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

Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. Margaret has been an elementary school teacher for 38 years, most recently teaching gifted students in Iberia Parish. Her first book of children’s poetry was published in 2018 by UL Press, Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape. Her latest book is Were You There: A Biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet; Margaret wrote poems in Emma’s voice as she worked through trials and tribulations of Reconstruction and a Jim Crow South to become the first African American woman in the state of Louisiana to receive a medical degree. Margaret’s poems have appeared in anthologies including The Poetry of US by National Geographic. Margaret writes a blog regularly at http://reflectionsontheteche.com.
Inspiration
Laura Purdie Salas held a weekly writing challenge for children’s poetry writers called “15 Words or Less.” She would post a photo and poets would write a quick poem inspired by the photo. Quick writes are good ways to exercise the writing muscle. When Laura decided to stop this weekly prompt, I decided to take it on. I changed the title to “This Photo Wants to be a Poem” and post a photo each week on my blog, Reflections on the Teche. (Teche is pronounced “tesh” and is a Native American word meaning snake. The bayou that runs behind my house is the Bayou Teche.)
Unlike Laura, I don’t stick to a 15 word rule. I simply invite a response. I often write in a form because small forms are helpful and provide poets with a container for their thoughts.
Process

Is it trash or is it art? When my grandkids, my husband, and I were canoeing, we passed this piece of metal.
“Look at that! It looks like a heart.”
“I want a photo of it.” Jeff knows what that means. He has often rerouted our canoe trips because of my directions to get a picture. I was extra pleased when, by the time we made it back to the “art”, there was a beautiful reflection of it in the bayou water.
I hope this photo inspires you to stop and see. Maybe write a small poem. If you write a poem, share it in the comments and encourage other writers with responses. Today, I wrote a 15 word poem.
Margaret’s Poem
If you find
still water,
place a piece
of your heart near;
reflect imperfect love.
Margaret Simon, draft
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.
Trash or art?
What is it?
Does it matter?
One person’s trash is another person’s treasure,
or so the saying goes.
It can be both.
Depending where you look
and how.
A piece of metal or a lovely heart.
It’s how you see the world.
Isn’t it?
Elisa, thanks for joining in. I love the questions throughout. I want to be that person who finds treasure. “It’s how you see the world.” Yes, indeed!
Margaret,
You chose an excellent photo for today’s prompt. Having recently spent time in your state, I knew immediately the direction my poem would take. Your poem is lovely. Maybe our hearts belong in the water.
Bayou Heart
A watery southern corridor
slithers through Louisiana
lowland swamps stopping
time’s beating heart pre-
maturely. Patina-painted tailings
pose like out-of body organs
on the boggy bayou shores.
Glenda Funk
August 18, 2025
Glenda, oh, how skillfully you manipulated the sound effects with alliteration and consonance. They create such a lively flow, a movement from one word to another. The poem, like a bayou, dances from “s” to “th,” to “p,” and “b.” Love the sound of “boggy bayou shores.”
Such beautiful, evocative sounds in your poem, Glenda. It looks like Louisiana has had an impact on your heart!
Glenda, I love the sounds of your poem, the slithering through with S’s and the P’s repeating like a heartbeat. And there’s something so beautiful in listening to those last three words in my head, again and again in re-reading. It’s as if I’m hearing the sounds of the bayou.
Exquisite poem, Glenda. I love the underlying sadness and how smoothly your poem moves just like how the water slithers in your poem. The patina-painted tailings is a perfect descriptor. What lies beneath can often be undesirable causing one’s heart to stop prematurely. A Provocative poem full of keen images and laced with powerful sounds. Kudos!
Glenda, your poem is majestic, like the bayou itself. I especially love the enjambment – just right! – and how it emulates water’s slow movement. There’s an underlying sense of great power…maybe because “lowland swamps” can stop “time’s beating heart prematurely.” Such a rich, beautiful poem!
Wow, what a song of a poem. The sounds and words choice are fabulous. I had to look it up to remember what patina is, perfect choice.
