Staghorn Fern at the New Orleans Botanical Gardens
Yesterday I toured the New Orleans Botanical Gardens with my sister who drove from Baton Rouge to spend the day with me. I am here babysitting my grandson who is in his last days of kindergarten.
Beth and I were fascinated by these magnificent ferns. They are epiphytic ferns that thrive in humid environments. I am wondering how one would do in my own bayou-side yard.
Being fascinated by words, I love how the name of this fern is a metaphor for the shape of its leaves. Their fronds look like antlers.
Today’s photo poem is a haiku. Please consider writing alongside me in the comments. Support other writers with encouraging comments.
With outstretched green horns mounted like taxidermy strong yet supported
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem.
National Poetry Month has been a whirlwind. It’s hard to believe we are nearing the end. Our Progressive Poem is progressing along with another line; See Mary Lee’s post here to catch up. Tabatha will end it for us on April 28th.
I accepted a challenge from Joyce Uglow to write among other poets at her Substack, Storied Ink. I’m also writing with Ethical ELA and having a dickens of a time memorizing the New York Times poem “The More Loving One” by W. H. Auden. It’s all good but sometimes overwhelming. I think I’ll take a break in May!
On Day 3, poet Kathy Halsey challenged us with a haiku image and the words extinct and giraffe. I thought about how the cypress trees of the Atchafalaya Swamp were near extinction from over-harvesting. These trees are made to survive high winds of hurricanes. I love my cypress trees, especially in early spring as the green is so vivid.
Tall swamp giraffes Cypress grass tickles the sky Extinct no more (Photos from my bayou backyard cypress trees)
I love April! The days start out cool and warm up, but a gentle breeze keeps the heat tolerable. On Sunday, we canoed with friends to the park where there was a symphony concert. The paddling to get there was made harder by the breeze, but we were able to make it just in time for the concert.
On the way, we spotted this Muscovy duck and her babies. The Muscovy is a domestic duck with a warty red bill. Her littles were adorable scrambling around her so quickly that I couldn’t count them.
My quick internet research said, “Aztec rulers wore cloaks made from the feathers of the Muscovy duck, which was considered the totem animal of the Wind God, Ehecatl.” (All about Birds)
At Ethical ELA, Erica Johnson is leading us in writing a “Playful Cascade” which is a poem form that takes each line of the first stanza making them the last line of the next stanzas. I decided to use tercets, 3 lines per stanza.
Muscovy Ducklings Play
Scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth staying in sight of mother duck— gymnasts in a bayou playground.
We slowly push along stroke by stroke keeping watch for new spring life, see scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth.
Whose waters are these, I think I know: these tiny ducklings move so quick staying in sight of mother duck.
This journey we share is not all ease. Time and patience required, we are all gymnasts in a bayou playground.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please join me in writing about this little miracle of life. Be sure to leave encouraging words for other writers.
Rose Cappelli has the line from the Land of Poetry Progressive Poem today. She used her secret favorite devise of alliteration. It’s my favorite, too. As I tell students, it just sounds good.
At Ethical ELA, Luke Bensing prompted us to use alliteration in our first and last lines. The photo today is from my visit to the butterfly exhibit in New Orleans at the Audubon Aquarium and Insectarium. I wrote a septercet, which is a small three lined poem of 7 syllables each.
Purple pops of salvia nectar-seeking flutter by season for saving scents
If you wish to write a poem today, please leave it in the comments and 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.
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
Twilight on Lake Lanier, Georgia
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!
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.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
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.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
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.
Friendship Park, Ridgeland, MS
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
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.
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 