Write a Poem on One of These Photographs The Society November 1, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Ekphrastic, Humor, Poetry, Poetry Contests 40 Comments 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. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. NOTE TO POETS: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. CODEC News:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 40 Responses Joe Tessitore November 1, 2019 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 November 27, 2019 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 December 8, 2019 Long aged mantis prying creep. Propped on prey the other leaves, Still-caught yonder younger youthful sheep, As sacrificial nature heaves. D Robin November 1, 2019 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 November 1, 2019 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 D Robin November 1, 2019 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 Joseph S. Salemi November 1, 2019 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 Joe Tessitore November 1, 2019 Both of them have me laughing out loud! Reply Sally Cook November 2, 2019 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 November 2, 2019 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 November 3, 2019 Yeah, I’ve read it. Typical blather in your inimitable style. Linda W. Owen November 1, 2019 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 Carole Mertz November 1, 2019 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 T.M. November 1, 2019 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 Anna J. Arredondo November 1, 2019 “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 November 2, 2019 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 November 2, 2019 Anna, I love this! I raised three girls and, when they were little, your poem would have fit them perfectly! Reply James A. Tweedie November 2, 2019 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 November 3, 2019 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! James A. Tweedie November 2, 2019 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 November 2, 2019 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 Sally Cook November 2, 2019 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 James A. Tweedie November 2, 2019 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 Mark F. Stone November 2, 2019 [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 David Watt November 4, 2019 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 Sukarma Rani Thareja November 4, 2019 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 Sukarma Rani Thareja November 5, 2019 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 Samuel Spector November 5, 2019 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 Mia Panayi November 6, 2019 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 Mia Panayi November 6, 2019 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 November 8, 2019 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 Vrinda Nair November 11, 2019 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 Gerard Traub November 27, 2019 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 Carolyn Mack November 27, 2019 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 Carolyn Mack November 27, 2019 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 Daniel de Culla December 2, 2019 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 huda tariq December 3, 2019 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 Marissa Darrow December 16, 2019 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 Monireh January 4, 2020 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 ROYAL W RHODES June 18, 2022 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 Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.