The skies have been dramatic lately with storms rolling in and out. On a morning walk earlier this week, I looked up and saw a carpet of pink. A few steps later, a rainbow. Then the sky became yellow and the clouds broke apart. All in a matter of minutes.
Let this image inspire your muse this morning. Where will you walk? Who is with you? What can you imagine? Write a small poem in the comments and come back to leave encouraging responses to others.
Pink sky, Margaret Simon
Avalyn (3rd grade) wrote this haiku with me:
Cotton candy sky If you look closer, you see aesthetic heaven.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A week ago I had a Mohs procedure on my nose. That means the dermatologist biopsied what I thought was a zit that turned out to be a squamous cell carcinoma. This type of surgery is no big deal to the young “boy scout” who was extremely proud of his suturing technique, but to me, it was uncomfortable and annoying. Ethical ELA was having its monthly Open Write, so the whole thing became a muse for a poem. Scott McCloskey led the exercise in writing about something you were “today years old” when you first learned about it.
Numbed Ignorance
Being a patient is not new to me, but at today’s years old, I learned of a procedure for removing cancer cells off a nose called Mohs.
The young doctor told me “You’re going to love this!” as he stitched and stitched as if there’s anything to love about his brutal touch, about cancer cells, about a hole in my nose.
Sure I want to be rid of it, but I carry the sign, the cross-hatch signature he was so proud of, the black eye, the irritant of a bandage on my face.
I am learning that knowledge is not all it’s cracked up to be. Just hand me an ice pack and let me go back to numbed ignorance.
Margaret Simon, draft
Some people are good at sending cards. I want to be better. It’s a skill I admire. When my daughter’s mother-in-law heard about my little procedure, she sent me a card. I’ve been using Dictionary for a Better World to teach my students about poetry. On Friday, we explored Irene Latham’s poem Belonging which is a pantoum form. I’ve been puzzling with the form ever since. A pantoum is much harder to write than it looks, but here goes…
Kindness
A card came in the mail addressed especially to me. As I fingered each detail, I felt your hand in mine.
Addressed especially for me, little bear with a bouquet held his hands out to mine with caring words to say.
This little bear with bouquet hopes I’m better by today. Your kind words do say someone cares.
You hope I’m better today. I feel your hand in mine. Across the miles you say in a card that’s in the mail.
Leave a small poem response to the photo in the comments. Be sure to support other writers with encouraging words.
If you’ve been here before, you know that one of my favorite photographers is a critique partner, Inkling Molly Hogan. Molly lives in Maine and is an amazing photographer. Please take a moment to read her Tuesday post about “gathering calm” through nature.
When I go out to take pictures, I usually have at least the location in mind, which dictates some of what I’ll see. Ocean versus marsh versus river. Forests or fields. Still, there are surprises here, too. I never know what will capture my attention at that particular time. Will the fog call to me, or shadows or spider webs? Will interesting patterns emerge in sand, water or sky?
Molly Hogan
What does the poet see? What will draw your attention? The ocean waves? The striking bird? The patterns in the sand?
Fledgling tern cries to be fed, photo by Molly Hogan
Hunger…
makes the baby cry the great owl hunt the fledgling squeal Hunger opens our souls for feeding
Today’s Poetry Friday Round up is with Dave at Leap of Dave.
Today was the first Poetry Friday of the new school year. Prompted by Kim Johnson who is writing daily to Dictionary for a Better World, I decided to begin at the beginning with the word Acceptance. Irene Latham wrote the model poem we read today. I have to admit starting with such a metaphor-driven poem was challenging. “I am a word with teeth– a crocodile” At first my students thought the poem was all about a crocodile. We had to work hard to make the connection between the title and the illustration.
From Dictionary for a Better World by Irene Latham and Charles Waters.
When it came time to write, I suggested using Irene’s form for an opening line. I am a word with ______. Adelyn chose the word Art. I adore what she wrote for her first poem of 4th grade gifted class.
ART
I am a word with imagination
A rainbow over my head
Some understand me, some don’t
Yet I don’t wait for supplies I improvise
I rest in a messy room
Full of markers, crayons and sketch books
As I dream of a
peacock flying overhead
by Adelyn, 4th grade
I am happy to be writing poems with kids again!
Here is my poem after Irene on the word Gracious:
Gracious
I am a word with wings– a butterfly landing on a red blossom.
Some want to catch me. Others let me be.
Yet I do not waste time (as you do) in the muddy banks between despair
and hope. I rest in freedom– air, wind– lightly lifting
as nectar fills my soul with sweet gratitude.
Margaret Simon, draft, after Irene Latham
Consider joining me with my friends over at Ethical ELA for this weekend’s Open Write starting tomorrow through Wednesday.
Welcome to This Photo: I hope you are inspired by this photo to write a small poem. Leave it in the comments. Read other small poems and write an encouraging message.
School has started and thus, my itinerant trek from school to school. Last year I found an alternate route that took me through the country. I have come to love this scenic route. In the spring I stopped to take a photo of a barn among wildflowers. One day last week I saw a new calf in the field with the white cows. I passed a few times before I decided to stop. On this particular day no one was anywhere around, so I pulled into the driveway. Momma cow saw me coming and kept a close eye on me, but I spoke to her kindly and was able to get this photo of her new baby.
