The above photographs were taken and submitted by New York City poet Joe Tessitore. We invite readers to pick one of the images (or both) and write a poem. Post your poem in the comments section below.

 

 

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40 Responses

  1. Joe Tessitore

    Who is it that
    does not despise
    the one who preys
    on butterflies?

    ————

    A young man on the sidewalk sleeps
    beneath the prayer of yoga peeps.
    His chosen spot – a strange tableau –
    for reasons only he would know.

    Reply
    • Carolyn Mack

      Word scaffolding emotive of
      Youth on his perennial pillow
      Prays composing verses: male and female.
      Preying mantis over monarch
      Namaste in a gesture arch,
      ‘V’ for verses’ wings adverse in death
      Yet, humane verses natural belief,
      Strategies of scaffolding in word.

      Am I allowed to say a word?

      Reply
      • Caleb

        Long aged mantis prying creep.
        Propped on prey the other leaves,
        Still-caught yonder younger youthful sheep,
        As sacrificial nature heaves.

  2. D Robin

    The hold-up scaffold and the full-veined wing,
    The rule of Nature and the rule of rod.
    We pass off hardship as we pray or sing,
    Through grace and gruesome on the swings of God.

    Reply
    • D Robin

      In case it is pointed out that I have words between a Cap and a full stop without a verb:

      The hold-up scaffold and the full-veined wing;
      The rule of Nature and the rule of rod;
      We pass off hardship as we pray or sing
      Through grace and gruesome on the swings of God.

      Reply
  3. D Robin

    Joe – without your poem I would not have understood the righthand image.
    I thought the man lying down was imitating a supine Buddha.
    And that the scaffold was a photographically imposed grid.
    As though the picture was a comment on active and passive contemplation with the X in front of the yoga-ists indicating a negative attitude to wards them.
    And the V in the top right being something about versus, one against the other.
    Your poem is a very handy caption. Thanks.

    Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    Too much yoga wrecks your head,
    And leaves you lying drunk or dead.

    The world is filled with jaws and claws:
    A fact which ought to give you pause.

    Reply
    • Sally Cook

      Thanks, Joe Nice summation ! I have this posted below:
      Posting it here in case you missed it.

      Two Contemporary Photos

      There is a thing quite ominous about
      These images, just waiting to get out.
      Two people — what are they? Their inner screams;
      May hold the stuff of all our darkest dreams.

      One youthful figure, angled to the pair,
      Retains an enigmatic secret there.
      Foreboding and confusion cloud the blue,
      A dance of ambiguity drifts through,
      Propelling them through grey, impartial skies.
      They will dismiss the hapless monarch’s cries.

      Reply
    • Monty

      A few months late: but better than never . . . I finally got round to replying to your comment under the poem by Damien Robin: Forgetting the Tiananmen Square Massacre for 30 years.

      Of course you’re under no obligation to read it . . but we both know you will.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Yeah, I’ve read it. Typical blather in your inimitable style.

  5. Linda W. Owen

    Proximity

    Like a mantis on the butterfly
    devours the beautiful for a boost.
    You gorge on grace, engulf the lovely,
    like an all-consuming Zeus.

    Survival of the swift and fittest,
    kill or be killed, it’s true.
    In this world of praising power,
    beware the one who’s nearest you.

    Reply
  6. Carole Mertz

    Hi Joe,

    This Monarch can no longer reign;
    it’s life will soon be ended
    I hope my eye can long retain
    the beauty of its wings extended.

    The attacker thus has staked its claim—
    no butterfly befriended.
    Crushed within, the one that’s slain—
    in nature, no friendship pretended.

    Reply
  7. T.M.

    The tragedy of beauty as we know
    it is, it can not last. Age wears it down.
    Death stalks it. Things more beautiful appear.
    Brave academics doubt that it exists,
    or relegate it to some private sphere,
    where careful thought dissolves in mushy mists
    of sentiment. Yet beauty all around
    persists. Be careful not to miss the show.

    Reply
  8. Anna J. Arredondo

    “Oh, look! A butterfly,” my daughter said,
    And ran to fetch her little insect book.
    From page to page her eager fingers sped,
    Until she gasped, upon a closer look,
    “Oh no! I’ll have to classify it ‘dead’.”

    Reply
    • James A. Tweedie

      Is the Praying Mantis praying?
      Saying grace before a meal?
      Or perhaps it’s simply preying
      With its mandibles of steel.

      Either way she’s got her dinner
      And the fight was not a draw,
      For the mantis was the winner
      In the realm of tooth and claw.

      Reply
    • James A. Tweedie

      Anna, I love this! I raised three girls and, when they were little, your poem would have fit them perfectly!

