Poetry Friday Round up is Here! Scroll down to add your link.
One of the pleasures of summer is fruit in abundance. My fridge is full of strawberries, blueberries, apples, watermelon, and more. Fruit is how I satisfy my sweet tooth.
I had surgery three weeks ago. My friend and fellow Inkling Molly Hogan sent me some strawberry jam with strawberries she picked herself on a farm in Maine. I have been so touched by how wide my circle of friends reaches.
Looking at this poem again, I want to adjust that last line. Maybe delete it altogether. My thought was to have color in my face, but it could be associated with blood (yuck!). My grandson Leo loves to talk about bleeding. He wanted to see my belly button scar. Maybe he will grow up to be a surgeon.
But I digress. Friends, please put your links in the Inlinz below. Thanks.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
When I was a little girl, I remember walking door to door to show my neighbors my skinned knee from a bike accident. You may have called me a “Boo Boo Queen.” I lived in Mississippi in the 70’s. We knew our neighbors. They all had kids around our ages. We played outside, ran through the water of the creek, chased fireflies, and rode our bikes from house to house putting on plays. Those were the days, or do they still exist?
These last few weeks I’ve been the ultimate Boo-Boo Queen following a major surgery, a hysterectomy. Recovery has been slower than I was led to believe, not because of anything more serious than basic body plumbing. It amazes me how all of that digestive stuff, gut health is so important to healing.
This recovery, however, has had some bright spots in it as I take a daily walk on my street. I feel closer than ever to my neighbors. I have come to understand that you have to let people help you. I know there will be a time when I will need to return the favor, so when next door Theresa asked if she could do anything, I sent her to the vet to pick up Charlie’s meds. Of course, when she returned, we got in a nice visit.
James picks up penny nails on the road. Later he counted more than 70 of them.
Yesterday I was walking and spotted a number of penny nails on the road. Perhaps some working crew had dropped them. I knew I couldn’t bend over for any length of time and pick them up, so I texted Jen and asked for one of her boys to come out with a ziplock bag. A simple act of citizenship turned into a math lesson for 9 year old James, a zine lesson for 5 year old Jerry (we wrote a story together), and an inspiring conversation with their young parents. God bless them. They are here from Indiana helping Jen’s mother cope with her father’s illness. Before my surgery, I took the three boys to a splash pad for some summer fun. After, they showed up at my door with fresh picked cucumber and a cake James made “by himself.”
With another cucumber from the neighbor’s garden, my husband suggested a watermelon and cucumber salad with dinner. I haven’t been eating much, but this idea made my mouth water. I texted another neighbor, Ric, to see if he had some basil and mint in his wife’s garden. In the late afternoon, I took another walk (figuring out that two walks a day are better than one for my recovery) and stopped at Ric’s. I came home with basil, mint, parsley, and some left over tabouli that another neighbor had made for Ric.
The list could go on. I am so blessed to live near friendly people who care about me, watch over me, and feed me. Do you have kind neighbors that sustain you?
Carol Varsalona is hosting Spiritual Journey First Thursday this month. She chose the title: Rejoice in a Sunkissed Summer Season.
“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”— Ralph Waldo Emerson
I am rebelling a bit against the sunkissed summer. I’ve had enough of the sun. Here in the deep south of Louisiana, the sun has been incessant. On my walk this past weekend, I had to walk from tree shade to tree shade to escape the strong beams of heat. Heat index was over 100 degrees.
Finally, relief came in rain through the night last night. The sound of the rain settled me to sleep. This morning’s walk was shaded by cloud cover. I couldn’t help but sigh a thanks-be-to-God.
Resurrection fern is green.Rainkissed Canna LilyCrepe Myrtle blossomingDragonfly drinking from a raindrop.Passion Flower vine
I feel powerless against the endlessness of climate change. I could dive into a rant, but I won’t. I’ll just leave these refreshing photos here for a respite and the thought that life will find a way. These photos are a poem. Poems are prayers. God answers prayers.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou
A week ago, I “came out” on social media about my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease. I started a fundraiser for the Alzheimer’s Association. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response. With more than 40 donations, I have surpassed the goal of $1600 symbolizing the 16 hours of daylight on June 21st. Feeling helpless to do anything to stop the progression for my mother, the stories coming from others have touched me deeply and helped me to feel part of a loving community.
In Facebook messenger, when I finally figured out that J was a high school friend whom I haven’t seen in 44 years, I sent her a thank you message. She responded.
Hi Margaret, I was happy to make a contribution. Lewy Body Dementia stole my husband from me (18 months ago). Praying for a cure for any form of dementia. Blessings to you as you navigate this world with your mom.
