Susan Thomsen posted a prompt from David Lehman to use the last line of Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself as a first line to a new poem. I have my grandchildren spending the night, and we read a silly scary story called The Dark Night. I went back to a New Year’s prompt from Pádraig Ó Tuama for a pantoum about the night.
The Dark Night I stop somewhere waiting for you. Footsteps clonking on wooden stairs— Womblike whoosh of your sound machine, Your shadow shape shifts in the low light.
Footsteps tender on wooden stairs. Owl “who-cooks-for-you” wakes; its shadow shape shifts in this low light. Time stands still.
Owl hoots who-cooks-for-you as I breathe your scent before you’re here. Time stands still. Will my love be good enough?
I breathe your sleeping scent. Womblike whooshes from your sound machine. Will my loving arms be enough? I stop somewhere waiting for you.
I received an advance copy of a new poetry book from Eerdmans Books for Young Readers. Have you ever read a book that just feels good in your hands?
Poems for Every Season: A Year of Haiku, Sonnets, and More by Bette Westera offers a number of different poetry forms translated by David Colmer. Each page is a comforting woodcut design by Henriette Boerendans.
Poems For Every Season, publishing date Feb. 17, 2026Woodcut art by Henriette Boerendans
Each poem is a delight of language, form, imagery, and the miracles of nature.
The final poem is a sonnet for February. Just when you think it’s warm enough to go outside and sow some seeds, winter makes another appearance.
Prompted by Susan Brisson in Laura Shovan’s February Challenge to write a Cento poem, I turned each page of this book to find a poem.
Roaming the Seasons
Pale petals drift down Green buds will soon be showing on trees. Velvety bees Carving a nest Buzz by Among the yellow buttercups Clear I need sun Under a blanket of leaves Gathering growing sheltering All curled up in my cozy bed. We like it here and we stay.
Cento by Margaret Simon from Poems For Every Season by Bette Westera, translated by David Colmer.
Today is the first Friday of the month which is time for our Inklings challenge. This month Molly, our PF host today, asked us to follow a prompt to replace word for word of a Wendell Barry small poem. “Like Snow”
In South Louisiana, we don’t get much snow, but winter is a time for fog. One morning I watched the fog floating above the bayou and wrote my poem response.
Like Fog
What if I became a mist
Like the fog, softly, softly
Lifting the day.
Fog on Bayou Teche
To read how other Inklings met this challenge, click below:
This month the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a tricube. The tricube form is 3 syllables, 3 lines, 3 stanzas.
Molly Hogan sent me the list of prompts from the MoSt Poetry Center. The prompt I used was this:
“Write a poem of presence, in terms of being in a particular place and time, or of having a dynamic demeanor (such as in “stage presence”) or a feeling of an unseen spirit. Here’s an example by Arthur Sze, our new U. S. Poet Laureate:
Every year as I begin to set intentions, I get the universal message of presence. I feel presence is essential to peace of mind, but it is difficult to find.
I have a new kayak. Taking the kayak out took some initiative and help from my husband hero. Jeff had the grandkids in the canoe. When I wanted to try to get the kayak out of the water by myself, my grandson Leo said, “Prove it.” That was all the challenge I needed to pull the 60 pound vessel onto the dock. I did it.
First kayak adventure in “Chrysalis.”
Here after Arthur Sze
Be here now Here frog croaks Here wren calls
Be here now Here stalk grows Here tea steams
Be here now Here oar strokes Here strength comes
Margaret Simon
I want to thank Tabatha Yeatts who offered on Poetry Friday last week to do an art piece for our 2026 words. I took her up on the offer. I’m touched and amazed at how this speaks to my intention for the year as well as the tricube I wrote.
Last week I had the privilege of leading a writing workshop for a class of ninth grade girls at the Academy of Sacred Heart in Grand Coteau, Louisiana. The school is located near a pasture of horses and grove of live oaks trees. The drive itself felt sacred even though I was nervous. I have years of experience teaching elementary kids, high school is a horse of a different color. But once I got started and looked into the sweet, kind, and welcoming faces of these girls and their teacher, I felt relaxed and calm.
I felt like found poetry would be an accessible form to share because it is less intimidating than a blank page. What was so exciting for me was each girl wrote a unique poem with a different voice even though the text was the same.
It was Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday, so I pulled a speech that was not as well known as the “I Have a Dream” speech. We read “How Long? Not Long” from the end of the Selma march.
Today I am sharing four of the students’ poems that they gave me permission to publish.
We Will See by Alana
We will see We the free-loving people will one day see the victory rested over their dead bodies and where is our dignity? where is our humanity? when will we see? how long? not long we will one day see that will be the day of man as man and we will all be free We will see
Electrify our hearts for the understanding of friendship by Zelie
When the powerful understanding of friendship itself comes into our lives, and the universe wants to see us wounded, When society fears to live in the truth of the dim unknown, and when we may no longer have that passionate star that shines before us, Let us become electrified by the majestic face of friendship and the confrontation of good and evil. Face the danger. Look it in the eye and keep marching on because, though we are tired, our souls and hearts are rested.
