Today I am cheating and doing this prompt backwards. I wrote a poem that I like from another Taylor Mali prompt. I remembered that I took a picture of the image I conjured in the poem. I am convincing myself that this is fair because I had the image in mind when I wrote the poem. Taylor’s website has a collection of fun prompts for teachers to use with kids. They work even with the youngest students that I teach (8 year olds). The one I used can be found here: Once I was a Flower.
Live Oak Branches, Margaret Simon
Once an owl lifted off from a tangle of branches; it rose above me like a hot-air balloon. It was fall and morning chill sprinkled fog over the bayou. There I was left floating alone– solid, steel canoe.
Margaret Simon, draft
Now it’s your turn. If you want to use the prompt, begin with Once and end with an inanimate object. Or just write whatever the photo muse brings forth. Be sure to leave encouraging comments for other writers.
This response to the Once prompt is from my student Jaden in 6th grade.
Once I saw a moth flew across my face in the path of others it was a fall sunset I stood still I was a light Jaden, 6th grade
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Every class we begin with notebook time. My students know to open their notebooks as soon as they walk in. I’ve started teaching some little ones, second graders, and it’s not so well established yet with them, but we’re trying. One thing that Brayden knows already is that on Mondays we write a Slice of Life. But first, we played Mad Lib Poetry, created by Taylor Mali, that I read about on this Poetry Friday post from Denise Krebs.
Brayden answered the prompt, “Name an object that represents your mother” with “butterflies.” This stayed with him, and he wrote his Slice of Life about his mother. “My mother is a butterfly. She is beautiful.”
With my different groups of students, I wrote the Mad Lib Poem 3 times. Here is one of my versions:
I was born in the year of Donny Osmond albums.
My mother was a grand piano and my father, a pointillist drawing.
Is it any wonder that I grew up to be an amazing cross between Alice in Wonderland and a great blue heron?
Take a worried look at me. I am weary and feeling old.
Is it any wonder that I still have nightmares about teaching a whole class of second grade boys?
On Friday with my 6th grade writers, we played three rounds of metaphor dice. This is a great game for this grade level. They grapple with the strange combinations and amaze themselves and me by what they write in 2 minutes. I think this is a great activity for critical and creative thinking.
I liked how this next poem came out as a little love poem.
My heart is a burning kiss, burning like the fire inside that makes bread rise, the heat that helps babies grow, the warmth that feeds the seed which is to say your tender kiss melts my heart into pure gold that withstands the test of time.
Flowers are fascinating, and their names can be entertaining. I took a drive out to the country on Sunday to visit a friend. She had naked ladies growing in her yard. As I was leaving, she said, “Can I cut you some hurricane lilies?”
“I thought they were naked ladies.”
She may have blushed. “Yes some people call them that.”
When I put “naked ladies” into Google, more name possibilities popped up: Belladonna Lily, Bareroot Red Surprise Lily, Resurrection Lily, August Lily, Red Spider Lily, Lycoris Raidanti.
Let’s have a little fun today with these names. Play with one of them in a small poem. Post in the comments. Reply with encouraging comments to others. Happy Hump Day!
Naked Ladies in the country, Margaret Simon
red stamens reach up resurrected from bare earth radiant surprise
Welcome to the season of fall! Today is the first cool front of the season, and I welcome it with wide open arms. Fall is a bridge season between summer and winter. So I am posting this photo by my friend, first grade teacher and photographer Lory Landry. It was taken at our local City Park near Devil’s Pond. I love it for its unique perspective. I get a funny image in my head imagining Lory on her belly taking this photo. She would do anything for a good shot.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Wildflowers in a jar, Margaret Simon
If you read my post last week, you know I have a thing for flowers. After visiting Petite Anse Farms and cutting my own flowers, the wildflowers that line the Lafitte Greenway in New Orleans drew me in and begged to be clipped, collected, and given away.
Last week when my youngest daughter, Martha, set up her office on the back deck, she watched hummingbirds fighting at the feeder. It was one of those rare high pressure/ low humidity days with an actual breeze. She had to silence the wind chimes for her Zoom calls. Today, Martha’s office is back in New Orleans as power has returned.
Currently I am watching the rain bands of Hurricane Nicholas (now a tropical storm) fill up the bayou. The hummers are still coming. That’s a good sign.
My friend Molly Hogan in Maine has been watching these amazing birds, too, and taking amazing photos of them. She sent me this one.
For my students, since this is a virtual learning day due to the storm, I linked the photo to this Wonderopolis article and used one of the facts in my haiku.
photo by Molly Hogan
Peach-sweet zinnia fanned by wingbeats 200 times per second: Zest!
