Poetry Friday Round up is Here! Scroll down to add your link.
One of the pleasures of summer is fruit in abundance. My fridge is full of strawberries, blueberries, apples, watermelon, and more. Fruit is how I satisfy my sweet tooth.
I had surgery three weeks ago. My friend and fellow Inkling Molly Hogan sent me some strawberry jam with strawberries she picked herself on a farm in Maine. I have been so touched by how wide my circle of friends reaches.
Looking at this poem again, I want to adjust that last line. Maybe delete it altogether. My thought was to have color in my face, but it could be associated with blood (yuck!). My grandson Leo loves to talk about bleeding. He wanted to see my belly button scar. Maybe he will grow up to be a surgeon.
But I digress. Friends, please put your links in the Inlinz below. Thanks.
For years I tried sudoku and failed over and over. I left a whole puzzle book halfway completed. As the puzzles advanced in difficulty, I gave up. I find comfort in words. I find confusion in numbers. It’s just how my brain works. So when Heidi challenged the Inklings to write a Sudoku poem, I put it off. Heidi was inspired by Mary Lee who was inspired by a Rattle poem.
My inspiration came from these things in my life:
My daughter in New Orleans wants to grow things. She planted wildflowers and she was so proud of how they bloomed, but now the heat is killing them.
Molly Hogan, an Inkling and friend, sent me some strawberry jam. She posted about strawberry picking on her Slice of Life post this week.
My husband and I went dancing. We love dancing. I wore a flowing colorful dress.
How do you fit all of those experiences of delight into one grid? I tried. Here is my experiment. I think it’s important to remember this is a puzzle, so some of the lines will puzzle the reader. I think that’s okay. Let me know if you try out this form.
Poetry Friday is being hosted by Linda Mitchell. She is offering a clunker line exchange. Such a fun idea for poets.
Last weekend, two of my daughters and I went to an adorable antique shop in Ridgeland, MS called Antique Aly. We wondered aloud if Aly was the owner’s name and sure enough, when we walked in, we met a cute little southern girl named Aly. Aly helped me make a difficult decision. The first thing I spotted was a Eudora Welty book that was bound in leather and signed. It was locked in a glass cabinet, so I asked her about it. She opened the cabinet while I told her how I met Eudora Welty when I was in high school. I attended a reading and spoke to her afterwards because I was doing a paper about her. I remember her kindness and willingness to talk to a shy teenage admirer.
Aly wasn’t all that impressed, but she was willing to text the seller to see if he would come down on the price of the book. I paid the high price anyway because it was a hard day, and I wanted it. Of course being a woman of my generation, I immediately felt guilty about spending that much money on a single book.
This week I talked with a friend about it. She understood retail therapy. She said, “You deserve to do something good for yourself, something that has a special meaning to you. Go home and give the book a kiss.”
I used a clunker from Linda: “Catch a falling word, hold onto it.” And wrote this little poem:
I Bought a Signed Eudora Welty Book at an Antique Store
Catch a falling Word, hold onto it, Love it, Covet, Share some tea with it. Understand the word is not yours to own forever, so kiss it with lipstick on and set it free.
Margaret Simon, draft
I am still fundraising for the Alzheimer’s Association in honor of my mother’s 87th birthday. If this touches your heart, consider a donation. I’m making beaded bracelets for a donation of $50 or more. Here is a link to my donor’s page: http://act.alz.org/goto/honordotgibson
I recently read somewhere that students hate the word “prompt” as it is used for daily journaling. I don’t agree. A prompt for me can be the fuel I need to get a Poetry Friday post up.
I subscribe to Poets & Writers The Time is Now. I don’t respond every week. But this week the prompt reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago when I was considering a memoir in verse. It’s still sitting in my documents waiting, potential for something bigger, maybe. The prompt asked me to write a poem using a favorite song as a title and writing the memory that it brought forth.
