This weekend we visited the Lauren Rogers Museum of Art in Laurel, Mississippi. There was a special show entitled “Art Evolved: Intertwined.” The exhibit featured the “convergence of quilting and basketry—two ancient, tactile traditions reimagined through contemporary fiber arts.”
This quilt was titled “Oil Spill”. My friend commented, “How can something so cheerful and vibrant be about an oil spill.”
“Oil Spill” by Michelle Lipson, quilt included in “Art Evolved: Intertwined” exhibit at Lauren Rogers Gallery of Art.
My eyes focused on the center panel with the yellow and purple “road”.
A Drop of Oil
forms a perfect circle on the sidewalk of her yellow-brick road— jazz spills out on the streets of New Orleans. Don’t forget your dancing shoes. Step lightly over the mess in the streets. Margaret Simon, draft
While I didn’t attend Mardi Gras this year, my social media is full of the images of others reveling. It is a fun time, but not without its share of mess.
Please join me in writing a draft of a small poem and share it in the comments. Support other writers with your comments. Thanks for being here.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I grew up in Mississippi. This weekend with all of our children traveling elsewhere for the holiday (Mardi Gras, not President’s Day for South Louisiana), we decided to take a road trip back home to Mississippi.
Have you ever watched the popular HG network series Hometown that takes place in Laurel, MS? Our first stop on Saturday was this beautiful small town. We stayed in the historic district in a large home circa early 1900 called the Grandiflora. We enjoyed the friendly atmosphere and the homestyle breakfast served around the family breakfast table, cheese grits, bacon, eggs, biscuits, and fruit. Delicious and fun to meet couples from other places.
In the front parlor, a player piano played ragtime music.
This small town had much to offer. Next door to the Grandiflora, we attended an old Episcopal church, St. John’s, where we thoroughly enjoyed the most excellent choir that sang acapella and in Latin. We later learned that music students from USM come to sing and the music program is supported by an endowment.
Following the service, many friendly people greeted us and we made connections. One woman even knows my aunt who lives in Jackson. Sometimes the world feels small.
In Laurel, there is a magnificent art museum with a unique story. Lauren Rogers was a man from a wealthy family who tragically died at a young age. The family decided to build a museum in his honor. The collection is wide and wonderful and open free to the public. We happened upon a presentation by an artist-in-residence’s culminating exhibit. I was inspired by the work she did with local students using collage. Brejenn Allen
I wrote a small poem about her artwork.
Sea Sparkle
An eerie glow bears beautiful blue light caused by farm waste like the art we saw today fashioned from trash soaked in colorful paints shines a light on how beauty bears witness to loss.
Onward to Jackson to see my brother. Here in Madison, north of Jackson, we are staying in a brand new BnB, which is good for me. As my first trip back after my mother’s death, I am happily in a new place away from painful memories. I was worried about how the feelings of grief may overwhelm me, but I’m OK. You can go home again by a different path.
I received an advance copy of a new poetry book from Eerdmans Books for Young Readers. Have you ever read a book that just feels good in your hands?
Poems for Every Season: A Year of Haiku, Sonnets, and More by Bette Westera offers a number of different poetry forms translated by David Colmer. Each page is a comforting woodcut design by Henriette Boerendans.
Poems For Every Season, publishing date Feb. 17, 2026Woodcut art by Henriette Boerendans
Each poem is a delight of language, form, imagery, and the miracles of nature.
The final poem is a sonnet for February. Just when you think it’s warm enough to go outside and sow some seeds, winter makes another appearance.
Prompted by Susan Brisson in Laura Shovan’s February Challenge to write a Cento poem, I turned each page of this book to find a poem.
Roaming the Seasons
Pale petals drift down Green buds will soon be showing on trees. Velvety bees Carving a nest Buzz by Among the yellow buttercups Clear I need sun Under a blanket of leaves Gathering growing sheltering All curled up in my cozy bed. We like it here and we stay.
Cento by Margaret Simon from Poems For Every Season by Bette Westera, translated by David Colmer.
This art piece was lying on my sister’s kitchen counter. I picked it up and asked her about it. She said she found some charred wood outside from her outdoor fireplace and experimented with it. She then came inside and added more definition to the flowers with ink. She titled the piece “Out of Ashes.”
I often wonder where our creativity comes from. How sometimes the simplest things can become profound. (My One Little Word this year is Simplicity.)
I played with a haiku form today. Another seemingly simple short form. Out of simplicity, grace.
Out of Ashes
From burnt wood shavings Flowers grow from buried seeds Finding breath enough
Margaret Simon, draft
Please write a small poem today and leave it in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement and kindness.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
“Did you kiss?” Seven-year old Leo asked when I said we went dancing.
“No, we danced.”
“But did you kiss?”
“Not while we were dancing, but we can now.” Jeff walked over to me and kissed me.
Leo stopped asking.
What does he know of love? A long love?
