This month’s #poetrypals challenge was a new form to me: the cascade poem. I was mesmerized by Molly Hogan’s Slice of Life post on Tuesday. She posted amazing photos of a beach in Maine at sunrise on a very cold morning. I borrowed some words from her post to create a cascade poem about this photo by Molly.
Photo by Molly Hogan
Cascade Golden Morning
Cold. Cold. Single digit cold. Walking the rhythm of the morning, Day breaks to molten gold.
Experience moves me. Bold ripples through me, lifts me. Cold. Cold. Single digit cold.
Still lost in glory dawning, toes throb in rebuke, Walking the rhythm of the morning.
Miniature forests of fairies hold a treasure chest of sparkling jewels. Day breaks to molten gold.
I do not live in a cold climate (In South Louisiana it’s cold when the temperature falls below 50.)and most of the time, that is fine with me. But I am fascinated and mesmerized by photos of snow. My friend and fellow Inkling Molly Hogan lives in Maine. She was telling us at our Zoom meeting about her experience photographing in single digit weather. She loves taking photographs of nature. She posted about this experience on her blog post on Tuesday. I “found” a haiku in her post along with an amazing photograph for today’s prompt. You should go to her post to see and read more: Nix the Comfort Zone.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by my new poet-friend, Marcie. She is a master at haiku and sends me a beautiful photo with haiku card each month. Here is the latest one:
out of tree crumbs– tiny mushrooms stake their umbrellas haiku and photo by Marcie Flinchum Atkins
I was inspired to write about Bubbles because my grandkids love to play with bubbles. Aren’t they fascinating? Kim Douillard granted permission for this photo to be included in the book. She takes photos on the beaches of San Diego, California. There is a bubble person who creates amazing bubbles on the beach. I love how she captures the wonder of a huge bubble in her photos.
Photo by Kim Douillard
I want to share my Fib poem. The Fib poem form was created by Greg Pincus using the Fibonacci series for syllable count: 1. 1, 2, 3, 5, 8,…
Blow Big Sturdy Flexible Shape-shifting whispers Large enough for you to ride on.
(c) Margaret Simon, 2023
Consider ordering a copy of this book full of fun poem forms and fibs: Click here.
I can’t resist a good sunset photo. I don’t think I’m alone in this. A brightly colored sunset reminds us that things will be alright. I saw this wonderful photo on Mary Howard’s Facebook. She often posts sunsets from her new home in Hawaii, but this one is from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She happily granted permission for me to use it.
“I was in Myrtle Beach SC for a SERRRA presentation. Each night I’d walked the beach to get sunset photos. On this day I noticed that I could actually walk under this and it made for a perfect photo. I’m learning to pay attention to my gut!” Mary Howard
Please post a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouraging responses. I will be posting my own poem later today.
Sun reluctantly sets in golden glow sending us a message of hope.
What is the greatest gift a poetry teacher can ever hope for? A student who keeps writing poetry, even though you are no longer teaching her. You may remember my student Chloe. She’s now in 7th grade and attending another school, but last week she sent me a poem. She told me that she was in Thibodeaux, LA for a gymnastics meet. Her father went to college in the town and showed her the route to where he had lived. He asked her to write a poem about it. And what father do you know encourages the poet-daughter? I was charmed, of course, and asked if I could post her poem here. Please leave encouraging comments for Chloe.
Thibodeaux Turns
Extravagant land that turns your world
The world that grew with you
That rested with you
That prayed with you
Never felt alone with this land
These bodies of water mark journeys in our lives
And heart
And minds
Traveling tree roots that build our homes and house animals that feed us
This air that circulates our bodies and arms and legs
Blowing away our doubts and fears
Bringing us to our pot of gold at the end of our Louisiana adventures
Our sugar cane grounds desperately reaching for the water we provide
Did you see the moon last week? The Full Wolf Moon came out on January 6, the 12th night of Christmas. I was struck by a photo from Jone MacCulloch on Instagram. Like Jone, I was taking an early morning walk and tried to capture it with my phone. She used an iPhone 13. They seem to improve the camera feature on every new phone.
When I asked Jone about the photograph, she wrote, “Every morning I take the dog out sometime between 6:30- 7:30 ( when he gets up. I’m always the first up). This was last Friday. I used an IPhone 13. The moon was setting and one thing that struck me was how it is now more northerly in the sky.”
Can you follow your moon muse and write a small poem? Share in the comments and write encouraging comments to other writers.
Full Wolf Moon by Jone MacCulloch
The moon glows in harmony with the sun– a perfect reflection of peace.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
All we have are these moments: the golden trees, the industrious bees, the falling light. Darkness will not overtake us.