Margaret, thanks for the terrific prompt and providing such an interesting photo. You must have some interesting adventures.
Unforgiven
my secrets, dark
twisted brambles,
guard backwater bayous—
rise like forgotten memories
rusting in murky water
revealing a broken heart
Barb Edler
18 August 2025
Barb, I so wanted to use “brambles” in my poem, maybe “bramble arms,” but it didn’t fit when I pared down for the beat, lol. Your poem, now – so perfect is the imagery that there’s no need for the photo; I see the scene, in living motion:. Something stirring and rising in that murky water – oh, that title. The pain. The depth of the secrets. Just magnificent.
Rise like forgotten memories, how beautiful. Thanks for sharing this image in a new way
What a gorgeous and mysterious metaphor you’ve created, Barb. This may sound strange, but when I hear the poem in my head, I hear it with a deep, husky, well-worn voice (not yours, to be clear!). I love the line “rise like forgotten memories.”
Barb, your imagery paints a vivid picture, and I can “see” those “dark twisted brambles.” I am also thinking about symbolic meaning of “brambles” which ties to secrets and adds another layer of complexity to your beautiful poem.
Barb,
Gorgeous poem. You have a talent for ekphrastic poetry, my friend. Love the bramble image, and the way my mind imagines water ebbing and flowing when I read your words. That last line is a gut punch of heartache.
Ohhhh! I like the dark turn at the entry of your poem – right from the title on in. That em dash sits right where it twists again, visually separating the secrets from the rising. I love that it takes my mind all over the place, Barb, as I imagine how it all got to this point!
This is so powerful, Barb! I love the descriptions of the “secrets” as “dark / twisted brambles” and the “forgotten memories / rusting in murky water.” So vivid! Thank you for crafting and sharing this!
Barb, I love all the variations of poeming about this image. Wow, you set a tone here to match your powerful title–the murky, rusting, twisted, dark secrets of unforgivenness.
Thanks for a great promotion, Margaret. I’m feeling brevity today, so I went for a Blackjack.
Two hearts long to be one, but
their strength and beauty emerge
in their hearts’ separateness
Mo, I had forgotten the Blackjack form, and this one is perfect. I love the way you open the piece, emphasizing the emotion and the way the two are separate but long to be one. Incredibly clever poem!
Mo, the Blackjack’s brevity works great for your message. Just reading about these two longing hearts aches mine. Beautiful and sad.
Mo,
Brilliant treating the image as having two hearts. Your words evoke reaching. Love it!
So funny you said that, Glenda. I was tossing around a line in my head about reaching all day long!
Thank you, Margaret, for inviting us to look beyond the photo. I chose the 15 word option. Your poem inspired me. Thank you for hosting us this month, and I’m sad that it’s over already.
Among the muck
and mire
Between the gnarly
knots
Gorgeous greens grow
and love lingers
©Stacey L. Joy, 8/18/25
only 15 words as well, so nicely done. Great job, Stacy, thank you for sharing! Great last line that lingers
Stacey, I love the way your poem shifts from the gnarly and muck to something beautiful and green. Adore your last line “and love lingers”. Fantastic poem!
Alliteration here is so pretty. Love lingers is a great closing. Thanks for sharing
All those G sounds are working so well together today, Stacey! I love how you’ve softened them in your last line.
It’s interesting how the best and the most beautiful are hidden among the muck and gnarly knots. We just need to look a bit closer, and you notice it in your poem. “Love lingers” sounds so cozy. Thank you, Stacey!
Stacey,
Oh, this is such an important reminder to look beyond what’s obvious to find the growth hidden from our sight. You are such an inspiration to me. Thank you for always reminding me to find joy for it too is an act of resistance.
Glenda, thank you! I actually had on my “Joy is an act of resistance” t-shirt today!! Wow! Serendipity!
Among the drip and drop
the pitter and the patter
sounds of crickets and toads
talking to everyone and no one
I heard an unfamiliar ping
soft rain onto metal
I looked over and saw
the scrap heart
reeds and branched
hiding everything and hiding nothing
whispering
look over here!
look away!
