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.
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.
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.
Spiritual Journey is hosted today by Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.
There is so much that is frightening and appalling about our world today. I’m sure it was that way when Jesus walked to Gethsemane, a hopeless time, a time of hatred and fear. Every year when we spend time between Palm Sunday and Easter, I am pulled into the despair.
Tonight I will sing. I am an alto voice in our small church choir. With a strong soprano by my side, I am singing a duet “By the Mark.” It’s been ringing in my ears all week.
Ruth asked us to write about service. When Jesus lowered himself to the ground to wash his disciples’ feet, he showed them and us how humbling yourselves can be a powerful expression of pure love. How can we love like Jesus did?
I fall short every day. Isn’t that the point? If I didn’t fall short, I would not need to repent or be open to change. Today I open my hands in prayer, open my hands to God’s children, and lift up my voice to make a gentle gift of love.
I am yours, Lord, even when I’m tired. If the world dips into darkness, your light precedes me and I will follow.
Today is the first day on National Poetry Month and already the communities I am tapped into have connected with a map. For the first day of our Kidlit Progressive Poem, Tabatha Yeats has offered a map and a line to get us started on our monthlong journey.
The poetry book sitting next to me is “Map to the Stars” by Adrian Matejka. I am sensing a theme emerging.
My poem today is in response to Sarah’s prompt.
Bayou-Side
Inside me there is a sycamore, a tall pine, a draping grandmother oak. I can draw a map from Purple Creek to Bayou Teche. I’ve spent a lifetime walking near water watching for herons, turtles, and honeysuckle.
When it’s time for me to leave this land, place me in a boat without a motor. Let me float for eternity.
(Margaret Simon, draft)
Louisiana blue irises and a brood of ducks near Bayou Teche.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Saturday was the first day of March’s Open Write on Ethical ELA. Anna J. Small Roseboro is leading the prompts around women for National Women’s History Month.
I wrote an acrostic dedicated to my mother, Dot Gibson. I am coming to a place 8 months after her death where I can remember her before Alzheimer’s took her from me.
My mother Dot in the center feeling joy with my brother, left, and “Elvis.”
Dedicated to the church Open hearted Teacher
Giving smiles through the doorway Inviting southern drawl Best friend Sympathetic listener Optimistic Never leaving me
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.
One of the workshops I developed for the teaching artist program is “Dancing with a Paintbrush.” One school in town, Pesson Elementary, booked me for four Tuesdays. This week the counselor told me that I would be working with the toughest class in the school. Since I’ve done the workshop multiple times now, I have a pretty good handle on the process. I decided to trust the flow even with these “tough” students.
Maybe it was the threats of “no dance for you” or maybe it was the nature of poetry, art, and music, but these kids were amazing!
I added a new song to the selection, “Vivaldi-Spring” by Black Violin. This is a rocked-out version of the classical piece. I enjoyed watching the kids’ reactions. They literally started dancing in their chairs. But they stayed quiet, honoring the “sacred space” for painting.
One of my favorite things in the whole world is the sound of a classroom of students writing.
5th graders writing poems about their paintings
The teachers themselves were amazed at the engagement of their students. I wanted to shout, “See what the arts can do for your students!”
One of the teachers understood. She painted with them and wrote her own poem. She shyly shared her own writing. She told me, “I used to write poetry all the time.” I hope she will be inspired to keep writing, and keep writing with her students.
Triangles
As pointed as the lines as truthful as the sky as creative as squares as promising as circles more than truths less than lies they’re everywhere but in your mind, tell a truth not a lie like the circles in the sky. (student poem)
Tuff Primary Colors As the colors went up More came down As the color made a Primary color they formed a tower Of power More dots, more movement More of everything Like an alliance To form a masterpiece (student poem)
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On my morning walk, I stopped to talk to a new-to-me neighbor. She’s lived in her house for a long time, but my route recently changed. I met her, but she already knows a good bit about me. (Small town)
We talked about my new board book (coming Tuesday), her new great granddaughter she wants a signed copy for, sound frequency healing, and gardens. She told me, “Did you know that the sound of the birds singing in the morning actually makes the plants open up and grow?”
As I continued my walk, I turned off my book on tape and turned on the Merlin app amazed by the number of birds around me. I spoke a poem into my notes app.
The Dawn Chorus
The songs of the birds wake my winter mind: sparrow, wren, small and mighty in their announcement of spring. A tickle of rain, a wave from morning fleabane Two turtles bobbing on a log Stamens seem to say, “Welcome! Welcome to this day!”
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.
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 