This month’s #poetrypals challenge was a new form to me: the cascade poem. I was mesmerized by Molly Hogan’s Slice of Life post on Tuesday. She posted amazing photos of a beach in Maine at sunrise on a very cold morning. I borrowed some words from her post to create a cascade poem about this photo by Molly.
Photo by Molly Hogan
Cascade Golden Morning
Cold. Cold. Single digit cold. Walking the rhythm of the morning, Day breaks to molten gold.
Experience moves me. Bold ripples through me, lifts me. Cold. Cold. Single digit cold.
Still lost in glory dawning, toes throb in rebuke, Walking the rhythm of the morning.
Miniature forests of fairies hold a treasure chest of sparkling jewels. Day breaks to molten gold.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by my new poet-friend, Marcie. She is a master at haiku and sends me a beautiful photo with haiku card each month. Here is the latest one:
out of tree crumbs– tiny mushrooms stake their umbrellas haiku and photo by Marcie Flinchum Atkins
I was inspired to write about Bubbles because my grandkids love to play with bubbles. Aren’t they fascinating? Kim Douillard granted permission for this photo to be included in the book. She takes photos on the beaches of San Diego, California. There is a bubble person who creates amazing bubbles on the beach. I love how she captures the wonder of a huge bubble in her photos.
Photo by Kim Douillard
I want to share my Fib poem. The Fib poem form was created by Greg Pincus using the Fibonacci series for syllable count: 1. 1, 2, 3, 5, 8,…
Blow Big Sturdy Flexible Shape-shifting whispers Large enough for you to ride on.
(c) Margaret Simon, 2023
Consider ordering a copy of this book full of fun poem forms and fibs: Click here.
What is the greatest gift a poetry teacher can ever hope for? A student who keeps writing poetry, even though you are no longer teaching her. You may remember my student Chloe. She’s now in 7th grade and attending another school, but last week she sent me a poem. She told me that she was in Thibodeaux, LA for a gymnastics meet. Her father went to college in the town and showed her the route to where he had lived. He asked her to write a poem about it. And what father do you know encourages the poet-daughter? I was charmed, of course, and asked if I could post her poem here. Please leave encouraging comments for Chloe.
Thibodeaux Turns
Extravagant land that turns your world
The world that grew with you
That rested with you
That prayed with you
Never felt alone with this land
These bodies of water mark journeys in our lives
And heart
And minds
Traveling tree roots that build our homes and house animals that feed us
This air that circulates our bodies and arms and legs
Blowing away our doubts and fears
Bringing us to our pot of gold at the end of our Louisiana adventures
Our sugar cane grounds desperately reaching for the water we provide
It’s a new year for Poetry Friday, so I created a logo using a photo from Henry Cancienne. Henry was the photographer for my book of poems, Bayou Song, and he recently emailed me a slew of photographs with permission to use them on Reflections on the Teche. Thanks, Henry.
Today is the first Friday, so the Inklings have a challenge. Heidi Mordhorst challenged us this month to write about #change. When we met on Sunday, everyone had had a full holiday with little time to write, so rather than critique, we created an exquisite corpse poem together. Each person wrote a line and sent it to the next person on a private chat message. After we had each had a chance to respond with a line, we shared the whole thread. Mary Lee was the experienced one at this process, so she placed the results in a Google doc with the instructions that we could manipulate the lines to create our own poem.
I drew bubbles in my notebook and placed each line inside a bubble to give myself the freedom to move around and play with the words and phrases. I like what I have for now. It was a fun exercise. I can’t wait to see what my other Inklings did with the original poem. Here is mine:
#Change (like the wind)
The wind unwinds us day by day shifting clouds, shining light, casting shadows.
When we choose to wander, submit like leaves on the forest floor and understand without challenging the direction of the wind, we can walk where steps and stones still lie.
Margaret Simon (with Mary Lee Hahn, Molly Hogan, Heidi Mordhorst, Catherine Flynn, and Linda Mitchell)
Book Announcement: Along with many of my Poetry Friday friends, I have poems in the just released “Two Truths and a Fib” anthology from Bridget Magee. I wrote about bubbles. I’m excited to be a part of such a fun collection. Check it out!
For the Christmas season, I have decorated my classroom doors (I service 2 schools) with a Christmas tree, but they’re not typical Christmas trees. They’re Grati-ku Poet-trees. Each day since Thanksgiving break, my students and I write a gratitude poem on a paper ornament.
Our Grati-ku Poet-Tree
We are reading daily Santa Clauses (a book of haiku written by the man himself) by Bob Raczka. These poems are inspirational to us and help us see the different ways to create a haiku poem. A complete sentence, a metaphor, a moment in time.
Japanese poems Santa Claus inspiration I write haiku, too.
by Avalyn, 3rd grade
Avalyn wanted to invite some teachers to write poems, too, so she asked the speech therapist whose classroom is adjacent to ours to play along. (She calls it a “haiku party”.) Kim wrote:
A burnt string of lights one bulb out, they all go out. To the store I go!
By Kim Degeyter
School spirit is everywhere this season as students and teachers participate in dress-up days. I wrote a grati-ku about this:
Reindeer headbands on little girls’ heads bouncing down Holiday hallway
Margaret Simon
Other teachers join in the fun!
You should join the fun. Write a grati-ku holiday inspired poem in the comments. I’d love to share them with my students.
Today is the first Friday of the month. Time for the Inklings challenge. Molly challenged us to write a poem that answers an unasked question in the spirit of Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s poem Answer. I was intrigued by the way that Mary Lee responded to this prompt by writing after Joe Cottonwood’s Because a Redwood Grove. I wanted to borrow the form and use a repeated because.