      Reply
    • James A. Tweedie

      Anna, I love this! I raised three girls and, when they were little, your poem would have fit them perfectly! (Repeat post that should have been here)

      Reply
      • Anna J. Arredondo

        Thank you! I liked your use of praying/preying, reminiscent of the homophonic poetry challenge. And you managed to come up with a clever poem for each photo, too. I enjoyed both. I personally am a much bigger fan of caffeine than yoga!

  9. James A. Tweedie

    Many people find practicing Yoga serene,
    Others think that it’s spiritually deep.
    But for those who prefer to be stoked on caffeine,
    It’s so boring it puts them to sleep.

    Reply
    • Joe Tessitore

      Another that has me laughing out loud!

      Some years ago I saw a tiny little snake (a baby?) in the grip of a mantis.
      The reversal was a marvel – an insect eating a reptile!

      Reply
  10. Sally Cook

    Two Contemporary Photos

    There is a thing quite ominous about
    These images, just waiting to get out.
    Two people — what are they? Their inner screams;
    May hold the stuff of all our darkest dreams.

    One youthful figure, angled to the pair,
    Retains an enigmatic secret there.
    Foreboding and confusion cloud the blue,
    A dance of ambiguity drifts through,
    Propelling them through grey, impartial skies.
    They will dismiss the hapless monarch’s cries.

    Reply
  11. James A. Tweedie

    Joe, Nice photos, by the way. Also, you are probably aware that the poetry site Rattle has a monthly photo/poem inspired contest which they call an “Ekphrastic Challenge.” I’ve entered it several times and have enjoyed doing it—just as I did here.

    Reply
  12. Mark F. Stone

    [Sapphic meter]

    State-Run Agriculture

    Venezuela. Food in a daily ration.
    Mere survival. That is the daily passion.
    Protein sources found in a novel fashion.
    Butterfly brisket.

    Reply
  13. David Watt

    There once was a swami:
    Bone-idle and barmy,
    Whose favorite pose was supine.

    When asked why he did it
    He said “There’s no limit
    To goodness it does for my spine!”

    Reply
  14. Sukarma Rani Thareja

    Yoga Teachers

    Two yoga teachers folding hands,
    Praying to mold life of A young man ,
    Sleeping on road side,
    When sun is on his head.

    Early to bed early to rise,
    Make “Surya Namskar” possible,
    For every young man wise,
    It is sure to give him healthy and respectful life.

    Get up young man! and perform yoga exercise,
    To your emotional , Spiritual mental and physical health,
    Yoga will act as catalyst best,
    And will shift your life equilibrium from good to best.

    Reply
  15. Sukarma Rani Thareja

    Grasshopper-Butterfly

    Grasshopper green in colour,
    Butterfly is multicoloured,
    Green color is riding on multicolours,
    Symbolising though today mother Earth is multicolour,
    Let us make mother Earth dominate in green colour.

    Sukarma Rani Thareja
    Alumnus IITK
    UP,INDIA

    Reply
  16. Samuel Spector

    Young man! there’s no need to be down!
    Young man! get yourself off the ground!
    Young man if you got 800 bucks
    You can come and do some yoga!

    Go it’s fun to sing it boy
    Y-O-G-A!
    It’s tax deductibay!
    Y-O-G-A!
    All the boomers say:
    Y-O-G-A
    Come in an purchase the illusion
    So-phis-ti-ca-tion…

    Reply
  17. Mia Panayi

    I remember bedtime
    When my grandparents
    Would kneel and pray
    Hands together
    At the foot of my bed,
    And I would say Amen
    And snuggle close,
    And ask for another story
    But they would say, tomorrow,
    Now Hush-a-bye baby,
    Go to sleep
    But I would cry
    And beg them to stay,
    Secure in their giant shadow
    And their prayers
    That somehow meant
    That I was safe
    In my cocoon,
    Till darkness left
    And light returned

    Reply
  18. Mia Panayi

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words
    But surely that makes the lies more difficult to spot,
    For an image can say what it likes
    Unlike words that need to be precise
    Take for example
    Two praying mantises
    Came upon a cocoon
    Where the butterfly lay sleeping
    As they swooped
    In perfect synchronicity for the kill.

    Reply
    • Mia Panayi

      I think I should have revised before I posted.
      Have learnt my lesson.
      Apologies to Joe and James and all poets here.

      They say a picture is worth a thousand words
      And surely that is no lie,
      For an image can speak its truth,
      Unlike words that need to be precise.
      Take for example
      Two praying mantises,
      Observing a cocoon
      Where the butterfly lay sleeping
      As they hovered
      In perfect synchronicity for the kill.

