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Archive for April, 2020


I’ve been following Laura Shovan’s #WaterPoemProject. Margarita Engle, one of my favorite poets for children, prompted us to write an ode to a body of water. I write over and over about my bayou. Ha! I even call it my bayou. Living near water brings me joy and solace.

This ode comes directly from our experience of canoeing on the evening of Good Friday, without the annoying gnats.

Ode to the Bayou

Even as a water snake winds its way
around concrete rick-rack, haphazardly placed
for a bulkhead, I will wander

through your neighborhood of cypress trees
dodging knees, paddling a path of no destination.

Perhaps we’ll head toward the bridge,
stop to gather blackberries or chat
with neighbors about wood duck eggs
and such.

Even as you stretch out like a snake
for miles ahead, I will wander,
wishing for longer days,
photograph your evening haze,
and end my voyage with
this praise. 

© Margaret Simon, April 11, 2020

Bayou Teche sunset Good Friday, 2020

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Progressive Poem with Janet

I am so happy to be here today! The Progressive Poem has always brought me joy, despite sometimes offering my line with a bit or more of trepidation. This year is no different. I am able to participate thanks to Margaret’s generous offer to host me here at Reflections on the Teche.  For most of the years of the Progressive Poem’s existence, Irene has taken blog-less me under her wing. I am grateful to both poets and friends. 

While my participation at Poetry Friday ebbs and flows, I am always captivated and inspired by the community I have come to feel so a part of. I look forward to your creative, enriching new works and words. I am intrigued by the newest project or offering. And your books. Oh how I love to read and share them with children. I love when I have the time to devote to joining in. And I am beyond thrilled to have met so many of you in person. You are my people and I feel at home here.  Thank you for your continued friendship and inspiration. It really means the world to me.

My friend Donna has started us in a lovely way. Besides swaying daffodils and violets, I am a proponent of choice for children (I taught for 41 years and still sub!) so I like this. Perhaps a little less pressure, I don’t know, but I feel our poem has thus far developed with flair and wonder.  And perhaps a metaphor for the times we are living in; our path may be lonely, but there is light and water, music and nature surrounding us. To me that is hope.

Thanks to my friend Matt at Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme I had two lovely lines to choose from. 

Sweet violets shimmy, daffodils sway
along the wiregrass path to the lake.
I carry a rucksack of tasty cakes
and a banjo passed down from my gram.

I follow the tracks of deer and raccoon
and echo the call of a wandering loon.
A whispering breeze joins in our song.
and night melts into a rose gold dawn.

Deep into nature’s embrace, I fold.
Promise of spring helps shake the cold

 Next I hand the poem to Linda Mitchell’s pen to see where we go:

Hints of sun lightly dapple the trees   (choice A)

I whistle, then whisper a snippet of poem  (choice B)

Janet Fagal aka Janet Clare F. or Janet F. (Long story how this came to be, but I am too low tech to really change now.) On Facebook I am Janet Clare and I love new friends. My favorite name is Grandma.

A bit about me:
Besides teaching and being Grandma to two sweeties ages 4 and 1, I consider myself to be a poetry advocate for children. I visit classrooms and fill the hours with poetry books piled on desks for children to read and share poems to learn by heart. I have always been met with warm enthusiasm from the children. It is the poetry not me! 

I have poems published in various places. My biggest thrill was being asked by my mentor and friend, Lee Bennett Hopkins, to write for the last anthology published in his lifetime, I AM SOMEONE ELSE: POEMS ABOUT PRETENDING which has my poem about wanting to be a mermaid. I have a poem in Pomelo Publishing’s Great Morning!, Best of Today’s Little Ditty 2014-2015, several in books, magazines, and online for the National League of American Pen Women (NLAPW.org), and most recently Clare Songbirds Press’s The Brave.

