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Background & Ball by Song_sing
Background & Ball, a photo by Song_sing on Flickr.

Kaleidoscope Dreams

Look into your beachball crystal ball.
Hold the top with Mr. Pointer
and spin!

Colors swirl, fractals curl.
Spirals to a world
within.
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

I got an invitation to play on a website called TinEye Labs from my cyber-friend Linda Baie. This is a fun site to play on. You can select up to 5 colors and get a collage of 35 photos. For my poem above, I selected 3 colors and then chose this photo to write about.

I tried this in my classroom. The bad news: Our school network blocked the site. The good news: I have an iPhone. Bad news: Only one student can use it at a time. Good news: The activity was exciting and inspired fun writing. Since I only teach small groups of students, I was able to meet with each student separately and allow them to play. I sent the photos by email to my school account and printed them. The students glued the picture into their journals and wrote.

One student chose a psychedelic multicolored head to write about. Another student made the comment, “That is what a snake sees, not your face, but the colors of your temperature.” I’m not sure how true his statement is; Gifted kids often tell me things I don’t already know, while they also say completely untrue things with confidence. Anyway, that statement inspired this hilarious poem from Matthew. The photo is here.

Snake eyes…literally!

This is what a snake sees,isn’t it strange?

This is what he sees when he’s in your range.

This is all the heat that is in your body,

Kinda makes everyone a real big hottie!

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tara at A Teaching Life.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tara at A Teaching Life.

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Swan Song, Creative Commons

Swan Song, Creative Commons

I grew up with music in my home. My mother is a pianist. I’m sure she played Claude Debussy’s Clare de Lune. When I went to Google yesterday, I was pleased to find out it was Debussy’s 151st birthday. The link took me to a YouTube video of nature pictures with the harp playing Clare de Lune. It was one of those, let’s-write-to-this inspiration moments. I had planned to pass out pictures from a nature calendar. This was better, music and beautiful nature pictures. I wrote with my students, so I’ll post my poem here. Student work will come later as they do some polishing and make the plunge into posting on a blog.

Hills and mountains
reflect in still water;
Sun bursts through clouds;
A rainbow circles the sky;
And I travel there
with you.

I ask, Do you love me?

How high? you say.

Higher than the mountains?

Higher than the clouds.

Higher than the moon?

Higher than the stars at night.

Higher, higher, still.

Blue Moon before sunrise. Photo by Margaret Simon

Blue Moon before sunrise. Photo by Margaret Simon

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Betsy at I Think in Poems.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Betsy at I Think in Poems.

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Three caterpillars fascinating to observe-- Future swallowtails.

Three caterpillars
fascinating to observe–
Future swallowtails.

A few days ago, a friend posted a picture on Facebook of these amazing creatures devouring his parsley plants. I asked if I could have a few for my classroom. I picked them up yesterday and was a big hit in the hallway walking in. I will be teaching math to a small group of second and third graders,so we will measure and graph their growth and then watch and wait. This is as exciting to me as it is to them. I’ll keep you posted. Maybe we’ll write caterpillar and butterfly poems, too.

Have you ever been stuck or needed something to accelerate you on the road to a poem? This happens to me quite often. One activity I like to try is to steal a line. Sometimes I borrow lines from poets I like, but this time I was in a bookstore. So I grabbed a favorite book, Little Women, and found this, “It seems so long to wait, so hard to do. I want to fly away at once, as those swallows fly, and go in at that splendid gate. I want to be with them in flight.”

I want to hold air as close as a summer blanket,
cottonball soft puffs of a cloud,
floating
for a moment,
to touch its warm belly
and fly.
Who will come with me?
Let’s form a V,
honk like geese,
announce our arrival.
It seems so long to wait
to go in at that splendid gate.
–Margaret Simon

clear blue balloon
Speaking of flying, you can read about a once-in-a-lifetime hot-air balloon ride here.

Flying Angel over Duperier Street Bridge, an original painting by Margaret Simon

Flying Angel over Duperier Street Bridge,
an original painting by Margaret Simon

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Steps and Staircases.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Steps and Staircases.

