This photo appeared on my Facebook feed from local artist and children’s book author Paul Schexnayder. Paul has an ironic sense of humor, especially in the everyday. His photo reflects that sense.
Mary’s Lizard by Paul Schexnayder
When I asked Paul if I could use this photo for a poem, he said, “I was hoping you’d ask? I almost asked you to write one!!!”
Please consider leaving your own small poem in the comments. Leave a comment for a few participants. Fun writing practice to wake up your creative self. No pressure. No judgement. Thanks for coming by.
A lonely lizard seeks shade in the arms of Mary. She stoically abides.
The weeks are whizzing by, even with staying at home every day. At first the pace was slow, but now a rhythm has set in, and it’s hard to believe that Thursday is here again.
My husband usually has little to say about my writing life. But when we were canoeing on Mother’s Day, he saw an old cabin and commented, “This photo wants to be a poem.” Oh, yeah? I guess I better take the picture then.
Every time we go out on the bayou and paddle, something new draws our attention. I’m sure this old cabin, storage shed, whatever has been there a long time. We only just noticed. I’m inclined to think that this place may need a whole story, maybe even a ghost story. You can decide.
Leave a small poem in the comments and be sure to comment on a few other responders. Building a community of writers is a goal for this weekly prompt.
The place out back, one room, wood-slatted floors, straw broom for sweeping roaches… home.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
My feelings are all over the place. Starting the day later because I can sleep longer wakes me rested, ready. A walk outside on a perfect spring morning energizes. But then the weight of all that is different, all that is not happening, not normal comes with cleaning out a classroom or picking up items at the store or watching the news.
Poetry helps me cope. In my email inbox, on my Instagram feed, or on the bedside table, I can find a poem that soothes, comforts, or inspires me.
On Twitter this month, a group of us teacher-poets are writing #Poemsof Presence. These poems capture a single moment in time. They honor the present without regard or worry over the future or past. I can find connection and hope in this task. If you are a poem dabbler, join us.
This poem by ADA LIMÓN has come across my path a few times. Today from Gratefulness.org. I love how the title Instructions on Not Giving Up tells me what she wants me to learn from nature. And the poem fills me with a beautiful image.
More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees that really gets to me.
This Photo Wants to be a Poem is a low pressure, quick writing prompt I post each week. Consider joining in the playful poetry today. Leave a comment with 15 words or less structured as a poem. Write encouraging comments on other responses. That’s it. No judgement. Just be present.
Speaking of being present, a group of poet dabblers are writing a poem of presence each day of May on Twitter using the hashtag #PoemsofPresence. This grew out of my Ditty of the Month interview. You can also write a poem of presence on the padlet that Michelle is curating.
Today’s photo was taken last week when we were out on a family walk with Leo, who is 17 months today. He is learning about mischief, and he took Baby Thomas’s hat from his stroller and put it on and ran. It was all such a fun game. I was lucky to capture this shot in the multitude of photos I took.
Catch me if you can! photo by Margaret Simon
Let me run in the sun. Hat askew, can’t catch you.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Friday, Michelle Heindrich Barnes lovingly posted an interview with me over at Today’s Little Ditty. With her Reader’s Spotlights, she asks us to prompt a writing challenge. I wrote this challenge:
The practice of writing poetry is an exercise in mindfulness. To be open to the universe of words and to put them down on a page is nothing short of a miracle. Mary Oliver said, “There is no nothingness—With these little atoms that run around too little for us to see. But, put together, they make something. And that to me is a miracle. Where it came from, I don’t know. But it’s a miracle, and I think it’s enough to keep a person afloat.”
Write a mindful poem about the present moment.
To my pleasant surprise, Heidi Mordhorst and Mary Lee Hahn created a Twitter hashtag #PoemsofPresence to invite poets to write a small poem every day in May. The idea has gathered some following. Michelle created a graphic.
The last of my monarch chrysalises emerged. Last week, I successfully released 7 new monarchs into the sky. My friend and neighbor, who is also a teacher and a photographer, asked to come over to photograph a release. Here’s one of her amazing photos.
Photo by Lory Landry
Monarch Release
Fly, friend, fly! while I walk and walk watching your wings glow like the sunset.
During this pandemic stay-at-home time, new symbols are emerging. One of them is the banana, a staple in many homes is now ripening into home cooked banana bread. Repurposing food is comforting. Creating a recipe from scratch gives you something to do, something wholesome to accomplish.
Today’s photo appeared on my Facebook feed. A friend and neighbor, Susan Edmunds posted a photo that captured a light beam coming through the window. She gave me permission to publish the photo this week as a poetry muse.
