Welcome to a new weekly poetry prompt. Inspired by Laura Purdie Salas who for years posted a weekly photo for participants to write a poem of 15 Word or Less. Because Laura is busy with her day job, writing wonderful children’s books, she has taken a hiatus from this weekly prompt. Here is a link to the archives of those posts.
I contacted Laura, and she was happy to pass the baton. With this new title This Photo Wants to be a Poem, I will post a photo once a week on Wednesday night for you to respond to on Thursday. You can type your poem into the comments. Please be kind and comment on at least 3 other writers’ poems. That’s how we build a supportive community.
Laura limited the poems to 15 words. I see purpose in this practice because (1) it’s quick, (2) word choice matters, and (3) you’ll likely get it done. In all honesty, I will not be counting words. The idea is to simply practice your writing brain.
The photos will credit the photographer but will also be free for you to use if you wish to post on a blog or other social media. If you would like to contribute a photo, send it to me by email.
Let’s get started! This photo was taken by my friend and choir colleague Brenda Lowry on a walk along the Atchafalaya Basin.
Thistle by Brenda Lowry
My first draft:
My spiky stem says Stay Away! But bees are welcome any day. Come. Buzz. Play.
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A painted sign in my daughter’s neighborhood. We had to take a picture, but Leo, having been released from the stroller, wanted to get down and walk.
I’ve been participating in Ethical ELA’s monthly 5 day writing challenge. I love this community of friends. On Sunday, the mentor text was a poem “What I Want Is” by C. G. Hanzlicek. The prompt is here.
On Friday night and Saturday morning, we had Leo who is now 14 months and loves to walk. I took him outside in our backyard and next door to swing. My neighbor has 2 grandsons, too, so she has set up baby swings hanging from a tree. I really could not imagine anywhere else I’d rather be. So the prompt led me to this poem.
What I want is what I have
when I’m with him walking hand around finger
down the hill to the bayou
to wave at the canoers even though they don’t
see us swinging from a rope
in the oak tree laughing just because
there are wildflowers too many to count
and a cool breeze to catch our smiles on
a day of only us pointing at birds
flying overhead Bird 1 Bird 2
Margaret Simon after C.G. Hanzlicek
On Monday I combined the Ethical ELA prompt to write a This is Just to Say apology poem with the image posted in Laura Shovan’s February poetry project.
photo by Jone MacCulloch.
This is Just to Say
I missed the turn to school today. My eyes were on the clouds
So soft and floating like giant snowdrifts above me in bouquets of white roses.
Forgive me, I’m late my head in the clouds dancing around in their fluff.
Margaret Simon, draft, after William Carlos Williams
Finding daily prompts in my email inbox help me to pick up the pen and notebook and make something. Creativity feeds my soul. The positive loving feedback is fun, too.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Linda at Teacher Dance.
Because it’s Valentine’s Day, I won’t write about the week I’ve had or lost love or about the cold I’ve been fighting. Instead I’ll share a ditty I wrote this week for Laura Shovan’s challenge. Susan Brisson prompted us with frog pictures and a delightful video of her husband and son catching frogs from their pond to take them into the woods, so the little creatures would survive the winter.
Photo by Susan Brisson.
When my youngest daughter was two (she’s now 29), we had a small flower bed that always seemed to be its own pond. She could hear a frog croaking in the flower bed and decided to name it Hans. To this day, we don’t know why, but Hans the frog has become our family’s totem. One Christmas my husband made a huge plywood frog wearing a Santa hat, and we put it up every Christmas.
When watching Susan’s son hopping around gathering frogs into a bucket jogged this memory for me.
Dedicated to my daughter Martha
And here’s a lagniappe poem. Lagniappe is a common term used in Louisiana to mean a little something extra.
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Photo by Kay McGriff: “This photo is from one of our favorite activities twice each year–the Friends of the Muscatatuck River Society River Clean up.”
I have been writing a lot of poems lately with my students as we respond daily in our notebooks and with a Facebook group for Laura Shovan’s February Poetry Project.
The picture above was shared by Kay McGriff. She and her family participate in a twice-a-year river clean-up. I haven’t done this yet, but living near the bayou, we see all sorts of things drift by. This picture inspired me to look into this project.
Armed with an article, I decided to create a Bop poem. I was introduced to this form by my friend and critique partner, Linda Mitchell. Here’s a link to the form: https://poets.org/glossary/bop
People are messy. Rivers are easy to access. Everything can be found– shoes, tires, buckets, balls– whatever falls in sinks to a watery grave.
“You wouldn’t believe the stuff we find.”
