game
to leaning in,
imagine him sing,
to let him bring
the biggest noise
in the biggest voice
anyone’s ever called,
the musical siren
of New Orleans,
jumping – jiving –
wailing off the wall

from the image: https://flic.kr/p/2oj1mGT

Linda Mitchell

Fabulous! Wonderful phrase, “musical siren of New Orleans,”

Leilya Pitre

Kevin, your poem is “alive,” and you clearly capture Louis Prima’s personality. I love “the musica siren.” Thank you!

opager.judi@gmail.com

Your poem is absolutely ALIVE! I always see a good poem as one that can paint a vivid picture or emotion in my mind using only their words, and you certainly have! BRAVO, Kevin!

Dave Wooley

Great poem AND great picture! I read the poem in Louie Prima’s voice in my head. Great musicality in the rhymes and rhythms. So good!

brcrandall

Love the photo of you and “the musical siren
of New Orleans” – great thumping and jumping here.

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