For this month’s Photo Play, we dabble in the art of food styling. Perhaps you’ve seen the delicious photographs taken by food bloggers but wonder why your lunchtime photo on Instagram never quite measures up. Making food look beautiful can be tricky. The key to taking appetizing food photographs is a little bit of artful styling.
Photo Prompt: Still Life With Cheese
A good food photo requires good lighting. Take your photograph next to a large window or door. Natural lighting can work wonders.
The best food blog photos also feature small plates and portions. Large amounts of food can lose proportion and look less appealing. Think small.
Imperfection adds story to the shot. Leave crumbs, broken chunks of hard cheese, a rough spread of chèvre on rustic bread, or even a drip of jam on the plate. Keep it a little messy and disheveled. This adds life.
Keeping these suggestions in mind, try your hand at bit of poetic food styling. Link up your photos in the comment box.
So, what’s on your plate?
Thanks to all our participants in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s a poem from Monica that we enjoyed:
Limburger Warning
Her flavor is
to die for.
Her scent
will betray her—
and you.
Above all, do not
trust
her quiche.
Featured photos by Anna Verdina, Katharine Lim, and seegarysphotos. Creative Commons License via Flickr. Post by Heather Eure.
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NOTE TO POETS: Looking for your Monday poetry prompt? On Photo Play weeks, it’s right here. Choose a photo from the post and respond with a poem. Leave your poem in the comment box. We’ll be reading. 
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Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!
Browse more photo prompts
Browse Eating and Drinking Poems
Browse more writing prompts
- Poetry Prompt: Misunderstood Lion - March 19, 2018
- Animate: Lions & Lambs Poetry Prompt - March 12, 2018
- Poetry Prompt: Behind the Velvet Rope - February 26, 2018
Donna says
Can you guess which image caught my eye (and imagination)?
your face open
your eyes so sharp
and cheesy
if I bite
will you
win
k?
Heather Eure says
Ah, yes. A good choice. 🙂
Rosanne Osborne says
http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2014/04/who-planted-those-grapes.html
Heather Eure says
I enjoyed reading this, Rosanne. Thank you!
Rosanne Osborne says
Figs and Pomegranates
Figs bursting from their skins,
tart crunchy pomegranate seeds,
grapes succulent and fleshy,
almonds and pistachio nuts,
tactile lusciousness a contrast
to the aridity of the way
I have come, the desert of my mind.
I slouched along,
a camel seeking cool water
in the mirage of might be,
the semblance of ill-defined promise.
My mask covering
the doppelganger that threatens
to eat its fill, stake its tent,
remain at daybreak
to pile its stones.
Heather Eure says
A unique progression, from fruit to stones. Thank you for this one as well, Rosanne.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Melted For A Change
Under a fiery glow
Inferno
Of blaze orange’s heat
Serpentine coils wrapped
Tight, metal
Changes
From ebony to red
I watch the color wheel spin, fast and furious
Upon the ceiling of
This dark place
Spread out beneath a rising fahrenheit
Degree by nth degree
Complex and changing
I have melted
Just for you
Refined by fire and the flame
Bring me to your lips
And taste the change
Careful not to burn, my dear
You walk a delicate
Tight rope
And I have blistered those
Who partake
Heat can bring with it
Pain
Heather Eure says
Wow, Elizabeth. Where did you find your fiery inspiration?
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Fig and Chevre: Haiku
Two flavors marry
Then, birth a perfect new blend
Match made in heaven
Heather Eure says
Yes, indeed.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Still Life: Nuts and Cheese: Haiku
Edible art, still
I want to stand, stare at your
Beauty, I am torn
Heather Eure says
I’m so glad you contributed your words, Elizabeth. Thanks for sharing.
Sandra Heska King says
Monica’s poem reminds me of my great-grandmother. She always ate limburger cheese.
Heather Eure says
A potent memory. 🙂
I’ve never been brave enough to try it. You?
Richard Maxson says
After the Party
After the piquancy of conversation is gone,
and the music switched off,
you wake at three o’clock, streetlight
going strong,
you pad to the kitchen for water,
crickets,
a motorcycle whines somewhere far off;
you cork a half bottle of white left on the counter, the light
from the frig interrogates
and you shuffle with your glass to the ruins of the living room:
slices and crumbles of cheese,
Lacey Swiss, oil beading around its ragged holes,
the Roquefort, used to being abandoned, you think
may offer consolation to this wanderer with like blue veins.
There is a red grape poised at the top of the stairs;
you wonder how,
when it stopped,
how it avoided departing guest, stepping, turning for hugs and hands.
This is not your house,
you realize, and the morning’s headache is beginning to form;
you would have seen the grape, perhaps heard it
as the carpet received its roundness;
or, if you had stairs, you would have paused and bent
between your shielding shoes, forgoing hands and hugs for prevention.
Why are you there still, with rounds of bread
and music on the floor,
the city going through its gears in the distance?
When you were a child you wished to be
in another house, any house,
away from a family that seemed so unlike you;
is this it? So many years gone between
then and saying yes, you will be there, tonight for the party;
years like dreams, half remembered;
You could tell stories of those years, you do not remember.
Tomorrow you will go home.
Tonight you will leave the cheese.
you will watch the grape bounce so silently down the stairs.
Then you will go back to sleep and maybe dream.
Heather Eure says
Very nice, Richard. A slow sweep. Thanks.
Sandra Heska King says
My niece just said, “LOVE cheese!!! It’s like toilet paper…one of those things I don’t like to run out of.”
I’ve poemified it into a haiku…
cheese is like toilet paper
a thing not to run out of
and that’s how we roll
Heather Eure says
Haha! It’s true! (insightful niece)