Poetry | Reflections on the Teche

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: September Sunset

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on September 13, 2023| 42 Comments »

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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Poetry Friday: Erasure

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged Bianca Stone, erasure poetry, The New Yorker on September 8, 2023| 18 Comments »

Creative endeavors are returning to me. It feels good and right. I recently read the poems in The New Yorker of August 28, 2023. The poem What’s Poetry Like? by Bianca Stone was popping out to me as a perfect erasure poem. I enjoy whittling down to essential words. I found another poem here with a slightly different meaning than hers. I hope she is the type of poet who knows the highest form of flattery is imitation.

Poetry

Poets play love
essential moment, shared
written

resuscitate wildlife
disappearing ourselves

Poetry finds deficient
words, immortal
hunt

you’re trying to get back
bittersweet tongue,
all the emoting,
all the surrender

reckless
insight, hidden
wisdom slips into truth

the form itself
words that sing yet-

unspoken things wafting
waiting to be opened.
Margaret Simon, erasure poem from What’s Poetry Like? by Bianca Stone
The New Yorker, August 28, 2023

The Poetry Friday round-up today is with Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm.

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Spiritual Journey: Grace

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged #grace, #Septemberbeauty, Patricia Franz, spiritual journey on September 7, 2023| 10 Comments »

Spiritual Journey posts are gathered by Patricia Franz.

Patricia sent the Spiritual Journey bloggers (all are welcome) her topic for September: “Life at the speed of grace.” This topic is fitting for me as I have been forced to slow down to a full stop because of illness. I have moved beyond why and into acceptance. Each day in September I am posting a photo on Instagram of #Septemberbeauty.

I’ve never thought of September as a beautiful month. It’s still hot. The school year is usually moving along quickly after Labor Day. But when I stop, when I look, notice nature and my immediate surroundings, I can see beauty.

Hummingbirds come in September. Since I’m home, I can sit for a while and watch them frolic. Yesterday, the male and female at my feeder mated right before my eyes. It was like a hummingbird tornado, how they twirled in a fury dance. Then flew off in separate ways.

Patricia wrote a small poem here. I’m borrowing a line to do a quick write of my own.

Grace is Here

Grace abides here–
a hummingbird mating dance
a flutter of evening owl.

Grace fills me–
supermarket flowers
a friend tells a story.

Grace heals me–
words in a poetic card
light from the window.

Grace meets me
in this lonely space
God listens.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Enjambed Life

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Poetry Friday, tagged #poemsofpresence, Bayou Teche, enjambment, healing, Inklings challenge, Jack Bedell on September 1, 2023| 42 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Ramona at Pleasures from the Page.

Today is the first day of September and it comes with a full Blue Moon and slightly cooler temperatures pointing the way to fall. Ah, me! I breathe in deeply and sigh.

August has been a dark month for me, and I am just beginning to emerge from the cocoon of illness. When I asked the Inklings to study and use the tool of enjambment in a poem, I had no idea how my whole life would be enjambed. My hysterectomy in June had the worst possible complication, an opened and infected incision. I had a second surgery on Friday, August 18th. I was in the hospital for 5 days and in bed at home for 10 days following. As I begin to feel better and the cloud is lifting, I am cautiously optimistic that I am healing.

For the enjambment challenge, I offered my friends a model poem from former Louisiana poet laureate Jack Bedell.

Ghost Forest
—Manchac, after Frank Relle’s photograph, “Alhambra”

1.

Backlit by city and refinery’s glow
these cypress bones shimmer

on the still lake’s surface.
It’s easy to see a storm’s

coming with the sky rolling
gray overhead and the water

glass-calm. Even easier to know
these trees have weathered

some rough winds, their branches
here and there, pointing this

a-way and that at what
we’ve done to this place.

Read the rest here.
Jack Bedell

One early morning this week, I sat outside (at the urging of a close friend) and watched the bayou. This small draft of a poem came to me. I offer it here because it’s the only thing I have and doing this makes me feel normal again. Thanks to all of you who have expressed concern and sent cards and messages.

Is it
the play of light
on the surface
or air bubbles moving
over glass-calm

water I watch
still, quiet bayou
breathe, like me,
slow and deliberate
taking in life-
giving oxygen.

We are trying to survive,
bayou and I,
trying to make this day
meaningful
all the while knowing
breath is all
that matters.
Margaret Simon, draft

To see how other Inklings used enjambment, check out their posts.

Heidi Mordhorst @ My Juicy Little Universe
Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core
Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Phlox with Water droplets

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #naturepoems, #poemsofpresence, #small poems on August 30, 2023| 41 Comments »

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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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Dragonfly

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, dragonfly, haiku, small poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on August 9, 2023| 18 Comments »

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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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Ripples

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged Mary Lee Hahn, Nikki Grimes, ripple, wandering word poem on August 2, 2023| 29 Comments »

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.

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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Spice of Life: These Hands

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged anaphora, Denise Krebs, quick write on August 1, 2023| 9 Comments »

Inspired by Denise Krebs at “Dare to Care”, I am writing a quick post on my phone at a coffee shop near the beach. Denise’s poem begins with These hands.

These hands

are waving to the pelican above the waves

trying to stay hydrated in this heat

trying to love in a way that is welcomed

wise and whole

These hands have held hard

and gotten softer

with age and lavender lotion.

These hands reach out

for help and receive it in gratitude

knowing that grace is found

when gifts are held

precious in these hands.

Margaret Simon, draft

Bird of paradise, photo by Margaret Simon

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Volunteer Zinnia

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Leonard Cohen, zinnias on July 12, 2023| 35 Comments »

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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Spice of Life: Eulogy for a Uterus

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged gratitude, Lucille Clifton on July 11, 2023| 11 Comments »

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

The title is not a typo. I saw Wilson yesterday. He had figs to offer. No better summer treat than fresh figs. And he thanked me for writing a “Spice of Life” about him last week. So I decided to make Slice of Life into Spice of Life in honor of his good mistake.

Two weeks ago today I had a hysterectomy. I’ve been amazed by the kindness of my circle. I’ve received flowers, cards, cakes, food, figs, and numerous other ways people have shown gratitude to me. There’s this interesting twist of things when one who is a caretaker becomes the cared for. I’ve had to loosen some control and let people help. I called my neighbor to pick up my dog’s meds at the vet. I allowed my daughter’s father-in-law to sweep my kitchen floor. It’s a weird space to be in. Needy. Grateful. Humble.

Last week, on the day of the surgery, I got an email writing prompt from The Fishbowl. Children’s author Kelly Bennet sends a 7 minute quick write each week. You can see the prompt here.

In my 7 minute writing response, I wrote a eulogy for my uterus. Each stanza is homage to each of my three daughters’ births.

Betty, Wilson’s wife, says I need to breathe in green gratitude to replace my uterus. I’m honestly not there yet. My body is still quite angry about the whole thing. Maybe next week, Betty? But I did, after a few critiques, take out the slaughtered pig reference.

My uterus was a vibrant thing
after Lucille Clifton

was an egg in a nest
of brambles and moss holding
a suckling embryo

was a vase for spring flowers
bursting forth in April
shouting to the sky

was a silk blanket
wrapped around the soul
of the wrongs of the world

did not walk out on me,
was taken for its uselessness
a holy sacrifice

I groan for all it’s grown
and known–
blessed womb.

Margaret Simon, June 27, 2023