Poetry | Reflections on the Teche

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: See the Lights

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #Poetrypals, #smallpoems, elevenie, elfchen, holiday poems on December 20, 2023| 21 Comments »

Today’s photo is a sign of the season, a lit up Christmas tree yard decoration in my neighborhood. I’m an early morning walker and the combination of the darkness and the cold drew my eye to this yard filled with lights. I know the couple who live there, so I was also comforted by their presence, too, inwardly thanking them for this photo opp.

Moss tree with twinkle lights by Margaret Simon

Recently I learned about a new-to-me poetry form, elfchen, from Mary Lee. It’s a fun form to play with, similar to a cinquain, yet each line answers a question. Another word for this form is the elevenie. Being a fan of the number 11 (my birthday and my father’s fall on the 11th), I wanted to give the form a test run.

Row	Words	Content
1	1	A thought, an object, a colour, a smell or the like
2	2	What does the word from the first row do?
3	3	Where or how is the word of row 1?
4	4	What do you mean?
5	1	Conclusion: What results from all this? What is the outcome?

From Wikipedia

Moss Ghost Tree

lights
colorfully twinkle
brighten winter’s darkness
with a firefly-tree
delight
Margaret Simon, draft

How are you handling this winter’s solstice? Do you put up lights in your yard? Take this invitation to write about your own traditions for this time of year. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses. Thanks for your dedication to this weekly practice.

I will not be posting next Wednesday. I’m taking a family trip to North Georgia. This Photo will be back in the New Year. Have a Happy Holiday!

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Found Art

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Kim Douillard, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triolet form on December 13, 2023| 6 Comments »

Kim Douillard lives near San Diego, California. She teaches first graders using art and writing. I’m sure she is a kid at heart after I saw this image on Instagram. A beach snowman? Muddy monster? With a stick as a nose and seashell eyes, I found it/him/her engaging. Today I will introduce Cousin It to my students and hope their imaginations will ignite and find a poem. Where does your imagination go? Write a small poem and share it in the comments. We are a caring community of writers. Respond to others with encouraging words.

I gave myself the challenge of writing a triolet this morning. I find that working in form can draw out something new, maybe even weird, that’s been buried under the surface of my judgement.

Champion

In the shape of soil and mud
lives a creature of the night
who transforms as we should
from a shape of soil and mud
to survivors of the flood
holding roots in hope of flight
we bear the shape of soil and mud
living creatures day and night.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Healing Poetry

Posted in Gifted Education, Poetry, Teaching, tagged Dictionary for a Better World, Irene Latham, student poem on December 9, 2023| 15 Comments »

Have you ever had that student? The one who sits in the back of the class, holds herself in tight, rarely, if ever, raises her hand to share a poem with the class. The closet poet.

That’s not me because I believe in writing with my students and sharing my vulnerable poet self so they feel safe sharing theirs. And most of the time, it helps. I’ll share, then the shy ones will look at me with their longing eyes asking “Is it OK?” They know that poetry is a little piece of themselves. It’s bleeding on paper as someone famous said.

I wasn’t going to post for Poetry Friday. Life is just so full of family and busy that I can’t get caught up. But when I read A’s poem, I felt compelled to share it and how she came to write it.

I presented Irene Latham’s poem “Peace” from Dictionary for a Better World. Irene shared it in her newsletter here. This poem came at the perfect time in my lesson planning because we talked about symbolism this week. Irene so effectively used chocolate as a symbol of peace. There were so many wonderful craft moves to notice. Then I set my students loose to write. I invited them to create their own metaphor for peace and to borrow the phrase, “If only”.

A’s words both broke my heart and then healed it. At the age of 10, she expresses her internal life of anxiety and hope in a mature way. And yes, there were tears. I am privileged to be her teacher, her friend.

From the Tide, To the Moon (A letter from a friend to a friend)

If only we all
could just look up in the sky
and see that things aren’t that bad.
We aren’t that different.
We’re all human.

If only the stars could join us
and show us peace in the world.

If the moon could tell the tide
to think for itself.
To flow on its own.

And when you tell me
when to make decisions,
me when to make a choice
and what choice I should make,
think about how different we are
from the tide and the moon.

You aren’t the moon,
So beautiful that we stare up at it.
I am not the tide,
That flows without ecstasy.

Not a moment of freedom.
No justice for the torrent.
Leave me be.
Leave me to my space.
Leave me to my freedom.

But don’t leave me…
My friend.
Adelyn, 5th grade

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: The Rear View

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, country roads, sunrise on December 6, 2023| 19 Comments »

December is a time of diminishing light. Days are getting shorter. Sunrise is later in the morning. Sunset is earlier in the afternoon. The change of light leads us to winter solstice with more darkness, cooler temperatures. Do you feel the change? Does your mood change? What does diminishing light in the rear view mirror symbolize to you?

Rear view window on a country road (Coteau Road)

Driving on the Coteau Road
rushing toward my day,

I looked in the rear view mirror,
noticing the rising light.

Beacon to feel the past
push me toward future
with healing hope.
Margaret Simon, draft

My poetry writing happens early in the morning when the hum of the heater makes me want to pull the covers up and sleep. For This Photo, I draft directly into the post. I accept whatever comes. I hope you will give yourself a moment of meditation and write a small poem draft in the comments. Meet yourself where you are, without judgement. Leave your draft in the comments and encourage each other as writers who give a piece of themselves to the page.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Ancient Door

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Jefferson Island, luc bat poetry form, Rip Van WInkle Gardens on November 8, 2023| 16 Comments »

Garden Door, by Margaret Simon (located on Jefferson Island, Rip Van Winkle Gardens)

Last Saturday I attended a silent retreat at Jefferson Island. I wrote about the retreat here. This photo is an ancient doorway to nowhere. It is set in the gardens near an old wishing well. There is not much need for context today. Meander in your mind and find this doorway. Where does it lead you? Is it a place of rest? Is it a challenge to pass through? Is it guarded, or left open?

