Whew! We made it to the last day of March. I wrote on this blog space for 31 straight days. I’m feeling a little bit proud that I made this commitment and accomplished it for the 10th year. If you read any of my posts, thank you. My readers and responders keep me going, keep me writing.
National Poetry Month begins tomorrow (no April Fools). The Progressive Poem calendar is full and lives in the side bar. Mary Lee will start us off tomorrow with the first line. She is also hosting today, so pop over and bookmark her site, A(nother) Year of Reading.
Molly Hogan and I have collaborated on a calendar-chart of choices for our National Poetry Month writing. We intentionally did not include dates so we can see how the spirit moves and have some choice about the poems we write. If you wish to play along, we made a Canva calendar (not calendar).
The Poetry Sisters challenge this month was an etheree poem. An etheree is a poetry form that begins with one syllable in the first line and continues growing each line by a syllable until the tenth line has ten syllables. I looked back into my notebook to find this found etheree from an Ash Wednesday sermon from my priest, Annie Etheredge. (I just noticed how close her last name is to etheree.) Her sermon began with a poetic description of a blue bird nesting.
Nesting Box
soul nesting we could watch mama bluebird being a bluebird collecting tiny twigs flashing her royal colors you see a fragile little frame she pushed an egg out of her body with a great flourish of her azure wings
Margaret Simon, found poem from Annie Etheredge’s Ash Wednesday sermon
If you have special plans for National Poetry Month, let me know. I’d love to follow along.
On wooded trails, under the wild strawberry a fresh fern unfurls, new leaves replace old heartshapes of gold, a forest in rebirth.
Margaret Simon, draft
Rainbow collage collection, Lake Fausse Pointe trail photo by Margaret Simon
On a recent yoga Women’s Wellness Retreat, I collected things as I walked a forest trail. The instructor suggested collecting a rainbow. My collection includes an unripe blackberry, a piece of dead wood, a fiddlehead fern, a few wildflowers and leaves. When we stopped for a short break, I arranged them into something that pleased me and took this photo. I left most of it in the forest where I found it. I kept the heart-shaped leaf, fern fiddlehead, and the purple wildflower to press and tape into my notebook. We poets are pretty good at assigning symbolism to things. If this collage arrangement speaks to you in some way, write a small poem in the comments. Be sure to support other writers with comments as well.
I am planning a National Poetry Month project, but This Photo Wants to be a Poem will continue to be part of it. Consider adding this practice to your own NPM project. Follow my blog to get updates in your inbox. If you teach, you can use this prompt with students. Please share students’ poems as well.
I will also be posting links each day to the Kidlit Progressive Poem. I’m excited for April, my favorite month of the year.
Earlier this week I posted my Pile of Good Things Poem prompted by Stefanie Boutelier at Ethical ELA. Stef encouraged us to use technology and shared a design she made in Canva. I shared the prompt with my students on Monday. My little ones in 1st and 2nd could put together this idea for a poem. I am amazed at how easily they use technology at such an early age. Second grader James turned his pile into the shape of a tree.
I’ve been thinking about my pile of not so good things lately. You might say it’s a gripe poem, a pile of pet peeves.
My Pile of Peeves
Scent of cat pee Anxiety at 3 AM Morning cafeteria duty When I’ve lost something Hitting Send before proofing A colleague diagnosed with cancer An unconsolable child weeping over a mistake The sound of my alarm when I’m actually sleeping In carpool line, putting a student back into a toxic environment The big white truck with extra tires passing me to make a right turn from the left lane.
Margaret Simon, ongoing draft depends upon the day
The Kidlit Progressive Poem schedule for April is full. You can copy and paste the code found on this post. Contact me by email if you have any questions.
I am privileged to have the opportunity to write poetry with gifted kids. Their minds are open and in tuned to ideas. Most days they can’t wait to tell me what they are thinking about. Most days they want to write, welcoming the blank page. This week I shared with two of my young students (2nd and 3rd graders) photos of the full moon that I had collected from social media. I actually had another idea for them, but as we were looking at and discussing my picture of the moon above my neighbor’s house, they were full of questions and wonderings and a poem emerged. It was a happy moment because somedays little boys would rather be running outside than writing a poem with their teacher.