Barbara Crooker, “Poem with an Embedded Line by Susan Cohen”
My One Little Word for 2023 is Purpose. I am trying to purposefully capture small moments and hold them close. My dog Charlie is near the end of his life. He is 15. He sleeps most of the day. But he still gets excited about treats.
We were having a rainy day. I heard the rain, but it didn’t register that I had let Charlie out in the side yard. I don’t know what made me remember. Perhaps it was his slight scratch at the door. Or the boom of thunder. He is usually afraid of thunder.
I opened the door and Charlie ran in, soaking wet. I grabbed a towel and sat down on the floor. He ran into my arms and let me rustle him around in the towel. Then he’d run away and turn around, back into the towel, rub rub rub, shake, shake, off he ran again. He did this a few times. I was giggling hard.
It’s a new year for Poetry Friday, so I created a logo using a photo from Henry Cancienne. Henry was the photographer for my book of poems, Bayou Song, and he recently emailed me a slew of photographs with permission to use them on Reflections on the Teche. Thanks, Henry.
Today is the first Friday, so the Inklings have a challenge. Heidi Mordhorst challenged us this month to write about #change. When we met on Sunday, everyone had had a full holiday with little time to write, so rather than critique, we created an exquisite corpse poem together. Each person wrote a line and sent it to the next person on a private chat message. After we had each had a chance to respond with a line, we shared the whole thread. Mary Lee was the experienced one at this process, so she placed the results in a Google doc with the instructions that we could manipulate the lines to create our own poem.
I drew bubbles in my notebook and placed each line inside a bubble to give myself the freedom to move around and play with the words and phrases. I like what I have for now. It was a fun exercise. I can’t wait to see what my other Inklings did with the original poem. Here is mine:
#Change (like the wind)
The wind unwinds us day by day shifting clouds, shining light, casting shadows.
When we choose to wander, submit like leaves on the forest floor and understand without challenging the direction of the wind, we can walk where steps and stones still lie.
Margaret Simon (with Mary Lee Hahn, Molly Hogan, Heidi Mordhorst, Catherine Flynn, and Linda Mitchell)
Book Announcement: Along with many of my Poetry Friday friends, I have poems in the just released “Two Truths and a Fib” anthology from Bridget Magee. I wrote about bubbles. I’m excited to be a part of such a fun collection. Check it out!
Grab the 2023 Spiritual Journey image for your blog posts. Image by Henry Cancienne.
Do you select a One Little Word for the year? For years, I’ve been choosing a single word to guide my spiritual journey. Last year’s word was Enough. This word kept me in check. Whenever I questioned myself, I remembered “You are enough.” But as 2023 approached, I thought I wanted a more active word. I follow my good friend’s daughter on Instagram. Faith Broussard Cade has become an influencer under the name Fleur de lis Speaks. I clipped this recent post:
My new word for 2023 is Purpose.
What is my purpose?
Does this activity fit with my purpose?
Can I live each day with purpose?
I have been having mixed feelings about the word, so I talked it over with a friend. She offered me the wisdom that my purpose is with God, to bless others with my own faith.
My daughter got an oracle deck for Christmas. She said, “Just for fun, ask the oracle a question and pick a card.”
I kept the question to myself, but the card I picked was “Dancing Spirit” with a beautiful butterfly as the image. The main tenants were “Honoring Oneself”
*Build self-esteem
*Feeling the sweetness of life
* Sharing your inner light in a centered way.
I believe that purpose will continue to show up in my life. Funny how that happens.
I love to share the practice of choosing a word with students. I found some word beads and elastic string at Target, so my students each chose a word and I made them a bracelet.
Students share their one little word bracelets.
I asked them to write a post about their words by choosing a quote and writing about what the word means to them and why they chose it. It’s a fun way to greet the new year.
Happy New Year and Welcome to This Photo Wants to be a Poem. Let the muse take you away for a few minutes to the swamp of Louisiana where Spanish Moss drapes from trees. This week I am using a photo from photographer Henry Cancienne who head out to shoot photos on New Year’s Day when the weather was misty and warm (balmy). Henry’s photographs are featured in my book Bayou Song: Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape.
Henry takes pictures of both flora and fauna of South Louisiana. Let this photo help you create a small new year poem (perhaps your first of 2023; it is mine). Share your poem in the comments and write encouraging responses to other writers.
Mossy branch by Henry Cancienne.
Swamp fairies sprinkled dewdrops to wake up the forest. The new year was yawning.
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 