Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Scrap metal on the bank of Bayou Teche
Is it trash or is it art? When my grandkids, my husband, and I were canoeing on Sunday, we passed this piece of metal.
“Look at that! It looks like a heart.”
“I want a photo of it.” Jeff knows what that means. He has often rerouted our canoe trips because of my directions to get a picture. I was extra pleased when, by the time we made it back to the “art”, there was a beautiful reflection of it in the bayou water.
I hope this photo inspires you to stop and see. Maybe write a small poem. If you write a poem, share it in the comments and encourage other writers with responses. Today, I wrote a 15 word poem.
If you find still water, place a piece of your heart near; reflect imperfect love. Margaret Simon, draft
If you would like to participate in the Kidlit Progressive Poem for National Poetry Month, sign up in the comments on this post.
Welcome to my weekly photo prompt. A few years ago, Laura Purdie Salas held a weekly prompt called 15 Words or Less. When she decided to stop posting, I took the idea and made it my own. If this is your first time here, the idea is to write a quick, small poem draft in the comments and leave encouraging comments for other writers. I also post this prompt for my students each week on Fanschool. This week we have a break, so they may or may not join in.
I love to look up at the sky. On any given day, the sky can change my mood. On the day I took this picture, the clouds were wispy cirrus clouds that mean high air pressure and cooler temperatures. They are a happy contrast to storm clouds or the grey stratus of a winter day. Even as an adult I enjoy looking for images in the clouds. I took this photo while out on carline duty, so only now do I have the time to see the shapes. Do you do this? Can you find an image in the clouds? What do you imagine?
Did you know there are many names for colors of the sky?
Sky blue colors from Pinterest
Try to use one of the color words in your poem. Today I am writing a cherita. It’s a short form of three stanzas. The first line is one line, the second: two, the third: three. Similar to haiku, a cherita captures a small moment or story.
Carline Duty
Look into the Carolina blue sky.
Find the great white heron with whispering white feathers.
Be curious about the secrets of sky gods who oversee the safety of children. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Metal Sculpture by Ida Kohlmeyer at New Orleans Aquarium
Last week I met our friend from Maine, Molly Hogan, and her husband in the Quarter in New Orleans. She was visiting, and it was Jeff’s birthday, so we took the day off to visit with them during their vacation. One of the things we came upon (in addition to a fabulous walking parade) was a unique sculpture garden outside of the Aquarium of the Americas.
Further research identified these sculptures as being restored sculptures by artist Ida Kohlmeyer (1912-1997). The installation was supported by a grant to the Ogden Museum of Art. The sculptures are titled Aquatic Collonade Maquettes. AI defines this as “a small scale model, or “maquette”, that depicts a colonnade, which is a row of columns typically joined by an entablature, often used in classical architecture to create a covered walkway or part of a larger building.” For more information, click here.
I invite you to write a small poem about this sculpture. In the spirit of shared art, please encourage others with your comments.
I chose to write a cherita poem. A story poem told in three stanzas (1 line, 2 lines, 3 lines).
The collonade invites her in
with a curtsy and a bow, curly flowers in her hair.
She dances in her ocean dream obliviously happy among her aquatic guests. Margaret Simon, draft
Here is another amazing photo from my friend Molly Hogan. She had to work hard to capture this scene. She used bubble mixture and a straw. She said it took patience and that her hands were freezing. Sometimes what looks easy is actually hard work. The reward is in this amazing ice kingdom inside a bubble.
Ice Trees
A magical dome where ice trees rise, multiply– Still frozen kingdom Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments and offer encouraging responses to other writers.
Molly Hogan doesn’t mind cold fingers. She takes amazing pictures around her home in Maine. She posted this one of a male cardinal all puffed up for the cold. The contrast of red on white makes the cardinal stand out. Recently I witnessed a cardinal couple in the fruit tree. The male was on the lookout while the female fed on the ground. It’s sweet how they care of one another.
This is the week we celebrate love with Valentine’s Day. I am sharing a zeno (8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1) for the cardinal which symbolizes many things.
Hope and Renewal: The vibrant red plumage of male cardinals is often associated with vitality, strength, and renewal. Their presence can symbolize hope and the promise of new beginnings, particularly during challenging times.Love and Relationships: Cardinals are known for forming strong and lasting pair bonds. Because of this, they are sometimes seen as symbols of devotion, loyalty, and the deep connections found in romantic relationships and partnerships.(from the birdhouse.ca)
Use any form that works for you and leave a small poem in the comments. Be sure to spread poetry love with comments for others.
Cardinal Zeno
Filling the frozen bird feeder cardinal spy waits for seeds tweets out his call while Mom feeds affectionate bird heart freed. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I subscribe to Georgia Heard’s Heart map newsletter, Heartbeats. Last week she inspired me to use her print outs with my students on Poetry Friday.
We usually analyze a poem and write in the form of the poet or steal a line, etc. But on Friday, after the AR dance, we needed a break. I turned on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. My students spread around the room and played with paper. I was surprised at how focused they became on a Friday!
We’ve returned to our heart maps to write poems from them. Some wrote as Georgia suggested, a letter poem to the thing you love most. Some wrote a poem like Danusha Laméris’s poem The Heart is Not.
James’s heart map
Dear pillow,
You comfort My head Every night And Keep me warm Until It is morning Where the sun Rises. When I go to school I miss you Because You’re my Object with a story. James, 4th grade
Marifaye’s Heart Map
I love how Marifaye took the map idea to a literal design making her heart look like a map. I sent this one to Georgia through Instagram. Marifaye wrote about her cat Carson. I feel partial to this poem because I was involved in matchmaking Marifaye to Carson. Carson was a stray kitten in my mother-in-law’s yard this summer. He was fostered by my friend Corrine. Then Marifaye’s family adopted him. He has found a soft place to land.