J from Facebook Messenger
It took me a while to figure out the website, but donors are able to leave me a message. This one came from Linda Baie, a blogger whom I’ve never met face to face but have known online for years.
My husband died from Parkinson’s Disease but he, and I, also had the long journey of the secondary part, Parkinson’s with Lewy Body Dementia, so like Alzheimer’s. I’ve often thought of it as a long goodbye. Best wishes to you, Margaret, and to the family in your sad journey.
Linda Baie
The donations have come from far and wide, close family members to writing friends and even from a former student. When you reach out, come out with the truth, you never know that there are many people in the ocean with life vests to offer, stories of their own struggles connected to yours.
If you have an experience with Alzheimer’s or something similar, please leave a comment telling me your own story. You can also reach out by email or messenger. Our stories are important and connect us.
Last year on Mother’s Day, we gathered for my father’s funeral, all together, happy to have each other to hold. I am a mother who is blessed to have two living mothers, my own and my mother-in-law, who said years ago when someone called me her daughter, “I’ll claim her.”
A long line of belonging begins with mothers to me to my three daughters to their children. We are miracles dancing beside each other.
My brother texted me a video this week of my mother with her assisted living friends in a circle singing “Amazing Grace.” I responded, “When I am old, I want to sing hymns.”
My mother-in-law (affectionately called “Minga”) recites the 23rd Psalm in French every night before she sleeps.
Every night, my daughter reads Madeline to her daughter, “In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”
There is a song inside of me that I wrote after Joni Mitchell for my granddaughter June. She doesn’t know it yet, but I hope she will one day.
Little June
after Joni Mitchell’s “Little Green”
Born with the moon in solstice. Choose her a name she will want to say. Call her June so December cannot freeze her. Call her June for the rosy warmth of her skin. Little June, be a strong butterfly.
Just a little June like the brightness of a summer’s day. There’ll be dandelions to pick for Mom tomorrow. Just a little June like when sprinklers make the water spray. There’ll be bicycles and birthday bows And cousins you will follow.
Margaret Simon
Baby June with my daughter, Martha in a field of bluebonnets.
My birthday is in August. August is the first month of school when everything is getting put into place, so when the birthday buddy list was circulated, my birthday had passed. I never gave it a thought.
Until Monday when a special gift was delivered to me from a third grade teacher. On the note, she wrote “Happy Birthday from your Birthday Buddy! Since your birthday had passed when I received your name, I got to choose today to celebrate you!”
Not only was the thought of a nonbirthday-birthday fun for me, the gift was just right, a bird seed wreath to hang near a window to watch the birds come to eat. Thoughtful, kind, and all about me!
On Monday, I shared Allan Wolf’s poem “Living the Poet’s Life.” Each line begins with “A poem can be…” Allan is sharing videos each day of this month on his Instagram as well as YouTube.
Allan Wolf reciting “Living the Poet’s Life”
My students and I borrowed the form to write our own poems repeating the line “A poem can be…” I made my poem into a zine thank you note for my birthday buddy.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Cathy Hutter, Poeturescapes.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Thirty days of writing every day. Has it all been good? When my students ask me that question, I try to find something specific to say. “Look at this imagery you included. I can see a picture in my mind.”
Yesterday, my new little first grader was writing a poem to This Photo. He kept wanting to use words like pretty and nice, and I pushed him to specific description. “Why is it pretty? What is nice about it?”
What is good? The Lord looked at all creation and called it “Good.” Why?
Today my Enneathought begged the question “What is good?”
EnneaThought® for the Day
Type Four EnneaThought®
Today, see if you can do the opposite of your ordinary personality pattern. Acknowledge the many ways in which your life and relationships are good. See what happens.
The Enneagram Institute
Here’s my draft-list of good relationships:
Forty years figuring it out every day with my life partner.
Three daughters who welcome me into their lives.
Stella yells, “I see Mamere!” on FaceTime.
Friends texting photos of spring flowers.
My principal has my back when a parent complains.
My brother is caring for our mother every day.
Charlie, my 15 year-old dog, still licks my toes.
A. wants a hug at the end of every day.
My mother-in-law is a wise advisor.
My writing groups fill me with inspiration as they challenge me to be better.
What is your list of good relationships? How do we recognize and nurture what is already good in our lives?
A thank you note I made for the leader of last weekend’s Women’s Retreat.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On my list of priorities, self-care often takes a backseat to family care. When the opportunity came up to attend a weekend at a nearby campground for an all women’s wellness retreat led by yoga instructors, I didn’t grab the opportunity. I texted Susan on the final call and signed up just for Saturday and only if I could find a friend to ride with. Then last week when my daughter told me she was taking her kids to the zoo in New Orleans “Surely you don’t want to miss a day with your grandchildren!” I sent another text. “Something has come up with my family. Can you find a replacement?” I was, as they say around here “Crawfishing my way out.”