Poetry Friday Round-up is here. Scroll to the end to find the link up and join.
Today is my birthday. I am turning the age of the year I was born. Can you do the math? I have to admit I am not a fan of birthdays. Being born in August has never appealed to me. It’s always hot and usually rainy. But with daily rain comes daily rainbows. Over the last few days I’ve seen a few big ones. I stop my car and get out to take a picture. I wish the pictures could show the colors and size, but you’ll have to just imagine it.
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Birthday card from Linda Mitchell, my birthday “sistar”
Join me and other writers in the comments. Write a small poem in response to the image. Encourage other writers with comments.
Words fascinate me. But sometimes they just puzzle me. I was scrolling through Instagram and came across my sister-in-law Julie’s beautiful post. She lives in Seattle and is a potter. Her Instagram is newleafseattle. She observes (and photographs) nature in her own unique way. This photo was captioned “On an Island in the Salish Sea – ‘choose a path and follow it.”
I asked “Where is the Salish Sea?” Then I googled and started to feel dumb (this is not a new feeling for me). The Salish (say-lish) Sea includes Georgia Strait, Puget Sound, and Strait of Juan de Fuca. Surely I have heard of this before with as many times we have visited Seattle. My google search revealed that the term was created in 1988, so it’s fairly recent, and was created to honor the Coast Salish, indigenous people of the area. Wikipedia offered this statement, “In a 2019 survey of residents in the general vicinity of the Salish Sea, only 9 percent of Washingtonians and 15 percent of British Columbians were able to correctly identify and name the Salish Sea.” This justifies my confusion but does not excuse it.
Let’s take a look at the photograph of rocks. Are you drawn in by the different colors of rocks or by the rings around the large stone? Let the muse take you where it will.
Today is the first Friday in August and my first day of school, but it’s also time for an Inkling challenge. This month Catherine wanted to give us something easy to write. She thought about sports. I am not all that sporty, but I do have a poem in the anthology Rhyme & Rhythm: poems for student-athletes (Archer Books. 2021). It’s a duplex poem about swimming.
As I contemplated this challenge, I turned to my weekly yoga class. I am going to miss this class during the school year. I love the instructor and the way she speaks to us. I’ve always thought it was like poetry. So on Wednesday, I recorded the class. This poem is a transcription with poetic license. I decided to play with having no punctuation and using space and line breaks to pause. Does this work?
The Sport of Mindfulness
Breathing is healing relaxation brings the body together all cells communicate together Breathe and communicate into one focus. breath
Notice if your thoughts move into a pattern bring yourself back to your anchor your breath
Back and forth a tennis match with yourself building a new skill purposeful intentional thinking
Lean into the stretch spread your fingers press into the palm open your muscles
Stay with the breath Challenge yourself Focus ride the waves of discomfort Then it starts to feel good
Exhale pose thank you colon thank you liver thank you spleen gallbladder pancreas Thank you for all your hard work Toxins moving out release
Come back to the breath The sound of the wind sound of the music Sensation of being in the room among friends No responsibilities
Nature is abundant Bring awareness to your abundance You are abundant thriving We are all thriving
abandon the shoes that had brought you here right at the water’s edge, not because you had given up but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
Sometimes we have to abandon shoes, say goodbye, leave something or someone behind.
Today is my last day of summer as we define it in the world of education, not by the actual season but by the school calendar. I go back to school tomorrow. Students will come next Wednesday and the year 2022-23 will be up and running.
I will leave behind the shoes of slow mornings, lingering over coffee and conversation. When this time arrives, it’s hard not to evaluate your summer. The question to my colleagues and students will be “How was your summer?” So in one word, we evaluate how we spent our days off. “Good” “Rough” “Crazy” “Busy” “Fun” “Exhausting”
Which shoes will I reminisce about when I hear this question?
Teva sandals,
straps of yellow, pink, orange, and blue
draw attention to my feet, my yellow toenails.
I can walk through water in these shoes.
Hold steady in a river raft.
They are made of sunshine and beach shores,
strappy bathing suits and splash pad sprinklers.
I relax into them, feel summer fresh.
I will leave these at the shore of school days,
put on sensible teacher shoes,
and walk into a new school year.
If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.
Let the photo inspire you to write. Leave a small poem in the comments.
We have had a string of rainy days here in South Louisiana. It happens most summers and helps to regulate the rising temperatures. Some days you feel as though you will never dry out. The air is wet. The ground is wet. Your body is wet.
The grass loves all this moisture and it grows and grows. In a nearby empty lot, the grass is almost as tall as I am. On a recent walk I stopped to look at it. Even the weeds of nature that grow out of control are beautiful. Nature is ongoing, reliably replenishing, and ever growing. Maybe your area of the world is hot and dry. Wash yourself in the lushness of the bayou side.
photo by Margaret Simon
Nature makes no demands. Listen to the wind through the grass. Earth’s song in harmony.
I live on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. I love teaching, poetry, my dog Charlie, my three daughters, and dancing with my husband. This space is where I capture my thoughts, share my insights, and make connections with the world. Welcome! Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 