This month’s Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a poem form called a raccontino, a poem of any number of couplets in which the odd-numbered lines (along with the title) tell a story. Even-numbered lines rhyme. This was a totally new form to me, so I looked for inspiration in an obituary, of all things. I liked how the woman was described as leaving a legacy of kindness. Who among us would not want to leave that kind of legacy?
She Leaves laughter and abiding love, a generous spirit echoing silly songs.
Her family holds her legacy. When every heart longs
to be of some use, of a place she belongs,
there is only kindness that lasts, healing all wrongs.
This summer we have had lots of quick forming storms that dump rain. If you think about it, they’re nice because they water the flowers. They also help with high temperatures. The other side of the coin is you can get caught without an umbrella and get totally soaked. They also create violent lightning that may take out a smoke detector. (That happened in our house.)
Poetically speaking, however, the summer sun peeking out from a storm cloud is inspiring. Today, write a small poem that ponders summer storms. Please write in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses.
Summer Storm Shadorma
Like sea waves cool my burning toes, you pour out suddenly soaking me, summer shower, holy water veil.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
This past weekend was the Open Write at Ethical ELA. I am trying to write a poem every day, but it sure helps to have a good prompt. On Sunday, Tammi Belko led us to write in response to the question “What is normal?” You can see her full prompt here.
I was spending the morning with two of my grandchildren. As I sat with my tablet and notebook pondering her prompt, my grands Leo and Stella were drawing. Leo, age 6, has always loved drawing. Now he is old enough to add words to his drawings. Stella, his sister age 4, is following in his footsteps. Her drawings tell stories.
Super Dino-Force by Leo“The monster was walking in the forest. In the ocean, the whale was splashing.” By Stella
Kid-Time Normal
All they need is a marker and paper— Imagination soars… Dinosaurs with super powers, Bad guys with two robot arms, Magical crystal charms… Transformed Transfixed Time stops on paper.
My brother lives in Madison, MS, north of Jackson. My sister and I have been visiting. Yesterday he performed at the weekly farmers market. The theme was New Orleans, so he had a sax player join him, and they played New Orleans jazz tunes along with some favorites.
The afternoon had been the setting of a pop-up storm, but as soon as Hunter sang “When the Saints Go Marching In”, the sky opened up and “the sun began to shine.” My sister bought a box of fresh blueberries for us to enjoy for breakfast today.
What does a summer farmers market conjure for you? Please write a small poem in the comments and come back to support other writers with encouragement.
I am writing a nonet today, a form in which the syllable count goes up from 1-9.
Come enjoy Jazz and juice, plump blueberries, tomatoes, peaches, kids jumping for bubbles, ice cream pops and cookie cake. Fill your shopping bag with sunlight. Take home golden garden groceries. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Waiting for rain to stop for lightning to pass for time to walk
Waiting for hen to return for eggs to incubate for ducklings to hatch
Waiting for minnows to squirm for ripples to fade for wings to fly
Waiting for water to break for labor to start for birth of a new grandson
Waiting for swelling to abate for injury to heal for movement to return
Waiting for her body to give up for heaven to open for another angel
My mother has been living with Alzheimer’s. Now she is dying. My siblings and I have told her she can give up the fight. She received her last rights. It’s a waiting game now. Her 89th birthday is tomorrow.
The Longest Day is a fundraising event for the Alzheimer’s Association. I am once again raising funds in honor of Mom’s birthday. The link to donate is here.
My sorority ADK has made beautiful purple beaded bracelets. If you donate, I will send you a bracelet. There is little I can do to change my mother’s condition, but I can help the charge for more research and help for others.
Last night I had the privilege of presenting poetry alongside my co-author, Dr. Phebe Hayes. Phebe talked about the life of Emma Wakefield Paillet who was not only the first Black woman, but the first woman to get a medical degree in the state of Louisiana. Emma was an unsung hero until Phebe uncovered her story. Years of research have led to release of our book, Were You There? A Biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet.
Historical marker commemorating Dr. Emma Wakefield Paillet in downtown New Iberia, Louisiana.
What struck me and my husband as we discussed the presentation was how Emma’s life personalized the history of the time period. Her tragedies were the tragedies of Reconstruction and Jim Crow laws, oppression of women and especially women of color, lynching, disease, etc.
I read a few poems interspersed with Phebe’s talk. One of the poems I wrote for the book is a Praise poem after Angelo Geter, a modern spoken word poet. It’s a hard one to get through without my voice cracking because at this time my mother is at the end of her life. I’m emotional when it comes to mothering. Today, I dedicate this poem to her.
