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Archive for the ‘Poetry Friday’ Category

Erato_The_Muse_Of_Love_Poetry_by_François_Boucher

It’s Poetry Friday and Love Poetry Night. Tonight at A&E Gallery in New Iberia, we will gather and love poets and poetry. The event begins at 6:00 PM with open mic. The featured poets are Clare Martin and Bonny McDonald.

I’ll be reading this poem during Open Mic, dedicated to my one true love.

The Kiss

I can remember where I put my keys,
How many eggs are left in the refrigerator.
I can remember the dance step
we practiced over and over.

I cannot remember the line in the poem
The one after the knees in the desert.
I can’t remember what you said
before you went to sleep.

I do remember the kiss,
not that particular kiss but every kiss,
gentle on my cheek,
telling me you are near. You are here,
We are here—remember.

Margaret Simon

Find more poetry at the Poetry Friday Roundup hosted by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.

Find more poetry at the Poetry Friday Roundup hosted by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.

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Find more poetry at the Poetry Friday Roundup hosted my Renee LaTulippe at No Water River.

Find more poetry at the Poetry Friday Roundup hosted my Renee LaTulippe at No Water River.

artist, genius, poet

Created in response to this quote at Acadiana Wordlab on February 1st:

My hand holds the pen,
glides over this fresh new page
like an ice skater on a newly frozen pond.
Why not fly? If your words have wings,

then climb on. Why not dream?
If your dreams incite
your imagination. In this room,
we are given wings,

genius wings of fire and ice.
Words will burn your eyes, make you cry;
Words will fill your diaphragm
make you laugh–guffaw even.

I could wear a red dress and black heels,
but that is not me. I am not a wild cardinal.
I am a steady robin, blending in with the earth
helping you notice the coming of spring.

Let’s come together,
build a genius-poetic-artist sculpture,
a structure that moves together,
opens up a symphony of sound.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Please visit Laura Shovan’s site, Author Amok. This month she is posting color prompts for writing poems and inviting poets to play. I have a few featured and am feeling quite inspired.

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poetry-friday-1 (1)

Today is Chalkabration day and Poetry Friday! See more Poetry Friday posts at the round-up at Miss Rumphius Effect.

Join the Chalk-a-bration over at Teaching Young Writers

Join the Chalk-a-bration over at Teaching Young Writers

We returned to school after two days off for an ice storm, unheard of in South Louisiana. We collected words about ice and snow and cold. Then wrote our poems, chalking them on the sidewalk and playing in the ice still left in the shade. My students were so happy when they realized today was Chalkabration Day. Thanks to Betsy Hubbard for keeping this going all year long.

Icy steps crackle crispy  under my feet tingles my fingers white winter frost. --Margaret Simon

Icy steps
crackle crispy
under my feet
tingles my fingers
white winter frost.
–Margaret Simon

Snow falling outside Ice storm Leon gave me time for fun and lots of  Gumbo! --Brooklyn

Snow falling outside
Ice storm Leon gave me time
for fun and lots of
Gumbo!
–Brooklyn

White ice falling in the winter exciting fluffy balls delicious to eat slippery to walk freezing fun. --Tyler

White ice falling
in the winter
exciting fluffy balls
delicious to eat
slippery to walk
freezing fun.
–Tyler

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Silence of the first snow by John Gibson

Silence of the first snow by John Gibson

This never happens in South Louisiana, a snow day. Yesterday, the weather man predicted a wintry mix. All schools in Acadiana were canceled for Friday.

Like an excited child, I have been up since 5:30 AM checking for snow…no. There is some ice accumulating on the deck, so I suppose it is a good thing little southern children are not having to stand outside and wait for buses that do not handle ice on roads well. Hey, I’m not complaining. I get a free day. But as I look at my father’s drawing of this beautiful silent scene of snow, I can’t help but wish I could see this in my own yard, if only for a few moments. There is something silent and magical about the first snow.

Snow Day
Snow fell silently through the night,
Tufts of a fluffy cotton-ball sweater.
I wake to a field of white.

White-topped limbs reach out for light.
No one predicted this wondrous weather.
Snow fell silently through the night.

Come to the window to see the fresh sight.
Cancel school. Let’s play together.
I wake to a field of white.

Smooth pure canvas, all is right.
Each leaf a glass-encased feather,
Snow fell silently through the night.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

This poem is featured in my book Illuminate. Enjoy more Poetry Friday over at Tara Smith’s Site, A Teaching Life.

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Another and another…
This week my students and I wrote word association poems after a movement exercise I learned from Bonny McDonald. See the post about that activity here.

I found it interesting (and so did they) where their original word led them. I wanted to make word clouds with them but am having some technical difficulty.

apple

Apple
A fruit
Has cousins
like banana,
orange and
pear
which bloom
in Spring
with cousins
like Fall,
Winter and
Summer
Fall has
red, yellow
orange and
brown leaves
falling everywhere
Winter has
ice and
is cold
Summer is
hot and
dry with
people swimming
at the
beach with
sand flying
everywhere
people surfing
and having
fun all
from the
word apple.
by Tyler

Brooklyn chose a word that she didn’t like.

Storm
rain
thunder
lightning

Storm
crash
loud
dark
scary

Storm
cold
wet
shelter

Storm
watch
alone
together

Storm
afraid
lose

Storm
don’t
continue
won’t
stop

Storm

Join the Poetry Friday Round up at Keri Recommends.  Happy Birthday to Keri!

Join the Poetry Friday Round up at Keri Recommends. Happy Birthday to Keri!

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Join the Poetry Friday Round up at I think in Poems hosted by Betsy.

