Welcome to Poetry Friday. I am happy to be hosting this week. I chose this week because I am out of school for the week for Mardi Gras break. I’m sorry you do not all get this break. It has been so much fun. And today the fun continues with all of your poetry goodness. Find the link up at the end of this post.
Leigh Anne Eck is naming skies. On Thursday, I read her post on Facebook alongside a photo of a sunrise. She wrote “Today’s sky is “step.” I hope you “step into a new day” and “rise up from the dust and walk away.” Following the madness of Mardi Gras, coming home to the solemn Ash Wednesday, I felt surreal, a mixture of fantasy and fact. Her message grounded me as did my morning walk through my familiar neighborhood. Home.
I thought I might get a poem from all of this, yet that poem is still brewing. Today I am sharing a sweet haiku I wrote about my 4 year old grandson picking a wildflower for me. Here is a photo of the tiny blossom in a Mardi Gras cup. I wrote the haiku using Read, Write, Think Haiku interactive, a prompt from Donna Smith.
Winter in Louisiana is mostly wet and humid. On an early morning walk while walking through the foggy air, a grief poem came to me. Maybe reading these two poems side by side will put you into that surreal mood I’m in, where there is joy and grief and everything in between.
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Beautiful, Margaret. Both the haiku and “The Wet of Winter.” This time of year, my word, everything, as you say. I lost my mom and my dad in winter 8 and 12 years ago, respectively, but the handkerchiefs/tissues still come in handy.
It’s hard to believe your parents have been gone so long. Their legacy lives on. I’m feeling an ease about my grief now that 18 months have passed. The grief turns more toward gratitude and that is comforting.
Thank you for hosting. I absolutely love the title “The Wet of Winter.”
I’m excited that my Poetry Friday post this week is a cover reveal for my forthcoming verse novel. 🙂
Congratulations! I can’t wait to read your novel. I pre-ordered.
A very sweet haiku and a poignant poem. There is no joy without sorrow . . .
Thanks for hosting this week!
Thank you for hosting and for your poem pair which captures two of the seasons of life – grief and joy in the next generation.
Your poem, “The Wet of Winter” so melancholically gorgeous! Did you share it in the February poetry group, I think I remember reading it. Love your haiku too. Thanks for hosting Margaret!
Ah, Margaret. You so honestly span life, from love to grief. And today, with you, I wiped my own nose on one of my father’s handkerchiefs…for the first time. Something about this humble object. I’m holding the line, “My whole face is a tear.” Thank you for hosting and joy to you in the season ahead. xo, a.
Amy, mine are still in the drawer. Maybe it’s time to take one out. It takes a kind of courage to face grief. I see it in you. I’m finding it in me.
Oh, Margaret, The Wet of Winter got me. ❤️ Beautiful. Your haiku is lovely too. Thank you for hosting.
What foils these poems are for each other…that grandson joy. So sweet. So complete. Those hankies all ready for the day we all have to face won’t make it easy to go through it. I love how you spin poems from life…you make it look easy.
We are both in the practice of daily writing. That’s where the gems lie, in the daily doing of it.
I love that you have a drawer full of soft, white cotton ready to catch sorrow (or even a happy tear!).
[…] for some less ranty poetry? Head over to Reflections on the Teche where poet/teacher Margaret Simon has the Poetry Friday […]
Beautiful images in both poems, Margaret. I particularly love your grandson’s hand as a gift, and “my whole face is a tear, weeping for winter.” Wishing you more joy to balance your grief.
[…] roundup and has her grandson, Mardi Gras, and winter all on her mind. Head on over to her blog Reflections on the Teche for more poetry and all of today’s […]
Love both of these, Margaret – as others have said, they approach two “seasons” in different ways. Thanks for hosting!
Thank you for hosting, Margaret, and for both of these beautiful poems. I especially like how the title “The Wet of Winter” flows right into the first line.
Those changes from young to old show you embrace life with joy, Margaret, even with a poignant memory, of those “soft white cotton” “handkerchiefs”. This feels so connected to the sticker to you sent me with your card, “Joy is an act of resistance.” Thanks for hosting!
Thanks for the reminder of the quote. I forgot that I sent the sticker to you.
[…] has the roundup today at Reflections on the Teche where she has just returned from Mardi Gras. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry […]
Beautiful, Margaret! Thank you for hosting and for your lovely poems. I’ve recently switched to cloth hankies, too. I had some and I bought a big packet of them at the grocery store here in Uganda. So I really related to your last stanza!