Someone found a car, an old boat motor, ten feet of rope. It’s all trash pollution and doesn’t belong here buried in our drinking water. Imagine what the fish are thinking. People are crazy! Let’s get out there and clean it up!
“You wouldn’t believe the stuff we find.”
So share in the fun of the Annual Spring River Cleanup. There’s something for everyone to do. Volunteers will collect whatever they find walking the bank or paddling a canoe. Together we can save the river.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Laura at Writing the World for Kids.
Take a walk with me on this chilly day. The temperature dropped during the day yesterday from a rainy 55 degrees to a frigid 35 degrees with winds close to 20 mph. Bundle up in your winter coat and gloves. Did you bring your wool socks? As we walk past the bayou and along the road, we come to an open field. Watch your step because the ground is uneven here, and you may step in a puddle.
There near the neighboring house is a tree that looks like it may have been struck by lightning. It’s leaning slightly, but oh! It’s bright with pink blossoms. Flowers in winter? I think Japanese magnolia likes to be the first to show off her new spring dress.
My poetry swaggers group had a difficult challenge this month, given by Catherine Flynn. Terza Rima, she suggested, a form none of us had ever tried. But it’s from Dante, she delighted, not knowing yet that we are no Dantes.
Nevertheless, I gave it a shot. The first results lacked greatly. After a few rounds with my writing buddies, they helped me patch it up to present today. A terza rima is not going into my book of forms. This was a tough code to crack. Here’s a link to some confusing helpful guidelines.
A Japanese magnolia takes a chance on blooming ‘fore the risk of frost is gone with warming trends alive inside its branch.
Perhaps a passing storm had left it torn in this winter field alone and gray, when leaves of life from limbs are yet unborn.
Bold flowers burst bright pink and lift away a fog; flamboyant beauty flirts for view when wind blows chill across my path today.
A Japanese magnolia takes a chance.
Margaret Simon, draft #5
Visit the Poetry Swaggers Sites for more (and better, if you ask me) Terza Rima poems.
Graphic design by Carol Varsalona. She is also hosting today at Beyond Literacy Link.
Living on the bayou gives me a daily view of seasonal changes. We have a huge cypress tree that drops its needles all over the back deck when the days grow shorter. They burst out in bright neon green as the days grow long.
While cypress respond to daylight, other plants respond to temperature changes. On my morning walk, I’ve been watching a Japanese magnolia bursting into bloom. Maybe it’s just me, but I think it blooms earlier and earlier each year. The beauty is striking. I used the tree as a subject for my Poetry Friday offering for tomorrow.
One way I pay attention to seasonal changes is to write poems. I am writing every day with #100daysofnotebooking and with Laura Shovan’s February poetry challenge. When I commit to a social media group, I have accountability, so I get it done.
On Saturday, I wrote a quick notebook draft responding to the quote by Robert Louis Stevenson “There is no music like a river’s”
Listen to the cry of mother wood duck, clicks of red-headed woodpecker on the old oak. Hear the train whistle in the distance, and the peaceful ringing of wind chimes.
The bayou wakes up slowly on this winter Saturday playing its music for the clouds welcoming first sun, first light, new day.
Did you know that Wednesday, Jan. 29th was National Curmudgeons Day in honor of W.C. Fields’ birthday? I didn’t either until I got an email from Jen Laffin’s blog Teach Write. Jen listed some great writing prompts to use with your students.
My students loved this. I loved giving them a word they didn’t already know, which is a challenge when teaching gifted kids. In their notebooks, they wrote poems and character sketches as well as drew pictures of Grumpy Cat, Oscar the Grouch, and the two old men from the Muppets.
I reminded them of the poem form, definito, which was created by my friend and fellow poetry swagger, Heidi Mordhorst. A definito is a poem of 8-12 lines that defines a word and ends with the defined word.
I worked on this poem playing with a rhyme scheme. Writing this poem cheered me up, out of curmudgeonliness.
National Curmudgeons Day Definito
When your day starts out in slush and mud, When nothing seems quite right, When your cat scratches drawing blood, When you’ve already lost the fight, When all you want to do is rest or hide, just slam the door, You can’t suppress your grumpiness; Your mom says you’re a boar. Your face turns green and grouchy, shoulders glum and slouchy. It may be better to stay in as you are a curmudgeon.
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Over the weekend news traveled quickly of Kobe Bryant’s untimely death and the heart-wrenching revelation that his 13 year old daughter died with him. I’m not a huge basketball fan, but I knew my students would come Monday talking about this tragedy. So when I saw Sara Ahmed’s tweet, I took notice.
