This month’s Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a poem form called a raccontino, a poem of any number of couplets in which the odd-numbered lines (along with the title) tell a story. Even-numbered lines rhyme. This was a totally new form to me, so I looked for inspiration in an obituary, of all things. I liked how the woman was described as leaving a legacy of kindness. Who among us would not want to leave that kind of legacy?
She Leaves laughter and abiding love, a generous spirit echoing silly songs.
Her family holds her legacy. When every heart longs
to be of some use, of a place she belongs,
there is only kindness that lasts, healing all wrongs.
Last night I had the privilege of presenting poetry alongside my co-author, Dr. Phebe Hayes. Phebe talked about the life of Emma Wakefield Paillet who was not only the first Black woman, but the first woman to get a medical degree in the state of Louisiana. Emma was an unsung hero until Phebe uncovered her story. Years of research have led to release of our book, Were You There? A Biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet.
Historical marker commemorating Dr. Emma Wakefield Paillet in downtown New Iberia, Louisiana.
What struck me and my husband as we discussed the presentation was how Emma’s life personalized the history of the time period. Her tragedies were the tragedies of Reconstruction and Jim Crow laws, oppression of women and especially women of color, lynching, disease, etc.
I read a few poems interspersed with Phebe’s talk. One of the poems I wrote for the book is a Praise poem after Angelo Geter, a modern spoken word poet. It’s a hard one to get through without my voice cracking because at this time my mother is at the end of her life. I’m emotional when it comes to mothering. Today, I dedicate this poem to her.
If you are interested in a signed copy, please send me an email. Our fellow Poetry Friday writer Linda Mitchell wrote the educational guide.
Buffy Silverman is hosting today’s Poetry Friday.My summer writing space
This first Friday in June is time for another Inklings challenge. I am sitting outside on my back deck hoping something will come to me soon. Heidi challenged us with this:
Write a poem that lists or explains some things that you as a woman no longer care ‘bout for whatever reason. It does not have to be because of peri/menopause. Try to replicate Melani’s deadpan delivery, if that’s possible in a poem. TWIST: include something that you DO care about, that requires you to make space by jettisoning some of the other stuff.
Mary Lee used a conversational tone that I like, so I borrowed her format to write mine.
While we’re sitting here, let me explain
For starters, I don’t care to wear mascara anymore, no more black goop that smears every time I cry which is a lot these days. I care too much sometimes and my eyes show it.
Just so you know, I care about plants, but I don’t care to bend over in the heat to pull out the weeds, so you may not think I care until the air cools (which by the way the forecast looks won’t be until October). Deal with it.
Here’s the thing, I care about family first, so I may not answer your call or text if I’m with my mom, husband, kids, or grandkids. It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do. I’ll get back to you soon enough.
And while we’re on the subject, you should know that I care about the white cat at my feet and the echo of a red cardinal in the fruit tree. I want this beautiful space I live in to last longer.
Won’t you sit with me and write your truth, too?
I would love to know if you accept the invitation to write to this prompt. Leave a comment, if you care (dare).
Be sure to check out Linda’s and Heidi’s “We Do Not Care Club” poems.
I am finishing up a week of babysitting for two of my grandchildren this week. One of them, June, I kept during the day because daycare was closed. The other, Thomas, I kept after his day camp because his mother had a work trip.
This morning when I was dropping Thomas off for the last time, we had a talk about missing people we love. He started the conversation with “I miss my dad,” which could be viewed as a manipulative ploy for attention, but I didn’t take the bait. I said how much I would be missing him when I go back home.
He said, “Do you miss Papére?”
“Of course, I do. I miss Papére and Albért when I’m here with you, but I miss you and June when I’m home.”
Loving means you’re always missing someone. A conversation with a 5 year old brought me to tears.
This month I have been writing a poem each day using Georgia Heard’s May calendar. The prompt for today was “your favorite kind of silence.” The shadorma form fit nicely with the syllable count of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 5.
My Favorite Kind of Silence
Silence comes after summer rain before birds recall sun after a sung lullaby a sleepy child’s sigh
For 5 years I’ve been participating in Ethical ELA’s #verselove and #openwrite. This month Sarah Donovan (whose brainchild is Ethical ELA) led us in 3 days of Open Write prompts. One of these prompts was to write a demi-sonnet. This form includes 7 lines with semi-rhymes. One of Sarah’s suggestions was to write about a moment you almost missed.
At the moment I was holding my pen above my notebook I could hear the loud morning call of a wren outside. Writing in May has been hard for me. It’s a busy month as school winds down. This May has been particularly hard as I cleaned my classroom for the last time. My demi-sonnet turned into advice for myself.