I rowed off toward tomorrow
Luke, The back and forth, “hiding everything, hiding nothing”, adds an element of paradox that works well in this poem. Thanks for writing.
Luke,
your poem is a sensory delight! The ending even has its own quiet sound.
Beautiful!
Rowed off toward tomorrow is a fun ending and leaves me ready for the next day’s poem! Thanks for sharing this weekend
Luke – just gorgeous! I can hear the raindrops beginning and that chorus of crickets and toads… and the unexpected pings on metal out in the wild. Your poem reminds me that poetry IS sound, the words falling on the ear just so, the lines talking to everyone and no one and hiding everything and hiding nothing – and oh, that last line! You pull us toward tomorrow with hope. All so lyrical and lovely.
Luke,
Your last line is fantastic. Last night I could hear cicadas chirping, which is a rare event here, so your first verse is evocative of that moment. Love the alliteration in drip-drop and putter-patter.
Margaret, I love your photo-prompts, and this one is especially. You are a master of short forms: saying something in a few words requires a great skill.
As someone who likes to see a story behind any image, I had an idea for a mini-legend right away, but might need a bit more plot development later.
I will come back to read and comment later today. It’s my lucky day–I was assigned a new course, which appeared on my dashboard this morning, and the semester starts on Thursday.
The Heart in the Bayou
Long ago, a heart was broken
and thrown into the current.
The bayou would not let it sink.
It caught the heart in its roots,
rusted it gently with time,
taught it to shine in reflection.
They say, if you pass this bend by boat,
you’ll spot it watching from the bank.
Look closely—
it still beats
for the lost and grieving,
reminding us:
a heart can be found
by anyone,
anywhere,
any time.
Leilya, good luck with your surprise course! I am loving “a heart can be found” as you tell this story and connect to bayou and the image. Thank you for sharing.
Leilya, I’m trying not to panic for you! That’s not much time to pull together a new course. I love your mini-legend idea. The beauty of the storytelling, the hope of being found in the end – all so lovely!
Leilya, your poem is a wonderful story and that is still beats for the lost and grieving….oh my. ALSO, best of luck creating a plan for a course thrown into the mix last minute. I certainly know how that feels many times over. Hang in there.
Oh, wow, Leilya, a legend poem! This is clever and inspiring. It makes me want to explore making up legends and I want to learn more about this legend you have begun. I love “Look closely…” and the lines that come after.
And your new class! What a surprise. I know you will somehow pull it off with mastery. All the best to you!
Oh my, Leilya, this loving legend brought tears to my eyes. I love the ending, “a heart can be found…” Absolutely!
Leilya, I love the way your poem shares details from the photo but so much more about finding a heart anywhere and at any time. Compelling and provocative. I appreciate the storytelling opening which adds that mythical essence to the entire poem. Beautiful!
Leilya,
Your poem reminds me of the song “Ode to Billy Joe.” Do you k ow it? And now I’m thinking of the movie “Deliverance.” I think this is because your poem is narrative like the song and movie. I love the way you personify the bayou. I love the legend you’ve constructed w/ the last stanza.
Leilya, I am sorry about the sudden “new course” that you have. I’m sure you will make it work and the students will thrive under you.
Your poem is heavy but full of love and tenderness. I appreciate these lines as recently it seems I’m longing for my mom:
I know she’s everywhere.
Thank you, my dear!
Margaret, I was struck with the sweet love story you tell of Jeff navigating to let you get your photos. So nice.
Look up,
see canoe love
on the teche.
Love backtracks,
and Love forever stays.
Denise, it’s all about love, isn’t it? I like how your poem notices it and capitalizes on Love.
Denise, the experiences and memories of “backtracks” are so powerful–whether intentional or not. Thank you for sharing.
Denise, love sure does those things. It’s easy to ponder the how’s and why’s of these ideas as you leave us with those last two lines, sort of a nudge to consider more deeply. Beautiful.