Haiku draft, Margaret Simon
Please write a small poem in the comments and reply to other writers with encouraging words. Thanks for being here.
My middle daughter’s son, my middle grandchild, turned 2 yesterday. “Mamoo” (his version of Mamére) bought a set of bubbles and wands for his family birthday party. It’s fascinating when a child learns to blow bubbles. Often the blow is too fast for the bubble to form. The bubble set came with a variety of instruments for making bubbles. I hit the Walmart $5 Jackpot with this set. “Tuffy” (the nickname Thomas gave to himself) was able to blow more slowly through the pipe and watch the bubble form. This helped him blow with the wand. Bubble success! Then he was on to something else.
I, however, stayed focused on getting a photo of a bubble. I am posting the best of the bunch. I find the colors magical.
Photo by Margaret Simon
There is a rainbow of magic inside a bubble blown by a boy learning to blow.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Another week of writing from The Quickwrite Handbook by Linda Rief. I have two pieces of writing I’d like to share today. The first was a prompt after Cynthia Rylant’s When I Was Young in the Mountains. Linda Rief wrote a mentor text “When I Was Young at the Ocean.” I wrote “When I Was Young at Purple Creek.”
When I was young at Purple Creek, I dangled my toes in the trickle of water and watched minnows dart around them, sending tickles and goose pimples all the way up my skinny white legs.
When I was young at Purple Creek, I buried my Barbies in the sand, played Treasure Island on the wrip-wrap shore, and let go of the leash so Loopy could wander and explore, bark at the squirrels.
When I was young at Purple Creek, my fear of snakes was on high alert. Brother shouted a warning just to see me jump. We gathered treasures in a tin bucket (rocks, broken glass, colored leaves, mimosa seed pods, a baby frog).
My flip-flop feet toughened on summer days when I was young at Purple Creek. The trickle was my ocean. The shoreline my cave. The pine trees my towers. I was queen of Purple Creek.
The next text we read and wrote from was an Excerpt from The Terrible Two by Mac Barnett and Jory John.
That Kind of Teacher
On the first day of school, you can decide what kind of teacher you want to be. You can be the smiley teacher, the one who greets everyone at the door with “How are you today?” You could be the fashionable teacher, the one who turns heads with her new outfit each day. You could be the kind of teacher who knows everything about the new reading curriculum guidelines. The teacher who decorates her classroom in rainbow colors and files everything in matching color-coded binders. You could be the teacher who stands at the board and takes roll, who finishes her report cards on time. Or you could be that teacher who works as hard as her students. The curious teacher. The open-minded teacher. The teacher with a lot of stickers on the chart. When the school year starts, you can choose what kind of teacher you will be, the kind of teacher you will be for the rest of your life.
Margaret Simon
And here’s 6th grader Chloe’s poem response for “I’m the Kind of Kid Who”
I’m the kind of kid who leaves at the end of class, new kids asking why. I say “Guess” to hear what they think.
I’m the kind of kid who always does their work or finishes their homework in class so they have nothing left to do.
I’m the kind of kid whose teacher lets them eat in class as long as she doesn’t see me.
I’m the kind of kid who writes every day. If you don’t know what I mean, I’m doing it right now.
I’m the kind of kid who is ready for the weekend and is actually ready to come back to school.
Chloe
Adelyn, 3rd grade, wrote about her sister and posted it here on FanSchool.
I almost forgot it was Wednesday. Yesterday was the first day of my work week because we had Monday off for Hurricane Ida, which thankfully did not impact us directly. When I walked Tuesday morning, this beautiful cloud led me. I held my phone up high to capture this photo. Clouds always draw my eye, especially ones with the sun within them.
Yesterday there were ten minutes of class left before the bell rang, so I challenged my student in a game of Metaphor Dice. We rolled 3 dice and wrote a poem in one minute (her idea). It was a great way to keep our brains active. I am using a revised version of mine as a small poem today.
Silver lining by Margaret Simon
Metaphor Minute
My birth is like a bright meadow– like stars on the path to a grand castle, like diamonds strung on a silver string, walking in clouds lined with sunbeam.
Margaret Simon, draft
Join me in praising the clouds and the spirit of all things. Leave a small poem in the comments. Support others with encouraging words. Thanks for being here.
Hot August oceans churn. Tornadoes internally spurn a meteorologist’s concern.
This is what the hurricane knows.
With strength beyond a whale’s tail, swallow waves into booming gale, loosen nature’s grip and WAIL!
Margaret Simon, draft
On Friday, I wrote wisdom poems with my students. I couldn’t focus on much except Hurricane Ida heading our way. They also wrote some wonderful wisdom poems linked below.
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 