In my senior year of high school, our house in Jackson, Mississippi was flooded 5 feet by the overflowing Pearl River. It was a time of great loss as well as many blessings and lessons about loss. The first album I bought after the flood was James Taylor’s Flag.
My memory of that time has aged along with me. My brother and I are 15 months apart. I recall feeling a growing closeness to him that I hadn’t felt before. We were in this tragedy together. Currently as we face the fading memory of our mother, we are again dealing with a tragedy together. And it may help the meaning of the poem for you to know that he is a musician who has been holding a real microphone for 40 years.
Up on the Roof
Across town in South Jackson because North Jackson was under water, James Taylor sang on the brand-new record player we bought with the Red Cross money.
Listening, I imagined stairs to a roof, romantic evening sky, holding hands with a boy I didn’t feel safe with, daring to kiss in the dark.
Instead, my brother pulled me back to dance in PJs across floor mattresses. With no one watching, he held a shoe for a microphone.
This first Friday of June, the Inklings are being challenged by Molly Hogan who wrote, “I’m always startled by the dazzle of color that arrives in spring after months and months of blues and whites and greys. This month I’m inviting you to write a color poem.” Little did I know that I would be having cataract surgeries on May 23rd and 30th, so the attention to color would be all the more brilliant. I can see such vivid yellows, greens, and reds I feel I have been looking through a clouded glass bottle for a long time.
I found inspiration in this poem by Eileen Spinelli :
I have a collection of red flowers all around my house, hibiscus, bougainvillea, lily, and desert rose. I shared my first draft with the Inklings. Linda suggested that I turn my red poem upside down. It worked. Sometimes others can see more clearly what the poem needs to be.
Dropping a smoothie sent me over the edge. I was trying too hard to hold it all, and the weight shifted. Everything fell out of arms and undid me. Return to Presence, my Enneathought of the Day says, but a return to presence meant I needed to start over.
Give me a task, a group of fourth graders to watch over. I can count to ten, but I can’t climb down from the bleachers. I can sit on the floor with them to eat lunch, but I can’t get back up. Know thyself. Be true to who you are.
A body that is running on fumes of a school year. A plate that is toppling, balanced on a single finger.
Among the smiles of graduates on Facebook, I found a poem, a gift of Mary Oliver whose wisdom buoys me, “How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem.” Comfort me, oh poem. Be with me, in me, over me. Help me walk back into school today another day in May.
Margaret Simon, flash draft because I’ve been too busy to spend any time on crafting a poem.
May as a teacher is the hardest month of the year. Emotions are heightened. We are trying to squeeze in field trips, fun day/water day, ceremonies, awards, grades, and all the other seemingly endless paper work. It’s overwhelming. I didn’t have a poem ready for today, so I just did what I do best, open the blank blog post and write straight from my gut. This stress will be over soon, and I will settle into the relaxing days of summer. But today, there is much to do and little time to get it done. I’m sure you know what I mean. All my best to all the teachers out there just trying to make it to the end still smiling, still loving their job, and still being their best selves.
Waterfall exhibit at the Hilliard Museum in Lafayette, LA.
Last year on Mother’s Day, we gathered for my father’s funeral, all together, happy to have each other to hold. I am a mother who is blessed to have two living mothers, my own and my mother-in-law, who said years ago when someone called me her daughter, “I’ll claim her.”
A long line of belonging begins with mothers to me to my three daughters to their children. We are miracles dancing beside each other.
My brother texted me a video this week of my mother with her assisted living friends in a circle singing “Amazing Grace.” I responded, “When I am old, I want to sing hymns.”
My mother-in-law (affectionately called “Minga”) recites the 23rd Psalm in French every night before she sleeps.
Every night, my daughter reads Madeline to her daughter, “In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”
There is a song inside of me that I wrote after Joni Mitchell for my granddaughter June. She doesn’t know it yet, but I hope she will one day.
