Poetry and Photography

[cz23]

Thank you for this thread, John.
I needed these images and words today.
The mystery in the shadows, the lines between the lines, to hold perfectly all that cannot be resolved in the human heart.

You're welcome, and thanks for commenting.

 

[rhl-oregon]

https://roberthilllong.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/doves-kauai3.jpg

Hana Coast


In rain, the doves don’t call. Let
the Pacific resume its master narrative—
they blink away the details. Around each eye

a lapis ring chains sky
to sea. They utter a rivulet
of distances, yet live

at your feet. After the flood they flew
here because better than
any surviving thing they heard converging

waves of blue upon black upon blue,
moon upon sun upon moon.
They are the perfecting

of that echo. Their wings in the grass
that buoys your feet are rainclouds. Let them pass.

 

[cz23]

I wanted to share an interesting observation by poet Denise Levertov. I think it's worth sharing here because you could change her words "poetry" and "poem" to "photography" and "photograph" and the piece would work and be insightful. It would address a fundamental issue in photography -- formal design vs. what she calls organic form.

As I read this it occurred to me that you could place Robert Frost and HCB on one side of the formal design scale, and Walt Whitman and Robert Frank on the other. Not a better or worse thing; just different ways of perceiving, exploring, and expressing.

There's also an enjoyable part about the importance of the seed of perception and the process of creating a completed work from that spark. Again, very relevant to both disciplines, I think.

Here's the link: Some Notes on Organic Form

John

 

[jpreisch]

Haiku photographs

Haiku photographs

I have been publishing my images and my haiku poems since 2012.
Take a look:
www.jamespreisch.blogspot.com

 

[cz23]

Something a little lighter this time.

Poem/photo pairing 6 for National Poetry Month: Five Gifts

The "five gifts" refers to the five words of my mantra, given many years ago by my spiritual master, and still such a central part of my life.

 

[cz23]

This is poem/photo pairing 7 for National Poetry Month: The Offering

The poem won the Chicagoland Poetry Competition a few years back. My wife says it's her favorite among my poems. I'm still very moved by it after all these years. Hope you enjoy the poem and photo.

John

 

[cz23]

Not too much interest left in this thread, but I'm going to finish out the month anyway.

This poem is a wonderful memory from a late night forty-five years ago when me and my 20-something friends had rented a farmhouse for the summer near the Jersey shore. It's funny how some memories stay with you over the years. And great how photography and poetry can preserve them.

The poem was published in the 15th anniversary Passager anthology from the University of Baltimore.

Poem/photo pairing 8 for National Poetry Month: What the Night Offers.

 

[rkm]

Beautiful.

"Overhead, clouds drift silently,
polish the moon to a soft patina."

"How lightly the thin stones of longing skip on the clear lake of a contented heart."

 

[cz23]

A little posting here, but these are the last two photo/poem pairings for April, National Poetry month.

Thanks for following along. Not a lot of interest, but I see from the site metrics that many RFF folks have been reading them. Thanks again.

John

The Line

Ripening

 

[Joao]

Winter boats

Winter boats are
shrink-wrapped ghosts
haunting the docks as
they await the sea


Guillermo Veloso

 

[rhl-oregon]

Donald Dick

Here he sits, head full of spit and brick dust.
Self made, he’d say, this slumlord scion, this
Pulpit bully who bloats in a blue suit
Personifying No, not a chance, piss

Off! His main job is to deny crusts
To anyone knocking at his White House—
Thus the piles of black orders and the fat
Black pen for signing them. And then vamoose

After a golf ball, dragging entourage,
Cronies, toads, gunmen, apple polishers,
Though none can keep him from searching airspace

for the turkey vulture who maintains pace
Overhead, a dictator’s flimsy hearse.
Who preens on his bedroom balcony ledge.

———————
Image snatched off the web, cropped and dehazed

 

[Retro-Grouch]

View attachment 4856417

Donald Dick

Here he sits, head full of spit and brick dust.
Self made, he’d say, this slumlord scion, this
Pulpit bully who bloats in a blue suit
Personifying No, not a chance, piss

Off! His main job is to deny crusts
To anyone knocking at his White House—
Thus the piles of black orders and the fat
Black pen for signing them. And then vamoose

After a golf ball, dragging entourage,
Cronies, toads, gunmen, apple polishers,
Though none can keep him from searching airspace

for the turkey vulture who maintains pace
Overhead, a dictator’s flimsy hearse.
Who preens on his bedroom balcony ledge.

———————
Image snatched off the web, cropped and dehazed

Well said! But be ready for the knock on your door...

 

[Yokosuka Mike]

there's a certain sadness in the air
we want to laugh, we want to cry
there are times when we want to curl up in a ball and die
mostly we press on and hope for the best
never say never just nevertheless

Sony A7III camera
Voigtländer 28mm f1.5 Nokton Vintage Line Type I lens
Yokohama, Japan
August 2025​

 

[mconnealy]

Haiku photographs

Haiku photographs

I have been publishing my images and my haiku poems since 2012.
Take a look:A
www.jamespreisch.blogspot.com

An impressive accomplishment over that long time. I've always thought haiku and photography the perfect pairing, but the inspiration comes to me only intermittently.

 

[JohnWolf]

Postcards

Thinking of you these last few lonely miles
and sending random snapshots from the road,
reminders of how the world sometimes smiles
back if we just look, look absent the heavy load
life piles on. I’ve been seeing with soft eyes
lately, taking in what I can of the fading light
and the lovely shapes and forms that pass by
my window, as back roads turn left or right—
at my age I don’t much care. I just drive,
now and then arrested by a sudden scene
that maybe isn’t much, but nonetheless I strive
to render, share, and think what it might mean.
Anyway, a few postcards for you, a distant kiss,
an amazed way of saying, “Hey, look at this.”

 

[robert blu]

nice to see this thread alive...

 

[Perkeo Vaskar]

Perkeo I, Vaskar 75/3.5, Fortepan 100

Unbidden embrace
Is still nonetheless welcomed
In this dry season

 

[Joao]

Seagull by João Avelar, on Flickr



Seagulls (poem by Roger McGough)


Seagulls are eagles
with no head for heights
For soggy old crusts
they get into fights
Out-of-tune buskers
beggars and screechers
Seagulls are not
my favourite creatures.

 

[Dogman]

She never said she loved me
She didn't have to
It didn't mean a thing.




.................................

 

[Yokosuka Mike]

What makes a man sit down and write a poem
Are his guts torn up inside, does he feel alone
Is he so happy he’s about to burst with pride
Is creativity his cup runneth over? Or has he let things slide?
Perhaps he’s so hot he’s longing for November

I long for November



All the best,
Mike