On Monday, my daughter asked me to babysit Leo and Stella because they were not feeling well. When I arrived, Leo was set up on the sofa with a blanket, a stuffie, and a bucket, but it wasn’t long until they both perked up and were ready to craft Valentines.
Leo wrote (unprompted by me) in his journal:
Leo’s journal page
Their energy increased, so we took the bikes out to the park nearby. I wrote this poem for Laura Shovan’s February project. Our theme this year is mysteries and the topic was secrets. I decided to ask Leo if he had any secrets.
True story
I asked him if he had a secret while he shimmied down the fireman’s pole. I love Abby he said. Does she know? I helped him write the Valentine and tuck it in an envelope. When his mother saw it, she said “How sweet! I’ll put it in the mail.” Who is Abby? I imagined a girl on the school playground running from my grandson’s chase. Oh, don’t be silly. He loves Abby, the dog.
Today is the first Friday of the month which is time for our Inklings challenge. This month Molly, our PF host today, asked us to follow a prompt to replace word for word of a Wendell Barry small poem. “Like Snow”
In South Louisiana, we don’t get much snow, but winter is a time for fog. One morning I watched the fog floating above the bayou and wrote my poem response.
Like Fog
What if I became a mist
Like the fog, softly, softly
Lifting the day.
Fog on Bayou Teche
To read how other Inklings met this challenge, click below:
The gathering of Spiritual Thursday posts can be found with Bob here.
What song is playing in your head today? I find if I take a minute to sit in silence, there is always a song playing in my mind. I wonder if this is true for everyone.
When I check the song in my head, I can usually feel its connection to my attitude. I’ve been with my grandson for a few days, and he has favorites from my repertoire. When he brushes his teeth, I have to sing the Raffi song, “When you wake up in the morning and it’s quarter to one. You think you’ll have a little fun, you brush your teeth, Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.” When I tuck him into bed, I sing the lullaby “Tell me why.”
I love these songs, but my ear worm this morning comes from the hymns I sang in the choir loft on Sunday.
“Blest are They”
“Rejoice and be glad!
Blessed are you! Holy are you.
Rejoice and be glad, yours is the kingdom of God.”
Last week during a yoga class at my friend’s house, I saw adorable pressed flower image cards in various places. I asked Carolyn, “Where did you get these adorable cards?” She told me about Terri’s art.
I remember meeting Terri. She is a retired teacher and we had lots in common, but I had no idea she was an artist. I opened my phone and ordered three cards from her Square site.
I took a screenshot of the one above and decided to write a haiku about it. I will send the card and haiku to the first person who comments on this post.
I hope you will write your own fairytale response and support other writers with encouragement.
Fairy Flower Girl
Open blossom joy- light shines on her heartfelt face, Iris petal swoons.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I’m sitting at my daughter’s desk in New Orleans. She is on a work trip, and I’ve gotten her son Thomas to school. He’s in kindergarten. Our morning went so smoothly that I am questioning myself. I have rechecked her list, and we did everything. Nevertheless I’m worried.
Thomas has been struggling lately. The classroom environment overwhelms him, and he has meltdowns. My daughter is doing all the things. I am really proud of the way she is taking charge of the situation and working hard toward a solution. As an educator, though, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classroom to see the whole picture. As a grandparent, all I want in the world is for him to be happy.
At my daughter’s desk this morning, I read Kim Johnson’s SOL post about falling in love with ordinary things. Thanks, Kim, for the nudge to write a poem inspired by Georgia Heard’s February newsletter.
I’m sitting at my daughter’s work desk falling in love with the winter slant of sunlight and the small pink framed photo of her as a wild child, holding Pongo, the rat terrier.
Her smile is wide and open, blonde hair flustered by the wind. Is there a stain of chocolate on her chin?
Her wide smile, that joie de vivre, is living in her six-year old son today.
This month the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a tricube. The tricube form is 3 syllables, 3 lines, 3 stanzas.
Molly Hogan sent me the list of prompts from the MoSt Poetry Center. The prompt I used was this:
“Write a poem of presence, in terms of being in a particular place and time, or of having a dynamic demeanor (such as in “stage presence”) or a feeling of an unseen spirit. Here’s an example by Arthur Sze, our new U. S. Poet Laureate:
Every year as I begin to set intentions, I get the universal message of presence. I feel presence is essential to peace of mind, but it is difficult to find.
I have a new kayak. Taking the kayak out took some initiative and help from my husband hero. Jeff had the grandkids in the canoe. When I wanted to try to get the kayak out of the water by myself, my grandson Leo said, “Prove it.” That was all the challenge I needed to pull the 60 pound vessel onto the dock. I did it.
First kayak adventure in “Chrysalis.”
Here after Arthur Sze
Be here now Here frog croaks Here wren calls
Be here now Here stalk grows Here tea steams
Be here now Here oar strokes Here strength comes
Margaret Simon
I want to thank Tabatha Yeatts who offered on Poetry Friday last week to do an art piece for our 2026 words. I took her up on the offer. I’m touched and amazed at how this speaks to my intention for the year as well as the tricube I wrote.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 