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SOLC26: Day 27: Poetry Friday Belonging (Ovillejo)

Posted in Books, Photography, Poetry Friday, Progressive poem, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #KidlitProgressivePoem2025, #Poetrypals, Marcie Flinchum Atkins, Pádraig ÓTuama, Rainer Maria Rilke, Spiritual poetry, What’s That Sound? Birds of the Bayou on March 27, 2026| 22 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Marcie Flinchum Atkins, who has a new book coming out on Tuesday, When Twilight Comes.

For the last Friday of the month, the Poetry Sisters offer a challenge. I wanted to give it a try. The form is Ovillejo, a Spanish form described here.

In Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Substack this week, he posted a poem from Rainer Maria Rilke that began with the line “God speaks to each of us as he makes us.” I love this idea of God, intimate and personal. To get started on the Ovillejo, I borrowed this line. As I worked with the syllable count and rhyme, it changed somewhat.

Belonging

After Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks fondly to each of us,
makes each of us.

Birds respond to God’s call with song—
You belong.

Set the paddle deep into water,
my daughter.

Stop messing with what doesn’t matter.
Sit with God and speak in silence.
God knows your peculiar cadence.

Like each of us, you belong, my daughter.

Margaret Simon, draft

Our host, Marcie, asked us to post a favorite picture and poem of twilight to celebrate her new book. When I searched my blog history for a twilight poem, I found last year’s Kidlit Progressive Poem.

April Runs Over

Open an April window
let sunlight paint the air
stippling every dogwood
dappling daffodils with flair

Race to the garden
where woodpeckers drum
as hummingbirds thrum
in the blossoming Sweetgum

Sing as you set up the easels
dabble in the paints
echo the colors of lilac and phlox
commune without constraints

Breathe deeply the gifts of lilacs
rejoice in earth’s sweet offerings
feel renewed-give thanks at day’s end
remember long-ago springs

Bask in a royal spring meadow
romp like a golden-doodle pup!
startle the sleeping grasshoppers
delight in each flowering shrub…

Drinking in orange-blossom twilight
relax to the rhythm of stars dotting sky
as a passing Whip-poor-will gulps bugs
We follow a moonlit path that calls us

Grab your dripping brushes!
Our celestial canvas awaits
There we swirl, red, white, and blue
Behold what magic our montage creates!

Such marvelous palettes the earth bestows
When rain greens our hopes, watch them grow, watch them grow!

By the Poetry Friday community

Don’t forget to sign up for this year’s progressive poem. There are only a few days left.

In book news, today is my book launch party!

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SOLC25: Day 25: This Photo: Through the Window

Posted in being mamére, Photography, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on March 25, 2026| 3 Comments »

Stella sends me a heart through the window.

There’s a lot going on in the photo today. It’s not a great shot, but I love it for the action it conveys. I’m the shadow taking the photo. Stella, age 5, is showing me a heart through the glass. In the background, in typical fashion, Leo, age 7, is leaping. He was outside with his father helping with yard work (note the too big garden gloves.)

On Wednesday mornings I often have no real idea of what photo I will use as a poem prompt. I had forgotten about this one. What’s in my heart may not be in yours, but I hope you can find a way into writing. Please leave a poem in the comments and support other writers with your responses. All are welcome.

Your heart

Is in mine
nesting, nurturing,
urging me to capture
every moment
of your love,
through the window,
over my shadow
into my joy-glow.

Margaret Simon, draft

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SLOC26: Day 18: This Photo Wants to be a Poem

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Slice of Life, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Lory Landry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on March 18, 2026| 12 Comments »

Each Wednesday I post a photo that appeals to my poetic senses. I invite you to join me in writing a small poem, poem of presence, in the comments and support other writers with encouragement.

Today’s photo is by a local retired teacher photographer Lory Landry. We do not live in the Bluebonnet state of Texas; however, we have a neighbor who has successfully planted bluebonnets in a ditch near the road. I’m tempted every year to stop and romp through the flowers. It appears that Lory did just that and took her camera along. It takes a steady hand and skills to capture a busy bee.

Starburst blooms bluest
blue, gathers spring energy
buzz-bee sips sweet dew

Margaret Simon, draft

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SOLC26 Day 4: This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Blue Ribbon

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Slice of Life, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #smallpoems, Friendship Park, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on March 4, 2026| 10 Comments »

Weekly (almost every) on Wednesday I post a photo as a prompt for poems. I invite you to craft a small poem response and type it into the comments. Please encourage other writers with your comments. This space is meant to be a low stakes drafting space.

Somewhere on Instagram I saw a poetry prompt to begin each line with because. I decided to give it a try today.

Tie a Blue Ribbon Round the Branch

Because she was running and lost it in the wind.

Because his eyes are still blue

Because we are walking together in silence

Because rain is falling softly

Because the moon is full tonight

Because there is a war and someone is waiting at home

By Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Oil Spill Quilt

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged #smallpoems, Laurel MS, Lauren Rogers Museum of Art, quilt art on February 18, 2026| 2 Comments »

This weekend we visited the Lauren Rogers Museum of Art in Laurel, Mississippi. There was a special show entitled “Art Evolved: Intertwined.” The exhibit featured the “convergence of quilting and basketry—two ancient, tactile traditions reimagined through contemporary fiber arts.”