Join the Poetry Friday Round up at I think in Poems hosted by Betsy.

My handmade book of poems

My handmade book of poems

One thing I enjoy about a long break is the time to be creative. I learned how to make a book recently and tried it out on Christmas Day using some paper my daughter gave me as a gift, covering mat-board, sewing pages together, and binding with colorful duct tape. Inside, I have glued copies of the poems I have written this winter break.

I challenged myself to write 10 poems over 2 weeks. I’m up to seven and have 3 more days. This challenge makes me look at life as a poet, finding poems everywhere. I wish I could live like this everyday, but most days the stresses of life get in the way.

Between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I spent some time with my family in Mississippi. My sister took some pictures of the lake. I borrowed this one of two white egrets wading and wrote a poem to the image. I cannot seem to write a poem about nature without mentioning the Great Creator. I also grabbed some inspiration from this site, The Heron and Egret Society, that includes Mary Oliver poems about egrets. I borrowed the word scumbled and began, as Mary Oliver did, with the phrase, “Where the”

Photo by Beth Saxena

Photo by Beth Saxena

Egrets

Where the shoreline turns
hiding among the scumbled weeds,
two white egrets
take stealthy steps on stick-like legs.

The wind passes them by.
The canopy of orange maple leaves
ignore this lightning flash of beauty.

I observe them from a safe distance,
not sure if a prayer is waiting,
I release a breath: “Ah, me!”

I can pay attention, say grace,
and praise you,
twin brush strokes of God.

–Margaret Simon

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City Lights

See more of Poetry Friday at A Year of Reading with Mary Lee Hahn

See more of Poetry Friday at A Year of Reading with Mary Lee Hahn

Before the Christmas break, I sat down with my students and asked them to set a goal for reading and writing over the break. I set one along with them and challenged myself to write 10 poems over the break. So far I have written four. And since we have a week to go, I may be able to meet my goal.

Images tend to send me into a more creative mood. My friend, Michelle Zimmerman, is a great photographer. I often take her photos from Facebook (with her permission) to use for writing prompts. On Christmas Day, she posted this image.

If you would like to write a poem to this image, you can post it in the comments or email it to me, and I’ll add it to the post. (margaretsmn at gmail dot com)

Photo by Michelle Zimmerman

Downtown Seattle. Photo by Michelle Zimmerman

City lights
climb the trees,
sit atop lampposts,
shine in the shape of a star.
Wherever you are,
darkness surrounds you
while the lights
of the city streets
tell you the time,
stop cars and buses,
send out the message:
You are not alone.
We are here to
light your way.

Dec. 25, 2013
Margaret Simon

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2013 poetry swap with stamp included
Tabatha Yeatts connects poets all year long. I signed up for her winter poetry swap and received a package from Diane Mayr this week. Diane doesn’t know me in person. We’ve never spoken on the phone, but she took the time to read my blog and even researched Louisiana. I was so delighted by her poem for me that I wanted to share it with you. She also sent a copy of her book Littlebat’s Halloween Story. It’s a precious children’s book told from the point of view of Littlebat as he looks in at a library from the attic. This bat loves stories and wants to stay awake to hear them. Clever story and amazing illustrations. Thanks so much, Diane, for your generous, creative spirit. Diane writes a blog at Random Noodling.

reflections on the teche copy

See more of Poetry Friday at Buffy's Blog.

See more of Poetry Friday at Buffy’s Blog.

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As much of the country experiences cold temperatures, freezing ice and snow, I am thinking about this Christmas song. In the Bleak Midwinter is a poem by Christina Rossetti written prior to 1872.

My poetry book Illuminate, features the following poem, Outside Salzburg to my father’s first Christmas card drawing. My brother recorded a CD to accompany our book. Following my reading of this poem, he sings “In the Bleak Midwinter.”

Take a moment to focus on the season of Christmas.
Slow down.
Pray for peace.
As we feel the cold chill of the winter air and remember the tragedy of Sandy Hook, may we embrace each other a little longer
and find special ways to show kindness to one another and to our world.

Outside Salzburg

From the train, snow-covered hills beckon
outside Salzburg. The whistle echoes.
Trees stand tall and barren.
Weary travelers stare in wonder.

Somewhere in the distance,
a child is torn from his mother’s arms,
a beggar reaches out with empty hands,
Somewhere, a woman grieves for her lost lover.

But here—on the road to Innsbruck—
a church glistens on the smooth,
unblemished snow, calling out
Let
there
be
peace.
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

In the Bleak Midwinter
by Christina Rossetti

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

To order a copy of Illuminate with CD by Hunter Gibson, click here. To order on Amazon, click here. I’ll give away a copy with CD to a randomly selected commenter.

For more great poems, join Poetry Friday over at Tabatha Yeatts’ place, The Opposite of Indifference.

poetry friday button

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Crows on the Playground

See more Poetry Friday with Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge.

See more Poetry Friday with Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons. Click on image for link to original image.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons. Click on image for link to original image.

One early morning this week when I sat down at my desk, I became aware of a murder of crows on the playground outside my window, so I wrote a poem about it. Poetry is everywhere.

A flock of crows in the school yard
perched on the basketball goal,
side by side on the swing set,
cluttering the picnic table.

Like children who will come out later,
they chatter, peck, and flit.
Tag, you’re it. Hide-and-seek,
Treasure hunt.

Some are flying alone.

Some are gathered together.
Crows on the playground.
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

A Poetry Friday friend, Donna Smith, posted this video in response to my crow poem. Funny and clever, a crow snowboarding.

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