This poem comes from a prompt on Ethical ELA VerseLove by Joanne Emery. She asked us to read Jane Hirshfield’s poem My Life Was the Size of My Life and borrow a line to use in our own poem that expresses something about ourself. I used the line “I told my life I would like some time.”
I Told My Life
I would like some time. I wanted to hit Pause, rise in another space– maybe a vase of flowers beautiful & scented then tossed away.
I told my life to hold on while I slept, dreamt I was flying.
What does it feel like to be free?
I told my life I would like some time to get back a broken piece of me.
This painting by my friend, artist Melissa Bonin, was exhibited at the Acadian World Congress in 2019 in Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada. When Melissa posted this photo of her art on Instagram, I was inspired to ask permission for our ekphrastic poetry this week.
Did you experience the eclipse? The experience was exciting for everyone. Although there were clouds and rain, a few times the sun peeked out and we were able to view it. My students were fascinated.
Every day we Come closer to Learning our lesson. I stand in awe Pretending to feel Safe on our fragile Earth.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please write a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.
Fifth grader Kailyn blows India ink into a mysterious shape.
Thanks to a grant from Alpha Delta Kappa educational sorority, I funded a field trip for the elementary gifted students in Iberia Parish. The purpose of the field trip was to expose our students to the mystery and magic of art.
The students were able to tour an exhibit at The Hilliard Museum in Lafayette, LA. They saw the art of George Rodrigue, who was born in New Iberia and became world famous with the creation of his Blue Dog series. The students were fascinated to learn of Rodrigue’s origins and how he created amazing paintings throughout his life until his death in 2013. They recognized the iconic Blue Dog from a sculpture that we have in a downtown park dedicated to his memory.
They also viewed the art of Beili Liu who used the element of water to create an abstract hanging of paper above their heads. She also made blue cyanotype prints of objects from the ocean to draw attention to the problems of pollution.
Denise Gallagher, a local author, illustrator, and graphic artist led the students in an abstract activity using small straws and India ink on paper. Enjoy the gallery of art. Some students wrote poems to accompany their creations.
I believe that children should be exposed to art and learn that they are creators. Denise and Callie, the educational docent at The Hilliard, helped our students feel comfortable and inspired by art. The students were pleasantly surprised and proud of their creations.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Saturday in downtown New Iberia, we held the Books along the Teche Literary Festival. I spent most of my time volunteering in the children’s tent, but in the late afternoon, I went to hear Faith Broussard Cade ( @fleurdelisspeaks.) Over the past 6 years, Faith has healed from a traumatic brain injury by writing daily affirmations. These Instagram posts have caught fire and have made her an influencer and entrepreneur. I am so proud of her. She is the daughter of a close friend, and she was in my oldest daughter’s high school class.
Faith told her story. She also taught the audience how to write affirmations. Use an I message. Think about what it is you most need to hear. Keep them close to you. She gifted each of us with cotton deckled paper and a flair pen, her go-to tools. She said that her affirmations come from God. She is just the medium. She promotes self-care for women who tend to care for others without taking care of themselves.
Yesterday I used the lavender pen I got to write a poem for Ethical ELA. James prompted us to write a tanka (5,7,5,77) about a moment when everything seemed possible. I have that feeling when I write.
Writing is a choice, yes, but for me, if I don’t do it, I feel something is missing. Yesterday as I was walking, I spoke into my notes app and wrote this small poem, another one in a stream of words that are processing my experience with Alzheimer’s. I am hopeful that somehow these poems connect with someone while they give me processing time, space for my grief.
I Forgot
when it started and wonder about its end as my pace slows to hear the calls of the Carolina wren that once nested in a begonia pot on her porch.
There are so many things I do not know. There are so many things I have yet to know, but on this day as the birds sing, I do know she will always love me.
Visits with my mother are hard on me. I don’t live near enough to get used to her Alzheimer’s silence, the confused look in her eyes. I keep thinking one of these days I will accept this. But it seems so unfair. She was such a vibrant and thoughtful person. She is safe and happy and generally in good health, so I convince myself I should feel gratitude. Despair and grief take over. I can’t even look at this photo without tears welling up.
At Ethical ELA, we were prompted by Katrina to write about a photograph. I chose the one above.
We see a child delighted to hug his great grandmother generations of love passed on with a kiss on top of his head.
We don’t see the grief seeping into the moment the loss of a mother whose memories fleet past through empty eyes always questioning.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem originated from an idea that Irene Latham had to celebrate National Poetry Month in 2012, to bring a community of writers together as they collaborated on a poem. I began coordinating the effort in 2020. Each writer who volunteers creates a new line of the poem.
