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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

Once again this year I have joined Laura Shovan’s February writing challenge.  Her birthday is this month, and she celebrates by inspiring others to write a poem every day.  I thought this was maybe my third year of doing this challenge, but the other day one of those Facebook memories came up and reminded me that I’ve done this for 5 years.  That’s a lot of poems!

This year’s challenge is writing ekphrasis which is poetry about art.  Every day a participant posts a work of art for us to respond to.  I’ve managed to write each day since the warm-ups started.

I’ve set up rules for myself.  When I see the image on Facebook, I save it and place it in a Google doc.  Then I do not allow myself to read other people’s poems until I’ve written mine. (I cheat on this one.) I write and revise quickly, no overthinking the process, and copy and paste my poem into the Facebook post as a comment.  I comment on at least 3 other poets.  The group has grown to over 100 people, so it’s just not feasible to comment on them all.

Ekphrasis is a good way to inspire poetry because there is no form attached.  You can write in any way you choose, form or free verse, short or long.  You can write a mask poem from the painting/sculpture’s point of view.  You can be on the outside looking in or on the inside looking out.

The flexibility of form appeals to me.  Some days the poems come easily and others I have to let sit a while.  Sometimes I research the artist.  When a sculpture by Rodin came up, I researched and found a quote to work from.  Sometimes I research the topic. I collect words and then write.

Writing a poem a day is a challenge.  But when you are participating in a group of kind responders, the writing is worthwhile and rewarding.  We need each other.  We need to feel a part of something bigger. We need affirmation and acceptance.

One of the most profound for me was Laura’s son Jay’s self-portrait.  Here is the portrait by Jay Shovan and my poem.

Unfinished portrait by Jay Shovan

Unfinished

Deep brown eyes
stare at me,
look through me,
hold me still.

Slashed and dripped
with strokes of green,
baby blue, white
on flesh, each brush
from the palate played

like a piper in a parade
leading me to you,
but all I see now
are your eyes

drawing me into a window
of my own soul. These
are my eyes.

–Margaret Simon, (c) draft 2018

On the more whimsical side was this funny spoon sculpture by Raul Zuniga circa 1971.

Owls three
Smiley, Cranky, and Boastful
perched on a branch of a safety pin.
Bring me your wise ole thoughts
Find me a place to perch
Help me be the Who
I am meant to be.

–Margaret Simon, (c) draft 2018

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For more Spiritual Thursday posts, click over to Donna’s blog, Mainly Write.

The moon and the stars to rule by night: for his mercy endures forever.
Psalm 136:9

I went out on a walk Wednesday morning in search of the moon.  I chased it through the neighborhood trying to capture the eclipse on my phone.  The pictures, of course, do not do it justice.

 

Partial eclipse

Eclipsed moon hides in the trees.

I thought about how this phenomenon fascinates us as Earthlings.  We travel through each day without realizing that the planet is moving and turning and changing, constantly.  We are reminded of our minuteness when a super moon appears in the sky, when that moon is eclipsed by the place we walk upon.

But smallness means nothing to God.  God cares for every particle, every sparrow, every hair upon your head.  Like an eclipse, this goodness and love is hard to imagine, difficult to believe.  So we keep testing it.  Who am I to eat the crumbs under your table, Lord?

The rose on my kitchen table does not wait for me to notice before it blooms. With all my faults, my worries, my stupid pettiness, I am loved and revered as the rose.  God’s love is unconditional and waiting.  All we need to do is say, Yes, Thanks, Wow!*

 

 

  • Help, Thanks, Wow is the title of a book by Anne Lamott.

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Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.

 

Early morning on Friday, I read Poetry Friday blog posts.  I read Irene Latham’s post here.  Her prompt suggestion came from a book that I have on my shelf, PoemCrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge, Chapter 31 “bring me magic.”

Inspired, I grabbed some packs of microwave popcorn and headed to school for Popcorn Poetry Friday!

Even a juice spill couldn’t dampen our poetry spirits.  The prompt calls for a walk outside, but we passed around the object inspiration box I had in the closet.  Each student picked an object to write about.

The instructions: 1. Choose an object; give it a name. 2. What does it look like? 3. Ask the object for a quality or deeper wisdom.

I believe this was the first prompt I’ve used this year that was successful for each student.  I typed each poem into a Google doc and on a whim, sent it to Irene.  Within our two hour class time, she responded.   She wrote a comment of encouragement on each student’s poem.  What a gift! They were thrilled.  Their teacher was thrilled.  Thanks, Irene, for your generosity and kindness.

Austin

Colorful butterfly
inspires the caterpillar
to rise up and fly.
Bring me your inspirational, stress-free life.

Lynzee

Black crayola paintbrush
dark as velvet,
give me your way of bringing color
to any situation
no matter how grey.

Mason

Bald eagle
white and burgundy,
bring me the ability
to soar faster than anyone
even if I mess up.

Andrew

Colorful feather
like the paintings of an artist,
give me a creative mind
like Pablo Picasso.