Here’s where you can find all the contributors to this year’s Progressive Poem. It’s a fine journey and I hope you will leave a comment or two along the way. It is always nice to hear from readers and other poets:

.
1 Donna Smith at Mainely Write

2 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem

3 Jone MacCulloch, at deo writer

4 Liz Steinglass at Elizabeth Steinglass

5 Buffy Silverman at Buffy Silverman Children’s Author

6 Kay McGriff at A Journey Through The Pages

7 Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core

8 Tara Smith at Going to Walden

9 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link

10 Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme

11 Janet Fagal hosted at Reflections on the Teche

12 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise

13 Kat Apel at Kat Whiskers

14 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche

15 Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life

16 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance

17 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe

18 Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading

19 Tabatha at Opposite of Indifference

20 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities

21 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse

22 Julieanne Harmatz at To Read, To Write, To Be

23 Ruth, There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town

24 Christie Wyman at Wondering and Wandering

25 Amy at The Poem Farm

26 Dani Burtsfield at Doing the Work That Matters
27 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge

28 Jessica Big at TBD
29 Fran Haley at lit bits and pieces
30 Michelle Kogan at Michelle Kogan

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Amy at The Poem Farm

I am writing from my favorite perch on the back deck on Bayou Teche. While I was here, Laura Shovan’s face popped up on my phone inviting me to an Instagram Live. Little did I know that she could actually click me in. Ha! There I was, no make up, saying hi to Laura! She was reading a robot poem. Y’all should check it out!

Photo by Markus Spiske from Pexels

My poem today was inspired by a prompt on Go Poems using Joy Harjo’s poem When the World as We Knew it Ended as a mentor text. I posted on our Kidblog page and a few students wrote their own poems. (We welcome comments.)

When School was Closed

We were writing
every day in colored ink:
100 Days of Notebooking goal.

Sticker charts were filling up
like a calendar of events:
Twenty books, thirty, forty.
We were wild readers 
racking up the highest AR scores.

We had been watching
the President in news conferences
say “This is no big deal, a few weeks,
warmer weather, it’ll all go away.”

We saw it when
our parents stayed home, too,
buying supplies for more than a week,
taking our temperature with their hands.

We heard it
from Governor Edwards,
“Stay at home.”
No more school.
Will I ever see my friends again?
What about the soccer game on Saturday?

But then my dad
took me fishing,
showed me how to bait a hook,
slowly helped me throw out the line.

We waited
side by side
together
for a bite.  

By Margaret Simon

The Spreading Virus

We were getting off the school bus
when he said bye
see you in a month or two

A game of pass the toy
going from here to there.
Until that person has it no more.

We had been watching the passing fields.
stopping every couple of minutes
Barely any cars
driving around
No strangers walking around
outside

still playing games
learning new things
being with the family.

We heard it has claimed lives, many
Must keep everything germ-free
Can’t go see our friends anymore

But then
it is nice being home
this is bringing families together
having to spend
more time
with each
other


by Breighlynn, 4th grade

Follow the progress of this year’s Progressive Poem. We are walking a path to the lake. Matt Forrest Esenwine has today’s line choices.

1 Donna Smith at Mainly Write
2 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem
3 Jone MacCulloch, deowriter
4 Liz Steinglass
5 Buffy Silverman
6 Kay McGriff at A Journey through the Pages
7 Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core
8 Tara Smith at Going to Walden
9 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
10 Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme
11 Janet Fagel, hosted at Reflections on the Teche
12 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
13 Kat Apel at Kat Whiskers
14 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
15 Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life
16 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
17 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
18 Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading
19 Tabatha at Opposite of Indifference
20 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
21 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
22 Julieanne Harmatz at To Read, To Write, To Be
23 Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
24 Christie Wyman at Wondering and Wandering
25 Amy at The Poem Farm
26 Dani Burtsfield at Doing the Work That Matters
27 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
28 Jessica Bigi
29 Fran Haley at lit bits and pieces
30 Michelle Kogan

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This week as we continue to shelter at home, I’m encouraged by the families with young children spending quality time together. My neighbors have three boys (God bless them), and they live with her parents, so their house is full. I watch through my kitchen window each night as they emerge for their evening activities of bike riding, skateboarding, and chalk drawing.