My husband always carries a bandana. They are soft with years. He hands me one whenever I need it. Dependable and comforting.
You are a gift, Margaret. “my whole face is a tear” – wow. Thank you for hosting and sharing your heart with us in each post.
[…] and talented Margaret Simon is hosting the Roundup at Reflections on the Teche. Swing on by to check out the full menu of poetic goodness being served up around the blogosphere […]
“Waiting to catch my sorrow” is an excellent ending. Thank you for hosting, Margaret xo
Margaret, your loving haiku and beautiful poem about grief as it accompanies us through our tapestries, touch my heart and spirit this morning…put me in mind of both my little granddaughter whose photos and video antics bring joy in to the days away from them, and of my own grandma, whose handkerchiefs I now recall…and maybe even smell their sweet candy odor from the caramels and raspberry-filled candies in her purse. Thank you!
There’s a poem in your comment. The sweet scent of your grandmother’s handkerchiefs. Write about that, please.
Mmm. Yes, Margaret, I will…As I think about it, many of my memories have that sensory experience attached. Gosh, I can still taste those raspberry hard candies with the soft center. Poem in progress! : )
Dear Margaret, your poem catches our sorrow so softly…and that grandson’s hand is sweetness! Thank you for all. xo
Margaret, what a gift to have both the joy of a chubby hand offering you a flower and a memory of hands that clutched a handkerchief. I saved my brother in law’s handkerchief and it brings both joy and grief. Yes, they live side by side within me. Thank you for hosting.
Margaret, this post proves that you are a master poet of tender emotions throughout our lifespan–perhaps sweetest of sweet spots. Thanks for hosting.
[…] Margaret has this week’s post-Mardi Gras Poetry Friday roundup at Reflections on the Teche. […]
Thanks for hosting, Margaret. Yes, your poems do show us that the world is full of both joy and grief at the same time. In a way, that’s the conclusion my post comes to as well.
Thanks for hosting Margaret! Your post has a kind of juxtaposition with the sweet haiku about the flower your grandson gave you and the sad winter wet poem. I liked both, very much!
Beautiful poems, imagery, and emotion, Margaret. It is said that joy & grief are companions, and thinking about that, as Lent began this week, made me think of the words from the 3rd verse of the old hymn “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” by Isaac Watts: See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Thanks for hosting and for your poetry.
Thank you for reminding me of this hymn. “Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?” Joy and grief are especially brought forth in this season as winter turns to spring.
The last stanza of your poem is so lovely. I have a couple of cloth hankies from one of my aunts. These two poems are great examples of mixed feelings. Thanks for them, and for hosting.
I think of poetry as a container for strong feelings. Writing helps me deal with the juxtaposition of grief and joy.
Margaret, both of your poems are sensitive and timely. The words evolve from your love of family and invite others in to feel similar thoughts. Grandmother love is a gift the children give back to us-truth. The longing for relief from sorrow is also a gift that only time will turn into joy. Thank you for hosting with such a meaningful post. I am sorry that I posted late. I have been suffering from a lingering respiratory/sinus illness.
There is no late in Poetry Friday…but I’m sorry you are feeling bad. Illness messes with both your head and your stamina. Hope you feel better soon.
Margaret, thanks for the quick reply and well wishes. I’ve had to put many things aside lately so I cherish this time to be part of the poetry connection with friends like you.
You hold so much in these compact words of both poems, Margaret – softly sharing with us. Doesn’t mean the pain isn’t sharp, but the cotton comforts. And the wildflower offers hope. Thank you. And thanks for hosting this week.
The cotton does offer comfort that I realize with your comment. Sometimes we don’t even know what we’ve written. I often go back to blog posts and have no recollection of writing them. Thanks for reading.
Thank you for hosting, and for these poems! What a striking, beautiful compliment each is to the other.
Margaret, Thomas’s wildflower gift is precious. Both of your poems are moving and poignant with beautiful imagery and show the connections between joy and grief. You bare your heart in your poetry, which I think makes people resonate so well with it. Your words brought me memories of both my grandmother, grandfather, and father carrying handkerchiefs and what they used them for. I almost cried reading these lines, “No tears flow- – My whole face is a tear, weeping for winter.” I’m glad you brought home a bunch of handkerchiefs. Your last two lines “soft white cotton in a drawer waiting to catch my sorrow-wow. Thank you for sharing these gifts and your inspiration.
Present, past, future–all bound up with love. Hugs to you as you feel and share, Margaret. Those tissues!