We Have Walked by Anna
We have walked through desolate valleys across trying hills.
We have walked on meandering highways and on rocky byways.
We have walked.
“Well, aren’t you tired?”
We have walked and our feet are tired.
We have walked but our souls are rested.
We have walked.
Man as Man by Kaylyn
My dear friends, who have assembled here from all over the world,
our bodies are tired
but as I stand before you we can say, our feet are tired, but our souls are rested.
They told us we wouldn’t get here.
Out of this struggle, a new idea, more powerful than guns was born.
It witnessed the whole community of Negroes facing terror and heroic courage but, without the vote, it was dignity without strength.
Every race good and evil generated the massive power to turn the whole nation to a new course.
We must come to see not of the white man, not of the black man,
Even though I’m not teaching daily, I still subscribe to Teach This Poem. This week I used the lesson to prompt my own writing. The model poem was Ok, Let’s Go by Maureen McLane and included a painting by Claude Monet, “Impression, Sunrise.” I usually write as the sun is rising, so the artwork echoed for me the sun rising over the bayou. I also used two of the words from my Wordle guess.
Impression, Sunrise by Claude Monet
Dawn School
After Maureen McLane
Dawn school begins without me as it settles sun rays upon still water.
Let’s be here where the teachers are cypress knees and squawking herons.
Sunrise impression is a silhouette hovering over tainted tin of a resting Joe boat
This is the new logo for Spiritual Journey (First Thursday) With a background photo by Molly Hogan.
This is the first 2026 Spiritual Journey gathering. Add your links in the InLinkz at the end of this post.
If you are interested in joining our monthly blogging group, please let me know. If you’d like to host a month, I can send you a link to the Google sheet.
In January, I have noticed that my inbox is full of ways to make myself better in 2026. Challenges, projects, or whatever you call them, I am too often one to jump in and then drop off as the year goes on, especially once spring is here.
I like the practice of choosing a one little word to guide your year. I’ve chosen a word for years now. I even bought a little chalkboard on which to display my word and remind myself all year.
Last year my word was Still. I like how still reminds me to take time to be quiet, to listen, to be here now.
The words that seem to rise up to me tend to be words that encourage stillness and presence. As an Enneagram 4, my challenge is to not yearn for the past or daydream about the future, but to be present.
Last week I got an email from Georgia Heard that included a heart map. One section of the heart was labeled “A word to stand inside.” This section in my notebook says “Choose” then “Trust” then “Window”. I was liking the direction.
In retirement, I am freer to choose what I do with my time. I should trust myself to make good choices. And the view out of my window is quite nice. I could have chosen any of these words.
On Saturday, we had dinner at my daughter Maggie’s house. Maggie pulled out an oracle deck. She said, “We usually do it on Sunday, but since y’all are here, we’ll do it tonight.”
The word card I pulled was Simplicity with a photo of a Lily of the Valley flower. Apparently her kids get to choose again if they get a flower, but not the adults. My husband similarly chose a flower card and his and my messages were very similar, about being present to reality.
Maggie took a photo of the oracle page.
I am not settled on the word Simplicity. Today after a lovely session of lymphatic draining body work, I heard the word Sacred enter in. Sacred honors the here and now, the gift of meditation, and the quiet moments when I can notice God’s unending grace. Maybe this is a year to find a different word each month. What do you think?
This is January. Here we all are on the cusp of a new year. Catherine Flynn, fellow Inkling, challenged our group to write a poem with “This is January” as a title. I guess you could say the prompt has been in my mind since she posed it, but the words of a poem only appeared on my notebook page today. I took it on as a kind of list poem.
This is January
I open the door to let the dog out shiver from the cold.
A quiet hope whispers in a voice I recognize.
I keep dreaming about children playing. Awake now, I’m still humming.
Amaryllis grows an inch each day expectant red blossom.
Carolina wren fusses calling to me to be my first new year bird.
Cypress trees are bare, brown. Their shade is not needed resting, waiting.
My husband remarks, ”If there was a need for cypress needles, we’d be rich.”
We are rich, I think, to be here loving and living each day.
The Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted today by Michelle Kogan.
On Michelle’s post today, she shared photos from participatory art created by visitors at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, titled “Mending Room.”
I was drawn to this photo. I see what looks like the shape of a heart beneath the sign.
Mending Room, photo by Michelle Kogan.
“I’m Fixed”
A heart tied together with strong twine can endure break after break, a shattering even, when love is the tape, twine, and glue.
How grief breaks us, yet leaves us pieced together, whole, the surgery of life.
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 