I recently came upon a new to me form called a luc bat.

The luc bat is a Vietnamese poetic form that means “six-eight.” In fact, the poem consists of alternating lines of six and eight syllables. This poem is interesting in its rhyme scheme that renews at the end of every eight-syllable line and rhymes on the sixth syllable of both lines. You can find a graphic on the Writer’s Digest. My own model draft took longer than usual to write. Rhymezone is my friend.

Retreat Door

Today I release need–
Unmet purpose to feed my worth.
This ancient door will birth
new sight into our earth’s strong care.
Inner eyes long to share
wisdom carried from there to here.
Look in my new seer,
a vision that is clear and pure.
Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Golden Rod

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #haiku, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, #Thisphotowantstobeapoem on November 1, 2023| 21 Comments »

I wrote about finding beauty yesterday for Slice of Life and Spiritual Journey. Along with the post, I wrote a haiku based on the scientific name for Goldenrod. I enjoy writing with word play. For the haiku, I embedded the name into the words of the poem. The form is similar to taking a word for a walk posted on Ethical ELA here by Anna J. Small Roseboro. She suggested taking an abstract word and writing it as the first word in the first line, second word in the next line, and so on until the word becomes the last word in the line. Six lines of six words each.

Of course, as always, you are welcome to enter this prompt in any way that works for you. Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses.

Solidago*

Meadow soul soother
I turn toward your day light
Don’t go. Don’t go.
Margaret Simon

*scientific name for goldenrod, solidus meaning “to make whole”

This is the poem I wrote for the word walk prompt:

Sympathy begins with sad eye contact.
Then sympathy reads your sad thoughts.
I express sympathy for your loss.
You may scorn sympathy as insincere.
But I see you, sympathy, walking
along the worn road of sympathy.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: Spiritual Journey and a Beauty Emergency

Posted in Gratitude, Photography, Poetry, Slice of Life, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged #haiku, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, nature poetry, renewal, spiritual journey on October 31, 2023| 21 Comments »

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

“Joy is an act of resistance.” –Toi Derricotte

What is bringing you joy? In her newsletter The Good Stuff, Maggie Smith wrote about finding beauty. She called it a “beauty emergency.” An abundance of beauty is available to us everyday if we choose to notice. Even on my sickest days this summer, I could look out my window to find the great white egret who daily feeds across the bayou. Even now I can see a flash of white as he flies by. Sometimes I watch him slowly wade through the water. Something about that presence of purity renews me.

Renewal happens even if we forget to ask for it. God knows how to renew all life.

“To find a new world, maybe you have to have lost one. Maybe you have to be lost. The dance of renewal, the dance that made world, was always danced here at the edge of things, on the brink, on the foggy coast.”
― Ursula K Le Guin

I am still in the process of renewal, walking a fine line between dark and light. I have to find the strength each day to see the light, to look for it, all the while knowing darkness is close by. Illness does that to a person. The fear of it all coming back again is real. I notice the fear, name it for what it truly is, then let it go. I must do this to bring joy to the forefront. And renewal comes as I find beauty in ordinary days.

A colleague complained to me about an incessant vine that climbs her brick walls. “The guy has to come every 3 months to deal with it, even in this drought.” We can complain about the onslaught of weeds in the yard, or we can take pictures of them and find their beauty, their life, the way they insist on being here.

Weed in the grass insists on being noticed!

I believe that God gives us access to beauty all the time. We are meant to feel curious, to wonder about ordinary things, to be present and renewed, touched by beauty and joy.

Solidago*

Meadow soul soother
I turn toward your day light
Don’t go. Don’t go.
Margaret Simon

*scientific name for goldenrod, solidus meaning “to make whole”

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Niagara Falls

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #writeout, Emily Lee Luan, Nature poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on October 18, 2023| 15 Comments »

For Fall break, my husband and I visited Niagara Falls. This trip was a bucket list item for me. The Falls did not disappoint. They are an amazing feat of nature, the kind that cannot be captured in a photo or video. You have to be there to hear the sounds of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water falling each second. I took a lot of pictures, but when I look at them now, they pale in comparison to the real live event. I’m so happy we did this trip. I highly recommend it. If you are planning to go, let me know. I have suggestions.

This morning’s Poem-a-Day from the Academy of American Poets was by Emily Lee Luan The warble of melting snow is the river. I borrowed her form for my own poem. I find that using a form helps me get out of my head and allowing creativity to do its magic.

The chant of rocks is the falls (after Emily Lee Luan)

is the rush of gravity
is the impulse of water*
is the pull of a mother… child
is the everlasting light of the sun
is the building of power
is the electricity of ages
is the reflection of rainbows
is the promise of peace
is the waking of a dream
is the shift of river
to fall.
Margaret Simon, draft

When you are inspired to write, please leave your poem in the comments so we can share. Write encouraging comments for other writers.

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#WriteOut: Found-on-the-trail Poetry

Posted in Poetry, Writing, tagged #writeout, found poem, Glacier National Park on October 12, 2023| 15 Comments »

Rich Novach in this video led us on a trail to writing found poetry. My students and I selected a National Park to research and “find” text that can be placed into a poem.

I visited Glacier National Park a few years ago, and the experience has stayed with me. I found my poem on the park’s website. I wrote it in the form of a nonet, 9 lines with each line using a syllable count of 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.

Ya-qawiswitxuki*

A place where there is a lot of ice
of meltwater irrigation
ice flowing under its weight
alpine meadows showcase
adventurous wild
carved paradise
history
melting
ice

*Kootenai word for Glacier National Park
Margaret Simon, found on the trail