Okay, follow the bouncing ball (remember those sing-alongs?) and you'll get to this week's challenge with me. I just need to take a minute to explain the inspiration for this one, and it's not a straight line. Or is it?
This weekend Gail Gauthier wrote a short bit about author photos and linked to an article in The Guardian about an author and journalist who withdrew from a literary festival when the town Council refused to print her picture because it "went against its responsibility to encourage "good health habits." The picture in question showed the author smoking. Huh.
I started thinking about this and the angst some folks feel about having their picture taken. I was surprised that this notion hit home yesterday morning when my son refused to have his picture taken over breakfast. He'd spent several days during the week with his Aunt Lauri and I wanted to take a picture of them together. He was having none of it. *Sigh*
Later in the day my son and I were organizing his room, he having cleaned up most of it on Saturday. While putting assorted items in stackable bins (this was actually fun for me!), we were listening to an old Justin Roberts CD and the song Picture Day came on. As we sang and danced around I realized what we needed to write about this week.
So, if you've followed along this far, you know I'm thinking about being photographed. Laura Purdie Salas, one of the regulars here, has a wonderful poem about picture day in her book Stampede! Poems to Celebrate the Wild Side of School.
Now that you've had a bit of inspiration, will you play along? Write a poem about having your picture taken, or a picture of yourself that you love (or hate!), or about taking photos of others. Whatever your inspiration for piece, leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
This weekend Gail Gauthier wrote a short bit about author photos and linked to an article in The Guardian about an author and journalist who withdrew from a literary festival when the town Council refused to print her picture because it "went against its responsibility to encourage "good health habits." The picture in question showed the author smoking. Huh.
I started thinking about this and the angst some folks feel about having their picture taken. I was surprised that this notion hit home yesterday morning when my son refused to have his picture taken over breakfast. He'd spent several days during the week with his Aunt Lauri and I wanted to take a picture of them together. He was having none of it. *Sigh*
Later in the day my son and I were organizing his room, he having cleaned up most of it on Saturday. While putting assorted items in stackable bins (this was actually fun for me!), we were listening to an old Justin Roberts CD and the song Picture Day came on. As we sang and danced around I realized what we needed to write about this week.
So, if you've followed along this far, you know I'm thinking about being photographed. Laura Purdie Salas, one of the regulars here, has a wonderful poem about picture day in her book Stampede! Poems to Celebrate the Wild Side of School.
Now that you've had a bit of inspiration, will you play along? Write a poem about having your picture taken, or a picture of yourself that you love (or hate!), or about taking photos of others. Whatever your inspiration for piece, leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
Faces
ReplyDeleteKerri has 500 photos
of herself on Facebook:
pouting sexy like a model,
then cute and funny, sitcom girl,
very Kerri, never scary.
I let her take photos:
they're supposed to be me.
A smile I practiced
for Picture Day,
dragon dabs of mascara,
a dropped shoulder
(Kerri says to, but I feel like
the hunchback of Notre Dame).
She doesn't get it. "Not one?
This one! This one is perfect!"
No. I go home.
I take out my paints,
my brushes, my scissors and paper,
a bottle of glue. A feather
I found on the sidewalk,
a button, a twig.
I take out the day I was born,
smoothing it with my hands,
the time I cut my knee
and it bled on my green dress
like geraniums,
a quarrel tasting
like unsweetened chocolate,
the ruffled pages of books,
my mother's daisy of a sneeze,
the times tables lined up
as if they made sense,
my sister's baseball bat swinging
through the air like a song,
and my secretest secrets,
like the heart of a stone or a tree.
I'm making
a picture of me,
and it's going to be
nothing like anything
in that book of faces.
It's going to be so me
that if wizards came,
they'd take one look at it,
and know my true name.
--Kate Coombs
Wow, Kate--that's better than anything I have come up with.
ReplyDelete[Picks up photo, slumps off towards home.]
Jane
Oh my. That's gorgeous. These lines are my favorite:
ReplyDeletethe time I cut my knee
and it bled on my green dress
like geraniums,
a quarrel tasting
like unsweetened chocolate,
the ruffled pages of books,
my mother's daisy of a sneeze,
You rocked it.
Thanks! I was already having a good day (new book out), but you guys really made it!
ReplyDeleteGood job, Kate! You set the bar mighty high!
ReplyDeleteSome of you may be interested in seeing a few of the old photos I've collected over the years. I wrote about my collecting in a recent post.
As for me, I have a problem with having my picture taken:
INSANITY
Having my picture
taken over and over
and each time
expecting to see
someone else.
Diane, I really like that. I'm the opposite, though. I keep feeling like the picture ISN'T me, and I just want to see me.
ReplyDeleteHere's my effort for this week:
Author Mug Shot
one hundred twenty five pixels square
double chin, cowlick, frozen stare
they told me this pose would make me look stunning
now black pixel bars restrain me from running
my crime: an unphotogenic cliche
my punishment: infinite awkward display
--Laura Purdie Salas, all rights reserved
P.S. Love your title, Diane.
ReplyDeletemy punishment: infinite awkward display
ReplyDeleteFabulous line, Laura!
--Diane
Laura, my author mug shot wants to hang out with your author mug shot--that's exactly right!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Diane and Kate. Boy, I wish being a rarely-photographed recluse created a stir today like it did in yesteryear. That would be so much easier!
ReplyDeleteHi Tricia, After reading the fantastic poems everyone has come up with so far, I was very intimidated, but I decided to swallow my pride and play anyway.
ReplyDeletePicture Day
Last year I stayed home
sick on picture day—
I wasn’t even faking,
my stomach ached
thinking about my face
forever fat
on the yearbook page.
I had a plan
nothing but salads
I’d be skinny-jean ready
by re-take day—
It didn’t happen.
So I promised myself
a new me
in the new year.
But tomorrow
is picture day
again—
and already
my stomach
aches.
Love the way the narrator comes full circle in this, Linda. And this stark line:
ReplyDeleteIt didn’t happen.
Sigh.
Okay, I am working my way through some of your old challenges, looking for one to post for Poetry Friday and this one captured my attention.
ReplyDeleteBefore
the shutter snaps
I am still beautiful
hair, long and blond
draped around my shoulders
just like it did in high school
when boys wrapped their fingers in its strands
and pulled me close between classes
making promises
they would never keep
skin, peaches and cream
Noxzema fresh
a single chin
eyes lit from within
with a confidence
I rarely share
anymore
CLICK!
After
thirty tries
I do not know this
stranger
with my face
I do not like her
much
rosacea induced
zits
freckle her cheeks
two chins, now
eyes filled with fear
of what the world
might see
might say
might judge
but the hair,
the hair is still
long and blonde
and my husband twists his fingers in its strands
and pulls me close
whispering promises
he always keeps
Have I always been this shallow?
Perhaps
but what woman doesn't want
to feel beautiful
for all time?
---Susan Taylor Brown
all rights reserved
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ReplyDelete