POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

PROMPT #124 – Ekphrastic Poetry – 2013 Photo Prompt #4

Photo credit: Sheryl Kay Oder

Photo credit: Sheryl Kay Oder


Thanks to Sheryl Kay Oder  for use of her photo. 

If you are interested in submitting a photo for consideration as a future photo prompt, please see submission instructions at:  http://poeticbloomings.com/2013/01/10/call-for-photos/


“But how do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?” (Don Black’s To Sir with Love)


Students from yesteryear gather to honor him.
I see the pride well and spill.
Not arrogance or superiority, but a grounded wonder
As he processes the ripples initiated
By his long-passed presence in their lives.

© copyright 2013, Marie Elena Good

(For Dad with love)



will suit you and me
but some eclectic folks need

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312 thoughts on “PROMPT #124 – Ekphrastic Poetry – 2013 Photo Prompt #4

  1. sheryl kay oder on said:

    Reflections: echoes
    for the eyes or for the mind.
    Please reflect on this.

  2. Marjory MT on said:

    124 PHOTO

    your way
    so that I
    may go on my way.
    Each exploring worlds,
    each seeing what is in our ways
    and someday, maybe,
    we will meet

  3. The Windows Of The Mind

    Can’t you
    See her thoughts and
    Mind speaking through her eyes?
    Or do you just see reflections
    Of you?

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  4. Great job, Marie and Will! Marie, To Sir With Love is such a good story – thank you for your poem. 🙂

  5. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Meg, Gorgeous quote, Beautiful, beautiful poem!! William, very creative interpretation!

  6. Pingback: We Need to Talk | Metaphors and Smiles

  7. We Need to Talk
    Here we are again.
    Again, back to back
    back where we started.
    Started together,
    together we journeyed-
    journeyed into the unknown,
    unknown to one another.
    Another step into a square grid,
    grid that divides and holds
    holds us so separate;
    separate on this great watery marble.
    Marble of earth and of sky,
    sky of cottony-clouds
    clouds that are shaped like animals.
    Animals…maybe that’s all we really are.
    Are we going to have this conversation now?
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  8. Oh Marie…such a beautiful tribute to the occasion… I love this, “grounded wonder.”

    William…I love the brevity in your poem that evokes so well the feeling of this image…dimensional indeed.

  9. Mount Everest

    I see them still sometimes in my dreams
    a line of humans walking, trudging across
    my white vast, frozen plains and crags.
    They suffer, but persevere though the winds
    blow and the storms rage, ice cracks and
    snow crashes and cascades on the next ridge.
    Until finally, they stood at my peak and
    in each heart reviewed their struggles,
    losses and gains and were triumphant.
    They had beaten me. Yet here I remain
    and they are gone to a gentler world.


    in the one-dimensional sundown
    of another zigzagging day
    shadows plod the hills and vales

    trees once vibrantly trunk-strong
    lie fizzling against the snowy contours
    in a vaguely familiar dream world

    I try to discover who I am here
    which dark cutout fool climbs up or down
    but frightened by storm clouds I stand rooted

    it is as though a painter’s brush devoid of color
    stroked a practice canvas the way angry men
    slash away when threatened by undeserved joy

    and what of the others on this checkered grid
    the one that heads away from me
    the other mesmerized by the fallen trees

    what exactly are we expecting here
    we who know too well how dreams are nighttime sirens
    that lure us into the inconsequential

    if this were reality I’d pump these shadows full of promise
    elevate the fir trees to their intended prideful heights
    I would let the torrid sun burn away the artificial light


  11. Reverberation

    Smitten by your smile
    I sigh… as you walk by
    Knowing I cannot
    Make you feel or spy… this heartbeat-
    For you.

    Perceiving it’s magnitude
    It’s every thrust.
    Perhaps my chest would
    Rupture, bust wide open-
    For you.

    And you could finally
    Appreciate it’s rhythmic melody.
    The sweet strum of heart strings
    Playing in sync with your stride
    The air particles displaced between us.
    But I only wished for an echo.
    A return of like feeling.
    A reverberation.

    But I guess some things are best unseen.
    Some songs seem to go unwritten.

  12. Sevenling

    Cooking, cleaning, writing
    Responsible, determined, industrious

    Hiking, biking, kayaking
    Adventurous, enthusiastic, fun-loving

    Indoor me and outdoor me

  13. RJ Clarken on said:


    “The shortest distance between new friends is a smile.” –Unknown

    is no
    distance too
    far that cannot
    see and understand a smile of friendship.


  14. RJ Clarken on said:

    Mirror, Mirror

    “The world is a looking glass and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face.” ~William Makepeace Thackeray

    look in
    the mirror.
    What do I see?
    Humanity, which is a part of me.
    But what, exactly, do I do with this?
    I must try to
    do more: it
    starts with



    The pulse of the world, charted,
    Disheartened on a plotted grid, blind-
    minded ambition
    Is their bottom line –
    In pursuit of a profitable life.