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A few days ago, I celebrated my 31st wedding anniversary. Why does this seem so hard to believe? I heard you all gasp! On this day, Amy from The Poem Farm posted a link to Famous, a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, on Facebook. Naomi (I feel we will be friends one day and will be on a first name basis) is a favorite of mine. My husband, however, has never heard of her. This is not surprising because he doesn’t really read poetry, so he is not familiar with any famous poets. But he likes to talk about being famous. It is one of those “familial phrases.”

Let me explain. We live in a small town, so it is not that uncommon for one of us to be in the paper every once in a while. That doesn’t mean we’re famous, but when you see your name in print or see your picture in the newspaper, you feel famous. The phrase around our house is “you are famous” if any part of you is mentioned in the Daily Iberian.

When I read Naomi’s poem, I was compelled to send it to my husband. Maybe because it was our anniversary. Maybe I was flirting. But he actually read it and sent a message back to me. He wrote, “You are famous to me.”

Now I hope you are sighing “Aw!”

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

(See the entire poem here.)

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Renee at No Water River.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Renee at No Water River.

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Poetry Friday is here today!  Post links in the comments!

Poetry Friday is here today! Post links in the comments!

This summer I have been participating in Tabatha Yeats’ Poem Swap. In writing a poem a week, I have been discovering threads in my writing. I love nature, not to be confused with a love of gardening. But I often look to nature for my poetry wisdom. I recently sent a group of poems to a contest. I titled the group “Among the Oaks.” When I walk in my neighborhood, I look to nature for inspiration, everything from the water of the bayou to the birds in the trees, and, of course, the trees themselves. When Tabatha sent me my 4th name, I was thinking, “OK, this time I will write something for that person.” But the poem turned out to be another nature poem. I give up. This is where my pen wants to move, so I will follow it.

A poet friend once told me, “Write a poem every week and by the end of the year, you have 52 poems. A whole manuscript!” I have not put together a whole manuscript of poems. I’m frankly scared to think about it. Perhaps I can follow this nature thread to a whole book? Then I fear the inspiration will end. Hah, you thought you knew what you were doing. Nope, not yet.

I have gotten so much inspiration and encouragement from this Poetry Friday community. We seem to have unwritten rules of respect and appreciation. Since many of you will stop in today to link up, I just wanted to thank you. Thanks for reading, commenting, encouraging, and being a lover of poetry.

Neighborhood Oaks photo collage by Margaret Simon

Neighborhood Oaks photo collage by Margaret Simon

I took these pictures in my neighborhood. It had rained the night before, so the resurrection fern was full and green. The moss was particularly shiny and wiggling in the wind. The title came first, which is seldom the case. It came from a statement my father made about a heron on his dock, “She is queen of all she surveys.” I loved the line and thought how it would apply to the live oak. The poem did not come as easily, and I am still not completely satisfied. It started off much more prose-like. I cut words, moved stanzas around. All this work ended up taking me to the same place a few other poems have this summer, to the idea of the mother, the mother in nature that loves us unconditionally and protects us always.

(I want to thank Tabatha for her suggestion for this poem’s ending. I have made these changes. See what I mean about a supportive and helpful community?)

What threads do you see in your poetry? How do you follow or resist these threads?

She is Queen of all She Surveys

Mother oak stands
for generations,
her long arms
clothed in fern,
open and green.

Here the mockingbird
defends her nest, squawking
at the passing squirrel.
Hanging moss wiggles grey fingers,
tickling the wind.

I want to live here
in her branches
among the birds
nestled in fern,
swaying, free,
still holding on to my mother
with tight fists.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Father Goose is here with light verse poems from the new online Light Quarterly today from his perch in the treehouse at the FATHER GOOSE Blog

Matt has a poem about George.

Myra at Gathering Books continues with her Loss, Heartbreak, and Coming of Age bimonthly theme with Frida Kahlo’s letter to Marty McConnell.

Mary Lee Hahn has a poem about habits at A Year of Reading.