This is the piece of writing that got me hooked on the @PlayersTribune
This is the piece of writing I would share with students on Monday to remember #KobeBryant
I copied Kobe’s poem Dear Basketball. We talked about Kobe, about the accident, and read aloud the poem. Later in the day, I saw a Facebook post of this video, so my last class watched the video as well.
As a writing prompt, I told my students they could write a letter to something they love or write a letter to Kobe from his basketball. This prompt worked especially well with my boys. I want to share three of my students’ poems.
Dear Kobe
From the first time you made me from a ball of socks and threw me into a hoop,
I knew that you would become one of the greatest. I knew that you dreamt of being one of the greatest, by how you put your heart and soul into me, day and night, never resting. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into me.
You worked day and night, making shot after shot after shot after shot, until you were finally able to put on that Lakers jersey with me in your hand, doing the thing you love the most.
I am grateful for all the years we spent together, but as you grow older, your body isn’t into running up and down the court, throwing the ball into the hoop, but I know your heart will always be with me forever and ever.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Kathryn down under at her website.
When I started #100DaysofNotebooking with my students, I couldn’t imagine that we would be reading and writing poetry every day. But poetry is where my radar goes, and a good poetry prompt for me is also good for my kiddos.
Thanks to Ethical ELA, I had many ways to lead my students into writing this week. The prompts are still up on the website, and I highly recommend them. Writing together day by day helps me and my students to be vulnerable together. From this prompt, we wrote poems about loved ones who have passed away. My students touched me with their honesty. They had to bear with me choking up when I shared this poem about my dear friend Amy:
Amy Who inspired by Abuelito Who by Sandra Cisneros
Amy who looked like Sandra Bullock but better, whose smile glowed a mile away, who wore a crown with grace when she threw beads to the crowd, whom you may call a social butterfly, but her conversations were real; she didn’t stray from the tough stuff, and laughed aloud at funny happenstance, who held my grandbaby the last time I saw her, tears in her eyes as she said, “I will never have this.” Who faced cancer with wisdom, never giving up while knowing all the while her body was, who left us all missing her, whose joy lives on, and her smile.
Margaret Simon, draft 2020
This photo of Amy from the first Berry Queen Ball in 2008 stays on my my refrigerator.
A prompt from Teach this Poem led me to a video of “Imagine” by John Lennon. Sadly, most of my students didn’t even know who he was, much less the song. But this freshness caused them to be open and creative in their writing.
The world breaking into countries some people can only imagine while others can do something. We would want our world to be like clouds in the sky staying together to make a huge crowd shouting and singing. They contain heaven where everyone lives in peace not separating their clouds. We don’t want our world to turn into nothing
Jaden, 4th grade
Photo from PIxabay
No reason, to kill or die for. Imagine, I might be called a dreamer, but there are others who think the same. I hope some day… you’ll join us, a brotherhood of man… No need for greed or hunger. Imagine us all living and loving,
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Warning: This is another shameless Grandmother post. I received a wonderful gift from a friend, “Letters to My Grandchild”. It’s a little book with envelopes to tuck letters into. I love this idea because those books that you write in intimidate me. What if I mess up? This little book is just envelopes, so I can do multiple drafts before I place them into the book. Thanks, Dani!
I’ve been reading Ordinary Hazards by Nikki Grimes. This book will tug at your heartstrings as Nikki overcame a terrible childhood bouncing around in foster homes and facing her mother’s alcoholism and schizophrenia. The memoir is constructed with poems and notebook entries. Each poem is a poem in and of itself. Because of this, I can share poems from the book with my students without having to read the whole book to them. The content can be too tough for my young students.
On Thursday last week, I shared the poem “The Mystery of Memory #3”.
Think food, and nourishment comes to mind, but we all know it’s so much more. One bite of pineapple, and my tongue sticks to the roof of memory, gluing me to the last moment I savored a slice of pineapple upside-down cake at my grandmother’s kitchen table.
To read the complete poem, read Ordinary Hazards by Nikki Grimes.
One of my poems came out as another grandmother joy poem.
Think baby, and crying comes to mind, that piercing sound first heard as life. But we all know it’s so much more. So many firsts– first bath first smile first step first word.
When you send me a picture or video text, my heart swells with joy. Something new, something yours, now mine. A tiny finger wraps around my finger tingling with love.
Margaret Simon, after Nikki Grimes
A gummy Thomas smile to warm your heart.
My second grader Rylee is not yet worried about line breaks, but she heard the rhythm and sentiment of Nikki’s poem and wrote this (hands off from me) in her notebook.
by Rylee, 2nd grade
With line breaks by me:
Think of you buying a cake saver for your mom, and she’s going to open it, then she knows what it is. She likes it, then she is so happy that she bakes a cake.
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 