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Mossy Sunrise by Margaret Simon

Most mornings I take a walk in my neighborhood. As the days get shorter, I am usually headed home by the time the sun begins to rise. The neighbor’s oak tree drapes over the street and I was drawn to the mossy tendrils hanging. It’s getting close to Halloween, so spooky is on the brain. But maybe this image isn’t spooky at all. Maybe it’s comforting, a sign of almost home, a signature of southern oaks.

My students and I have been writing short poems, haiku and six-word stories, the first two days of Write Out. What I’ve realized and shared with them is that short forms mean every word has to count. On the Write Out poetry page, I found a video by Rich Novack about found poetry. He suggests using nonfiction text from National Park trails to collect words for poetry. For my poem, I googled Spanish Moss and collected a list of words to use in a haiku.

Mother nature braids
her harmless silver ghost–
Sunrise silken shade

Margaret Simon, draft

Consider joining me and my students in writing outside today, observing nature. Perhaps you will find a text to build a poem from. Have fun! Leave your poems in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

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My neighbor’s ghosts are hanging around, over the sidewalk. On my early morning walk, I pass through them like passing through a curtain. The wind pulls them toward me, and I admit a little uneasiness. I saw Melissa in the store yesterday, and she grinned when she talked about them. She said, “I love my ghosts!”

Halloween is around the corner, literally. Follow the ghostly muse to write a small poem today. Post in the comments. Encourage other writers with your response. I wanted to try a cinquain (pronounced “sink-cane”). Syllable count of 2,4,6,8,2. There are other variations you can try. Here is a guide to the form.

Morning Walk in October

Ghostly
shapes in the wind.
Shivers ripple my skin.
I step lightly through the curtain
of gauze.

Margaret Simon, draft

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photo by Margaret Simon

Fall here in South Louisiana doesn’t offer much color change of the trees. The oaks stay green. The cypress turn brown. Crepe myrtles are still blooming. I found this yellow beauty near a sweet-gum tree. I picked it up and pressed it into my notebook.

I invite you to think about fall with all your senses.

One of my favorite forms is the zeno created by J. Patrick Lewis. Based on a mathematical sequence, the syllable count is 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1 with all the single syllable lines rhyming. I usually decide on the one syllable rhyming words and write the poem around them.

As sun’s glow fades through purple clouds,
I walk alone
seeking
fall.
A yellow leaf
beneath
sprawls,
beckons to hear
barred owl’s
call.

Margaret Simon

Write your own musings in the comments and leave encouraging comments to others. With my students, today I plan to make Zeno Zines. Here’s a video of me sharing a Zine.

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Moonflower in the butterfly garden, by Margaret Simon

In May, my student Avalyn took on a project to create a butterfly garden at her school. When I returned to school this week, she couldn’t wait to show me how the garden was doing. It was full of flowers. The largest was this moon flower. My friend Mary had donated a small plant in the spring and now it is huge! Yesterday we found a fat green caterpillar on it and researched. The caterpillar is a tobacco hornworm and will become a moth. We also found gulf fritillary caterpillars on the passion vine. They’ve eaten it all. I have a passion vine in my own butterfly garden that hasn’t been touched. I will bring some cuttings to help these little prickly cats along. Raising butterflies is a Joy!

Today write your own poem in any form about the moon, this flower, garden pests, butterflies, etc.

Tobacco Hornworm Nonet

Moon
flower
night bloomer
bright white fragrance
among the children
feeds tobacco hornworm.
Watch how he chomps on the leaves;
Aggressive eater, camouflaged
soon will burrow to emerge as moth.

Margaret Simon, draft

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I chose to find beauty every day in the month of September. It’s everywhere, if you look. I’m sharing my photos with #septemberbeauty on Instagram. The photo I chose for today came in a text from my daughter who is overseeing a photo shoot in Florida for her ad agency. She was scheduled to go when Hurricane Idalia arrived.

I am lucky that my three daughters communicate almost daily in a group text with me. They send videos and photos and general check-ins. Last night Martha sent a photo of baby June at 8 months gnawing on a piece of pork. They are in the stage of trying out different foods with her. We all enjoyed the funny image.

Katherine sent a beach sunset photo with the message, “My evening.” We know she is working, so the image is not quite as stress-free as it looks, but I found it beautiful and hopeful.

South Walton Beach, Florida by Katherine Simon

I sit beside you
feel your pain; smooth ruffled fur.
Loving to the end.

Margaret Simon, haiku draft

I didn’t mean to place my sadness here, but poetry is like that. It pulls it out of your soul. My dog of 16 years is dying. I’m struggling to let him go.