At Random Noodling, Diane Mayr has an illustrated poem that she wrote to send to a Summer Poem Swap partner. Kurious Kitty is looking at snakes today with a poem by Margaret Atwood. KK’s Kwotes has a quote by Frances Clarke Sayers.

Laura Shovan has a tree poem today, too. Hers is told from the point of view of a fifth grader with learning differences. Author Amok

Tara was inspired by an exhibition of Georgia O’Keefe’s leaves at A Teaching Life.

Tabatha Yeats at The Opposite of Indifference is writing about sirens and their irresistible songs.

Liz Steinglass is writing about nature, too, observing herself observing the natural world.

Carol at Carol’s Corner is sharing Bob Raczka’s seasons series and even giving away a book!

Robin Hood Black has an August poem by Albert Garcia.

Today at The Poem Farm, Amy has a small how-to poem and a visit from Margy Grosswendt. She tells about her recent travels to Bosnia where she volunteered in an orphanage and shared creative movement exercises with the children there.

Mandy joins in at Enjoy and Embrace Learning with a Hello original poem.

Steven Withrow has an original poem at Crackles of Speech, Chain Rhyme for Goldilocks.

Violet Nesdoly has a review of a friend’s chapbook, Humble Fare.

Anastasia posted a small poem about a large number of steps.

MM Socks has royalty on the mind with an original poem “Playing King.”

A short poem by Richard Brautigan entitled April 7, 1969 is on the menu at the Florian Cafe.

Semicolon Sherry has some thoughts on the Korean poems called Sijo, and on Linda Sue Park’s book called Tap Dancing on the Roof.

Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe has a reentry poem about the joy of 5-year-olds and a little dip-your-toes-in original.

Keri at Keri Recommends is sharing a poem gift from noodle-icious Diane Mayr for the Summer Poem Swap.

Joy Acey is waving to us from the top of a wavy poem at Poetry for Kids Joy.

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Sunset 1

I have been participating in the Teachers Write virtual writing camp at Kate Messner’s blog. The first few weeks I was very good about doing all the exercises. One of the early quick writes asked us to think about a special place. The details of the prompt can be found here.

I visited my parents this summer and enjoyed daily views of their lake. Usually a bird was in the view. The sunset is always beautiful and different. So this became my special place for my response poem.

The Lake
Sometimes near the lake
cardinals flirt,
flickers of red
darting, clicking.
You’ll hear honks of Canada geese,
a gaggle on the shore pecking grass.
There is the great white egret
sailing above the water
reflecting a shimmer of sparkling sun-kiss.
Sometimes, the tinkle of the wind chime
whispers softly, “I love you.”
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Kate’s model poem was her own Sometimes on a Mountain in April. Hers is a poem in photos, very nice. Hop on over there now.

Thanks, Matt Forrest, for taking on the Poetry Friday Roundup today. Go on over to find more rich poetry links. poetry friday button

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summer sunflower

I bought a macro lenses for my iPhone. My sunflowers bloomed. So I took a close-up picture of this amazing gift of nature.

Using a poetry prompt from Poets and Writers, The Time is Now. “Choose an inch of space anywhere around you…Write about that inch. Take a step back. Focus the scope of your poetry. Writing about a single drop of rain can tell us the most about the sky above,” I set out to write a poem about this shining inch in my flower bed.

I also did some research on Wikipedia and found out that the design of the inflorescence (flower head) is a swirl. The swirl design can be mathematically described using the Fibonacci series. With my students last year, I wrote Fib poems using the syllable count of 1,1,2,3,5,8 then turned it around 8,5,3,2,1,1. So what is more appropriate than writing a Fib about the sunflower?

I’ve posted both versions of my poem here. The first is free verse while the second is a Fibonacci poem.

Summer Sunflower

Alive
in yellow exuberance,
inflorescent
spirals off a golden angle—
a mathematician’s playground
in patterned perfection.
I study your face
with squinty eyes,
let time elapse
loving our mother’s glory.
–Margaret Simon

(Fibonacci poem)
I
am
alive
in yellow
enthusiastic
spirals off a golden angle
patterned perfection
study of
mother’s
love.
— Margaret Simon

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone at Check it Out.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone at Check it Out.

