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Archive for the ‘Poetry Friday’ Category

Spiritual Journey and Poetry Friday: Simplicity

Posted in Poetry Friday, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged , , on January 7, 2026| 3 Comments »

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?

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!Click here to enter

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Poetry Friday: This is January

Posted in Photography, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , on January 2, 2026| 16 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core

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.

Even in January…

Margaret Simon, draft

Winter cypress, photo by Margaret Simon

Here is how other Inklings answered the prompt:

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Mary Lee @A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Catherine @Reading to the Core

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Poetry Friday: Ekphrasis “I’m Fixed”

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , on December 19, 2025| 12 Comments »

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, draft

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Poetry Friday: Winter Hope

Posted in being mamére, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on December 12, 2025| 18 Comments »

Fellow Inkling Linda Mitchell has the round up today at A Word Edgewise.

Winter Hope
Winter has come
with rain upon rain.
Mud bank creeps
as bayou sneaks
higher and higher
with each downpour.

Water, water, water
is all we hear until a cloud white
egret steps softly into view.

Look! Look!
We call the toddlers to the window.

They see with new eyes of wonder.

I see with new eyes of wonder.
See! See!

Margaret Simon, draft

Great white egret on Bayou Teche, photo by Margaret Simon

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Spiritual Thursday and Poetry Friday: Advent

Posted in Poetry Friday, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged , , , on December 4, 2025| 18 Comments »

Spiritual Journey posts are gathered by Jone MacCulloch
Poetry Friday is gathered this week by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem.

Advent is here! Our priest announced last Sunday, “Happy New Year” because the Episcopal liturgical year begins with Advent. Jone inspired us to write about the Advent words- hope, peace, joy, and love.

For Spiritual Thursday, I offer an image poem for each word of advent.

If you are interested in joining the Spiritual Journey posts each month and hosting one month, fill in this Google sheet or send me an email.

For the first Poetry Friday each month, the Inklings do a challenge. This month Heidi asked us to write a letter to an article of clothing. Last year, I bought a cozy robe at the L.L. Bean store in Maine. The weather has turned dreary and cold here this week, so my robe is doing its job keeping me warm. I didn’t write a letter, though. I took an idea from fellow Inkling Molly Hogan to write a Wordle haiku with the three words I guessed today. If you haven’t done Thursday’s puzzle yet, you can come back later.

Blue plush peace fleece
a strip of fake fur cuff
Tulip in winter.

To see how other Inklings did the challenge, check out their posts.

Heidi
Catherine
Molly
Mary Lee
Linda

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This Photo Wants to Be Grateful

Posted in Blogging, Photography, Poetry, Poetry Friday, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , , , , on November 27, 2025| 19 Comments »

Crocheted tree wrap on the streets of Denver

I am happily home and cozy after being in Denver for a week of busy (NCTE) and, after Jeff came, walking. We clocked over 20,000 steps on Monday.

Today I am taking a day off before my family comes for Friday Thanksgiving. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank the poetry community, so wonderfully kind and generous. Some of you I hugged and talked to at NCTE. Others of you stop by this blog and give support through comments. Reflections on the Teche (pronounced Tesh) is my happy place because of you, my readers.

Today’s photo is a crochet-wrapped tree. I’m using a free verse form today following a prompt from Joyce Sidman after her book Dear Acorn, Love, Oak: a compliment, a question, and a wish.

A Tree that Grows in Denver
Single crochet,
double crochet,
cluster-hills & valleys,
green, pink, purple
blooming round
a tree that juts from concrete.
Your colors give warmth
when times are tough.
Will you twirl with me?
I hope your dancing colors
fill the gloom with bright
like a vine that’s lost control
and only seeks the light.
(Margaret Simon, draft)

Poetry Friday will be gathered at Buffy Silverman’s blog.

If you are feeling the muse of this photo, leave a poem draft in the comments. Support other writers with your responses.

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Poetry Friday: Poem to Remind Myself

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , on November 14, 2025| 19 Comments »

The Poetry Friday Roundup today is with Carol at The Apples in my Orchard.

A quick post this morning as I dash off to teach 5th graders at The Hilliard Museum. The museums in Lafayette are hosting 5th graders this month, and I have the privilege of doing the creative writing portion of their tour. It’s fun to be teaching again.

Susan Thomsen challenged poet-teacher folks to write after Donika Kelly’s poem “Poem to Remind Myself of the Natural Order of Things.” The challenge was to write about a popular viral video, but I went rogue and wrote a poem to remind myself why I retired.

This was a quick draft in the early pre-dawn hour.

Poem to Remind Myself of the Reason I Retired
after Donika Kelly

Observe the sun rise
over the bayou where water
evaporates into a misty cloud.

Open the door to the scent
of sweet olive and look
for a chickadee nest.

Call your daughter
while she drives to work.
She has time to talk honestly
without background kid noise.
She speaks the words,
“I love you.”

O Margaret, you are still yourself.