  16. Pingback: Pursuit of Profit | The Chalk Hills Journal

  17. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Through the Seasons

    No matter where
    our separate lives
    take us,
    I am enriched
    for having just
    Known you.

  18. Macramé

    By David De Jong

    Misplaced ink on the photo of my mind,
    Meanders back as reflections unwind.
    Crisscrossed paths, straight and narrow, laid out bare.
    Spent smoke replacing, salubrious air.

    Traveling, searching, just around the bend,
    Engaging conquests, to late to defend.
    Promises broken, loves crushed in a crack,
    Compulsory conscience conveys them back.

    Black blood on the pathway, slowly ascends,
    Clouds of shimmering light erase my sins.
    Tranquil peace from heaven’s life changing breath,
    Save me from, this macramé oozing death.

  19. Shadow

    No longer afraid of my own shadow,
    I look instead to see that it trails
    just behind me, absolute proof I am
    still here, corporeal, with substance
    enough to block out the sun, if just
    that tiny misshapen silhouette.
    Sometimes it runs ahead of me,
    taller than I ever hope to be, black
    outline letting through the texture
    of the ground beneath. Often, I look
    over my right shoulder, just in time
    to catch it looking even farther back,
    looking for the smaller shadows,
    the scary ones that once pursued me,
    stretching like snow angel’s dark twin.

  20. Pliable Reality

    Life bends to the unimaginable.
    Otiose it seems; as they fracture
    Hopes and stretch dreams unto
    The point of no return

    Life turns at will,
    With weary souls full of baggage
    To winding roads that bear a better vista.

    Life goes on, purportedly
    In different directions.
    The roads are no less harsh.
    The adventure is the same.
    But they do make us more pliable.

  21. Bill and Marie, I enjoyed your poems today. You know I’m a sucker for teacher poems, Marie. Great picture, Sheryl.

    Do I Know You?

    The world swirls with possibilities
    like weather patterns smearing
    paper doll people, even their
    shadows holding hands,
    a shore line awash
    with the luminescence
    of your eyes, looking back
    at meet and part,
    lift and carry,
    touch and go.

  22. Mirroring

    Look in the mirror
    What do I see?
    A growing subtle distorted reality.
    Why do I see the things I see?
    Why everyone else instead of me?
    Or things I’m not or supposed to be.
    Why is the focus always me?
    I need corrected lenses!
    To foil the stratagems of my own perceptions.
    To simply behold and reflect
    The glory of the Lord as a mirror
    Rather than myself.

    (2 Cor. 3:18)

  23. janeshlensky on said:

    Reflections on a Well-buffed Car

    Pointing his camera at her headlights,
    he strives to see as she must see,
    his classic show girl.

    Her grill and headlights
    bend the world before her,
    layer shine, a lid of clouds

    on a pot of shadows, all silvery
    lights and eyes that pass you by
    then turn and look again.

    He will spend long hours
    with her pictures, wondering what
    she thinks about what she sees.

  24. True Reflections

    We only reflect what we are
    And we are what we see

    When receiving the light of ourselves
    Returned in reflections

    And the truth is laid bare before us
    We purport to be something different

    Trying sadly to distort others perceptions
    Of ourselves for ourselves

    But true reflections never lie

  25. Marjory MT on said:

    we glimpse
    the byways
    that we have trade.
    Daunting alley-ways,
    lofty hills of our hopes,
    boulevards full of our dreams,
    dark shadows, and sunshine filled lands,
    every changing companions of life.
    We look for strength to keep going,
    forgo the past, look ahead
    knowing goodness abounds,
    and a time will come
    when we will walk
    in the

  26. Pingback: Maps | Awakened Words

  27. Above all,
    we seek purpose,
    direction and affirmation,
    seeking guidance from the signs
    along the way,
    mistrusting of those trying
    to guide us to the right path.
    Most often we ignore
    the simplest of truths:
    even the best of maps
    are useless
    when the destination is unclear.

  28. “Fifth Dimension”

    Time bends around him
    creating ripples most never see.
    Shadow people
    form a ragged line
    giving shape to yesterday
    and yesteryear.
    He glances quickly,
    somewhat abashed
    that he can see
    the moments
    which lead up to now.
    But knowing
    just this much
    creates an understanding
    so he reaches out
    a hand in an offer.

  29. Pingback: This World, Swirled | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  30. This World, Swirled

    We are spilling to sky,
             you and I –
    liquid and loose and lost
    in all this mirrored sea.

    Frosted by clouds,
             wayward crowds,
    shall we flee? Or square
    our feet for another longing?


  31. Fragility

    The earth is cracking,
    an eggshell
    spewing forth
    people into the black eye
    of a hurricane.