Bananas by Susan Hester Edmunds
A glow of light nourishes, comforts, sustains health and hope.
Margaret Simon, draft
Write your own small poem in the comments. Please comment to a few other poets.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Even before we were sheltering in our homes, I enjoyed making connections over cyberspace. Teacher-poet-writer Fran Haley is one of those connections. We read each other. Yesterday she wrote a beautiful blog post “Ode to the Wind.” In that post she wrote about a tweet from Robert MacFarlane with the word of the day: susurrate.
Word of the day: “susurrate”—to whisper, murmur, esp. of noise produced by numerous individual sources of sound (bees humming, leaves rustling, etc.) Compare to “psithurism,” its similarly sibilant sense-sibling, meaning the whispering of wind in trees (from Ancient Greek).
Susurrate was a new word to me when I read MacFarlane’s most amazing, beautiful book the lost words: A Spell Book. A friend who knows I love words and poetry loaned it to me. I presented the first few poems to my students. The last stanza of the second poem “adder” reads:
Rustle of grass, sudden susurrus, what the eye misses: For adder is as adder hisses.
Robert MacFarlane, the lost words
Reading Fran’s post, I remembered that I had written a definito to the word. The definito is a form created by my friend, teacher-poet Heidi Mordhorst. “The definito is a free verse poem of 8-12 lines that highlights wordplay as it demonstrates the meaning of a less common, often abstract word, which always ends the poem.“
I love this form for working with the meaning of a new word in a way that helps someone else understand the word.
As murmur is to whisper a mutter to a babble When grumbles turn to mumbles and a purr softens sound As whisper is to wind a sigh of the weather As a hum is to a hummingbird flying quickly to a flower You may hear something close to silence…susurration.
On Tuesday evening I participated in a free webinar from Highlights with Lesléa Newman called “Poetry to Soothe the Soul”. During the presentation, I realized I had picked up one of her books at NCTE last fall, October Mourning. I went on a search for it and found it and have been reading. It’s a verse novel about the killing of Matthew Shephard. Her use of short form and repetition is affective in that book.
The Patrol Officer’s Report
two thin white tear tracks one red swollen blood-caked face this is someone’s child
With us, she shared her own Pandemic Haiku. Her homework assignment was to write our own. I had written a haiku a few weeks ago and sent in a soundbite of me reading it to Alan Nakagawa’s sound collage commissioned by OCMA, Social Distance, Haiku, and You! This week I received a link to all the creative sound recordings. They had more than 500 entries. My haiku is included in Part B. Posted here if you choose to listen.
Heartbroken world mourns Loss of who we were before Waiting for new life -Margaret Simon
On Wednesday, I collected moments throughout my day in haiku. Here is my collection:
Pandemic Haiku
In a viral time, let us be grateful for this: Breath. Green. Life.
Early morning sun slant of light through cypress shades welcoming hummers
Walks with Leo are a wander, meander See dat, dat, and dat?
Chalk art on sidewalks greet passersby with colors “This too shall pass!”
A new duck tenant three eggs today lay in the wood duck house.
Seven green-gold charms chrysalis-haven for wings to magically form.
Watching my screen I see Chloe, Rylee, you in your own kitchen.
Don’t know what will be when the viral storm calms down I hope for a hug.
Welcome back to This Photo…a low stakes writing prompt. Don’t think too long and hard about this. Whatever comes is good. Leave a small poem of 15 words or so in the comments. Read other poems and leave a supportive comment. That’s it. Poetry brain practice!
I love to notice clouds. Cloud photos never quite come out as well as what you truly see. What can you imagine in the clouds? Look up. Just notice. Take a moment to be present.
Cloud goddess flies her kite, a ballet dance on Spring’s serene sky-stage.
Margaret Simon, draft
Check in on the Kidlit Progressive Poem that is going on an adventure today to Haiti with Ruth.
This poetry month I didn’t commit to write a certain type of poem every day like many other poets I am following. I decided I would write to the muse. Wherever she lead, I would follow.
Among my weekly teacher-poet emails, I get Teach this Poem from Poets.org. This week the poem to teach was “Earth. Your Dancing Place” by May Swenson. One line (“Take earth for your own large room”) jumped out at me and wanted to be a golden shovel. After messing with it in my journal, I created this draft.
Earth’s Heartbeat
If you take
a moment with earth,
touch her for
her soothing spirit, place your
hand on her beating heart, your own
heart will open a door to a large
living room
Margaret Simon, draft 2020
I was also inspired by Catherine Flynn’s post that included the NASA Earth Day poster. The artist, Jenny Motter, used the idea of listening to the pulse of a tree to create this amazing image. There is much more imagery used in the artwork that you can read about at the NASA site.
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 