Summer is winding down. Although, the temperatures remain high. Once again, I turned to teacher-writer-photographer Molly Hogan for a photo prompt. Molly captured this water strider in perfect stride to open up a world. The photo itself is a poem.
It’s a just right day for a haiku. Please consider writing a response poem. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.
Glass pebbles glide below water strider toes tapping into green.
I wish I was a better photographer of birds. This one was taken with my phone out of my kitchen window. I wish you could see the red crown, but I do like the profile and how you see that sharp beak.
This tree is a satsuma tree that succumbed to the freeze this past January. I’m grateful we haven’t taken it down, though, so this beauty could come visit.
I’ve been taking an online poetry workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. One of her mentor texts was a poem titled “Romance” by Timothy Liu. I borrowed the opening line for this poem.
Renew
There is nothing renewable about the frozen satsuma tree, unwieldy branches outside the kitchen window, grey with age, dead from winter’s storm.
Yet I see a small downy woodpecker tapping the old tree’s skin, jump-tap, jump-tap, searching for insects to eat.
How I search my fractured memory for signs of my mother, holding comfort of a long life lived, given over at the right time for renewal.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please consider writing your own small poem inspired by this photo. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The old adage “Build it and they will come” has certainly worked for me this year. Instead of planting milkweed outside in my butterfly garden, I planted two varieties in pots. This was due to a discovery that milkweed is poisonous to dogs. And our dog loves to romp in the butterfly garden.
In the spring, I found monarch caterpillars on the swamp milkweed. A few weeks ago I found two tiny ones on the tropical milkweed. Because of all the predators (lizards, birds, etc.), I decided to put the two babies in an enclosure. What I thought was two became 6 very healthy caterpillars munching away on both varieties. I was hoping I could keep them fed for the growth period.
Healthy monarch caterpillars
All six made chrysalises. Four of them had moved appropriately to the top, but one made its chrysalis on a stem and another on the side of the cup holding the demolished milkweed.
Over the past two days they all emerged, two on one day and the other four the next.
Beautiful monarch!
I feel a sense of accomplishment that I successfully raised 6 new monarchs to fly free into the world.
This first day of August is time for a new Inklings challenge. Catherine Flynn asked us to write a triptych poem using Irene Latham’s model poem here. I also looked at Summer Triptychby Linda Pastan.
This summer with my mother’s passing, I have been thinking about the three summers that stand out in my mind in the long process of losing my parents. The first summer I had to face the reality of their aging was 2019 when they decided to move to an independent living apartment. They left the house full, and my siblings and I had to clean it out.
In the summer of 2022, I was grieving the death of my father and searching for a sign of him. And this year, my mother…
Solace, peace, comes to me in this poem. I hope you find it there, too.
Summer Bird Triptych
July 2019
The hummingbird feeder, blown glass swirling primary colors, reflects the sun, attracts a ruby throat hovering while I sit alone on the porch,
Remembering.
July 2022
I hear a tap, tap at the window. A bright yellow prothonotary. Does he see his reflection? Does he want me to come out?
Is it you, Dad?
July 2025
The crows seem angry. The Merlin app identifies fish crows. They call with a fervor I feel deep in my belly, calling me back to nature
The flowers I planted for the pollinators are loving all the rain we’ve been having. This one is called Red Hot Poker. Unfortunately, the stem weakened and it is now flopped over, but before that happened, I took this “portrait mode” photo.
I hope this invitation to write finds you in a place of peace. Please write a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your responses.
For each photo poem, I give myself a challenge. Today, I am trying a triolet. It is a poem of eight lines in which line one repeats in lines 4 and 7, line two repeats in 8. The rhyme scheme is abaaabab.
Red Hot Poker Triolet
Torch lily towers and shines for the day will be hot and wet. Butterflies float to its wine. Torch lily towers and shines. Summer firecracker’s a sign: sweet nectar steams like a jet. Torch lily towers and shines for the day will be hot and wet.
