What is Poetography?

Mtn Girl Poetry, Photo of the Week

What is Poetography?

These days, there is a proliferation of catchy text over images used to grab our attention on social media. Then there is…grrrr…Instagram, that takes a lot of creativity away from the photography and editing process.
ENTER: POET-OGRAPHER, def: one that marries creative images along side meaningful poetry/prose as an expression of art.
I would like to believe I coined this word, as it came to me at 3 a.m. one night, but alas, its already out there..google it. But thats ok. Spellcheck still doesn’t recognize it, which indicates it is a relatively new concept. It doesn’t change how I feel about the process, which is this: Poetography is my new Prozac. Capturing photos of places and people I love, then adding even more expression to the piece with words, is a form of art that I intend to promote and engage in for the rest of my life. Recently I’ve even been able to combine my love of music into my art, photographing local musicians, promoting them how ever I can, and this concoction of music, photos and poetry is a salve to the soul. Check out our Facebook page for some of the amazing talent I’ve been able to capture.

Poem from above:

In the loop

there is peace

cast after cast

waiting for the trout

to reluctantly rise

in anticipation

of the dancing flies

as we surrender

to serenity.

Poetry & Photography

Mtn Girl Poetry

Snowy Hollow

waiting-for-winter-logo

WAITING FOR WINTER It seems so un-natural, this in-between time.  I raise my head and force a smile. I wait for the winter to come. To really arrive. Not with a fleeting flurry, but with a full on snow globe blizzard. I want to feel the weight of snow, as it pushes away  the November grey. With it’s blanket of clean, clinging to the bark, clinging to my insides. I long to see the snow stacked against the fence. A promising wall, a frozen defense, a gleaming reflection almost blinding, that heats up my face. And as the sickles form on the roofs edge, the sharp ice begins to melt in my heart. And as I sit by the flames I stare at the art that is these hills. It’s in this trance like state that I think I see you, honest as freshly fallen snow, walking my way. ©2014 Becca #105