When I saw Jen’s photo of her youngest covered in chalk, I asked permission to use it here. To me, it was begging to be a poem. This low stakes writing invites you to quick-write a poem of 15 words or fewer to capture your impression of the image. Leave your poem in the comments and try to come back to comment on other poems.

Chalking fun by Jen Reynolds

Chalk-a-bration*

Barefoot is best
when creating
a sidewalk
masterpiece.

Margaret Simon, draft
*This term was started by Betsy Hubbard of the Two Writing Teachers

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I have been following #verselove on Ethical ELA. On Tuesday, teacher-poet Gayle Sands posted a selection of photographs to use for prompts for ekphrasis, poetry about art. I love how looking at art or photography can lead you to a poem, and many times to something unexpected.

Linda Mitchell and I are writing partners in a Sunday night critique group. After I wrote my poem to an image of Alice Paul, I found her poem, a golden shovel about the same photo. I asked Linda’s permission to post her poem along with mine. I think it shows how poets can take a different perspective.

The photo reminded me of my great grandmother who died just shy of her 100th birthday. While mine was more descriptive of the photo, Linda included historical information about Alice Paul and the Sewall-Belmont House.

I always feel the movement is a sort of mosaic.

   ~Alice Paul  to Woodrow Wilson May 2019

The gentlemen from Illinois and Texas, I
am certain, have lost their minds. Women have always
made way for men. It’s 1968. We feel
strength in Sewall-Belmont House since 1929. The
National Women’s Party movement
headquarters is a landmark, it is
not simply ground to lay gravel for a
new Senate driveway on Capitol Hill. What sort
of message does that send to the daughters of
our work? It would destroy the heart of our mosaic

© Linda Mitchell

4/7/20 #verselove

“There will never be a new world order until women are a part of it.”
Alice Paul (1885-1977)

 Alice Paul at Belmont House, 1972.

Alice Paul

Small but fierce
they’d say
about this woman
who wouldn’t be dared.
Hands on hips, head held
high as a carved marble statue
on a pedestal.

Like my great grandmother,
Alice Paul stood in white eyelet
eyes set straight, focused
on the photographer’s lens
like a beam of light daring
him to say,
“Smile!”

Margaret Simon, draft 2020

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Yesterday I walked two miles with my dog, Charlie.
Today, I only made time for one.

Yesterday, I attended a Zoom yoga class.
Today, I’m burning incense.

Yesterday, I wrote three poems.
Today, I’m writing this Slice.

Yesterday, I watched a new Netflix series.
Today, I am watching a tele-conference with colleagues.

Yesterday, I bought groceries and a pot of flowers.
Today, my cat is trying to eat the flowers.

Yesterday, I saw hummingbirds at the feeder.
Today, I hear chickadees in the cypress tree.

Yesterday, I sent a Facebook birthday message.
Today two of my daughter’s friends had babies,
(Welcome Cameron and Georgia!)

Yesterday, we watched the news.
Today, I don’t want to.

Fancy is curious about hydrangeas.

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Today’s poem is a response to this week’s prompt from Today’s Little Ditty. “For this week’s challenge, I’ve selected “These Are the Hands” (Chapter 39) from Part 3 of My Shouting, Shattered, Whispering Voice. It’s a prompt about empathy— something we so desperately need more of in today’s world. The prompt was inspired by a poem by Gabriella Gutiérrez y Muhs, titled These are the hands that could sand a wooden bench.

Palm Sunday

These hands
weeding, discovered palms,
and wondered…
Will these old palms
make supple crosses?

These hands
cut long strips
of granite green.
A mind-memory of angle to knot,
thread through, criss-cross.

These hands
delivered simple gifts
to lonely, sheltered neighbors,
a churchless congregation
praying together. 