Last month I was writing a poem each day prompted by Ethical ELA. One of the prompts offered by Alexis Ennis invited us to write an ode to peace. This prompt landed on a Sunday when I had time to sit and sip on my back deck overlooking the bayou. In winter when I had to haul pots inside, I cursed my love of tropical flowers, but on this day, I was celebrating their quiet and bright emergence.
As I revised this poem, I asked AI to give it a title. I like the response, go figure, of “Waking in Red.”
Waking in Red
the corner of my heart slowing for breaths deep and long
on the cypress the cardinal busy on branches by and by
here is the ruby-throated hummer humming a second longer
there the glowing sun rising to light this day
space opens for red bat plant, desert rose, and buckeye
skin warms as I wake with the power of red. Margaret Simon, draft
I am writing a poem a day in May using #poemsofpresence and #smallpoems. Many of them are inspired by flowers. I invite you to join me on Instagram.
If you live nearby, come by Books Along the Teche (our local indie bookstore) for our book signing. Books Along the Teche will take orders for signed books.
“Walking in the woods today, I came upon a fairy door,” wrote my friend Kim in a text. She suggested I use it here for a poetry prompt.
From Wikipedia: “A fairy door is a miniature door, usually set into the base of a tree, behind which may be small spaces where people can leave notes, wishes, or gifts for the fairies.”
An open invitation for imagination. I’m curious about the R on this door. Is it part of an alphabet trail? Is it the first or last initial for the person who made it? Is there a fairy with that initial?
Today I am choosing to write an elfchen. Somehow a fairy door calls for an elfchen poem.
Fairy holds wishes in the forest Delicate balance of presence Oracle
I invite you into this magical forest to let go of concerns and be imaginative. Write a small poem in the comments. Join me on Instagram during the month of May writing #smallpoems, #poemsofpresence. Tag me @margaretgsimon.
“A world of grief and pain, flowers bloom—even then.” -Kobayashi Issa
Carol’s husband died recently and as she navigates her grief, I am pleased that she still wants to be involved in the wider world of blogging. I love the quote she offered by Issa. I received Georgia Heard’s newsletter in which she invites us to write small. Writing that is small can carry a large load or it can capture a small moment. Here’s Georgia’s May calendar of invitations.
Gardenia power scents the whole kitchen with breaths of grandma’s perfume
Flowers have brightened my daily walks this spring. With the sun rising by the time I head out with Albert, I’ve had more light to walk in. Sunrises, too, delight me. A spiritual journey is a daily practice of presence.
I invite you to write #poemsofpresence this month. I will post daily on Instagram. I will also give myself grace if I miss a day or two. May is about keeping myself grounded as the whirling ending of school presses upon me.
This desert rose thrives at my front door. Another blossoming welcoming spring.
My friend Lory is a retired first grade teacher who now works at the Avery Island Country Store. She posted a picture of a small sleeping fawn. A sure sign of spring on “the island.” Today in my class, we are on the letter K for poetry month, so I am writing a kouta, aJapanese form that contains a quatrain with the syllable count of 7, 7, 7, 5 or 7, 5, 7, 5.
Early morn, she saw a fawn a nestled speckled pillow Where’s your mama, little one? Can I be your friend?
Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments and support other writers with your comments.
Today’s #verselove prompt is from Padma Venkatraman who wrote Bridge to Home and most recently Safe Harbor. Her books never fail to take me to a new place where I can find a relatable character and beautiful language. What a honor to have her writing a prompt for us based on her latest book. She invited us to write about a safe place.
I am visiting Ridgeland, MS, a few miles from the place I grew up. While my visits here bring forth many emotions, this morning I wanted to find solace in a walk in nature. Even though my hotel is near an outdoor shopping mall, there is a creek nearby with a walking path. The creek is the very same creek that ran behind my childhood home, Purple Creek. I used the poetry form of tanka (haiku with a chorus) which has a syllable count of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Janet today at Donna’s blog, Mainely Write.
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.