If you are interested in a signed copy, please send me an email. Our fellow Poetry Friday writer Linda Mitchell wrote the educational guide.
Penguin at the Audubon Aquarium in New Orleans, LA.
On Saturday, I toured the Audubon Aquarium at the fast pace of a 5-year old. This penguin was right up against the glass as if it was posing.
I invite you to write a penguin poem. Join us in the comments and support other writers with your comments.
Today I decided to write a Zeno poem. It’s a mathematical form created by J. Patrick Lewis using the sequence 8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1. Each one syllable line rhymes. When I decide to use this form, I start with the rhyming word. For this poem I wanted it to land on the word fly. I made a list of words that rhyme with fly (cry, spy, by, guy, high,…) Then I wrote the numbers down the left side of the page.
Next, compose a first sentence. You’d be surprised how many sentences are between 8-10 syllables.
Zenos are fun to write. Mine came out quite silly, but I feel like that’s the point.
Mr. Penguin invites you in— the water is fresh as pie. That fishy scent by and by. Secret power makes him fly.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Blogging in this space has led to many friendships over the years. Over the weekend I noticed that one of my online blogger-teacher-poet friends was in New Orleans for a National Writing Project conference. I am in New Orleans babysitting my middle grandson Thomas, so I reached out to Kim Douillard, and we met for lunch. I promised Thomas a visit to the aquarium after lunch, so he was cooperative. Kim and I visited like old friends. Her husband Geoff was with her, and he made the comment, “For two people who have never met, you seem so comfortable.” That’s the magic of meeting face-to-face someone you have been writing with for years.
Me and Kim Douillard of “Thinking Through My Lens” at a restaurant in New Orleans. Matching shirts were serendipitous.
Writing with others, even if it’s over screens, can be a powerful connector. If I read your words and you read mine, we get to know each other on a level that may be as deep as taking a long walk together.
Yesterday I dropped Thomas off at day camp and had some time to myself. I decided to take my notebook and current book of poetry, “The Stafford Challenge 2024-25 Anthology” to City Park for a Poem Picnic as suggested by Georgia Heard in her June newsletter. Today I am sharing the resulting poem. If you take a poem picnic, let me know. I’d love to read what you wrote.
Buffy Silverman is hosting today’s Poetry Friday.My summer writing space
This first Friday in June is time for another Inklings challenge. I am sitting outside on my back deck hoping something will come to me soon. Heidi challenged us with this:
Write a poem that lists or explains some things that you as a woman no longer care ‘bout for whatever reason. It does not have to be because of peri/menopause. Try to replicate Melani’s deadpan delivery, if that’s possible in a poem. TWIST: include something that you DO care about, that requires you to make space by jettisoning some of the other stuff.
Mary Lee used a conversational tone that I like, so I borrowed her format to write mine.
While we’re sitting here, let me explain
For starters, I don’t care to wear mascara anymore, no more black goop that smears every time I cry which is a lot these days. I care too much sometimes and my eyes show it.
Just so you know, I care about plants, but I don’t care to bend over in the heat to pull out the weeds, so you may not think I care until the air cools (which by the way the forecast looks won’t be until October). Deal with it.
Here’s the thing, I care about family first, so I may not answer your call or text if I’m with my mom, husband, kids, or grandkids. It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do. I’ll get back to you soon enough.
And while we’re on the subject, you should know that I care about the white cat at my feet and the echo of a red cardinal in the fruit tree. I want this beautiful space I live in to last longer.
Won’t you sit with me and write your truth, too?
I would love to know if you accept the invitation to write to this prompt. Leave a comment, if you care (dare).
Be sure to check out Linda’s and Heidi’s “We Do Not Care Club” poems.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” John 14:27
When Ramona suggested that we write about “summering” for our Spiritual Journey posts this month, I turned to two passages that bring me peace. Too often, I have a long “to do” list for summer that usually includes cleaning out closets and such dreaded chores. These kinds of chores are good for me but are not what I want to do. I’d rather have lunch with friends, go on long walks, and binge watch a show or two.
The poem “Wild Geese” from Mary Oliver reminds me that all I should do is love what I love and let the wild geese call to me. On these early June days, it’s not wild geese, but buzzing cicadas that call to me. The heat of midday sends me inside for a glass of La Croix with ice. I am settling into a routine and trying hard not to pressure myself to do more.
In May, I was inspired by Georgia Heard’s calendar of prompts for small poems. In June, her newsletter held an invitation to porch poems. You can sign up to receive Heart Beats on her website. Porch poem #3 asked “What happens in stillness?” Here is my poem response.
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 