@Margaret Simon, draft

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For National Poetry Month, I am trying to write a poem each day following whatever muse I can find. Yesterday I tuned in to #verselove on Ethical ELA. Glenda Funk offered a prompt for writing an etheree. I’ve been seeing this form around the Kidlitosphere, so I wanted to try it out. It’s a 10-line form using syllable counts from 1-10.

When I was writing, I looked down to see the bracelet I was wearing. Last summer we cleaned out my parents’ home when they moved to a retirement home. We found all kinds of treasures. One was a box of jewelry from my godmother whom I didn’t know well. She died years ago. My parents had inherited some of her treasures.

In the box was a broken necklace of amber beads. My sister-in-law is talented at making bracelets. She took the beads and other beads from a necklace of my mother’s to create a new bracelet for me. And now I muse over it.

Etheree by Margaret Simon

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe.

For this first Friday of the month, my Sunday Poetry Swagger group writes together to a shared prompt. This month Linda Mitchell suggested the Poets.org #ShelterinPoems project. I decided to do an “after” poem from poet Barbara Crooker’s April poem that she posted on her Facebook page. I love Barbara’s writing, how it flows beautifully line to line.

BIG LOVE
I’d been traveling and missed this spring’s shy
unfolding. So when I returned, it was as if
a magician had walked around the yard
with a glossy black wand: Pow! Lilacs,
purple, white, wine-colored; scent to rock you
back on your heels. Bam! Dogwoods,
a cotillion of butterflies on bare black branches.
Shazam! Peonies exploding, great bombshells
of fragrance and silk. Tada! A rainbow row
of irises, blossoms shooting from green stalks.
Azaleas! Rhododendrons!. Everywhere I look,
the yard is ready to send its bombs bursting in air.
So push down the plunger! Let every twig and stem
erupt into flowers. Soon, it will be June, and all
of this opulence will be spent confetti littering
the lawn. I’m standing here, slack-jawed
and gob-smacked, shell-shocked into love.
Out by the bird bath, one by one, the poppies
slip their green pods, slowly detonate
into silent flame.
~Barbara Crooker

Bayou Sunset (photo by Margaret Simon)

Backyard Spring

I’ve been sheltering and missed this spring’s green
beginning. So when I walked out, it was as if
Jack had been by with his magical beans: Bada-bing! Cypress
needles feathered like peacocks showing wings; emerald
out of the blue. Bravo! Clover, a-dime-a-dozen flaunting
purple lily-like miniatures. Good heavens! The wisteria vine
drapes around, around. Everywhere I look,
the yard is ready to dance the day away.
So grab your partner! Take a two-step (six feet apart)
and let the green lawn party commence. I’ll invite
the wood ducks, squirrels, and herons. Set up
swing-back camp chairs. Out by the bayou, we’ll watch
the sunset draw orange curtains
into silent flame.

Margaret Simon, after Barbara Crooker
Clover on the lawn (photo by Margaret Simon)

Swagger Group #ShelterinPoems

Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone
Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core

Check in on the Progressive Poem with Jone today.
Poem read aloud on the bayou with ideas for writing your own poem.

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I have a confession to make. I forgot to post this today. When I started this weekly prompt, I decided to do it on Thursdays because that’s the day Laura Purdie Salas would post her 15 Words or Less prompt. Thursdays felt right.

In this time of every-day-is-just-like-the-last, I forgot it was Thursday. The good news is my caterpillar has started to pupate. This monarch caterpillar was hanging on to a milkweed plant I bought last weekend. When I found the little thing, I put the whole plant into the butterfly net. Yesterday I couldn’t find the caterpillar. I looked and looked and finally saw that it was curled up under a leaf.

Please write a small poem (15 words or so) in the comments. Support other writers by commenting on their poems. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a definite kinship with this caterpillar.

Curled up
in the blanket
of your love,
I will emerge
renewed.

Margaret Simon, draft

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