Trace

A turtle
that swims through the water
as wind does through the air,
bring me hope and peace
in ways as the water flows
through the currents of life.

Dawson

Dear little angel,
give me hope in time of anger and war.
Dear little angel,
enlighten me
with your sparkles and light
that shine so bright
every day and night.

Faith

Discarded flower necklace
connected by the same chain,
bring me your connection.

Like my family
all connected,
bring me gratitude.

Deep inside
a core of happiness,
bring me
your joyfulness.

Erin

Sandy hope
washed up on the shore
of value,
bring me confidence.

Erin extended the writing project and wrote a poem for each of us in the class.  Another amazing gift!  Poetry builds community.

 

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Carol at Beyond Literacy Link.

 

I love to celebrate birthdays in my classroom.  Last week I asked Dawson what he wanted for his birthday celebration, expecting an answer like cupcakes, and he said, “Chalkabration!”  Dawson’s only experienced one chalkabration, but he loved it.

In order to have a chalkabration, we have to write small poems.  I put 5 different form choices on the board: haiku, 15 words or less, zeno, cinquain, diamante, and acrostic. The topic, of course, was ice and snow since we returned this week from a week hiatus due to an ice storm. More than ever before, my students had the experience needed to write about this topic.

Sometimes, my kids blow me away with their poetry.  Austin was not willing to share in the classroom, but he did chalk his poem.  Austin’s been reading books by Jason Reynolds.  I feel like he channeled Jason in his poem.

In every person, their wounds may be bad.
Cold and solid, you can
Either sit and freeze or wake up and melt.

Austin, 6th grade

 

 

 

Cold winter nights Old melting ice Long icicles hanging from rooftops Dangling from trees are the frozen leaves. by Faith

 

This is my zeno poem. Zeno is a form invented by J Patrick Lewis with a syllable count of 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1. Each one syllable rhymes.

Conditions in the clouds above
temperatures of
cold air
low
condensed to form
flutter
flow
tiny icy
crystals
snow

–Margaret Simon

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Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.

 

Not much happened this week.
A layer of ice.
Schools closed.

I stoked the fire.
Carefully added a log or two.
Then let it go out.

Crochet needle looped and looped
a neck warmer for a friend,
prayers for an injured boy.

Ukulele picking.
Hallelujah
From G to E-minor
cramped and challenged
this weak left hand.

Read a book
about Love,
And the face staring back
in the bathroom mirror–
this, too, is love.*

A book about a Fall,
I didn’t look up
I didn’t look down
I just kept on climbing
one step at a time.*

Cooked and cared for
my mother-in-law
recovering from surgery.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
She’s fine, I know.

Wrote a poem
with only a few words,
lifted it up like a paper airplane,
and sent it out into the world.

* Matt de la Peña Love

* Dan Santat After the Fall

 

 

 

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Kay at A Journey Through the Pages.

 

I’ve had a lot of time lately to look out the window.  A hard freeze blew through the deep south, and gifted me with time alone at home on the bayou.  The winter bitter winds do not scare away the water wading birds.  They must be covered in some powerful down.  I’ve watched a particular blue heron, an occasional great white egret, and this morning, a family of wood ducks.

Watching the bayou inspires me to write poetry.  If you come by my blog often, you know this is my ongoing topic.  My blog title, Reflections on the Teche, is informed by the Bayou Teche (pronounced “Tesh”)

Taking a picture of a blue heron is nearly impossible.  They respond to any human activity with flight.  I painted a portrait of one a few years ago after a photo by Ralph Fletcher.  This painting now hangs in my parents’ dining room.

Blue heron painting by Margaret Simon

 

Heron Watching

I stand still
at the window
watching.

Take in slow breath.
No need to pray
when seeing this heron.

He perches,
head down,
beak pointed to

water’s surface
where the sun glimmers
like waves in old glass.

Is it a minnow,
mosquito, moth?
I focus on the horizon,

wonder
what his patience
invites me to see?

Margaret Simon, 2018

My One Little Word for my writing life is Present.  I want to show up to the page every day.  I wrote a post for TeachWrite Chat Blog here. I made a Canva image of my goals for being present thinking of the heron in my backyard and his lessons of patience.

 

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

I am a co-moderator with the #TeachWrite chat on Twitter. (Note the graphic on the side bar.) One of my colleagues in this endeavor is Michelle Haseltine.  Michelle put a photo on Facebook of a journal page from one of her students.  The page was filled with the outline of a jar and words and sketches were drawn inside the jar.

I took this idea and presented it to my students with a Brene’ Brown twist from Braving the Wilderness. 

We all have times when we feel lonely.  Have you ever felt alone in a crowd?  Like you just don’t fit in? There’s no one around who sees you or that you connect with.

We all have these times.  But when we do, we can take with us a jar of things that make us feel joy, make us feel safe.  What would be in your jar?

One student jumped up from her seat to draw a jar on the board.  She labelled it “Our Happy Place Jar.”  Her instructions were for everyone to draw one thing from their jar onto our shared jar.  (I love it when kids respond to the lesson with such leadership and participation.)