  32. Three Strikes and You Are Out
    By: Meena Rose

    I light the first to look upon Consciousness;
    Visible yet veiled; pervasive yet elusive;
    A deepening mystery in the flickers of the flame.

    I light the second to look upon Life;
    Vibrant though dulled; purposeful though forgotten;
    The fog of memory burning up in the flame.

    I light the third to look upon Time;
    Free yet captured; endless yet disrupted;
    Eternal moments on a string lit up by the flame.

  33. Marjory MT on said:

    Very interesting and cause for further reflections.

  34. William Preston on said:



    Copyright 2013. William Preston

  35. William Preston on said:

    Marie, your poem makes me think of a reunion of my wife’s small-town high-school class, and one teacher in particular, s fellow who taught science in the 1950s. He was being praised for his influence, and he seemed happy but a little uncomfortable at all the attention, as though, still, his rightful place was to be in front of a classroom, not sitting on a dais. Lovely, love-filled piece of writing.

    • Such a lovely story, Bill!

      This one was written for my dad, a former high school band director. Last weekend, I hosted a gathering of former students. We had a wonderful turnout, especially considering the distance most had to travel. But it was what they all had to say that touched Dad to the point of tears. Not to be morbid, but if only we all made the effort (as these former students did) to let those in our lives know how much they mean to us BEFORE it is too late. What a day it was. Just absolutely wonderful.

  36. Destiny Flows
    There is a disturbance in the
    fabric of time, a slowing down, a blur
    as it curves to an infinitesimal swerve
    of yes or no, this way or that, make your choice
    for destiny’s path will be plod, mapped, stamped
    whether you will or no.

  37. Pingback: ekphrastic | georgeplacepoetry by Debi Swim

  38. Ghosts and Echoes

    shadows shimmer
    and reflect
    reverberate across the years
    whispering long forgotten secrets
    echoes from a time now hidden in mist
    memories spanning the decades
    like ghosts haunting the now
    a siren song
    a call to visit the past
    once more


  39. Pingback: Ghosts and Echoes | Iain Douglas Kemp Writes – Without Anaesthetic

  40. Wm Preston on said:


    A stitch in time:
    another name for memory.
    A stitch in time
    brings back the reason and the rhyme
    when you meant all the world to me;
    but you are gone and must needs be
    a stitch in time.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  41. Loved these replies to this great photo prompt. Marie, you touched my teacher heart, and William, you stirred the sci-fi fire in me.
    Here’s my offering.


    I want to know
    no doubt.
    Just Where I stand,
    on dew-kissed grass
    or on sun-blistered sand.

    I want to see
    in dark or
    blinding light.
    Just where I am
    and that I am

    But You,
    You move blue moon
    and brazen sun.
    And in between
    You melt
    all my

    I won’t know,
    no doubt.


    If he were to fix you in his many-faceted gaze
    There would be no question: melting
    You would be repetitions of yourself melting
    into other guises of you, refracting
    Then disappearing in one reflection
    after another: you, you, you…don’t look now
    It’s you again…upon reflection, don’t you see?

  43. Keeping Balance

    Its all a blur
    This wicked storm
    Delivered the wind
    This stir

    I can hardly see
    myself or you
    And make sense
    Of it all

    The sky has turned
    Against me
    They are no longer friendly
    The ground squealing with instability

    Reality has slipped
    Lost it’s grip from my hand
    The world shimmers before me
    In multiple shades of grey and shadow

    I can no longer demand meaning
    From my senses
    Unreliable I turn away wincing
    Feeling stir-crazy

    But hoping to keep my footing

    Still praying to keep my balance

    But its hard when the earth
    Is shattered beneath your feet
    And you’re not sure of your next step

  44. Pingback: Altered Path | echoes from the silence

    (a piku)

    My altered
    led me to yours.

    P. Wanken

    • Wm Preston on said:

      Wow, another practically perfect piku.You have a flair for these short pieces, it seems. Your consistency reminds me of that old vaudeville chestnut:

      Doctor: Have you had this pain before?
      Patient: Yes.
      Doctor: Well, you got it again!

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:


  46. Reflections

    Our souls
    pass and cross paths
    over and over again
    until finally, a spark ignites
    eye contact
    and invisible threads
    connect us,
    follow us
    even as we walk away.

    • William Preston on said:

      Interesting. The souls apparently are in contact (or proximity) anyway, but it takes the eye to spin the threads. Love this.


    walk away
    from a life shared.
    Little cracks beneath them become bigger,
    swallowing them into indifference.
    Love cannot grow
    on its own.
    It takes

    © Susan Schoeffield

  48. Pingback: Two Divided By Two | Words With Sooze

  49. So sorry for my lack of comments this week. I sure enjoyed the poetry resulting from this fab photo though. You all just blow me away!!

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