Today’s prompt:

Many people collect favourite images, whether as memories or posters, sketches or computer files. Pick one such collection of yours – a stamp collection, a postcard book, a file of photos – and rifle through it until something catches your eye. (If you don’t have such a collection, try putting a word – any word – into Google image search or flick through the website of an art gallery.)

Once you have an image, begin to interrogate it for poems. Ask: Who or what in this picture could speak? What would they say? Why is this image meaningful to me? When I look at it, what am I remembering? How does this image make me feel? Which of my moods is easiest to find in it? Where would I want to display picture? Who do I want to see it?

Collect the answers to your questions as a hoard of words or phrases. Scatter them across a blank sheet of paper, then check for patterns. What rhymes? Where is there alliteration? Is any rhythm apparent? Patterns might suggest a form for the poem.

If there aren’t enough patterns, you have two choices: either write your poem as free verse or go back to the images and generate more words. Have fun!

Post your poem to comments!

Read the NaPoWriMo page for details on how the challenge works and how you can participate this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April.

Please read How to Post during NaPoWriMo to find out how the prompt posts work. Remember that work shared this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.


Posted on April 6, 2015, in NaPoWriMo. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. The Snow Globe of Beauty and Sorrow

    A magnificent horse-like creature,

    The color of freshly fallen snow,

    A necklace of flowers encircled around its neck,

    And a horn sits atop its head.


    The creature stands still,

    It’s front hoof raised,

    As a hand rests on its muzzle.


    The hand belongs to a girl.

    Who strokes the horse delicately,

    Her hand frozen in motion.

    Beautiful golden locks,

    Trail from her head to just below her shoulders.

    And nestled atop her head,

    Sits a crown of pink flowers.


    The girl’s eyes are closed,

    But I picture them quite beautiful.

    I picture them as an ocean blue,

    Gazing at the unicorn in delight.


    And from the girl’s back,

    Sprouts two majestic, white wings,

    Almost as white as the horse.

    They look feathery,

    And beautiful,

    And make you stare at them in awe.


    Her dress is pink,

    And flows beneath her.

    I can picture it swaying,

    As her thin legs move gracefully.


    But sadly,

    The fairy will never move.


    Neither will the unicorn.

    Together, they are trapped,

    A smile frozen on the fairy’s face.

    They cannot escape from the glass that encircles them,

    And the fairy will never open her eyes to see it.


    But as I stare at these two figures,

    I am filled with awe as glitter rains down upon them.

    The soothing music rings through my ears,

    And I picture the fairy dancing to it.

    These figures will never move.

    Nor will they speak,

    Or dance,

    Or fly.

    So I will keep them safe.

    As they sit upon my shelf.

    This snow globe of beauty,

    And sorrow.

  2. The picture was of the beach. But then the poem kind of evolved the way it did due to the fact that I just finished reading “Dear John”, by Nicholas Sparks. 🙂 For those who have read it, you’ll get where I drew my inspiration from.

    The sand feels soft, like a blanket of warmth
    The ocean sparkles, a vibrant blue.
    The wind blows our parasol, making it tilt,
    We lie there, whispering “I love you”.

    The day’s getting dark, the sun starts to set,
    Though I’m wearing a towel, the water seeps through.
    He gives me his sweater, he makes sure I’m warm,
    Through chattering teeth, I say “I love you.”

    As the day slowly ends, on our way back home,
    He pulls up into a fast food drive-thru.
    He buys us cheeseburgers, my favorite food,
    And through bites, I hear him say “I love you.”

    He drives me back to my humble abode,
    And opens my door, like sweet gentlemen do.
    Right under the moon, he kisses my cheek,
    We both simultaneously say “I love you.”

  3. Mine was a snow globe with an angle on the inside. I’ll spare you the interview and get right to the poem.

    Hark, the Herald Angle Sings
    Sitting atop my shelf so high
    Peace be brought to all who see
    The little angle who does sing
    “Glory to the newborn king
    Peace on earth and mercy mild
    God and sinners reconciled”
    Images of peaceful days
    Of love and cherish
    By the side of those I hold close
    At peace be those who hear
    The little angle sing so proud
    “Christ is born in Bethlehem”
    With angelic host proclaim
    “Christ is born in Bethlehem”
    Relaxation is coaxed at the sound
    My little angle doth speak to me
    In her sweet voice
    Of clinking chimes on a windy day
    I twist the handle that stops
    And keeps your voice at bay
    At peace be those how feel
    The little angle song
    “Hail the Heaven born Prince of Peace
    Hail the Sun of Righteousness
    Light and life to all He brings
    Ris’n healing in His wings”
    Peace be the little angle

  4. I really like this idea! Here’s my poem:

    So much to see

    And your’e with me

    That’s how it should be

    That’s the key.

    Down the stream
    Don’t leave
    Don’t leave me.

  5. Blue skies, Green trees,
    Orange sun, Purple lake,
    Red flowers, Yellow bees,
    These colors are what I take.

    We try to recreate,
    What we see in this life.
    Artist and authors re-imaginate,
    But all the colors are already there.

    The Creator has made all colors and things

    He placed the sun and the stars,
    The moon and and the night,
    My heart and my soul,
    My weakness and my might

    The Lord made us in his image,
    To be similar to Him,
    So, like a boy copies his father,
    We attempt to replicate what is His

    This poem is not original,
    Not one tiny bit.
    There have been many before,
    And will continue to be like it.

    Because we’ll keep creating,
    The good and the bad,
    It is in our nature,
    It’s not just a fad.
    It doesn’t exactly match up with the prompt, but I thought of the idea while looking at photographs.

  6. The Meaning Behind Letters
    By Hannah Oliver

    Many people have collections of different things-
    Photo collections
    Stamp collections
    Rock collections
    Like these collections, my collection has memories behind it
    I keep letters

    “Why keep letters?”
    You might ask
    After all, it just seems like a task
    “But why not?”
    You might continue
    As you see, it can have a lot of meaning to you


    It doesn’t exactly line up with the prompt, but this is what I came up with when I was thinking about collections. 🙂 It’s a little on the short side, but I didn’t have a lot of time to expand more on it.

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