Please write a small poem of your own in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

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I hope this post finds you happy and healthy and enjoying the last dog days of summer. My friend, fellow teacher-poet Molly Hogan has been getting outside and taking amazing photos in nature. I borrowed this photo from her Facebook page. She identified the flower as phlox. The water droplets transform this image into something new entirely. I’ve been watching a great white egret appear on the bayou each day, so my haiku turns the image to the egret. Use your imagination and write a small poem in the comments. Be sure to read others and encourage with your responses.

Phlox with water droplets by Molly Hogan.

White wings drape water,
bloom droplets of crystal grace
Egret makes no waves

Margaret Simon, draft

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Deep down south we have many varieties of dragonflies. I love to watch them. They fascinate me and take me away from worry to a place of gratitude. Who doesn’t love a good Google search for meaning?

“Dragonfly’s can be a symbol of self that comes with maturity. They can symbolize going past self-created illusions that limit our growth and ability to change. The Dragonfly has been a symbol of happiness, new beginnings and change for many centuries. The Dragonfly means hope, change, and love.” https://dragonflytransitions.com/why-the-dragonfly

That first sentence grabbed me “self that comes with maturity” because this is the week of my birthday. I will be 62. If there is an age of maturity, I’d go with anything past 50, but now that I’m in my 60’s, stuff keeps happening that requires me to be mature, to change the things I can, and accept the things I cannot change.

Consider writing with us today. You can choose one of the many things that a dragonfly symbolizes or write whatever comes. This is a safe place to explore. Perhaps time yourself for 7-10 minutes. Turn off the critic and let the words flow. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.

Dragonfly dazzles
a dry branch, revealing
self-purity

Margaret Simon, draft

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Welcome to this free writing space. If you are moved to write a small poem, leave it in the comments. Support other writers with encouragement.

I made my first cup of coffee and added salt instead of sugar. I hope that doesn’t indicate the kind of day I will have. Some of our actions, thoughts, words do have a ripple effect. Ripples are on my mind today. I chose a photo from Mary Lee Hahn’s Instagram post from Dawes Arboretum in Newark, OH.

Dawes Arboretum, by Mary Lee Hahn

Ripple is a specific word. I decided to write a wandering word poem. I first saw this form years ago on Today’s Little Ditty in an interview with Nikki Grimes. You begin with the word you want to write about and then wander about exploring the word and its meaning.

Ripple
is an organized word
without a plan. It’s a matter
of science, how force interacts
with movement, sand or water,
our words or actions. They swell,
fold, curl upon themselves,
spreading infinitely into the universe.
Like a tide that comes in to rest
on your toes, then moves back
leaving tickling sand residue.
When you are the one tossing the pebble,
be careful, be kind. Remember
the ripple.

Margaret Simon, draft

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What is your favorite color? This is a hard question. Somedays it’s the cyan blue of the sky; others it’s the purple center of a gladiola. Yellow is my favorite color of summer, but I don’t often wear yellow because years ago I had my “colors done” and yellow makes me look pale. I recently asked a friend what her favorite bird was. She first said dunlins for their murmurations, then she said, “house finch.” And finally, after some thought, she texted a photo of Anna’s hummingbird. Do you have a favorite bird?

Today for this photo, think about your favorite color of the moment, and write a Color is poem.

On my back deck I have two red flowers blooming. They seem to be heat resistant. I used the portrait mode on my iPhone to take these photos.

Red mandevilla
red canna

Red is hot
waving in the summer breeze
like a warning flag
to stay inside
and drink iced tea.

Red is June’s skin
so rosy it’s almost purple
as she crawls across the floor
looking back
to smile at Pépère.

Margaret Simon, draft
Baby June, 7 months

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Volunteer Zinnia by James Edmunds

Have you ever really focused on a zinnia? They are one of the few flowers that can be grown by seed and withstand high heat. My neighbor, James Edmunds, posted the above photo of a volunteer zinnia. Volunteer means it was not planted by people. It just shows up, and usually in an odd location. I found the one below growing from a crack in a sidewalk.

Zinnia in the sidewalk by Margaret Simon

Reminds me of the Leonard Cohen lyric, “There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

I’m also drawn to the flower in a flower of a zinnia’s center. There are multiple florets. These are important to the reproduction of the flower and most likely the cause of volunteers.

Please join me today in musing on zinnias and cracks and light and anything else that is on your mind. Leave a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with response comments. Thanks for being here.

Patience

Focus on the crack
Feel the throb of pain
Plant a tiny seed

Believe
someday… light
will reach… in

something… new
will grow.

Margaret Simon, draft

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