Because a Poem
Because upon entering your breath is taken away into aha, yes-and, me, too.
Because breath has power to stop your heart and fill it up again.
Because words seem to know what they are doing.
Because alongside stars, rivers flow capturing refracted light.
If you would like to join the host round-up for Spiritual Thursday 2023, fill out this form.
The first week of the month also brings Spiritual Thursday. This is a roundup of bloggers writing about their Spiritual Journey. Bob Hamera has the gathering at his blog. He selected the topic of Acceptance and Change.
I follow Faith Broussard on Instagram. Faith was a classmate of my daughter’s and she currently lives in Atlanta. On Instagram, she’s become an influencer known as Fleur-de-lis Speaks. I loved her message today, and she used my 2022 One Little Word, Enough.
My family has changed in the last year. We lost my Dad, and this month we will meet our newest granddaughter. I once had a mentor who told me that God is Change. I actually believe that God is the constant in change. God does not leave us where we are, ever. There are changes that are hard, and changes that are good. Whatever the change, our acceptance, our open arms, our breath is enough. I am enough.
The Poetry Sisters put out a challenge that fits well with this Thanksgiving season, a recipe poem. Thanks for the challengeLaura,Tanita,Mary Lee,Liz,Kelly,Tricia,Sara, and Andi! Find more of these poems tagged with #PoetryPals.
A Recipe for Dressing and Love (a haibun)
My mother made the dressing, the whole meal actually, but especially the dressing. Only Ballard cornbread mix would do, baked in a cast iron skillet to the perfect shade of brown. Sauté the trinity–onions, celery, bell pepper–in pure, smooth butter. Mix crumbled cornbread with vegetables, a sprinkle of sage, soak in chicken broth. I used vegetable broth instead the year I was vegan, but my children vetoed the change. Nostalgia for Dot’s dressing, an original recipe. Today I ask my mom if she remembers the recipe. She doesn’t. Whether evidence of memory loss or just the passage of time, I tell her,”It’s OK.” I open my recipe book, find the handwritten sheet of paper and begin, again.
Her cornbread dressing mixed with a heart of kindness– Recipe for love
This post is dedicated to the memory of my father, Dr. John Y Gibson. In 2013 to celebrate his 80th birthday, we created a book together. Illuminate features ten of his Christmas card drawings alongside my poems. Today would be his 89th birthday. He passed away on April 22, 2022.
Patricia Franz offered to teach some of us bloggers how to use Canva to make videos. I forgot all about the Zoom meeting on Monday, but she graciously recorded it and sent me a link. I decided to make a video with some of my father’s drawings and a poem I wrote for him in 2008. It’s my first attempt, but Canva and Patricia’s guidance made it fairly easy to do. Thanks, Patricia.
Light comes out of darkness. As an artist, I want to tell you that in my ink drawings it is the darkest dark that reveals the brightest light. So it seems also in life.
John Y. Gibson
A poem video “My Father’s Drawing” by Margaret Simon
My Father’s Drawing
Dots of ink and graphite rise in tension with paper to form a likeness of mother and child. The wild contrast of darks to light plays in harmony creating a vision of love.
In the meantime, I grew up, became a mother with children living away from my father. His words came to me in thank you notes and birthday cards, an occasional phone call.
Yet everyday, I look at his drawing– the dots of pointillism reach out from the wall and grant me an audience with his grateful praise.
Happy November! Wow, did that ever sneak up on me. The month of gratitude. The month of NCTE! (Yes, in California and I am presenting) The month before Christmas. Ah, 2022 is quickly slipping away.
Here we are with another Inkling challenge, and I, once again, put it off. Linda Mitchell challenged us to write a poem to one of the prompt words for Folktale Week. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. You can find it on Instagram: #folktaleweek, #folktaleweek2022.
I selected the word star.
Have you found the star in you?
The one that shines brightest in the dark. Your star may feel far away yet even dandelions have hidden wings. Open your wings to the wind.
Believe you can fly.
Margaret Simon, draft
I signed up for a postcard exchange through Spark: art from writing, writing from art. I received a card from our own Jone MacCulloch. It’s an illustration that wants to be a poem. Perhaps a Folktale poem? Will you take the challenge?
“Pumpkin Moon” by Jone Moon: copy of great grandfather’s Civil War letter Pumpkin inspired by Yayoi Kusama
Check out what the other Inklings have written for this challenge:
The Poetry Sisters challenged us this month to create a dansa poem. I’d never heard of the form before, so I thought I would not participate. I got the tug when I read Mary Lee Hahn’s masterful response to the challenge. In our critique group meeting, she explained to us that once she got her repeated line, she built the poem around it. Sometimes writing a poem feels like solving a puzzle. Fitting words together to create a unified whole. The dansa has a definitive rhyme scheme, beginning with a quintrain of 5 lines and an AbbaA pattern. Quatrains of 4 lines with a bbaA rhyme scheme follow. The A signifies the repeated line. To me, the strength of the poem lies in that repeated line. I feel a sense of accomplishment having met this challenge.
photo by Margaret Simon We released monarch butterflies this week.
Joyful Dansa
The world opens its heart in little joys: Curl of new fingers wrap around old, Butterfly wings born of gold, Beads in a bag become her toys. The world opens its heart in little joys.
A new interpretation of stories told, Memory of small moments that you hold. What you wrap in love is your choice. The world opens its heart in little joys.
A letter becomes a word spoken bold. Paper becomes a crane with each fold. A cry becomes a song when you use your voice. The world opens its heart in little joys.
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 