Click the image to see a larger view. Photo by Margaret Simon.
There are still a few dates available to sign up for the 2023 Kidlit Progressive poem. Click Here.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Quote of the Day
A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.
I literally yelled at the poor East Indian dude who answered my called to the credit card company. They shut down my credit card over 3 weeks ago due to fraud, and I still do not have a new card. I was livid. I bantered on about subscriptions being canceled so I couldn’t even watch TV. A bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point.
He patiently checked on the status and calmly explained that I should wait a few more days. I’ve heard it all before. Then I asked, “Why could the Disney Plus charge go through and I don’t even have the secret number yet?”
He again very patiently explained that some companies allow them to change over the recurring charges. “You mean I don’t have to get on the phone and call all these companies?”
My voice was calmer. I was breathing a little better. I apologized for yelling at him and promised I would try to wait a few more days.
Then I went outside to water plants and ended up pulling weeds. I’ve always wanted to be a gardener. One who enjoyed digging and planting. I am hopeful it may be happening. I was amazed at how easily I calmed down when I dug in the cool brown dirt, watched doddle bugs emerge, and felt that satisfaction that I was doing something productive.
Then I called Mary. Mary is my good friend who is a master gardener. I told her about my butterfly garden. She said, “Come over! I have some plants for you.”
I went shopping for plants in Mary’s yard and came home with pots of native sunflowers, a blooming ground cover, and one other butterfly plant whose name I’ve already forgotten.
The digging, clearing a space for something new, finding new plants, a gift of friendship all soothed by worried soul. And I hadn’t even gotten to a glass of wine yet.
In my notebook this week I used the above quote to create a golden shovel.
“he who plants kindness gathers love.”
When he sees the first hummingbird at the hibiscus, he gathers sugarwater for who– ever may visit; he plants bee balm, hosta, zinnia, and kindness attracting a single ruby-red who gathers us to the window to love.
Margaret Simon, draft
Mary’s orchidMy orchid rebirth
Mary and I share photos of our orchids that are re-flowering.
There are still dates available for the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April. Don’t forget to sign up here.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I love to go for a walk in the morning. Getting out of the house is my problem. First, I have coffee. Then I check email and these days, write a Slice and read some Slices. Comment. I get sucked in. Even with this problem of getting out of the door, once I’m out, I’m never sorry. Most days when I get back home, there’s a mad rush to get ready for school. Somewhere in this morning routine, I try to get in some writing. Sometimes the writing happens while I am walking. Notes app, microphone on.
My grandson Leo visited this past weekend. He is highly creative. He draws with amazing design, unlike most scribblings of a 4-year old. Last week we ran into my cousin Andrew, the architect, during Mardi Gras. I showed Andrew Leo’s drawings. My daughter started a shared album about a year ago, so I have them on my phone.
Andrew told me a story about his second grade teacher. He loved to build things, and his mother, my aunt, would throw out things like paper towel tubes, boxes, and magazines, etc.. But not Andrew’s teacher. She had a box of trash just for him. An Andrew box full of scraps to build with. He has never forgotten this and may be the artist he is today because of it.
Being Mamere I collected toilet paper tubes, gumballs, and a box. Early on Saturday morning (Leo woke up at 5:30 AM), I showed him the stuff. “You can make whatever you want.” I gave him a plastic container with glue and a paintbrush and left him alone. He created something. When his mother saw it, she noticed that he had even found a wad of cat hair to add to the top of one of the towers. I placed the sculpture in my new butterfly garden to hopefully attract insects and caterpillars.
For Poetry Friday, it is the first Friday, so the Inklings (my writing group) have a new challenge. And it came from me. I asked my friends to toy with the use of anaphora (repetition) in a poem using the mentor text from Jericho Brown, Crossing. I wrote one last week that I ended up putting in the trash, so I didn’t have anything to share. Remember the walk I took? I spoke a poem into my Notes app that is my poem offering today.
It’s time to sign up for the 2023 progressive poem. Each year during National Poetry Month, our Poetry Friday community creates a poem. If you would like to add a line to the poem, select a date. On that date, you will copy the poem from the previous writer and paste it into your blog post, adding the next line. Select a date and leave this information in a comment:
1. Date selected.
2. Your name.
3. Your blog title.
4. Your blog’s URL.
I will update the list as I am able. The logo at the top may be used for your blog.
