Most mornings I take a walk in my neighborhood. As the days get shorter, I am usually headed home by the time the sun begins to rise. The neighbor’s oak tree drapes over the street and I was drawn to the mossy tendrils hanging. It’s getting close to Halloween, so spooky is on the brain. But maybe this image isn’t spooky at all. Maybe it’s comforting, a sign of almost home, a signature of southern oaks.
My students and I have been writing short poems, haiku and six-word stories, the first two days of Write Out. What I’ve realized and shared with them is that short forms mean every word has to count. On the Write Out poetry page, I found a video by Rich Novack about found poetry. He suggests using nonfiction text from National Park trails to collect words for poetry. For my poem, I googled Spanish Moss and collected a list of words to use in a haiku.
Mother nature braids
Margaret Simon, draft
her harmless silver ghost–
Sunrise silken shade
Consider joining me and my students in writing outside today, observing nature. Perhaps you will find a text to build a poem from. Have fun! Leave your poems in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.
Reflections on the Teche 
Lovely, Margaret—especially “sunrise silken shade”. Altogether a beautiful, peaceful image.
BABY OAK
Holding leaves as friends let go
I’ll refuse autumn’s invitation
for a naked winter.
I love the personification of “as friends let go.”
I enjoyed your idea that you can refuse the invitation autumn gives about winter coming.
Carol, such a fun poem. I would choose to let those friends stay a lot longer before the naked winter. Well told.
LOVE the imagery in “Mother nature braids…” I focused on the oak tree and wrote this poem “Old Oak”.
Gnarled limbs tell a story
Of bygone days of glory.
Standing bent, not straight
From years of growth, weight.
Appearing as an old man
Whose life, a great span
Another era of time
Another kind of clime.
Older than this country
Is this old oak tree.
Has withstood, seen much
Yet lives on untouched.
Limbs propped
Majestic head cocked
Continues on to tell
The story of life so well.
I feel a connection to your poem. This oak is an old man.
Yes it is. Just like the old man has a story to tell, this old oak has a story to tell.
Love the story of this oak, “older than this country”…wonderful imagery.
Love the phrase “gnarled limbs.” I have an old tree, although not an oak, with gnarled limbs – another old man with a story to tell.
I was up early today noticing the sky, too.
morning light peeks through
leaf-laden trees ready to turn
their bounty to fire
Rose, I enjoyed the connection of my morning to yours. I hope to see leaves that actually change colors on my trip this weekend to Niagara Falls.
Thanks.
Rose, what a wonderful image – “ready to turn their bounty to fire”!
Nice! Holding leaves like holding hands.
“Turn their bounty to fire’ brought an image of ruby red leaves illuminated by sunshine so vividly into my mind. Great word choice!
Thank you!
The beautiful red sky has inspired you and Margaret today. I love “leaf-laden trees” and turning “their bounty to fire” You have let each word pack a punch here, Rose.
Thanks, Denise. You’ll probably see this one again in my Poetry Friday post.
So enjoyed the prompt of Found poetry. I used a description on the website of a trail I hiked yesterday called Devil’s Bathtub. I created 2 haikus. 1 about the pond called Devils Bathtub and the other about the trail.
Meromictic pond
formed by glacial ice retreat
Depth of fifty feet
Active exploring
Head into woods and loop back
around kettle pond.
Cathy, it sounds like a lovely exploring hike. I was just looking at photos of the Devil’s Bathtub. It looks beautiful. So interesting all the beauty in the world. You have captured it here and made me do some research too. I didn’t know “meromictic” until now.
Thanks for sharing your experience in haiku.
Devils Bathtub sounds inspirational.
Margaret, thank you for the idea to do a found poem. I went to Wikipedia for Spanish Moss and was surprised at all the history. It is something I may have seen once upon a time when I went to the Florida Keys, but that’s all. I think our former evaporative cooler probably had pads made from Spanish moss!
Moss
Shelter
Bousillage
Southern Gothic
Nativity scenes
Building insulation
epiphyte not parasite
evaporative cooler pads
The meanest man who ever lived’s hair
Margaret, your poem is dreamy. I picture Mother Nature braiding the moss, and that beautiful final line sounds so lovely.
[…] winking through the trees like a ball of fire. Later, when I read Margaret Simon’s post on This Photo Wants to Be a Poem, that image quickly returned. The photo Margaret offered was one of Spanish moss cascading from a […]