Kidlit Progressive Poem is moving along with apprehension and worry for our two refugees. See the latest line at Opposite of Indifference with Tabatha Yeats.
Being a part of the Poetry Friday community has given me much to be grateful for. We are writing together a wonderful Progressive Poem. Today’s line is with Denise Krebs and yesterday was Linda Mitchell. I’ve met these poets along with many others through our weekly postings. These posts have led to collaboration on other projects. Linda is a writing group partner and Denise and I are a part of Ethical ELA and a book we are collaborating on. (More on that later.) I would never have met them in real life. The gathering of a like-minded community of writers has all occurred right here with my blog.
This week I attended the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival and had the privilege of presenting with Irene Latham. Irene and I met through Poetry Friday and in person years ago at the Louisiana Book Festival. We’ve presented together before at NCTE.
Irene is such a humble leader. She turns every eye away from herself toward you. She makes everyone in the room feel like confident poets. What joy! You can see our slideshow here.
Margaret and Irene presenting at Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival: “Poetry as a Time Machine”
Next year, you should consider attending the festival in person. They invite the most inspiring speakers. This year I heard keynotes from Lesa Cline-Ransome as well as her talented husband, James Ransome, Cynthia Leitich Smith (Southern Miss Medallion), and Juana Martinez-Neal who won the Coleen Salley Storytelling Award. Jason Chin, deGrummond Children’s Literature Lecturer, impressed me with his curiosity about the world and how that curiosity has led him to illustrating. He won a Caledecott Medal for Watercress. The book that impressed me the most was The Universe in You: A Microscopic Journey (Caldecott and Sibert Honoree). As you can see, the Fay B Kaigler invites some of the best authors and illustrators in the children’s literature realm.
And now for a poem. Following Ethical ELA VerseLove has kept me writing a poem each day. Yesterday’s prompt was an ode to the unworthy. I’ve lived in Louisiana and Mississippi all my life, so I’ve had many hurricane experiences. I wrote an Ode to the Hurricane.
Ode to the Hurricane
As the wild winds swirl together above the Gulf, you become a massive creation threatening a nation.
No matter how we prepare– buy bread, water, flashlights, charge up Sparky, the generator, your fierce presence is feared.
They give you gentle names: Katrina, Ida, Andrew, Camille. Names that will live in history. Names that define an era.
After you pass through, an eerie calm descends upon a community. We band together to feed each other, to clean up destruction you left behind.
Oh, hurricane, you are the hint of end times. Behold your survivors–we tell your story.
This first Friday of National Poetry Month, we have an Inklings challenge brought to us by Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee asked us to write a haiku sequence about poetry without using the word poetry.
I’ve been on an Emily Dickinson kick watching the surreal series “Dickinson” on Apple TV and reading through a dog-eared collection of her poems. When I read Mary Lee’s challenge, I decided to write individual haiku on slips of paper from the pile on the kitchen counter. That way I could arrange them in a logical/ illogical/ artistic/creative way.
random collection of haiku
I played with the order and this is what I have, for now. One of the best parts of writing poetry is revising, so I am open to rearranging and rewording or throwing it all into the flame.
Envelope opens words release into hands timeless treasure
2. Flame rises too high under the white carnation searing joy to ash
3. Whispers of wishes within earshot of your eyes written by my hand
4. Slips of paper feathers folded in hope message delivered
5. Metaphoric company of lacewings urging me to fly
Spider Lily among cypress knees on Bayou Teche, Louisiana
I wanted this swamp lily to be a star lily, but research is telling me it’s a variety of spider lily. On Ethical ELA, the prompt by Wendy Everard asks us to explore the place of a favorite poet. I chose Mary Oliver and a striking line from her poem Fall: “what is spring all that tender/ green stuff”
I’m not sure what heaven is but amazement like spring when all green that was hiding in tender seed fills green bridal bouquets blossoming beautiful stuff.
Margaret Simon, draft
I’m also writing a word poem each day. Today’s word is vernal which means of, in, or appropriate to spring. Today’s form is an acrostic.
Variety of colors eagerly popping- resurrection- nature’s recital. April, I Love you.
To begin our National Poetry Month adventure, start here with the Kidlit Progressive Poem. Today’s first line is with Patricia Franz at Reverie.
At Ethical ELA, Kim Johnson invites us to introduce ourselves using a hashtag acrostic. I was challenged by the repeated letters of my name. Like the spelling of Mississippi, I’ve always enjoyed the way my name repeats when spelled out: M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t.
#Margaret
#Mother of three strong women #Ask me to dance #Romantic hopelessly #Grandmother of four potential difference-makers #Artist of poetry #Reserved until I trust you #Early riser #Teacher of gifted children
I love a good form for poetry and one I’ve played with often is Heidi Mordhorst’s definito. It is a poem of 8-12 lines appealing to children that defines a word. The defined word ends the poem.
Feline flexibility, a natural mystery. That deliciously pink belly bouncing when she runs can’t hide a surplus of fat designed to save her, but try as you might to touch this soft spot, Watch out! She will bite. Don’t touch a cat’s tum-tum… primordial pouch.