Margaret Simon, draft

Bayou morning photo by Margaret Simon

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Poetry Friday: Inklings Challenge

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , on November 7, 2025| 23 Comments »

Poetry Friday is being gathered today by Laura Purdie Salas.

It’s the first Friday of the month and time for the Inklings Challenge. This month’s prompt is from Linda Mitchell who challenged us to respond to Ethical ELA’s September 2025 Open Write by Kelsey Bigelow: “What is the happiest thing you’ve ever tasted?”

This was a lucky break for me because I already had a draft written, so with my Inklings thoughtful comments, I revised and have a poem to offer today.

My husband was born and raised in Cajun country where they ask, “Who’s your mama? Are you catholic? And can you make a roux?”

I don’t have to learn to make a roux because when it comes time to make a gumbo, Jeff is the best! Just last weekend when the air finally turned cool enough, he made the first gumbo of the season. Around here, when the cold front comes in, the weather man announces, “It’s gumbo weather!”

For our family, Black Friday is the day for making turkey and sausage gumbo. This year we may skip the Thanksgiving and go straight to the gumbo. Making gumbo takes two days. On the first day, you make the stock and the next day combine the stock with the roux. It’s a slow process. It takes patience and dedication.

Black Friday Gumbo

The happiest thing I’ve ever tasted
is your gumbo,
A slow stew on Thanksgiving night
in a stock pot of left-over turkey bones, 
the trinity of bell pepper, onions, and celery.

Scented steam perfumes the kitchen.
Friday morning chill is heated by oil and flour
you stir for what seems like an hour
waiting for the brown of peanut butter.

Hunched and humming, listening to the game,
you stand taller
and hand me a spoon to taste.
Our love is certain in this simple touch

of lips to wooden spoon. 
That first sip tingles on the back of my throat
like our first kiss, longing and true.

Margaret Simon, draft

To see how other Inklings approached this prompt:

Mary Lee
Linda
Heidi
Catherine
Molly

Laurie Patterson, Getty Images

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Poetry Friday: Wordle Poem

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , on October 24, 2025| 18 Comments »

Patricia Franz has the Poetry Friday Round Up today.

Some of my Inkling writing group friends have been inspired to write poems using Wordle guesses. I’ve tried a few times, but as a person who plays Wordle infrequently and always starts with the same word, the practice didn’t appeal to me.

Mary Lee’s rule is when she guesses in three words, she writes a haiku. Yesterday I got it in three tries. I wrote the words down, pearl, rival, and drill, and went about my day.

Newly retired, I’ve found the mornings to be a sanctuary. I take a walk with my dog, fix a pot of oatmeal, and eat on my back deck watching birds. Oh, the retirement life!

At the feeder, I get a variety of birds. (Tufted titmouse, chickadee, cardinal) The thing about using Wordle words forces a metaphor that may or may not work. I was finally pleased with this one, so I am sharing today. Have you tried writing Wordle poems?

A pearl of titmouse
rivals chipper chickadee
early morning drill
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: For the Trees

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on October 17, 2025| 17 Comments »

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is with Sarah Grace Tuttle.

I have lived in the same neighborhood for 21 years, and for all of that time, there was an empty lot in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. This empty lot was my crossover space for walking from my street to a neighboring one that also follows the bayou. The crossover lot was also a picnic area with my grandkids. Together we named where the live oak drapes nearly to the ground “the forest”.

Earlier this week I walked to the forest with my grandkids. Many of the oak limbs were gone! And the rest of the trees had big white X’s on them.

“Mamére, what will happen to the trees?”

“Someone bought this lot, so they are taking down the trees to build a house.”

“So where will we play?”

Sadly, I had to explain that when someone buys their own property, they can do what they want with the trees.

I wish it weren’t true. My heart is sick over this loss.

Leo and Stella pause to pose in the old branches of the live oak in our “forest.”
What is left of the tall sweet gum where we collected leaves and gum balls.
This old cedar is the next to go.

The National Writing Project annual Write Out with the National Parks Service is happening now. Consider taking time outside to write and post with #writeout.

Prompted by Pádraig Ó Tuama’s invitation to write about a place you know go to, I wrote a poem for the trees.

Paradise Woods on Duperier Oaks

This one is for the trees
on the empty lot,
the tall sweet gum
forever littering the street
with spiked balls
and feathery leaves,
felled
for a concrete driveway.

I weep as I pass the old oak 
whose branches, trimmed
exposing bare skin and bones,
once held children
the “forest” where they played
hide-n-seek, Catch-me-if-you-can.
If I could, I’d save you now.

Old growth cedar, I apologize
that the invasive sound of chain saws
disrupts your silent steeple.

I praise trees,
your seeds send roots, 
and secrets.

Trees, you are our saviors.
Forgive us.

Margaret Simon, draft

Please head over to Laura Purdie Salas’s site where she features my little Wood Duck Diary and a tanka poem. Thanks, Laura!

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