Denise, you captured the back story that created the front story perfectly. I did not share, but in my digital notebook I wrote, “Love is when you backtrack in a loaded canoe for a photo of a piece of life left someone else left behind and realize it is in the shape of your heart.”
Precious!❤️
Anita and Denise, I am pleased how you both saw the bigger picture, so to speak.
Denise, I love your call-to-action opening. The line “see canoe love” is particularly arresting. Your ending is endearing and shows so much. Absolutely love “Love backtracks/and Love forever stays”. Gorgeous poem!
A sweet summation of how the photo came to be, Denise! “Love backtracks” – that is so true. Never thought about it before, but love does exactly that, for the beloved. Beautiful.
Denise,
This is a lovely tribute to Margaret’s narrative and the way place sustains us w/ the one we love.
Ahhh, Denise, sweet!! I think we both saw love in our poetry today!
Margaret, This is a joy to see this prompt here. I have not been using social media much of late and I do miss your picture prompts. How beautiful to have found such inspiration –and imperfect love — on your home waters!
home
abandoned alone
tangled in the teche
I had lost love
then I heard it whisper
You gave your heart to me
Oh, Patricia, your poem is so beautiful! That final line is such a heartwarmer.
Patricia, the use of “abandoned alone” together strengthens the powerful meaning and emotions of that experience. Thank you for sharing today.
Patricia, the idea of love “tangled in the teche” sound like a Hallmark movie to me!
Patricia, I love the alliteration throughout! Each line has a double letter, and, like, Anita, I’m drawn toward “tangled in the teche”!
Patricia, I love the story told between the first and last lines, the love passed on to the broken.
Patricia, I’m glad you stopped by and wrote today. Such lovely alliteration and the hopefulness of love’s whisper at the end.
Patricia,
Ooh! Lovely personification. Water does speak a special language to our hearts.
Margaret, Your poem and picture are incredible prompts this morning. I appreciate the time and energy you clearly put into creating a powerful writing prompt this morning. Here is a “slice” of my heart.
I Am
Pulsating slowly,
Stronger for surviving
Rejection, losses,
Weathering
Storms
Ugh the format keeps getting swayed by the water!
Anita, the water can be tricky )) I love the ideas of survival and weathering storms in your poem. Thank you!
Anita, I love “weathering” — Such a strong image to carry with our hearts.
Anita, I love “Stronger for surviving” and its ripples of that Nietzschean quote about strength through adversity, and, like Patricia, I love your “Weathering / Storms” lines!
Oh, I can still see that heart-shaped poem, even though it didn’t cooperate with you. So cute. The heart “weathering storms” is such a great image.
I think I’m right there with you – – slowly pulsating, stronger for the wear, surviving storms. Truth!
The poem is shaped like a heart. Rejection is a powerful word. The s-sounds pulse throughout.
Anita, love that you were able to create the shape of a heart through your words which perfectly describe a heart. I love the last two lines “Weather/Storms”. You’ve captured so much with so few words. Incredible poem!
Anita,
Those formatting issues are a downer. That said, these words are strong and inspiring. It’s almost three years since my husband’s heart attach, and your poem echoes that survival experience. Love it.
Anita,
I love the imperfect flow even though it was unintended. It works!
my
corrugated
heart
appears
smooth in
the ripples
on the surface
of your water’s
edge
_________________________________________
Thank you, Margaret, for inviting us in the canoe with you this morning!
Scott, just lovely. Your phrases “corrugated heart” is a great one suggesting so many ridges providing strength
Ooh…corrugated heart! I feel that one in my own body. Great word choice, Scott.
Scott, I almost used “corrugated heart” in my poem, but then opted to another descriptor. Beautiful words and flow!
Scott, Wow, I think the description of the “corrugated heart” appearing “smooth in the ripples” is such a classic love story. I know sometimes the one with the corrugated heart switches places in a long relationship. It’s nice to have a partner in this life.
“Corrugated” is a great word choice.
Scott, your poem flows beautifully. Your focus is perfect: tender and lovely. Brilliant poem!
