open invitation no. 59 at
Sharing Our Stories Magic.
You know how sometimes without any prompting from you a “memory” pops up on your phone, a photo that you’d totally forgotten about and most often, enjoy seeing again. Jogging a memory of another time and place. But I’ve noticed when it comes to flowers, the memories are a repeated vision of the flower I took a picture of yesterday. That happened to me twice this week. Blooming seems so miraculous and random and something we have little control over. It just happens. There is consistency in the blooming of a flower. They come back around again.
This week I took a picture of this amazing gladiola. I shared a small poem in response on my Instagram.
shows its gladiola heart
sipping summer sun.
Margaret Simon, #haiku #poemsofpresence
I found a similar photo in my phone album from a year ago. Last year during lock down when I was walking every day.
On Monday, I heard a call for poems from Kwame Alexander on NPR. He creates crowdsourced poems based on small poems people send in. This week’s prompt was from Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise.” I wrote and sent in this small poem.
Still, I rise
with the sun
following a path
through watermint
where the scent
fills me.Still, I rise
to feel her gentle kicks
inside a waterwomb
knowing love grows
from my seed.Still, I rise
Margaret Simon, all rights reserved
to watch ducklings
drop to waterglory
following Mama hen
through fervent streams.
So I rise each day for a walk. I take photographs of flowers again and again. I will keep taking photos of flowers. Why not? They make me happy!
For now, I enjoy cut ones in a vase in the church hall.
Reflections on the Teche 
Margaret, what a lovely and peace-filled post. I love your musings and memories about flowers.
The poem you added to Kwame’s call is beautiful. That second stanza took my breath away. My eldest’s birthday was yesterday, so birth has been on my mind this week anyway. So touching. I love the three water words too–watermint, waterwomb and waterglory. Wow.
The photos are beautiful too. I also love gardenia. It reminds me of my childhood in California.
I’m going to go now and check out #sosmagic.
That stanza came because my oldest was pregnant during the pandemic. I muse about how Stella, my granddaughter, comes from me, too. How old is your oldest? Thanks for commenting.
She just celebrated her 32nd birthday. My youngest will be 30 this year. 🙂
My middle is 32, oldest 36, youngest 30. All girls. I do love having adult children and now 3 grandchildren.
love this, “There is consistency in the blooming of a flower.” I agree! Thanks for sharing Kwame… beautiful… so fitting. XO
Gladiola heart… sipping summer sun… love those images so much!
Such a beautiful post, Margaret. The scent of gardenia takes me back to a much younger version of me. I had a boyfriend in high school who always gave me a gardenia corsage for dances. I loved the scent!
Margaret, there is such magic in your poetry and the flowers are such a tribute to nature’s way of gifting earth. Peace to you.
“Sipping summer sun.” Love that line. I also love your “Still, I Rise” poem. I remember you writing another poem about your daughter being pregnant and your gift of life, similar to that middle stanza. I also remember it being beautiful as well. A line from your beginning really spoke to me about blooming being miraculous. I think I want to use it to write beside. I have been working on this post for a while and that line captures the miracle.
I never tire of blossoms and flowers and taking pictures of what I see on my walks just like you. Gardenias, canna lilies, and gladiolas – you brought back memories of flowers from my growing up years, but ones I don’t see as frequently in the Pacific NW, Love your use of watermint, waterwomb, and waterglory. A fitting tribute to the water that surrounds us if we only stop to look.
Yes, I do that too, constantly! Flowers, flowers, flowers! ❤ Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
HEY! I just saw he used your poem!! That is so awesome!
I know. I can’t tell you how exciting that feels. Touched by Kwame.
Your flowers and your poem are so beautiful.