My students drew a variety of jars.  Some were filled with specific things from our class, Slice of Life, read aloud, computer (blogging), friends.  Others find joy in nature or family or funny memes.  Whatever their choices, they engaged with the idea and filled their jars.

Near the end of the week, Chloe announced, “Even if I have to throw away this journal, I will tear out this page and save it forever!”  That’s what I call Joy!

Mrs. Simon’s Sea

We are fish,
fish swimming through a treacherous sea,

a book,
open and full,

a nest,
a place of warmth,

a pencil and paper
for expression,

and a poem.

by Lynzee, 3rd grade

Austin’s Double E Jar

Andrew’s Rainbow Jar

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Jan at BookSeedStudio

 

With the start of a new year, I am trying to write a poem a day, or, at the very least, some ramblings in my notebook.  I’m staying away from social media until I write.  But I do check my email.  I receive a poem-a-day from Jane Yolen.  (You can sign up here.)

Jane’s poem begins each stanza with “The lake sings… It sings of…”  Every day the bayou reflects the tone of the season.  This morning as I write, the wind has turned cold, so I hear the echo of the whipping wind through the trees and the wind chimes clinging.  On Jan. 6th when I wrote this poem, the bayou was still and calm.  The trees were reflected perfectly in the water.  The sun was warming the surface of the water.

Bayou Reflections, Jan. 6, 2018. M. Simon

 

The bayou sings of shadows,
reflections of trees
bare and still.

It sings of rising sun
warming a surface
of sky on water.

It sings of herons,
owls, mockingbirds,
a hawk flying high above.

But most of all,
the bayou
sings of peace.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

 

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Poetry Friday round-up is with Catherine at Reading to the Core

 

Brenda Davis Harsham posted a ten word prompt in Laura Shovan’s Facebook Project (which is currently open for new members).  The words came from an article in The New York Times about Maria Callas and the opera Tosca.  I sent it to my mother who is a musician and huge fan of opera.  I asked her, “Did I ever see Tosca?” She responded that she had taken me as a child.

 

La_Tosca_poster_by_Mucha_-_detail

I listened to the recordings embedded in the online article, but nothing sounded too familiar.  I did not inherit the same love of opera, I’m afraid.

But the article, the email conversation with Mom, and the ten words that Brenda selected led me to this poem:

 

 

My mother took me to see Tosca
when I was too young
to know tragedy.

I listened with ears of youth
tuning in to the crazy chords
that flowed in and out
like murmuring birds.

How fragile a single soprano note
hangs on a nightingale’s wing.
The song can wake you
alive to wonder about the night.

The night where silence
plants seeds deep into the soil,
where raw buds feign sleep
waiting for the light of dawn.

Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

 

 

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Click over to Buffy’s Blog for more Poetry Friday.

 

I know the importance of reading nonfiction texts with my students; however, I am not a fan of assigning an essay after every reading, especially in December.  I wanted my students to think critically about the text, to absorb it fully, and to demonstrate comprehension.  So I turned to the found poem.

To write a found poem, the writer must make decisions about which text to keep and connect to.  This requires critical thinking skills. For a found poem to work, the words and phrases need to be placed creatively.

We read “Shattered Sky”, a narrative nonfiction story in the November issue of Scope magazine published by Scholastic.  In this story, my students read about a little known disaster in Halifax Harbor in 1917, one hundred years ago.  They were fascinated.  The author of the text, Kristin Lewis used craft moves to heighten the emotions of the story.  I instructed my students to underline phrases and words that brought about an emotional response.

When we had written and were sharing our writing, Faith said, “I am amazed at how different everyone’s poem is.”  And she was right.  Each one was different.  Each student had found a unique voice.  Each poem reflected a different aspect of the article.

When Andrew posted his poem on our blog, he titled it “I like this poem, so you should.”  Mason thought it was the best poem he’d ever written.

This exercise of finding a poem gave my students confidence to recognize craft moves as well as create a unique piece of nonfiction poetry.

 

Poem for Halifax

December 6th
They ring a bell
The image they see
They want to repel

Children getting ready, grabbing their schoolbooks,
Fathers, ready to work, grab their coats, off the hook.
Dartmouth and Halifax, buzzing with activity,
while mothers make oatmeal, hot and ready.

Two boats, Mont-Blanc and the Imo
With explosives and munitions, ready to blow.
There was no saving them, as far as we know.
Neither ship changed course and tore into the other and
put on a dangerous light show

Orange and blue fire ignited the boats
People rushed to rescue, thought they could help.
They succeeded but some retreated up.

Andrew, 5th grade

Shattered

The water had a thin mist of terror of WWI

The chimney swirled of smoke and ash

The people of Halifax were doing their everyday things

From eating to cooking and going to work

Then a sudden rumble and crackle of the two ships of cargo collide

They rush outside as every thing burst into flames and then boom

A sad tragedy will forever live in our hearts.

Mason, 5th grade

See more found poems at our Kidblog site.

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