The poem has passed to me today. Patricia Franz started it off in the form of couplets. I’ve structured it into quatrains to see how it rides. The poem will take shape as it moves along toward 30 lines.
Thinking about this character who dreams of peace and lullabies of hope, he/she begins a journey across a border. Is this a literal border or figurative one? Irene set the character in motion with action. She also gave me a good word to rhyme; however, rhyme isn’t a rule in this ongoing pattern. I hand off this adventure to Marcie Atkins. The full schedule is on the sidebar. Stay along for the ride.
cradled in stars, our planet sleeps, clinging to tender dreams of peace sister moon watches from afar, singing lunar lullabies of hope.
almost dawn, I walk with others, keeping close, my little brother. hand in hand, we carry courage escaping closer to the border.
My feet are lightning; My heart is thunder. Our pace draws us closer to a new land of wonder.
This first Friday of National Poetry Month, we have an Inklings challenge brought to us by Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee asked us to write a haiku sequence about poetry without using the word poetry.
I’ve been on an Emily Dickinson kick watching the surreal series “Dickinson” on Apple TV and reading through a dog-eared collection of her poems. When I read Mary Lee’s challenge, I decided to write individual haiku on slips of paper from the pile on the kitchen counter. That way I could arrange them in a logical/ illogical/ artistic/creative way.
random collection of haiku
I played with the order and this is what I have, for now. One of the best parts of writing poetry is revising, so I am open to rearranging and rewording or throwing it all into the flame.
Envelope opens words release into hands timeless treasure
2. Flame rises too high under the white carnation searing joy to ash
3. Whispers of wishes within earshot of your eyes written by my hand
4. Slips of paper feathers folded in hope message delivered
5. Metaphoric company of lacewings urging me to fly
Robert selected the topic of everyday miracles for this month’s Spiritual Journey posts. Jennifer Jowett led us at Ethical ELA to explore a letter of the alphabet. Combining both prompts, I wrote about the letter M, my first initial that carries the legacy of my grandmother as well as the letter of my grandmother name, Mamère.
M is for miracle, mountain of twin peaks, how mothers are made, become Mamères watching a boy learning to write his name- “up, down, up, down” ride the pen roller-coaster how calligraphic M wears a fancy dress to the letter party. Maybe M moves mountains, makes miracles, but most of all M glows in the heart when your child mutters, “Mom, I missed you.”
Margaret Simon, draft
I continue to find fascinating words to write about. Today’s word lulu means an outstanding example of a particular type of person or thing. Years ago we rescued a greyhound who came with the name Lulu. I had no idea that the name had this meaning. This poem is sometimes called taking a word for a walk.
Lulu is a luxurious word we say with a lulling lilt calling the lazy dog- a lulu of a greyhound- blond furry wind a blur when she ran. She loved lulu weather. We love our Lulu memory.
Spider Lily among cypress knees on Bayou Teche, Louisiana
I wanted this swamp lily to be a star lily, but research is telling me it’s a variety of spider lily. On Ethical ELA, the prompt by Wendy Everard asks us to explore the place of a favorite poet. I chose Mary Oliver and a striking line from her poem Fall: “what is spring all that tender/ green stuff”
I’m not sure what heaven is but amazement like spring when all green that was hiding in tender seed fills green bridal bouquets blossoming beautiful stuff.
Margaret Simon, draft
I’m also writing a word poem each day. Today’s word is vernal which means of, in, or appropriate to spring. Today’s form is an acrostic.
Variety of colors eagerly popping- resurrection- nature’s recital. April, I Love you.
Day two of the Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Jone today.
This National Poetry Month, I am writing word poems using random words that come into my life.
I’m taking care of my 4 year old grandson while his mother is on a work trip. Today’s elfchen is playing with the word shambles.
Shambles Elfchen
Shambles of toys on Mamere’s floor a kingdom of pretend Lightstep
Margaret Simon, draft NPM 24
I’m also following Ethical ELA prompts. Today’s prompt “The Magic Box” was an interesting practice in synectics, combining words together that normally would not be connected. The intent was to release some of the insecurity in writing, loosen our muscles so to speak.
Whistle While you Walk
Wisteria hangs like lavender bubbles marching across the dog-ditch. Like a child, blossoms whisper, “I exist to please you.”
We are all monster trucks traveling through construction, a long and dusty road.
Take me on a spring walk, blow a dandelion–a train whistle to the wild world.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 