This quilt was titled “Oil Spill”. My friend commented, “How can something so cheerful and vibrant be about an oil spill.”

“Oil Spill” by Michelle Lipson, quilt included in “Art Evolved: Intertwined” exhibit at Lauren Rogers Gallery of Art.

My eyes focused on the center panel with the yellow and purple “road”.

A Drop of Oil

forms a perfect circle
on the sidewalk of her yellow-brick road—
jazz spills out on the streets of New Orleans.
Don’t forget your dancing shoes.
Step lightly over the mess
in the streets.
Margaret Simon, draft

While I didn’t attend Mardi Gras this year, my social media is full of the images of others reveling. It is a fun time, but not without its share of mess.

Please join me in writing a draft of a small poem and share it in the comments. Support other writers with your comments. Thanks for being here.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Owl Stump

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tricube on January 28, 2026| 11 Comments »

I’ve been walking a different route recently and have seen this weird owl in the neighborhood. Let it be your muse today. In the comments, write your own small poem and encourage other writers with your comments.

Today I’ve chosen a tricube form. Three syllables each line, three lines per stanza, and three stanzas.

Tree stump owl
wise without
words spoken

Sees everyone
walking by
winks through shells

Remember
where you go
who you are

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Enchanted

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged zeno poem on January 21, 2026| 13 Comments »

Glasses in a tree root, photo by Margaret Simon

We haven’t had snow here in south Louisiana, but today on my walk I found a wooly glove missing its owner and these glasses that look like they were intentionally set into the oak tree root. Should I start collecting these items for the possibility of a snowman? Does the tree root have eyes to see? Some deep wisdom?

Having spent my weekend at a picture book writing retreat, everything becomes a possible idea for writing. Today, join me with your imagination and write a small poem in the comments.

I’m sharing a Zeno (8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1 syllable count and the one syllable words rhyme) I wrote a few years ago that I’ve revised to go with this photo.

Enchanted

I follow the enchanted path
leading me to
unknown
trails.
I trust, listen
as wisdom
hails
mirrors and sounds
of charmed
tales.

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Camellia

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, camellia, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on January 14, 2026| 13 Comments »

It is a new year, and I’ve been contemplating whether or not to keep posting photos on Wednesday. I’ve skipped a few weeks and the world keeps going. In 2026, I’ve chosen sacred simplicity as my one little word(s). What can be more simple and sacred than this pure white camellia blossom.

One of the gifts of living in the Deep South is camellias. They are in full bloom this month. People are talking about it. Was it the big freeze last year that brought on the full blooms this year? Nature knows.

If you are feeling a little lacking in the inspiration department, stop by and write a small poem.

My poem draft comes from a word card I chose from Georgia Heard’s newsletter for January, “Quiet” and uses an anaphoric word “Today.” The last line turned melancholic as I have experienced some losses this week.

Today
the downy white camellia blooms
quietly in the winter yard.

Today
the cold spills inside
touching my toes.

Today
seeds are waiting.
My heart is still.
Every note from songbirds
scratch the surface
of morning dew.

And I miss you.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: This is January

Posted in Photography, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, Inklings challenge on January 2, 2026| 17 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core

This is January. Here we all are on the cusp of a new year. Catherine Flynn, fellow Inkling, challenged our group to write a poem with “This is January” as a title. I guess you could say the prompt has been in my mind since she posed it, but the words of a poem only appeared on my notebook page today. I took it on as a kind of list poem.

This is January

I open the door
to let the dog out
shiver from the cold.

A quiet hope whispers
in a voice
I recognize.

I keep dreaming
about children playing.
Awake now, I’m still humming.

Amaryllis grows
an inch each day
expectant red blossom.

Carolina wren fusses
calling to me
to be my first new year bird.

Cypress trees are bare, brown.
Their shade is not needed
resting, waiting.

My husband remarks,
”If there was a need
for cypress needles, we’d
be rich.”

We are rich, I think,
to be here
loving and living
each day.

Even in January…

Margaret Simon, draft

Here is how other Inklings answered the prompt:

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Mary Lee @A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Catherine @Reading to the Core

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This Photo wants to be a Poem: The Earth Snake

Posted in being mamére, Photography, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, art by Leo, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on December 24, 2025| 5 Comments »

Yesterday was a full day of being Mamére with Leo, 7, and Stella, 5. We went on a walk in our neighborhood. There is a vacant lot where a new house will be built soon. They had done some dirt work, so there was a mountain of dirt. In the mud, Albert, my dog, had sniffed out a small snake, thankfully dead.

Being Mamére, I allowed Leo to carry the snake home. He gave it a bath and wanted to show everyone. When I brought them home, he opened his gift from my sister-in-law who came with me specifically to see the kids open their gifts from her.

He opened a huge set of paint markers and a new art tablet and immediately drew this illustration. He also wrote this story.

Of course, he made this writer grandmother proud. Today, I am pulling from his writing a small poem. The elfchen form includes 1 word topic, 2 words, what topic does, 3 words, where or how, 4 words, what do you mean, and 1 word, outcome.