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This is the week of Open Write at Ethical ELA. I love these monthly exercises in writing poetry. They keep my notebook going as a working document, and it’s a wonderful, kind, and inspiring group to be a part of. Earlier in the week, Kim Johnson left me a comment stating she hoped I would write a puppy poem this week. Today’s prompt worked for a puppy poem.
You may be familiar with the children’s book The Important Book by Margaret Wise Brown. Gayle leads us through the prompt to discovery the essence of the thing we choose to write about. As I write this post, my new puppy Albert “Albear” is curled up on my lap after his vaccinations. I’m breathing in the puppy smell. He’s 5 months old. I’m not sure when that scent goes away, but for now, I’m loving it.
The important thing about a new puppy is that he loves you without conditions. He will also jump on you and joyfully chase a tennis ball. Sometimes he poops on the floor, but he’s “just a puppy.” Always cute. Intoxicating smell. Barks at new bowls, trash bins, and the noise of the printer. Curiously nibbles on weeds, follows butterflies, sniffs at kittens. But the most important thing about a new puppy is he loves you, no matter what.
Five month old Albert with his favorite tennis ball.
This garden statue was a gift from a friend for my birthday last year (or the year before?) She is nestled in a space with succulents. This morning there was rain and I was drawn to how she seems to be catching raindrops with her upturned face. Maybe she can inspire a small poem in you today.
Angel face upturned glittered with raindrops holding morning clouds with Hope
Today I chose to use the elfchen form. The directions for this form:
Consider writing today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
Franciscan monk feeds the pigeons, Dubrovnik by Molly Hogan
My fellow Inkling (writing group) poet-teacher Molly Hogan went on a fabulous trip to Croatia, Slovenia, and Ireland. She blessed me and all her Facebook friends with lots of amazing photos. I was compelled by this photo. It takes me back to my favorite musical of all time, The Sound of Music. It also reminds me of a kind monk I knew growing up. He was my father’s best friend. His Benedictine name was Brother Anselm. He was witty and wise and an incredible organist.
My poem is a narrative free verse. I wanted to tell a story. I have fond memories of visiting Bill (Brother Anselm) at his monastery in St. Benedict, Louisiana.
Consider writing with me today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Remember this is a drafting space, so kindly write encouraging responses to other writers.
Brother Anselm
Walking into the woods surrounding the Abbey, Brother Anselm and I spoke freely. Our walk was a prayer.
We talked of nothing in particular as his brown robes swished and swayed, a comforting blanket of humble access to a stream of still water.
He reminded me that the holy is not always quiet. Our voices echoed among the tall pines, laughter shaking the ground.
He told me that time was our friend. Use it wisely and with intention. Bless the forest with reverent presence and God will grant you peace.
Great Blue Heron on Purple Creek, Ridgeland, Ms. by Margaret Simon
On a recent visit to Mississippi, I caught this flight of a great blue heron on my phone camera. The wingspan of these birds amazes me. They fly low across the water and perch near the water’s edge to forage for minnows and other small aquatics. This photo reminds me of a drawing my father did of a heron over the water.
Heron in Flight by John Gibson
I invite you to write today using these photos as inspiration. Leave a small poem in the comments and support other writers with your responses.
The Flight of the Great Blue Heron
Poised dawn glider Horizon solitude Regal wave to God
Last Friday as I read different Poetry Friday posts, I noticed the trinet form. Rose Cappelli wrote one about peonies. I have not tried this form yet, so I decided to offer it today. The form is 7 lines, 2 words in lines 1, 2, 5, 6, and 7, 6 words in lines 3 & 4.
I went on a swamp tour yesterday and dragonflies were flitting all around. Then I saw Julie Burchstead’s beautiful Facebook photo of this one, perfectly posed for a picture. Dragonflies are common insects. I found this on a dragonfly website:
“Dragonflies are similar to damselflies, but adults hold their wings away from, and perpendicular to the body when at rest. Their two sets of wings work independently, allowing dragonflies to maneuver through the air effortlessly. Their huge eyes give them incredible vision in almost every directions except directly behind them.” If you want to use some facts in your own poem, go here.
Dragonfly wings aerial lift flittering over stillness in sacred swamp summer days echoing of cicada song daring us to reflect light–shine!
Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave your own poems in the comments and respond to other writers with encouragement. Happy Summer!
In these first few weeks of summer, I find myself lingering. Taking my time on my morning walk to stop and take a picture, visit with a neighbor, enjoy the bird songs. I linger over morning coffee. I know this is how it should be, but there’s this little mouse in my brain that thinks I should accomplish things. I sing to myself “It is Well”.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way When sorrows like sea billows roll Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well With my soul It is well, it is well with my soul
Audrey Assad
Peace is my one little word for 2024, so I pay attention. Peace comes to me in songs, in the sounds of the birds, in the slowing down of summer.
When I stopped to take pictures in my neighbor’s garden, she said, “Now write a haiku.” She laughed, but that is what I did. Haiku is a perfect form for peaceful nature noticing.
Canopy of oak arms reaching, tossing tumbling light– peace attends my soul. photo and haiku by Margaret Simon
Freckled lily blossom Lonely lighthouse beacon Pool of goldfish beams photo and haiku by Margaret Simon
On Memorial Day, I visited a sunflower farm out in the country with my family. I brought a bucket load home and made 5 vases full. It was fun to give them away to neighbors. I kept this large one for myself. It made its happy face known in my kitchen. Since the sunflower seed head is a fibonacci sequence, I decided to write a fib poem. A fib poem is 20 syllables as each line follows the sequence, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8.
Face it! I glow yellowbright on tables, in fields– Happiness grows if you let it.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave your own poem in the comments and encourage other writers with responses. Happy Summer!
My one little word for 2024 is Peace, so when Paula Bourque posted a selection of photos with the comment “peaceful morning walk”, I asked permission to use one as a prompt. I think many of us are seeking peace at this time of the year. After the frantic slide to the end of the school year, I know that I am. I usually start dreaming of vacations, the beach, and late evenings of relaxation. Summer is a field of possibility.
Welcome Summer
You shine on through morning my waking dreams sunflower faces open to a new day sharing your inspiring light glowing fields of tall prairie grass welcoming peaceful dawn of summer
Today I practiced a nonet draft. Please add your own small poems in the comments. Encourage other responders with encouraging words. Thanks for stopping by.
I recently wrote a poem about the loss of an old oak for the sake of a new road. We discussed my poem in the Inklings writing group on Sunday. Molly texted this photo to the group. “I thought of our conversation when I was walking in a nearby town and discovered they’d cut down tons of trees as they repair the sidewalks. It made me so sad. Someone had placed these small cloth notes on the remains.”
I was considering a butterfly photo for today, but when she sent this, it hit me in my gut. We have to use poetry to resist. This itself is poetry of resistance.
The roots are sewing messages of sorrow– saying goodbye to their masters, the trunk and branches they served for years. Underground, the roots hold hands in solidarity grieving and wishing the world would understand. Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments paying homage to the trees. Remember to respond with encouragement to other writers.
Storms seem to pop up out of nowhere these days. This week we had one blow through that knocked out an outdoor light in a literal flash, Crash! What does this photo conjure for you? Fear? Curiosity? Memory? Please leave a small poem in the comments.
I haven’t written a skinny poem in a while. The rules are 11 lines, the first and last uses the same words and can be any length. The other lines are one word with a repeated word in lines 2, 6, and 10.
Storms come suddenly in the night bearing violent windswept voice bearing climate change stress Suddenly, in the night, storms come.
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.