I was inspired by Michelle Kogan who wrote a pantoum for a hippo. I recalled the hippos of my Africa tour in 2016. I’ve been reading Margarita Engle’s verse novel Singing with Elephants. I collected lines from the verse and went to work on the pantoum form. This form is like a puzzle. Michelle fit hers together with rhyme. I didn’t use rhyme. When I googled pantoum, there doesn’t seem to be a rule about rhyme or line length. The rules show that each stanza is four lines with this pattern: (1,2,3,4) (2,5,4,6) (5,7,6,8) (7,3,8,1)
The Poetry Sisters respond to a challenge on the last Friday of the month. This month they are writing animal pantoums. Our host Tricia has more about the form and links to other Poetry Sisters posts.
The beauty of an elephant’s hum-hug, a language as common as buzzing bees, simple as spending time with kindness. Elephants embrace us with their music.
With a language as common as buzzing bees, I can catch good luck as it passes. Simple as spending time with kindness, these animals move like magical mountains.
I catch good luck as it passes: Photo from Africa is a touchstone of memory. These animals move like magical mountains with a touch of heavy gentleness.
My photo from Africa is a touchstone of memory, as simple as spending time with kindness– A touch of heavy gentleness– the beauty of an elephant’s hum-hug.
Margaret Simon, with thanks to Margarita Engle and PÁDRAIG Ó TUAMA.
On Wednesday, I met with “The Three Pecans” after school writing club. We walked from the coffee shop to a gallery to see a student art show. I introduced ekphrasis to them, writing to art. I prompted with instructions to either write from observation with description or to enter the art and write from that perspective. All three of us were surprised at how the art drew poetic lines from us. Our poems were deep. We enjoyed reading them to each other and discussing where the emotions came from.
Each time I write with others I am surprised and fulfilled by how quickly we become close and confessional, sharing some of our most vulnerable parts. Poetry is magical in this way, bringing hearts together.
I asked my former student Kaia if I could share her poem today. I was struck by her conversation with her own heart.
This week I met with two local poets, one a former student who is nearing 14, and the other a visiting musician from Argentina who is 26 (I think). We met at a local coffee shop to write poetry together. I brought a poem I received from the Poetry Foundation, To Our Land by Mahmoud Darwish.
To our land, and it is the one near the word of god, a ceiling of clouds
To our land, and it is the one far from the adjectives of nouns, the map of absence
To our land, and it is the one tiny as a sesame seed, a heavenly horizon … and a hidden chasm
We talked about what we noticed. The anaphora of To our Land became our prompt for writing “To Our _______”.
Our discussion was surprisingly sophisticated, so truly engaged in the words, the feelings, and how each of us responded differently. Fran said, “We must do this again next week.” A writing group was formed.
I said, “We need to have a name.”
Kaia looked up at the pecans surrounding us (we were in the Pie Bar of a pecan company.) “What about three pecans?”
To Our Poets after Mahmoud Darwish
To our poets speaking with their pens pencils tearing the page.
To our poets, and he is the one grieving his land a prize of war, a jewel that glimmers for the far upon the far.
To our poets, and she praises the birds, the imagination calling to us announcing our place in a family of things.
To our poets, the ones who gives themselves permission to be poets, folding pages of a notebook that unfold their untold secrets.
And for us who listen and find fresh air to breathe.
Ignorance is not saying, I don’t know. Ignorance is saying, I don’t care.
Unknown, from 365 Days of Wonder
Last week the counselor at our school hosted a teacher group after school. I attended along with my next door neighbor, our speech therapist. We share a space. We usually visit daily, so over the last few years, we’ve gotten to be close friends. In this teacher support group meeting, we were the only ones there along with the counselor.
After some chatting, the counselor showed us a visual of a rose and asked us to share our blossoms, our buds, and our thorns. It was the first time I had experienced the tool, and it really worked. In the safety of her calming space, we talked about good things, hopeful things, and our challenges. Did I mention she had aroma steam and hot herbal tea?
I felt so moved by the experience I wanted to share my appreciation. I worked all week on a collage of roses and wrote an acrostic poem to give her; the least I could do for a totally free group therapy session.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Linda at Teacher Dance.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Hello, March! If I’ve counted right, this is my eleventh year to participate in the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I’ve challenged myself to write a post every day in March. I will also write every day in April because that’s National Poetry Month. I’ve learned that a daily writing practice enriches my life, connects me with others, and makes me a better writer. Thanks to all my readers. You inspire and encourage me.
Today I’m the challenger of my writing group, the Inklings. We each take a turn at creating a prompt for the first Friday of each month. I asked my friends Molly Hogan, Mary Lee Hahn, Catherine Flynn, Linda Mitchell, and Heidi Mordhorst to write persona poems. Persona poems are written in a different voice. The author can speak through an object, another person, an emotion, etc.
I attended a workshop led by Babalwa Tetyana (link is to the YouTube recording) sponsored by Narrative 4. She guided us to write persona poems. I chose to write from the perspective of a portrait of myself at age 12. I sent my draft to the Inklings. They were confused about who the speaker was. Me or me? Yes, it was me. Tricky.
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 