I have been off this week and joyfully participating in two writing challenges. I truly wish I could do this every day. Writing to prompts makes my creative juices flow. If I write a poem each day, I feel a certain satisfaction that I’ve accomplished something.
This week the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write an ekphrastic poem, which is a poem written to art. Their theme this year is transformation. In the February Project with Laura Shovan, Molly Hogan used photographs of abandoned buildings to prompt us to think about their story. I went to a mysterious place with this image.
Photo by Molly Hogan
I’ve always enjoyed writing about a mystery. In high school, I had a short story published in the school’s literary journal about a portrait in an abandoned house that ended with a question, a mystery. Many in the Facebook group wanted to know more. Mystery is like that. We want to know. I recently heard on a podcast “surrender to the mystery.” I believe that we don’t know all the answers, and we are not supposed to. So let this poem sit with you in all its unknown.
Shattered
She left the curtains hanging, the window open, the cat in the yard. She left when the air was warm and damp fearing her shame would shatter her dream.
My fellow Inkling, writing partner Molly Hogan has the round up today at Nix the Comfort Zone.
I surprise myself. Every day this month there is a new prompt with the theme of “Story” in Laura Shovan’s February project. Every day I am invited to write a poem. Intimidating? Totally. Scary? You bet. Comforting? Always.
I discover over and over again that writing in a community of poets is a safe and accepting place to be. I need to just get over my little ego voice and jump in.
This week Buffy Silverman put up a prompt with these images she’s allowing us to share. She asked us to write about gatherings.
You would think I’d write something about nature. But all that was on my mind was the fact that my brother had texted that he wants to come visit. He has not had a weekend off in a long time, and the last time he visited was for my daughter’s wedding in 2017. My poem written on the spot was about the joy of trying to fit everyone into our house. This is one of those drafts that will likely remain a draft, but I had fun writing it. I forget sometimes that writing should be fun.
Sleeping Arrangements
Add a brother-uncle to the mix complicates the sleeping arrangements. He should get the guest room because he’s the guest. Children can sleep anywhere, except they can’t. They require a confinement misnomered “Pack & Play” more like “Stuff and Sleep,” and don’t forget to turn on the sound machine. There must be a night light, but nothing too bright. Cow has to be in the far right corner while silky covers her face. Now the 3-year-old has figured out how to climb out, so he needs an adult in the room nearby.
I tell them “Come! Come!” We will figure it out because all my loves in one house is Everything to me.
I feel like I chose the wrong One Little Word this year. I’ve grappled with it since I decided. What is the purpose of a One Little Word? Is it a guide or an affirmation? Should you pursue it or let it comfort you?
Every day I choose a quote-of-the-day to post on a Jamboard for my students to write a response to. Lately, I’ve allowed the students themselves to take over this routine. I have a few quote books that they use. We select a photo background and use the text box or sticky note feature to write in. One of the quotes this week was this one. Avalyn chose a background to this Mark Twain quote that was both day and night. It made me think about my OLW: Purpose.
I decided to play around with an acrostic form using Purpose. And this poem emerged:
Pray Until you Realize Purpose is One Step at a time Every day.
Voila! Poetry led me to the answer I had been searching for all along. Life is a journey. There is no destination. It’s a constant discovery day by day. I cannot choose a word like Purpose and magically feel satisfied with myself. It is a word that I will search for the rest of my life. Unlike Mark Twain’s idea that there is a day when you will discover why you were born, I’ve come to the realization that why you were born is a daily march. It’s what we do. And every once in a while, someone or something will knock you off the path and that’s when you need a different word: Grace.
These days I need Grace more than Purpose. I need to let myself feel what I feel, but not get attached to those feelings. Not let the feelings define me. I received this message from EnneaThought of the Day:
Remember that your cognitive error is to identify with your changing feelings and emotional states, especially negative ones. Since your feelings constantly change, your identity does as well, undermining many of your psychological needs. Notice this tendency in your thinking today.
EnneaThought of the Day,
I’m going to keep Purpose around for a little while longer. It’s only February, but I’m hoping to relax a little and let time do the telling. Maybe another more appropriate, more calming word will emerge.
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.