Little June
after Joni Mitchell’s “Little Green”
Born with the moon in solstice. Choose her a name she will want to say. Call her June so December cannot freeze her. Call her June for the rosy warmth of her skin. Little June, be a strong butterfly.
Just a little June like the brightness of a summer’s day. There’ll be dandelions to pick for Mom tomorrow. Just a little June like when sprinklers make the water spray. There’ll be bicycles and birthday bows And cousins you will follow.
Margaret Simon
Baby June with my daughter, Martha in a field of bluebonnets.
Today Poetry Friday is hosted by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.
Happy May! May is a time for flowers. Let me interrupt this poetry post with a gallery of flowers.
Purple salvia in the butterfly garden, red canna returned from winter, and begonias at Walmart on May Day
On May Day I stopped at Walmart just to see what they had in the Garden Center. I was wowed by coral pink and yellow begonias, a whole display of them that seemed to be punished. I had to climb over the back of the display to get to them while a worker totally ignored me because she had to put together a grill. How did she not notice the beauty that was right in her way? I only rescued five of them, but I wanted all 50! I gave away each one to people in my life who have been shoulders for the weight I carry.
Last week my student and I planted a butterfly garden in a vegetable garden box abandoned by the 4-H Club. Lowe’s gave her $200 to shop with. The purple salvia is singing to the butterflies. We haven’t seen any yet, but we are keeping the soil moist so that all our plants can thrive and invite them.
This first Friday of May, Linda Mitchell invited the Inklings to write:
Write a poem from your O-L-W for 2023 Or Find a piece of artwork that has a word(s) embedded and write an ekphrastic poem inspired by the piece Or Go to Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day (any similar site) and be inspired by a word from there Or Just write a poem–about anything that needs to be written.
Linda Mitchell, a generous open prompt for the crazy month of May
An author-friend suggested I subscribe to Kelly Bennett’s newsletter, Fishbowl, in which she prompts a 7 minute writing each week. I responded to her prompt using a May Sarton poem “Bliss” as a model poem. I borrowed a few words and was on my way. The photo is a word card that Linda M sent me for National Poetry Month, so I basically hit all points of the challenge.
The Kidlit Progressive poem for 2023 is archived here. I decided to archive the poems together, so scroll down to find 2023. Thanks to all who participated. What a fun adventure into the forest!
This has been an April full of poetry. In between the dreaded test prep, I have offered my students poetry breaks. I pulled out all of my poetry books and let them dig in. We also wrote some poetry. My students, when they hear the word poetry, breathe a sigh of relief and joy. I am lucky they are young and haven’t been stained by the bee that says poetry is hard.
We’ve watched a few of Allan Wolf’s Poetry Month videos. They are all on YouTube. It’s like having him visit my classroom with all his humor, antics, and natural Po-Love. My students loved watching him juggle while teaching them about dactyl meter. Sadie, 4th grade, is writing her own poems using dactyl meter.
My emotional bees
Make me want to have pet fleas!
My emotional bees
They just never seem to ease!
Sadie, 4th grade
My third grade student, Avalyn was drawn in by Marilyn Singer’s reverso poems in Mirror, Mirror and Follow, Follow. I sent Marilyn a message on Instagram, and she sent us a “Tips for Writing Reverso Poems.” Avalyn borrowed a few lines and created a poem of her own. We discovered reversos are really hard to write well.
Very pleasant, happily ever after. Luggage is packed. You sob. Nobody is there.
Nobody is there, you sob. Luggage is packed. Happily ever after, very pleasant.
Avalyn, 3rd grade
Each week I present This Photo Wants to be a Poem on my blog and with my students on Fanschool. You can see their Prime Number Haikus this week at this link by clicking on the comment button at the bottom of the page.
Prime Number Haiku
Bubble Blossoming Grows great and strong but Will not stay for very long You try to win but you will pop very soon
Adelyn, 4th grade
April has been a wonderful month of poetry. Thanks to all of our Poetry Friday friends who have contributed to the Kidlit Progressive Poem which is still traveling, almost done. Today it’s at Karin Fisher-Golton.