I Almost Missed the Call
Morning wren calls my inner critic’s bluff repeating wake up, wake up, wake up. I almost missed its call holding me accountable for my role. Open the blank page, it is enough. Ink seven lines of poetic stuff. Bloom from an imperfect soul.
I’ve been writing small poems this month following Georgia Heard’s Permission to Write Small calendar of prompts. Today the prompt was “the meaning of your name”. I felt an acrostic poem form would be a good choice.
The meaning of my name “Margaret” is pearl. I’ve known this, but I didn’t know why until I did some quick research on pearls. Apparently, the Persian word for pearl is margarita, which is the source of the name Margaret.
Margaret is a pearl— Alchemy of soft tissue Restored over time with Grit, becoming Abiding beauty, Resolving with genuine grace Eternal gem Turning
Last month I was writing a poem each day prompted by Ethical ELA. One of the prompts offered by Alexis Ennis invited us to write an ode to peace. This prompt landed on a Sunday when I had time to sit and sip on my back deck overlooking the bayou. In winter when I had to haul pots inside, I cursed my love of tropical flowers, but on this day, I was celebrating their quiet and bright emergence.
As I revised this poem, I asked AI to give it a title. I like the response, go figure, of “Waking in Red.”
Waking in Red
the corner of my heart slowing for breaths deep and long
on the cypress the cardinal busy on branches by and by
here is the ruby-throated hummer humming a second longer
there the glowing sun rising to light this day
space opens for red bat plant, desert rose, and buckeye
skin warms as I wake with the power of red. Margaret Simon, draft
I am writing a poem a day in May using #poemsofpresence and #smallpoems. Many of them are inspired by flowers. I invite you to join me on Instagram.
If you live nearby, come by Books Along the Teche (our local indie bookstore) for our book signing. Books Along the Teche will take orders for signed books.
Mary Lee Hahn has the Poetry Friday Round up at A(nother) Year of Reading.
Today is the first Friday in May which means it’s time for another Inklings challenge. This month, Linda Mitchell asked us to consider a line borrowed from poet Whitney Hanson, “In poetry we say…”
I took out an old favorite anthology of poems in my classroom, Poetry Speaks to Children, and created a cento poem using lines from other poems. The process was interesting and fun. You may even recognize some of the lines.
Lines from these poets:
Rita Dove Robert Frost Gwendolyn Brooks Carl Sandburg Lewis Carroll Maxine Kumin W. S. Merwin Jane Yolen William Shakespeare J. R. R. Tolkein Joy Harjo Langston Hughes John Ciardi Nikki Giovanni Sonia Sanchez
The 2025 Kidlit Progressive Poem is complete! See the poem as a whole along with all the participating poets archived here.
To read how other Inklings approached this challenge:
Irene Latham originally created the idea of a Kidlit Progressive Poem for National Poetry Month. Poets from the Poetry Friday community participate in adding a new line each day in the month of April. I took over the coordination of this effort in 2020. This year Linda Mitchell started us off with a wonderful first line, “Open an April window” that gave us a view of spring. Our poem is for children, so I imagine a child character walking through our poem. I didn’t have to look farther than my own backyard to find inspiration.
Open an April window let sunlight paint the air stippling every dogwood dappling daffodils with flair
Race to the garden where woodpeckers drum as hummingbirds thrum in the blossoming Sweetgum
Sing as you set up the easels dabble in the paints echo the colors of lilac and phlox commune without constraints
Breathe deeply the gifts of lilacs rejoice in earth’s sweet offerings feel renewed-give thanks at day’s end remember long-ago springs
Bask in a royal spring meadow Romp like a golden-doodle pup!
I am writing daily poems with Ethical ELA’s #verselove. Today’s prompt is with Brittany Saulnier.
Visiting my mother is filled with emotions for me. Bittersweet is a good word because she’s still here with us, but in many ways she is far from us. Her Alzheimer’s is advancing slowly at this point. Each visit she’s thinner and less able. Yet, she knows me and loves me and tries so hard to talk to me. This morning I will visit her before I drive back to Louisiana. Will this be the last time? Who knows?
At the hotel, I looked out at a beautiful sunrise. It reminded me of days sitting on the back porch with Mom and Dad looking at the lake behind their house. How I long for those easy days. There was always a heron that came to perch. All of these thoughts came when I read Brittany’s prompt to write about nature using 3 different colors.
Outside the hotel window in Ridgeland, MS.
Sunrise
I wake to sky color– golden-white-lined gap in purple-blue clouds
where sun rays sparkle through like angel wings.
Bittersweet grey clouds hover high like heaven’s shroud
reflected in heron’s stealth.
I imagine you next to me with the news (all ghastly) and your coffee mug steaming.
We sit in silence, the silence of years between us looking for the heron.
Margaret Simon, draft
The Kidlit Progressive Poem continues its ride through spring with Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
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 