Only fifteen words? Will my poem paint the same AI picture? What do you think?
Is It Really?
A cottage roof
Deep in the woods, not bad
I hoped that roof had
Provided protection.
The picture was too big. Here it is in a jpeg.
Anna, This is a sad poem. It hints at a hard childhood.
Margaret, my childhood was “hard”, challenging, but not bad. Our mother was hospitalized for about six years – a four-year and two-year stint – but, praise the Lord, we four children were never separated. We lived in a foster care setting for that first stint. There I started school, the only student of color in my classes for those four years. It was also during those four years that I learned to sing in public and recite poems; our “grandmother” was the church musician in a small country church.
Thanks for empathizing with me, Margaret. That’s one of the joys of this group. Folks feel for us and reach out.
I’m so curious about the prompt you used, Anna. I’m drawing a parallel to the corrugated heart hanging over the river — and your “I hoped that…provided protection.” Perhaps completely unconnected…?
The prompt I used was the fact that the image in the pond looked like a small cottage with a roof, similar to the one that seemed to be hanging from the tree limbs. I wrote the poem, then, based one on a Plutarch teaching that “poems paint pictures”, I uploaded my poem in ChatGPT to see what “picture” my poem painted.
I used to do this as a mental assignment, asking students what they “saw” as they heard or read a poem. Now, with free online AI generators, I’m going this route. “Upload your poem to the AI platform accessible at your school,” and post the prompt “Please create a graphic image that reflects the words in this poem.”
Try it. The results are interesting!
Hi, Anna, keeping in mind the prompt and your image with a poem, I thought that the “heart” shingle was lost (or torn away) from the roof, and hence, the lack of love in that house. Just thinking here. Thank you for sharing!
Leilya, as mentioned to earlier commentors, this particular assignment is a great way to test Plutarch’s theory that poems paint and pictures speak. The picture Margaret posted is speaking to each of us in different way. We see different details and interpreting them based on our prior knowledge.
I inverted this idea and used ChatGPT to see what “picture” my poem painted. What you see is what I got!
Try this with your students using the AI generator permitted at your school. I imagine, your students will be equally surprised,
Margaret,
Thanks for again hosting and prompting. I, too, an a frequent photographer of the is-it-art variety. The answer is generally yes.
I find these lines of yours so comforting:
and
————————————————-
As I pedal
I miss my mother
I seek
odd bits
of beauty
to photo
to text
a metal heart
corrugated
open
reflected
in the brown water
The tension between missing your mother and seeking beauty is relatable to me. I recently lost my mother and I’m enjoying the scent of flowers from her funeral. Missing a mother, I am finding, is universal.
Yes, Isn’t it incredible how we see and relate images to what is happening in our lives? Finding a heart — a perfect reminder of those we love.
Sending kind thoughts your way, Sharon! When those waves of grief come upon me, and I miss my Mom terribly, I also try to notice her trace everywhere–in scents, objects, places, food. Love “odd bits of beauty” – such a realistic notion.
Sharon, lovely! Sometimes we see things that are signs at the oddest times – – and I love your use of the word corrugated here too for the ripple look.
Sharon,
Your poem creates a long timeline of memory in my mind as I relate to those moments of finding memories in various objects I see along the way.
Hi Sharon,
I have been missing my mom and she’s been gone for 15 years! It’s bizarre how I see her in my own face, hands, words, whatever…she’s still with me but I miss her.
I hope you find some comfort in knowing your mom is close. 💙
Margaret, I just loved your poem!
Angel art — awake,
Eyes limed with sleep dust, I spy
pendant from the sky
Magnificence. And
imagine aerial flights
acrobatic Banskys
against electric
skies, smirks upon cherub lips:
flightless New York rats.
This reminds me of a poem I shared with students last year about bats- beautiful imagery and connections, I love “angel art” thanks for sharing
C.O. If I can get my picture to upload, you’ll have a different spin on it. Technology!