I am keeping all of my daily poems in a slide show. Here’s my own Prime Number Haiku which was a prompt from Ethical ELA.
I was introduced to Jessica Whipple by my friend Irene Latham. What a delight to read her new picture book “Enough is” illustrated by Nicole Wong. Enough was my One Little Word for 2022. When I need to remind myself that I am enough and I have enough, I wear the bracelet that bears the word. Jessica took this idea and stretched it into love in a picture book. “Somewhere between a little and a lot, there is Enough.”
The child character is learning about enough. “Enough isn’t a number,” so she wonders, what is enough? She comes to the profound conclusion that when you have enough, it’s easy to share.
I asked Jessica to answer some questions about her author’s journey to publication. Her book Enough Is published this week.
How would you describe your journey as a writer?
My journey as a writer began as an experiment! I’m a “try it and see what happens” kind of person. In short, I had an idea (out of which came my first book, ENOUGH IS…), and then the question “I wonder if I can write a picture book?” And soon after, “What does it take to publish a picture book?” I was a young-ish mom, so picture books were starting to fill my consciousness! And I have a degree in communications, and so writing has been part of my make-up for some time. Four, maybe five years later, here I am and I never expected to answer my first two questions in such a delightfully surprising and satisfying way.
How does writing poetry help when writing a picture book? How are they different?
There are similarities in form between a free verse poem and a picture book, and of course a rhyming PB and a rhyming poem. There tend to be short lines in both forms, economical language, a set “flow,” lyricism, introspection, toying with reader expectations…I could go on! In fact, I am working on a virtual or in-person presentation for poetry-loving highschoolers about this topic. Shameless plug: I would love to speak to your student literary magazine or English class!
Is Enough a concept you feel young children have a hard time with? What is your experience with this concept?
Very much, yes! And my own experience is that I have a hard time with it as an adult, even! As a child, I remember the sadness that came after, say, a back-to-school shopping trip and how conflicted I was with the realization it was all just “stuff,” yet somehow I wanted more of it. And now, without limits, I’ll simply keep eating chocolate chips out of the bag if I don’t remind myself that I wrote a book about this very thing! “Enough” is hard because it’s uncomfortable. We want…things, friends, happiness, you name it…so the more we help each other learn contentment, the easier it is to feel comfortable with having enough.
What part of the publishing journey is your favorite? Your least favorite?
Oh man I love querying! And now that I have an agent, Emily Keyes of Keyes Agency, I don’t get to do that anymore! I love the process of doing the same thing over and over again trying for a good result. But I suppose I can keep doing that as I work to promote my books… In terms of my least favorite part of the publishing journey, definitely the waiting!
Do you have any writing rituals that others may find helpful in their own writing?
I wouldn’t say this is a ritual, more of a mindset, perhaps: It doesn’t hurt to ask! For anything! As long as you are respectful, polite, and grateful, by all means, ASK. THE. QUESTION! Maybe it’s, “Is my manuscript still being considered?” Great one! As long as you’ve minded submission guidelines, send a brief email and ASK! Or are you seeking a blurb from an author you love? Say why you admire that author and ASK! I can’t tell you the many times putting myself out there and advocating for myself–not aggressively, but confidently–has led to positive results.
Welcome Jessica to Poetry Friday with your comments. Don’t forget to follow the Kidlit Progressive Poem to Sarah Grace Tuttle’s site today.
And because it’s National Poetry Month and I am writing a poem each day, I have a Zeno about the word Enough. J. Patrick Lewis invented the form using a mathematical pattern of 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1 in which the one syllables rhyme. I’ve been watching ruby-throated hummingbirds fighting over the feeder.
Enough
When I am down, worried about having enough, God sends me hummingbirds flit- flapping free, messengers of “Enough, See!”
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 