The Poetry Sisters challenge this week is a favorite form of mine created by my fellow Inkling Heidi Mordhorst, the definito. The definito is a poem of 8-12 lines for children that defines a word. The word being explained is the last word of the poem.
I subscribe to Merriam-Webster’s word of the day. I love learning new words and this one was not only new to me, but it was a mouth full of p’s to say.
Some perspective on perspicacious: the word combines the Latin perspicac- (from perspicax meaning “clear-sighted,” which in turn comes from perspicere, “to see through”) with the common English adjective suffix -ious. The result is a somewhat uncommon word used to describe someone (such as a reader or observer) or something (such as an essay or analysis) displaying the perception and understanding of subtleties others tend to miss.
Last weekend I spent some time with my 3 year old (almost 4 year old) grandson. I am constantly amazed at his ability to observe his world and notice things that most of us just take for granted. I love seeing things in a fresh way when I am with him. I’m not sure I have a full grip on the word perspicacious, but working on this poem made me happy to capture the awe of a toddler.
Perspicacious Definito
At some point we lose perception, perspective clouded, but you, my child can see the train track, and notice up and down, lower, higher, your place in space. When you spin, you laugh, feeling dizzy. Under the influence of gravity you understand what you don’t understand…playful perspicacity.
The Open Write over at Ethical ELA was happening this week. I participated for a few days. On Saturday, Denise Krebs offered this writing prompt: write an ode to a childhood love. I thought about my diary from 1975 which I still have tucked away in my closet. It’s something of a miracle that I still have it because my childhood home was flooded in 1979. I’m not sure how this diary escaped.
Time was that when I looked at my diary, all I could see was the struggling teenager, flip-flopping from I like Robby to I like Bobby. I had tucked slips of paper into the diary, notes from friends and poems. Yes, poems.
Today I’m trying a different perspective of my younger self. I am thinking more kindly toward her. She was developing, in the process of becoming. No one is perfect when they are 14. Actually, I am not perfect now. We are constantly in a period of discovery about who we are, who and what we love. I think this diary may hold a precious girl, one in need of love.
“One Year Diary” circa 1975
“One Year Diary”
Golden pages wrapped in a keyless lock, you locked away all my dreams and screams for truth and understanding.
I was standing at the threshold of who I am. You honored the me I was with timeless sanctity.
Notes and poems tucked in like folds of a blanket, nestling moments I wanted to keep (and forget.)
Cursive swirls and exaggerated tittles, my fourteen year old soul remains buried here.
Poetry Friday is hosted this week Down Under with Kat Apel.
In Dictionary for a Better World, Charles Waters writes about Courage using a cinquain form. “Sometimes courage can be…” The form is simple: five lines with a syllable count of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2. Sometimes these simple forms open up possibilities for writing that we wouldn’t normally explore.
I’m listening to The Book of Hope with Jane Goodall and Douglas Abrams. I explored the topic with a cinquain to model for my students.
Sometimes poetry is hiding in plain sight you can find poetry in your mind look hard
Image by Linda Mitchell Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is with Carol at Beyond Literacy Link
I have to admit I wasn’t prepared for my lesson on Friday. I really don’t have a good excuse. It just happened, so I opened my desk drawer and pulled out metaphor dice. I wasn’t really sure how this writing tool would work with my young students. This year my gifted classes include third and fourth graders. Do they even know what a metaphor is?
The beauty of Taylor Mali’s Metaphor Dice is their adaptability across every grade level and writing ability. In fact, they can be the just right teaching tool or game you need on a Friday when you don’t have a poem in your pocket.
After a few rounds of metaphor dice writing, my 4th grade student Adelyn said, “Do you ever get so involved in writing that you forget to breathe?” I think that sums up a successful writing session.
Today I am sharing one of my metaphor dice poems.
My birth is a bright songbird singing a morning lullaby.
Each new day is a birth– a chance to discover joy, to hear the bright song of the cardinal or chickadee.
This month’s Inkling challenge was mine to create. I invited my writing group to share any poem that they may have written to This Photo Wants to be a Poem prompt. I post a photo prompt once a week on Wednesdays. My photos come from my own iPhone photos or from Instagram friend’s photos, by permission.
I enjoy the craft of writing a small poem. Many of the ones I write bring about some deeper wisdom. Often I surprise myself with these, wondering where they come from. Today I am featuring bird wisdom poems. Nature offers itself to us with its revelation of truth.
Peek in on my Inkling buddies and see what they are doing with this challenge:
Today’s Poetry Friday Round up is with Dave at Leap of Dave.
Today was the first Poetry Friday of the new school year. Prompted by Kim Johnson who is writing daily to Dictionary for a Better World, I decided to begin at the beginning with the word Acceptance. Irene Latham wrote the model poem we read today. I have to admit starting with such a metaphor-driven poem was challenging. “I am a word with teeth– a crocodile” At first my students thought the poem was all about a crocodile. We had to work hard to make the connection between the title and the illustration.