Beautiful! I love the lines
“imagine aerial flights
acrobatic Banskys
against electric
skies,…”
Click here to see the inspiration. 🙂
Wendy, Thanks for providing a link to your image. I see the electric skies. I find your line breaks intriguing. And wonder about “flightless New York rats”. Are these the ones who make the graffiti? I am always looking for photos to post each week. You are welcome to send me one to use. My email is margaretsmn at gmail.
Yes! I was wondering how those artists get to those spots! And I’d just been to the Banksy Museum and learned about his fascination with rats and how he analogized them with graffiti artists.
I’m glad to see the inspiration image after reading through a couple of times (wasn’t expecting that image!). It gave me the opportunity to read it in different ways. I love imagining the “acrobatic Banskys” and the “electric skies.” Beautiful imagery!
Wendy, it’s amazing what we see in art. Yes, I love the whimsical nature of this.
Wendy, love your poem and the first line is compelling. I love your word choices throughout this. I particularly enjoyed “smirks upon cherub lips:/flightless New York rats. I’d love to hear how your students my interpret your poem as you’ve provided so many interesting descriptors inspired by the photo.
Wendy,
How clever to see “acrobatic Banskys” in “angel art.” Yikes to “flightless New York rats.”
Margaret, I have long loved your photo invitations. I appreciate the call for simplicity today. I began to hear a beat (a HEARTbeat?) in my head and so I tried to follow that rhythm. The “still waters” of your poem and the bayou in the photo speak to me – do we not, in our hearts, crave this stillness, this respite? Led me to think of cycle of life and seasons and the ravages of time (that corrugated metal is rusted). Thank you, as always, for being such an inspiration.
Taking Back
Earth gives
metal
Man makes
barns
Time rusts
mettle
Storms bring
harm
Swamp doesn’t
meddle
only opens its
arms
to heart-pinned
medal
recalling Earth’s
charms.
Fran, I love your word play with homophones for metal. Clever. And the rhythm to rhyme ratio is just right. I felt a surprise at the line “heart-pinned medal”. Thanks for writing today.
The rhythm here is so powerful. Love the word play on mettle metal medal, so good. Thanks for writing this weekend
So good, Fran! Impressive! How long did this take to write? Because it is simple and rhymic yet seems like the right words would take days to come together. Divine intervention? Thanks again for sharing.
Fran,
As Margaret said, I love the evolution of and play on metal—>mettle—>meddle—>medal.
Your poem gives me a sense of the life cycle of your region and how you view that cycle with wonder and admiration.
Thank you.
Fran, the beat of your poem feels like a chant, making me want to move along with the reading. Such a beautiful way to play with the words (metal, meddle, etc) and the rhyming adds a timelessness that is so lovely. I just want to keep rereading this!
Fran, this is a very impressive use of homophones to create an image of peace within the swamp.
Wow, Fran, such a heart-beating poem. Lovely rhythm and rhymes. True, the rusted heart is a sweet “recalling of Earth’s / charms.” This was a joy to read.
You have a way. A gift. It shines today!
Fran, I love the title you’ve chosen for this poem. Your formatting is also perfect to show the sequence of “Taking Back”. Loved “Swamp doesn’t/meddle”. Very compelling poem! Love the positive ending!
Fran.
This is a brilliant cause-effect poetic analysis. Love the punning on the “metal, mettle, meddle, medal.” Absolute genius. And the rhyme has me marching lockstep with your thinking.
Margaret, what a beautiful find! How lucky that you were able to find it all together (and to spend time together too). I love your poem today!
Leavings
I’m often leaving
pieces of myself
behind,
bits scattered
here and
there.
It seems
too burdonesome
to carry the
accumulated
weight of a lifetime.
You might find a piece
left by the wayside.
Take what
you need,
if you want.
Or leave it where it lies,
as a marker
that someone else
once passed this way
before.
Wow! There’s so much heart in this poem–the leaving behind, the generosity of “take what you need” and the idea of your scattered bits as a marker for others on their journeys. Love this!
Oh this is really spectacular. The image and metaphor here is so great and I totally relate to this. Thanks for sharing this with the inspiration!
