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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

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

I’m not usually a snarky poet, so I surprised myself with my response to Glenda’s prompt on Ethical ELA Open Write: Double Consciousness American Sonnet.

Glenda took inspiration from Terrence Hayes’ book American Sonnet for my Past and Future Assassin. “I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison,
Part panic closet, a little room in a house set aflame.”

I borrowed the opening line to write about a parking lot annoyance of mine, backing in. The title is a play on words. My grandson asked me if “pissed” was a bad word. Then he playfully asked about “piston”.

Parking Lot Piston

I lock you in your white Ford truck backed in over the yellow line.
You are not my kind, hefty and trumped
on four jacked-up off-road tires
designed to crush little people like me
with your oversized parts.

I won’t hitch up my skirt to take a ride.
I park nose-front & take my time
not to cross the line. I return
the wire buggy to the cart-horse paddock,
flash a fake smile to the sweaty boy
maneuvering the train.

I hold my superiority under my side slung purse
where my soft belly holds verses of quiet fortitude.

Margaret Simon, draft

Free photo

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Poetry Friday is being gathered today by Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise.
Our view of the Elwha River and Olympic Mountains, Port Angeles, Washington

When we first arrived in the Pacific Northwest and awoke to an amazing view of the Olympic Mountains from the AirBnB, I thought I would write poetry every day on our trip. That didn’t happen as we got busier with the family, day hikes, town shopping, river rock throwing (children love a good game of throwing rocks). However on that early June morning, I opened Audrey Gidman’s prompts and wrote a poem using a flower as the title, inspired by James Wright’s Milkweed. For the most part, I wanted to capture the essence of place in the amazing peaceful scene of the Olympic Mountains.

Lupine

While I looked beyond the window
lost in blue-green of Crescent Lake,
I sat in longing.
Tall Douglas fir scented the air
of Christmases long ago.

I look up now.
The view is changed.
What was color
is a wild warmth
seeking my sincerity—
a vision of bright red strawberries
sweeter than the sun.

Margaret Simon, draft

Free image, lupine

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Last week I was on vacation with my family in the Pacific Northwest. One of our hikes, The Spruce Railroad Trail in Olympic National Park, included a Poetry Walk. I took pictures of the panels and wrote a found poem from them. I invite you to do the same. Found poems are fun. Write the lines that grab you in some way (an image you relate to, words you love to say) and write them in an order that is pleasing to you.

Here is a draft I wrote in my notebook:

Crescent Lake Found Poem

Stenciled on the petal of a bluebell
the earth remembered me
my thoughts
light as moths
smell like grass and salt
smooth home- the river.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Resurrection Fern on Grandmother Oak

After months of drought, we’ve recently had an onslaught of rain. One of the most miraculous plants in the South is resurrection fern. It has a symbiotic relationship with live oaks. When the air is dry and no rain falls, it’s hardly noticeable, brown and dead looking. However, when we have days and days of humidity and rain, rain, rain, the fern pops up with its bright green fronds covering the branches and living in beauty. It seems to say, “Ah, yes!”

I took this photo of our grandmother oak near the bayou. She is 250+ years old. Her arms drape wide and hold a rope swing that many a child (and adult) have ridden on. She is featured on a live oak tree bike tour that our friend Jim leads every spring.

She’s also made mention of in many of my poems. I never tire of taking her photo or writing about her.

Turning to a random page in “Dictionary for a Better World” by Irene Latham and Charles Waters, I chose a cinquain form. (2, 4, 6, 8, 2)

Sometimes
bravery looks
like fern on an old oak
coming to life only after
hard rain.
Margaret Simon, draft

Please write a small poem today and leave it in the comments. Respond to others with kind encouragement.

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

On Saturday, I went to Moncus Park for the Lafayette Farmer’s Market to sell books. I definitely spent more money on food than I made in book sales, but the spring day was breezy and the park was full of people. A former neighbor stopped by, all grown up and married, hoping for a baby someday, so he bought a book.

Garrett and me in the UL Press booth.

A nearby booth had these exotic birds that were pets. They were bright and beautiful, but I don’t remember their breed. I was struck by how they perched and begged for petting.

On the way to my car which was parked a long way from the market, I noticed the new walking path my friend had told me about.

The developers of Moncus Park have been intentional about planting only native Louisiana plants. The reclaimed prairie was full of life.

Moncus Park Prairie, Lafayette, LA

On my walk I found a sign dedicated to a family that included a beautiful painting and poem by my friend, artist Melissa Bonin. I took a picture of it, then used the image and words in a found poem, prompted by Jessica Wiley and Erica Johnson on Ethical ELA.

Garden Amorphous by Melissa Bonin

Moncus Park Prairie
after Melissa Bonin

sugar harvest sky 
lights speckles of goldenrod, cotton weed
tucked inside a worn pocket.
A dragonfly wraps its wispy-thin legs
atop black-eyed Susan’s eye.

Your place is on the gravel path
listening to red-winged blackbirds,
catching buttercup pollen
on the tip of your nose.

Stories smudged on rock
gather for the retelling,
soft laughter of prairie grass
speaking to the wind.

Margaret Simon, draft

Here are more Moncus Park photos:

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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

Margaret Simon, draft

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Carolina chickadee by James Edmunds

Today, I am the guest poet at Ethical ELA. Please visit the site to see my prompt for an onomatopoeia poem.

Follow the Kidlit Progressive Poem at Karen Edmisten’s blog.

Happy Earth Day! Please consider writing a poem to celebrate our island home.

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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.

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

The Kidlit Progressive Poem is moving along through The Land of Poetry. If you’d like to participate, please send me an email. Today’s line is being added by Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken Town.

I’ve been in New Orleans all weekend, Monday, and today hanging out with my daughters and their adorable children. Yesterday Aunt Kacky and I took the three kids to the Audubon Aquarium and Insectarium. My favorite experience is always the butterfly exhibit. There are so many different species of butterflies flying everywhere.

Finding time and space for writing doesn’t happen when I’m being Mamére, but that’s OK. I’ve had a wonderful weekend of snuggles and giggles.

Ethical ELA’s poetry prompt yesterday was from Wendy Everard on Forgiveness. I turned to William Carlos Williams’ This is Just to Say.

Have you ever had a person in your life who just knows how to punch your buttons? It annoys me that I can’t just turn around and let it wash over me. My whole body tenses, and I usually say something to distract from my obvious irritation.

This is Just to Say

I have seen
your weakness
and rolled into the muck
of ignorance 

The mirror of doubt
is revealing
so clear and critical 

I should say something kind
but all I muster
is a lie.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Lazarus

Gestures weave
strips of burial cloth
cross-hatching
of sounds
violent and soothing
like a balm
on the day of death.

Jesus wept.

Jesus weeps with me
in joy and sorrow,
frustration and calm.

Our cries do not
go unnoticed.
We tear off
the garment
binding us to darkness,
enter into the Easter
of light eternal.

Margaret Simon, draft

At Ethical ELA, Melissa Heaton prompted us to write an ekphrastic poem, a poem about art. I turned to my father’s illustration of Lazarus. This drawing was in his folder of bible study material. His usual style was pointillism. This drawing, to me, is striking with its wild gestures.

Yesterday, for Good Friday, I led a morning meditation. My friend Carolyn played her singing bowls while the lawn mowers roared outside. At first I was irritated by this invasion, but as I wrote, I found that the juxtaposition of sounds was the point.

Carolyn plays the singing bowls in the sanctuary.

The Progressive Poem is with Donna Smith at Mainely Write.

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