Well, this photo was a bit creepy and for some reason I just kept thinking of dolls gone bad.

Breaking News
Mass Escape from
St. Claud’s Center
for Delinquent Dolls
Just this morning
a passing photographer
captured this pivotal scene
of the notorious Brown-Haired Doll
with her famous fringed blue eyes,
gang leader, miscreant,
dimpled arm raised,
baby-blue-shoed foot
kicking out,
targeting the glass barrier,
already fractured,
and demure-looking accomplices
lurking in assumed postures
with their flat and soulless
marble gazes intent.
Look-outs.
All poised on the verge of escape.

This month I’ve been participating in Laura Shovan’s Found Object Poem Project. Each day I’ve attempted to respond to a random photo with a poem. Some days are certainly easier than others!  It’s fascinating to see the different directions that poets travel from the same photo. The whole thing intimidates me, actually, (check out some of the high-caliber poems at Laura’s site!) and I have to be sure not to read others’ entries before posting my own. I’m trusting in the process though and working hard to silence that inner critic. And, I’m writing, writing, writing, and isn’t that what it’s all about?

One Plump Tomato

In the midst of winter
one plump tomato
stirs memories of
the sun’s caressing warmth
on berry-brown bare arms
and flush freckle-dusted cheeks
of toes dipping into rich earth
and of the enticing tangled scent
of robust green vines
and sweet spicy basil

In the midst of winter
one plump tomato
sings a silent song
of summer

Check out more poetry! The Miss Rumphius Effect is hosting this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup.

Here is today’s photograph. I was surprised my how quickly and viscerally I responded to this one.  It’s a good thing I live in Maine, where heat and humidity are infrequent visitors!

Ahhh, A Fan

On certain sticky summer days
when heat slaps me in the face
and my flushed skin drips
and my thoughts grumble
into curdled meanness
and a rash of spiteful words
trembles at my lips,
I would kill
for the simple respite
of a fan
with sweet hum of rotating blades
and soft, stirring air
to dispel the sour chunks
of my humid mood.

What are these things? This third photo prompt for Linda Shovan‘s February challenge certainly challenged me. I looked at it again and again trying to get some sense of context. Are these grapes? Marbles? Insect eggs? Beads? What are they resting on? How can that reflection be so deep and clear? I floundered, finding it hard to move forward without knowing more. In the end I simply had to push myself to just start writing–a good lesson, that!  I started and stopped and moved in so many directions with my response. At one point, I even tried to channel some Robert Frost:

What orbs these are, I do not know
reflections lurking dark below
in clusters of uncertain sprawl
They pulse with silken greenish glow.

I tucked that stanza and the rest of that effort away for some future fiddling. That form doesn’t lend itself to quick drafting and publishing!  In the end I opted to focus on the mystery of the objects and my desire for some sensory exploration. Here’s my effort.

Mystery Orbs
I itch to pick one up
squish it with a POP
and see what oozes out,
feel the dripping liquid
sticky on my pinching fingers.
I yearn to bite
and sink my teeth
into pale, silken green
to discover
if they are as juicy
as they look,
sugar-sweet like candy
or tongue-zapping,
puckering sour.
God forbid they’re bacteria!

Does anyone know what these are? Share any thoughts in the comments below. I can’t wait until Laura Shovan reveals the context of this photo later today!

This is Day 2 of Laura Shovan‘s Found Object challenge. (She has invited anyone interested to write a poem each day in response to a photograph prompt.) Part of the nature of the challenge is to write and post a poem quickly, without much editing, “turning off the inner critic.” This image took me in several different directions and still feels “half-baked.” It’s a poem I would usually tuck away to work on later but I’m pushing it out there in the spirit of the challenge.

A rainbow of vegetables
Cascades across the cloth
in a vegetable tangle
Richly hued glossy skins
and upright stems
like jewels from a casket
in burnished splendor
glistening with ruby lights
and polished emerald hues
A garden offering.

Soon the sharpened knife
will slice crisply
piercing taut skins
chopping, dicing, mincing
exposing seeds nestled deep in the core
or scattered throughout the flesh
carving out slivers and slices
on the scarred cutting board
stained with pooling juices
a stew?
a soup?
a sacrifice.

Author Laura Shovan is hosting the “2016 Found Object Poem Project” this February. She has invited anyone interested to write a poem (or prose) each day in response to a photograph of a found object. Here is the first photograph:

And here is my response:

Wooden Box
Capable hands
held the potential of
raw, green wood,
inspired,
rejecting spoon, platter,
a plethora of options,
crafted a secret-holder,
a box for treasures,
dovetailing corners
fitting the lid precisely
sanding smooth the slivers
and splinters,
adhering paper
with written words
whispering on wood
a destination
that has faded into memory
with the accumulating
patina of time.

Inside the box
echoes of those hands
and unknown treasures,
past and present,
breathe,
stirring dusty molecules
and memories.