Early morning is prime fishing time for egrets and herons on the bayou. It is rare that I can get a photo. I have to walk lightly and hope Albert doesn’t bark. This was a lucky shot.
I will be presenting at NCTE this week. In the roundtable presentation with Ethical ELA (3:30 on Friday, Rm. 108, 110), I will be discussing creating Zeno zines. A Zeno poem is one in which the syllable count is 8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1. The challenge is each one syllable line rhymes.
This Photo is a place for first drafts. Please consider joining me and writing a poem draft in the comments. Support other writers with your comments.
Morning is bayou fishing time flashy bright white egret shines reminding me how love dines on memory, sacred signs. (Margaret Simon, draft)
It’s the first Friday of the month and time for the Inklings Challenge. This month’s prompt is from Linda Mitchell who challenged us to respond to Ethical ELA’s September 2025 Open Write by Kelsey Bigelow: “What is the happiest thing you’ve ever tasted?”
This was a lucky break for me because I already had a draft written, so with my Inklings thoughtful comments, I revised and have a poem to offer today.
My husband was born and raised in Cajun country where they ask, “Who’s your mama? Are you catholic? And can you make a roux?”
I don’t have to learn to make a roux because when it comes time to make a gumbo, Jeff is the best! Just last weekend when the air finally turned cool enough, he made the first gumbo of the season. Around here, when the cold front comes in, the weather man announces, “It’s gumbo weather!”
For our family, Black Friday is the day for making turkey and sausage gumbo. This year we may skip the Thanksgiving and go straight to the gumbo. Making gumbo takes two days. On the first day, you make the stock and the next day combine the stock with the roux. It’s a slow process. It takes patience and dedication.
Black Friday Gumbo
The happiest thing I’ve ever tasted is your gumbo, A slow stew on Thanksgiving night in a stock pot of left-over turkey bones, the trinity of bell pepper, onions, and celery.
Scented steam perfumes the kitchen. Friday morning chill is heated by oil and flour you stir for what seems like an hour waiting for the brown of peanut butter.
Hunched and humming, listening to the game, you stand taller and hand me a spoon to taste. Our love is certain in this simple touch
of lips to wooden spoon. That first sip tingles on the back of my throat like our first kiss, longing and true.
Patricia Franz is gathering Spiritual Journey posts this week at her blog, Reverie.
When Patricia prompted us to write about doubt, a song started on repeat in my head. I sang the lyric, “drive the dark of doubt away” from “Ode to Joy.”
“Fill us with the light of day!”
If you know this hymn, I’ve now passed the earworm on to you. Sorry.
But as I contemplate doubt, I realize that it’s not dark. Without doubt, we wouldn’t have belief or clarity.
This first year of retirement has thrown a lot of doubt my way. What do I do now? Where is my purpose? What are my goals? Who am I if not a teacher?
All of these questions are necessary to get me to the next chapter of my life. They are normal and necessary.
I follow poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. She generously sends a poem each day. I used this poem to inspire my poem today.
Here I Pray
My doubt has fog in it, steam that glows on the bayou, and a sky above preparing for a new day.
There is Spanish moss here, swaying in soft breeze gathering space for doubt.
I meet myself in the mist, question her purpose, wonder where she will go now.
I am certain only of not knowing. I am comfortable in this doubt holding the gift of more time.
For now, the super moon’s hidden in the daylight. For now, our canoe reaches for the sun. For now, bayou waters are chilled by the wind.
Even now, I feel your strength in the rowing. Even now, I believe our source is love. Even now, my choice is stay.
Margaret Simon, draft
I took this photo on a recent canoe paddle on Bayou Teche. We laughed at the new sign, but a silly poem didn’t come as I wrote. In my notebook, I had written the repeated line “for now” and “even now” and wanted to play around with it a bit.
I invite you to write what comes today. Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your comments.
In some neighborhoods the Halloween decorating has gone over the top this year. Whether it’s enormous skeletons or blow up zombies, people have certainly gotten into the spirit, so to speak. On a recent walk in my daughter’s neighborhood in New Orleans, I ran into this guy. During the day, he was comical, but I imagine come the darkness of Halloween night, he may give some small child a fright.
Please join me in musing about Halloween decor and all that goes with it. Write a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouragement.
Today, I chose the shadorma form. (3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 5)
Grim reapers scour your neighborhood. Are you scared? Will you come play with a puffed-up spider? Halloween is here! (Margaret Simon, draft)
On Monday and Tuesday, my grandchildren had Fall Break. They spent it with me. The fall mornings have been cooler, so we spent the good part of Tuesday morning outside. This photo was taken at Devil’s Pond in City Park. Stella has downy white goose feathers in her hands, and she’s pointing to turtles out in the pond. Together she and Leo are counting the turtles.
One Two Three Four Turtles in the pond. Come walk with me. Let’s feel carefree like turtles in a pond.
Margaret Simon, draft
This month is the National Writing Project’s Write Out, which encourages all of us to go outside to write. Prompts can be found on the Write Out website.
Consider writing a small poem and sharing it in the comments. Support other writers with your responses.
On Sunday, I presented with my co-author for Were You There? A Biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet at the Old State Capitol in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The capitol was built in 1850, but the rotunda with spiral staircase was added following the Civil War in 1884.
The building is currently a museum. Phebe and I gladly accepted the invitation to present.
I have been working on a draft of a zeno poem. This form follows a mathematical sequence of syllables: 8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1. Each of the one syllable words rhymes. It is surprisingly tricky to write.
Can you imagine a rainbow? Glass umbrella hovers down Patchwork pattern gilded crown History wears gorgeous gown Margaret Simon, draft
If you feel inspired to write a small poem, please leave it in the comments and return to offer encouragement to other writers.
Today is the first Friday of a new month, October, and time for an Inklings challenge. I asked my writing group friends to exchange photos for an image poem. I invite you to participate in image poetry every Wednesday right here with This Photo Wants to be a Poem.
My exchange partner was Heidi. She had the opportunity to visit fellow Inkling, Molly, in Maine this summer. I am quite jealous that they all made blueberry jam together. I could not resist the delicious collection of jars in Heidi’s photo.
Georgia Heard inspired my poem by sending her own recipe poem through her newsletter.
Click on each link below to see other image poem posts from Inklings.
Last week this lily appeared at my back door. I vaguely remember a neighbor giving me some bulbs, but I planted them ages ago. When I placed my Google lens on this flower, surprise lily came up as one of many names. It’s also known as spider lily and naked lady. Today in my poem I am focused on the surprise.
Surprise! a ribbon burst from soil on a stemmed gift lily
Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your response.
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 