From Dictionary for a Better World by Irene Latham and Charles Waters.
When it came time to write, I suggested using Irene’s form for an opening line. I am a word with ______. Adelyn chose the word Art. I adore what she wrote for her first poem of 4th grade gifted class.
ART
I am a word with imagination
A rainbow over my head
Some understand me, some don’t
Yet I don’t wait for supplies I improvise
I rest in a messy room
Full of markers, crayons and sketch books
As I dream of a
peacock flying overhead
by Adelyn, 4th grade
I am happy to be writing poems with kids again!
Here is my poem after Irene on the word Gracious:
Gracious
I am a word with wings– a butterfly landing on a red blossom.
Some want to catch me. Others let me be.
Yet I do not waste time (as you do) in the muddy banks between despair
and hope. I rest in freedom– air, wind– lightly lifting
as nectar fills my soul with sweet gratitude.
Margaret Simon, draft, after Irene Latham
Consider joining me with my friends over at Ethical ELA for this weekend’s Open Write starting tomorrow through Wednesday.
Poetry Friday Round-up is here. Scroll to the end to find the link up and join.
Today is my birthday. I am turning the age of the year I was born. Can you do the math? I have to admit I am not a fan of birthdays. Being born in August has never appealed to me. It’s always hot and usually rainy. But with daily rain comes daily rainbows. Over the last few days I’ve seen a few big ones. I stop my car and get out to take a picture. I wish the pictures could show the colors and size, but you’ll have to just imagine it.
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Birthday card from Linda Mitchell, my birthday “sistar”
Today is the first Friday in August and my first day of school, but it’s also time for an Inkling challenge. This month Catherine wanted to give us something easy to write. She thought about sports. I am not all that sporty, but I do have a poem in the anthology Rhyme & Rhythm: poems for student-athletes (Archer Books. 2021). It’s a duplex poem about swimming.
As I contemplated this challenge, I turned to my weekly yoga class. I am going to miss this class during the school year. I love the instructor and the way she speaks to us. I’ve always thought it was like poetry. So on Wednesday, I recorded the class. This poem is a transcription with poetic license. I decided to play with having no punctuation and using space and line breaks to pause. Does this work?
The Sport of Mindfulness
Breathing is healing relaxation brings the body together all cells communicate together Breathe and communicate into one focus. breath
Notice if your thoughts move into a pattern bring yourself back to your anchor your breath
Back and forth a tennis match with yourself building a new skill purposeful intentional thinking
Lean into the stretch spread your fingers press into the palm open your muscles
Stay with the breath Challenge yourself Focus ride the waves of discomfort Then it starts to feel good
Exhale pose thank you colon thank you liver thank you spleen gallbladder pancreas Thank you for all your hard work Toxins moving out release
Come back to the breath The sound of the wind sound of the music Sensation of being in the room among friends No responsibilities
Nature is abundant Bring awareness to your abundance You are abundant thriving We are all thriving
My summer is winding down quickly. I start back to school next Friday. But the Summer Poem Swap is in full swing. Tabatha Yeatts organized pairings of poets to exchange creativity, gifts, and poetry. My third swap was with Carol Varsalona. (Note: I still owe her my end of the bargain.) Carol is a digital master. If you visit her website, you can find pages of inspirational digital creations. She used this prowess to create for me a Google slide show. She also sent me a print form. You can view the whole slideshow here.
The poem that Molly Hogan sent me had a similar theme of peace and tranquility. Are these poets trying to tell me something? Or do they recognize something in me that I am struggling to find within myself? Poetry is a profound and powerful presence in my life. Thanks Carol for your creative and sensitive expression of love.
Sloth video from my phone. Turn sound down or off. The guide explains the different kinds of sloths near the end. This is a two-toed sloth.
Slow Sloth
I am to you scribbles of God. My two toes touch the heavens on leaves like tea left behind for someone to read, a lie between sun and moon. I am blind to you. As I slowly pass through parting seas of green, only the fruit follows me. I know heaven is green as all sorrow in amorphous shape. I neglect symbols, and drink from mud. I stop and sleep because you are always there.
Margaret Simon, 2022
I wrote this poem after Swift Hummingbird by Ray Bradbury. On Ethical ELA, Jennifer Guyor Jowett introduced antonymic translation in this week’s Open Write. Ray Bradbury wrote of the hummingbird which immediately made me think of the sloth we saw in Costa Rica last week. It was fun to write a poem about it.
Two-Toed Sloth, Wikimedia Commons
Molly Hogan, fellow Inkling, sent me a Summer Poem Swap. Her tranquil poem sent me the blessing I needed along with some homemade (by Molly) strawberry jam and other goodies. Thanks, Molly, for the full-of-care package.
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 