      Reply
  19. Vrinda Nair

    For the longest time
    I wore a mask of veneer
    Just to fool other
    But in reality
    I was a mooncalf
    Who escaped…
    From intervention
    I became a bughouse
    Only because of brooding over past
    I ought
    Things to fall over again
    For me to revolve
    I want to start afresh

    —Butterfly -Grasshopper

    Reply
  20. Gerard Traub

    BUTTERFLY

    Butterfly emerging
    from your chrysalis
    sun upon silken wings
    here to dance this air
    moving sound and silence
    where earth to oceans sing.

    A palette of colour
    like petals in flight
    circles woven beyond time
    whether caressing leaf
    or seeking greater shores
    let your wings be mine!

    Reply
  21. Carolyn Mack

    Word scaffolding emotive of
    Youth on his perennial pillow
    Prays composing verses: male and female.
    Preying mantis over monarch
    Namaste in a gesture arch,
    ‘V’ for verses’ wings adverse in death
    Yet, humane verses natural belief,
    Strategies of scaffolding in word.

    Reply
  22. Carolyn Mack

    Word scaffolding emotive of
    Youth on his perennial pillow
    Prays composing verses: male and female.
    Preying mantis over monarch
    Namaste in a gesture arch,
    ‘V’ for verses’ wings adverse in death
    Yet, humane verses natural belief,
    Strategies of scaffolding in word.

    Am I allowed to say a word?

    Reply
  23. Daniel de Culla

    The Praying Mantis
    and the butterfly
    in a game /change to rows
    to semicircles
    woles/bo
    lift its face and see a ewe
    at the green pool.
    living here.

    Reply
  24. huda tariq

    Purple truce
    Sitting in the dark with no hopes alive
    Lit inside me kept telling me you are not alone
    With the world full of people my presence was amplify
    Looking around my true lonesome boundaries
    I saw a little shining star giving me a new lively teaser
    With no desires of wishing and dreams, I took myself to clarify
    The sun is rising above me every day ever so bright
    And the night with stats beautifully limelight
    With the smoke of fear, I survived to let it glorify
    Heights of mountains so high as my sorrows
    Deep into the seas lies my infinite pain
    With the time so fast yet less I want to magnify
    In the hustle of chills and thrills
    We lose and continue to the behold nature
    With life so hard and dead so easy where to notify

    Reply
  25. Marissa Darrow

    Butterfly

    I went from staring at the sun, to staring at the shadows on the wall.
    I went from going on movie dates with my friends, to sitting alone like pain never ends.
    When it comes to drugs I have never been a rookie.
    Seven years old the devil in a syringe took me.
    I loved the feeling of pride when I hit a vein
    The poison I thought was initially healing
    Soon enough it went away
    My skin turned yellow not feeling sane
    Hearing came in waves that day..
    Ripping my skin to pieces the bugs where eating away..
    But that devil.. That devil I loved so much
    Tried taking my life that day
    Ladies in scrubs took me away, helped me recover
    And i’m sober today

    My brothers and sisters where gone
    Maybe this was a wakeup call to stay..
    Mother was an addict her life falling apart
    I am her strength we cant ever depart
    Every addict wants recovery, and recovery soon came.
    There was nobody to blame. Oh no not today
    We are people too believe it or not
    Just living sober is harder than I thought.

    The walls were so different
    No shadows oh no
    Is this the feeling of sobriety?
    I most definitely wouldn’t know..
    The sky was so beautiful, moving slowly this time
    This world didn’t seem real, the hills, the stars, was I so blind?
    Thinking and thinking.. It was because
    Because my life was no longer unmanageable
    I could finally love, I could finally feel loved
    And so, another day of staring at the sun

    Reply
  26. Monireh

    Dear,
    i guess it is not mentioned how to send the poem for you, i appreciate that you guide me on this matter.
    look forward to hearing from you.
    sincerely,

    Reply
  27. ROYAL W RHODES

    MONARCHS
    ~ after G. M. Hopkins

    The first one floated
    onto my pointed finger,
    flexing its orange and black
    wings, relaxing to linger,

    as if I were a strange
    butterfly bush in shape
    for it to rest on in its range
    of flight, to let me gape.

    And then another came,
    followed by a dozen more
    alighting, as if my odd frame
    flamed warmly from each pore,

    until my head bore a crown
    of moving color, on each arm
    front and back, up and down,
    they landed, showing no alarm.

    But then the still air shocked
    with cold, and we all froze
    in place, our limbs were locked
    and we assumed a pose

    of sleep, and never to awake,
    a million lost and silent things
    nothing would inspire to make
    us rise with ah, bright wings.

    Reply

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