Jennifer, I just loved this poem. <3
Jennifer, I have been thinking a long while now about the course of life and how many times I was ‘leaving.” So your title here captivates me. Nuanced, of course – from leaving bits of self here and there throughout life, to eventually leaving this life, alluded to in your final line. So beautiful and so thought-provoking: What bits of us ARE we leaving behind? Is it what we really want our legacy to be? Will it really help others on their journey? I am thinking I must mind my markers… thank you for the beauty you craft and share with us.
Jennifer, This poem is just what I needed today. After my mother’s funeral this weekend, I’m thinking a lot about the things we pass on. What carries meaning for one may not hold it for another, but sometimes the “piece left by the wayside” is a treasure. Thanks for writing.
Jennifer, what a lovely image. The “pieces of myself,” “the weight of a lifetime” seems so big and powerful. I like what Fran said. It seems a metaphor for life itself. We are all so different that these lines are full of truth:
The perspective of the marker – – of a bit and piece of self to leave, to give for others to find. What a lovely way to live, to cast off what is no longer needed. It reminds me a little of the hermit shell.
Jennifer, I love the way you opened your poem and pulled me along with the process. I can imagine all that one might leave behind throughout a lifetime. I also appreciate how you kept “if you want.” on its own line which I thought added a nice emphasis to the poem. Your closing stanza is incredible! Incredible poem!
Jennifer,
From start to finish this poem is amazing. I love the subtle personification and the invitation to those passing by to gather part of you along the way. This poem really speakers to the power of friendship, community, and poetry. Love it!
Thanks for hosting, Margaret! You made me think of the loving patience of our spouses, dealing with our idiosyncrasies–photography-related and otherwise. 🙂
He knows you so well,
your ebb and flow,
reverses course
to grant your heart’s desire.
Love reflected
on the river.
Molly, your use of river terms (ebb, flow, course) is beautiful. I love that you focused on the people behind the photo and the actions they took. There are so many stories to find in the heart and you found the one that matters.
Molly, this was lovely!
A lovely commemoration of Margaret’s experience as well as a universal reflection about the true love of a spouse. Beautifully done, Molly!
Something so sweet about “reverses course” – a lovely tribute poem to the prompt!
Oh Molly, I love that you found a love poem in my commentary. You helped me see and appreciate those little things he does just to make me happy.
Molly,
I love the comforting cataloguing of love: seeing, knowing, aiming to care for, open for others to see. You show a depth of emotion with an economy of words.
Those lines especially made me smile.
I also like how Margaret’s poem inspired yours.
Molly, it makes me think of the two of you on the boat when Margaret came to Maine and went on the mail boat. I can see the patience of husbands, the amazement of poets on a boat, and the delight of all.
Thank you for hosting us today, Margaret! I always enjoy your photos to inspire poems. Thanks to Mary Lee and Molly, too, for sharing inspiration to write during the August Open Write. Your poem echoes where your heart is rooted, sharing boat rides with your family along the bayou.
Reflections
mirrored hearts reflect
ripples and imperfections
embracing our truths
Love all the r-sounds, Kim, and the overall message, too!
Kim, ain’t that the truth! Margaret’s photo captures a real truth – finding beauty in every place – and you reflect that so wonderfully in your poem. Love this!
Kim, loved this!
Kim, I note the theme of imperfections in Margaret’s poem and yours – an important acknowledgement which leads (one so hopes) to grace and forgiveness, for none are perfect. Lots of ripples obscure the surface for sure… but in the [imperfect] mirroring of hearts, something beautiful and hopeful stays alive. Your haiku sings 🙂
Ripples and imperfections, so beautiful to situate our true selves seen in the mirror or in other’s that match us. Beautiful haiku.
Kim, Such a lovely haiku. Like Molly, I love hearing the r-sounds, reflect, ripple, embrace…Our truth is both ripple and reflection. I could explore that line in a poem.
Kim,
So lovely!
And so true.
Kim, your poem captures the imperfections of our strong hearts that survive so many challenges and joys as we “bob” along even after rejection and loss.
