Picture This: Ekphrastic Poem

This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We gather every month and daily in April — no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.)

Our Host

Gayle Sands lives in a small town near the Maryland line south of Gettysburg, PA. She taught middle school English and Reading Resource for 27 years in Carroll County, MD schools, retired during Covid, and soon “de-retired”. She currently has the best part-time retirement job ever as Professional Development Liaison between McDaniel College’s Education Department and the Carroll County School System. She supervises pre-service education students as they experience the real world of teaching. When not driving around listening to audiobooks and checking in with student interns, she supervises a motley crew of three small, loud dogs and four cats (of varying sizes and ages), spoils her grandchildren, and appreciates her husband of 47 years. She feels very lucky.

Inspiration 

It is December. In this season of celebration (and sometimes of difficult emotions), As I return to memories of times with family and friends, I look back through old photos, think about how things have changed, and appreciate the gift my past provides. The personal photo I used for my second poem is probably my favorite of all the photos of my children (now in their 40’s). When I look at it, I return to the sheer pleasure of that moment in time.

I am a lover of historic photos, as well. “Mrs. Foster” spoke to me when I viewed it online–I felt that I knew her, and wrote as if from her heart. I have successfully used this writing process with my eighth graders.  The connection between the written word and the visual seems to provide an opening into writing for students who might otherwise balk at the task.

Process

An ekphrastic poem is written in response to a scene or work of art. The name comes from the Greek word “description”.  In an introduction to his book Breathing Room (2000), Peter Davison, discusses the connection between poetry and photographs. He refers to ekphrastic poems as audiographs, “since, like photographs…each is intended to evoke a mood, a scene, an enigma, the unfolding of a metaphor, the entrapment of an idea, in a space or shape that will contain it without killing it.” Source: ScrippsCollege.edu

Write a poem based on one of the historic photographs provided below (or a photo of your own).  Walk into the photo. Be present in the photograph in some way—as a bystander, as one of the individuals in the photo, or as someone coming upon the scene. Use the photo as your starting point and open your senses.  What do you see and/or hear? Is there something you can taste or smell?  What sensations do you feel?  Is there any movement?  What thoughts come to your mind as you engage with the photo?

Vintage photographs are a good source of inspiration. I have provided links to a selection of photos, but consider uploading your own image as I did for my second poem.

Example of an Ekphrastic poem based on a photograph: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/58870/a-chingona-plays-miss-dinah-brand

Photos to Consider

• Girls’ playground, Harriet Island, St. Paul, MN (1905):  Girls’ playground, Harriet Island, St. Paul, Minn.
• Washington, DC public schoolroom (1899) [Washington, D.C. Public Schools – classroom scenes and school activities]
• Group of African American children playing (1900?) [Group of African American children playing]
• Emigrants coming to the “Land of Promise” (1902) Emigrants coming to the “Land of Promise”
• Beaumont, Texas. Mammie Fairchild and Dorothy Mason working on a bus at the city transit company (1943) http://loc.gov/pictures/resource/fsa.8d19840/

Gayle’s Poems

Mrs. Foster Hanging Up Her Husband’s Overalls, 1938

This was not what I bargained for, Mr. Foster,
when I said I would grow old with you.
We were young. You were handsome,
strong, gleaming, laughing. Mine.

We danced and talked in the lamplight.
You said you were a farmer, but
I was a city girl.
I could not understand the weight of that word:

farmer

You brought me here,
miles from everyone
to build a new life.
I am lonely in our new love, Mr. Foster.

My dance partners here are damp overalls.
They slouch, slovenly, suspended from clothespins
patched, worn through, faded.
They do handstands on the line
Form handsome shadow dancers on the ground,
enticing me to dance along with them.

I sing to the endless fields
“Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey?” 
The crickets provide the percussion
Chickens chuckle the chorus.
The plough horse whickers in harmony.
They are my only companions.
Even the breeze stayed home today.

This was not what I bargained for, Mr. Foster.

GJSands 

Joy

If I could bottle this moment,  
I would preserve it 
for all the days that don’t go right, 
all the weeks that don’t go right,
all the years that don’t go right.

I would crystallize your laughter, 
bottle the warm sunshine and scent of honeysuckle, 
wrap the creak of the swing in tissue paper.
My three beautiful children, 
as yet untouched by the world.

I would bottle this day and save it for you.
Take small doses, as needed.
I warn you to be judicious–
You will need enough joy 
for the rest of your lives.

Joy is what will sustain you.

I admit that I have sipped from that tiny bottle.
(I needed a carefully administered dose of joy 
to make it to the next day.)
I promise I have not wasted it.

It is your joy, 
saved for you.

GJ Sands 
5/13/25

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to 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. 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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.