On Thursday when I stayed home with some vertigo symptoms and took a Covid test convinced I would have a medical excuse to do none of it, I tested negative and my husband urged me to go on the retreat. “You deserve this.”
Here is a photo walk through the woods with 20 women tuning ourselves to the sounds and peace of nature. Mother earth was speaking, “Come home. Come home.”
Rewild Yourself
Inhale Exhale Tree hold me balanced calm restored to my purpose
Margaret Simon
After a yoga flow session we headed into the forest for a “forest bath”. The instructor Tiffanie encouraged us to find a rainbow in nature. Green was all around. Not to mention poison ivy and signs warning of cottonmouth snakes. I powered through. I chose my colors from fiddle head fern to an unripe red blackberry. My favorite find was the orange heart-shaped leaf which I have pressed into my journal to remind me to love myself.
Nature struggles each day– a yellow leaf dies falls feeds the earth into rebirth. I find myself behind all the others holding on to this solace this song.
Margaret Simon
Our lunch was all vegan with a detox salad, sweet potatoes, and a lentil and rice dish I forgot the name of. Susan had soaked chia seeds in oat milk for a pudding-like dessert. We were all asking for recipes. I relaxed and rested and made new friends. At the end of the day, Susan washed us in a sound bath. I held one of her singing bowls. It felt heavy at first, but as I relaxed and let go, the bowl became lighter and part of me. I realized that burdens may seem heavy for a while, but they eventually become easier to hold and part of the well-loved person we are.
*For information on Susan and her sound bath therapy, go to Bayou Lotus Studio.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Art by Leo, left, and Stella, right from “Let’s Make Art” activity at the Hilliard Museum.
On the campus of ULL (University of Louisiana at Lafayette) there is a beautiful museum, The Hilliard. Saturday they held a drop in art activity for kids 4 and up. I showed up with Leo, 4, and Stella, 2, and they were the only children there. They had the full attention of the artist instructor.
I was amazed by the focus of both kids on this activity. From the flyers on the table, I realized it was meant to be a quilting activity. There were shapes cut out of various papers. However, Leo immediately grabbed the scissors and started cutting the shapes to his liking and building a 3 dimensional motorcycle. I glued it down for him on the white “quilt piece,” and he continued to add to it a winner’s banner and a man riding (notice the skinny yellow strip sitting on the motorcycle.)
Stella was happy enough to glue and glue and glue. The artist taught her how to put the glue on the back and turn the paper over and press it down. We were also able to freely roam the current art exhibits. It was a great way to spend a rainy cold Saturday morning.
Today, at Ethical ELA Open Write, Stefanie Boutelier is teaching us how to use technology in poetry with a wonderful prompt and model poem “A Pile of Good Things”. You should follow the link and see what it’s all about. Here is my pile:
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A quick video of an egret in flight on Bayou Teche, Louisiana.
What do you do with a perfect day? The temperature was just right, 70 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky. Humidity low. Sunday is our day to catch up and get ready for the work week. We go to church and come home to our individual chores: cat litter, trash cans, lesson plans, laundry, grocery…and I had writing group. “You think we can squeeze in some paddle time?”
I decided that there were a few things I could put off like vacuuming, so I said a resounding, “Yes!” Perfect days are rare, so I feel we must embrace while we can. So we made a date for 4:00 PM. Jeff hosed out the canoe (ants), I grabbed the paddles, and off we went.
Heading directly into the sunset, the colors change. The old leaves on the oaks are a dark green while the new pollen fuzzies are a golden yellow. People complain about this popping of the pollen. It aggravates allergies and covers cars in a fine sprinkle of golden dust. All part of the healthy life cycle of a great live oak tree.
Pollen on the Grandmother Oak
Some, not all, of the cypress trees are showing new growth. These tiny needles are the brightest neons of green. The truest sign of spring.
cypress needles against blue sky
As we paddled home, Jeff noticed a plastic chair wedged in some tree roots across the bayou. He said, “I think that’s our lost chair.” A few storms ago, the water had risen and taken with it a plastic chair from our yard. Sure enough it was ours. Jeff managed to back the canoe next to it and grab it with his paddle. The chair was a little muddy but still in tact. I had to take a selfie to get a photo of it, so the angle and perspective are odd, but you get the idea.
Jeff rescued our long lost backyard chair.
We were home before the sun set and were treated to the appearance of a great white egret. Grace from God to praise this perfect day. Click on the video above to see this majestic bird in flight.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 