Kim, your poem is pure truth. I love the sense of movement in your poem through the ripples, mirrored and embracing. You are a master of the short poetry. Gorgeous poem!
Kim,
This is a brilliant haiku. You capture the reflection and honor the time-worn experience of the irrigated heart and our own experiences and their truths. Wonderful poem.
I love this prompt and would so enjoy doing this again and again! Photos and art and poems find connection through such unique channels. Like mine. To the creek down the hill from my childhood home. My mom says “crick” which was regional for her. Thanks for writing this weekend- happy back to school!
trash in the crick
That was me once:
Just trash in the crick.
Throwing sticks and stones
from the bridge to watch a big splash
disturb the peace.
Picking mint by the water and
daring friends to eat a leaf
even if it smelled like sewage that day.
Finding sturdy rocks to cross the current,
but leaving socks and shoes
on the other side just in case.
And when it was time to go home,
or time to move out,
or time to run into an ex at the grocery store,
I really hoped people would see me
beyond the trash in the crick.
Oh! I really like how you broadened the scope of this poem in that final stanza!
It’s really about being seen, isn’t it. Not only did you see the meaning of the heart in the photo, but you saw yourself and then shared that piece of yourself with us, so carefully, so thoughtfully, so wonderfully. Beautiful poem!
C.O., loved the reflective nature of this. That last stanza — about encountering people from our past, especially — was great!
C. O., I love the use of dialect here. More so, the overcoming of notions of self, possibly influenced by others. Your verse has a triumphant feel to me, finding self in the first stanzas, navigating life to the final stanza of confidence gained. Your words impart encouragement.
I grew up near Purple Creek. In Mississippi, we said creek, but nevertheless, had the same attitudes about people, narrow and judgmental. I am pleased by your last stanza that leaves behind the perception and brings us into reality.
That use of regional colloquialism is perfect for your poem, and I love the metaphor you create here.
The art of noticing, Margaret, is a beautiful thing, and this photo — like so many you share in this series of “This Photo Wants To Be A Poem” is evocative. I am so glad you saw the heart, though. It seems like a blessing.
Kevin
So much
becomes us
only in reflection
dappled surface
of river running
towards the patient ocean
against the bend,
the boat pushes
against timeless currents
and then, the heart,
a mirage we make real
by remembering
This is really pretty. To see and to read. Thanks for sharing this piece
This is lovely, Kevin. That first stanza is one to linger with and the whole poem flows beautifully to its conclusion with those perfect ending lines. I enjoy how this poem resonates with yours from yesterday.
Kevin, I loved the last stanza of this especially well. Beautiful poem.
Kevin, The structure of your poem carries us in threes. I love the movement of the poem like the movement of the river currents. The final stanza speaks volumes “a mirage we make real.” My heart is full reading how others “see” the image.
Kevin,
This a lovely act of witnessing and reflecting.
Kevin, your poem has me feeling the currents pressing against me. “Timeless currents” like the many onslaughts of life that become us “only in reflection.” Beautiful
Margaret,
Thank you for sharing this image and memory with us today in this prompt.
my heart, is a pile of art
not refuse, wasted
but pulsing with emotion
not just broken, aged
but sculpted through years
not wasted imaginings
but a dancing organ weaving
its way through my journey
Yes to that first line!!
Kevin
Not just broken, aged— so beautiful. I love this image of a dancing organ and all the feelings you evoke. Thanks for sharing.
The word “sculpted” is perfect! I also was intrigued by the two meanings/pronunciations of “refuse” and how either can work well here.
Stefani, love the idea of the heart as “sculpted through the years.”
The paradoxes here led with not and but are affective, leading us from heart to journey. Lovely rhythm and message of love for your own life journey.
Yes, a “pile of art” is perfect
Stefani, so lovely. I like your use of italics, which drew my eye up to catch the connection–my heart—my journey. I like the this-not this interactions throughout your poem. Especially, “not wasted imaginings / but a dancing organ weaving its way…”