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2013 poetry swap with stamp included

Last week Tabatha sent me the name of my 3rd Poem Swap for this summer. I was so excited to see Linda Baie‘s name. Linda is a presence in the kidlitosphere. She won the prize (a copy of my book Blessen) for the biggest commenter on my blog during the March Slice of Life Challenge with the Two Writing Teachers. I have embraced Linda as a cyber-friend with hopes to one day meet her in person. She is so kind and supportive, I wanted to do something special for her.

My father had given me back issues of art magazines to use in my classroom, so I pulled one out for inspiration. I found a poem in the words of the magazine. Then I decided to make a collage of pictures. That didn’t work out so well. While my result was something and may have been creative, it didn’t please me. It wasn’t good enough for Linda, so I made another one. This one pleased me. The found poem came from The International Artist. The images came from American Artist.

play in art collage and poem

Introduce Play into your Art
a found poem from the International Artist
Imagine the surface
alive with light
not pure white—a combination
of source and object.

Look out the window.
See a passenger train
in late afternoon,
a spider web
on a dewy morning,
the cornfield
below the horizon,
tree branches
on a rainy night.

If you follow the light,
you will find the sun.
Light is like salt—
a little is all you need.

–Margaret Simon

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Michelle at Today's Little Ditty.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty.

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2013 poetry swap with stamp included
Tabatha Yeatts invented the Poetry Swap. I have been writing a poem each week to send out to my assigned Poetry Buddy. This week I received a poem from Tabatha herself. And she knows I have cats. The featured cat in my photos is our house cat, Mimi. These thirteen ways of looking at Emma could easily be about Mimi. She enjoyed hanging out on Tabatha’s poem while I wrote at the computer.

Mimi naps on a poem.

Mimi naps on a poem.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Emma

By Tabatha Yeatts

with thanks to W.S.
for M.S. and E.

I
The tail moved
always —
before,
during,
and after.
There was never a time
the tail’s journey was over.

II
The cat’s nose
in the dog’s ear —
whispering love poems
with her whiskers.

III
Anything can be hidden
on the ceiling.
No one looks up.
Except the cat.

IV
The cat walks across the board game.
The whims of fate
cast furry shadows.

V
Only the spiral circles
of pacing and waiting
can express the longing
the scent of chicken
incites.

VI
The cat’s bones
ripple
like a pebble
dropped
in a water dish.

VII
Sleeping upright,
paws hidden,
tail delicately curving
around her side,
the memory of deity
remains.

VIII
The cat,
guardian, silent companion,
desires to be close to the rabbit,
as the tree guards the moss,
as the leaf guards the air,
as the earth guards the moon.

IX
A plane can take you far from the world,
but a cat can always bring you to it.

X
The cat discerns the approaching rain,
spins, and returns so adroitly
you might never imagine
that was not her original direction.

XI
Next to the cat,
the man sneezes.
The cat licks her side.

XII
One cat stalks a darting fly.
Her sister leaves her sleeping post
only to find another.

XIII
Shadows fall around the cat,
the icy gray fingers of age ruffle her fur;
the cat gets up
and moves.

When Mimi is happy, she flips.  We call her "Mrs. Flips."

When Mimi is happy, she flips. We call her “Mrs. Flips.”

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Keri at Keri Recommends.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Keri at Keri Recommends.

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Ocean Call

I am participating in the 2013 summer Poem Swap that Tabatha Yeatts is organizing. What fun it is to receive a poem in the real snail mail! This week Tabatha sent out a picture prompt suggesting an ekphrastic poem. Some poet will receive this poem this week.

The photo that prompted this poem is Noise of the Waves by Phillip Schumacher.

Ocean Call

If you feel small,
sit on the grass-lined dune
near the sea,

cross your legs,
cup your ear,
listen.

The wind will call to you
on wisps of white clouds,
over the roar of waves

drowning
your simple thoughts,
inviting you to be one
with the sculptor of things.

–Margaret Simon

For more Poetry Friday, go to Amy’s site Poem Farm.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Amy at Poem Farm

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Amy at Poem Farm

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