My Cat Carson:
How I love you so so much makes me smile every touch you make me happy when I’m sad hearing you purr and watching your tail flap hearing you meow, begging for pets then you take off, as fast as a jet. as soon as someone comes get me I just can’t wait to see my baby my baby cat, Carson. Marifaye, 5th grade
My messy heart map with letter poem draft.
Avalyn was drawn to the model poem by Danusha Laméris.
The Heart is Not
a bowl it’s not something you could just place your thoughts, emotions, memories in until it overflows.
The heart is not a bowl it’s not something you could just discard
The heart is not a bowl it’s not just a pretty decoration. Avalyn, 5th grade
Happy New Year! Today is the Chinese New Year and this year, 2025, is the year of the snake. I am totally afraid of snakes. I even find it hard to touch a photo of a snake. But this year I’m trying on a new skin, a more brave stance toward the scaly beasts. What are they good for?
At a recent art show, I saw this sculpture from nature. Can you find the snake skin? It is fascinating that snakes get to shed their skin in order to grow and change. Snakes symbolize transformation and creativity. How can we as humans “take off our skin” and begin again?
I was reminded of the cherita form in a post yesterday and wanted to offer it for today’s writing prompt. Simply put, a cherita tells a short story in stanzas of one line, two lines, and three lines.
What are your hopes for 2025? What skin do you need to leave behind? Explore with me in a small poem.
Hidden in a bramble of dried prairie grass
A single snake skin looms empty, translucent, urging me
To believe* in the possibility of creative transformation and strength. by Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
As I was driving to school this morning, I wondered if the snow we had last week was all part of a dream. Every time I saw something white, I turned my head. Is it snow? No, there are still white sheets covering plants (ghosts of snowmen) and litter of white plastic (ghosts of snow drifts). But our temperatures are back to normal southern winter, 40-60 degrees, and there are few signs that last week we were covered in snow.
My students were so eager to write about their experience last week, a historic snowstorm. Most reminisced about the snow-people they built. Some wrote a Slice of Life without my prompting. I spoke with a colleague whose students were similarly inspired to write.
Kailyn described her snow-person: “Let’s talk about what my snow woman was made out of. Her eyes were flowers from my mom’s office, her nose was obviously a carrot, and her lips were a jelly belly sour pucker lip. She wore a Mardi Gras scarf, quickly changed to a light up necklace along with a coffee cup in her hand. We stuck a branch of leaves in her head for hair.”
Carson’s mother sent me a photo of him making a snow angel.
Carson, 3rd grade, makes his first ever snow angel.
James, 4th grade, wrote an I am From poem about a photo I posted of a Cajun Snowman.
I am from The winter breeze I am from wearing jackets I am from The chilly snow I am from Drinking hot chocolate I am from Making snowmen
I encouraged my grandson, Leo, to create a journal page about the experiences we had together. His writing is coming along, but most of all, I’m excited that this is something we can do together. You have to love his signature.
I hope all of our children remember this experience, but we know it will fade, as the snow has faded. I decided to create a photobook for our family. No one seems to do photo albums anymore, so with a photobook, I can remember alongside my grandchildren, who are probably too young to remember. Maybe they will. The magical wonderland of Narnia. Our own time warp through the wardrobe.
The full moon greeted me on a frigid morning this week. I don’t think Iphones are great at taking moon photos. This photo with its automatic longer exposure blurred the cloud cover creating an interesting effect, don’t you think? I know I’ve featured moon photos here often. Like ocean view photos, I never tire of the peaceful feeling of a full moon, especially the bright light on a cold morning.
Dawning Wolf Moon
Moon’s perfect circle holds me in her gaze. Her royal crown welcomes dawn.
I look up and belong to her still space. In her light, I find my footing.
Today as I write, I am thinking about word choice. The last line has a few scratches in my notebook. The choices were: I belong to the night I become myself I see light that welcomes me
There are many choices when writing a poem, and I am never sure which one is the right choice, and perhaps they are all good. How do you decide what words to choose? What makes a final draft? Is there really such a thing?
Join me today in writing about the moon (again) or anything else that is needing to be written. I offer a safe place where you belong.
I took this photo from my car window last Saturday as I drove home from Mississippi, from visiting my mom. As I drove farther west, the sun played peek-a-boo in and out of the clouds. I have so many mixed feelings while driving these flat Louisiana country roads. Longing for home while my mother tugs at my heart strings. I have this difficult feeling that I may not see her again mixed with the joy of being with her. She still knows me as someone she loves. Her face brightens when I walk in the room. While I was there, she ate her whole lunch.
Often I find solace in nature, that somehow the natural world knows how I feel and gives me something to hold onto. On this day, it was the setting sun sending rays out from behind the gray clouds.
For our time together writing about a photo, I like to turn to form. Form can give me comfort, too. A safe space to hold my emotions. Today I chose the nonet, nine lines in which each line reduces by one word, beginning with nine. I like how the form looks like a setting sun.
As the sun melts slowly on the horizon, remember your heart is a safe place for love, where even on the coldest winter days, you know you are a child playing peek-a-boo with the sun. Memories of happy smiles fade and lift an inevitable horizon. Margaret Simon, draft
I hope your winter days are giving you some time and space for writing. Please leave a small poem, form or free verse, in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.
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 