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My students continue to celebrate International Dot Day. A group of 2nd-4th graders presented Peter Reynolds’ book The Dot to a kindergarten class. We gave each of them a coffee filter. They placed the filter on a sheet of art paper. They colored the filter with markers. Then my students sprayed the filters. (2-3 squirts only! We learned quickly that too many squirts made a very soggy dot.) Another thing we learned was that most kindergarten kids can sign their own name and are very proud to do so.

Back in class with some of my older students, we wrote a collaborative poem around the line, “Make a mark and see where it takes you.” Combining the efforts of all of my various groups of children, I created this Animoto video.

Another book in Peter Reynolds’ Creatrilogy is Ish. Third grader Tobie read Dot and Ish and drew this dot on the board. I thought it was really clever.

Invisiblish dot by Tobie

Invisiblish dot by Tobie

Tabatha has the Poetry Friday Roundup today. Hop on over to her site: The Opposite of Indifference.

poetry friday button

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Over at Teaching Young Writers, Betsy has a monthly chalk-a-bration, chalking poetry. My students had a great time with this activity on August 30. The principal saw all our beautiful chalketry and drawings, so she asked us to do it again for Grandparents’ Day. Since grandparents were expected to visit school on Monday, we chalked our poetry last Friday. Today, I am posting some pictures of my students and their chalketry. I’m sure they will ask again this morning if we are going to chalk poetry. I hope Betsy keeps it up during the school year, but even if she doesn’t post a round-up, my students are hooked and will be wanting to chalk poems year round. (If you click on the pictures, the image is bigger and you can read the poem.)

Grandparents were greeted by a colorful path.

Grandparents were greeted by a colorful path.

Soft grandma, warm grandma has a cat with fur. Happy grandma, sleepy grandma, (snore) "Yeah, sure." by Matthew

Soft grandma,
warm grandma
has a cat with fur.
Happy grandma, sleepy grandma,
(snore)
“Yeah, sure.”
by Matthew

Kendall's poem fills the sidewalk.

Kendall’s poem fills the sidewalk.

Grandparents are great. Grandparents are sweet. Grandparents are here to greet you. Grandparents we hope you have a lot of fun. Grandparents are the best.

Grandparents are great.
Grandparents are sweet.
Grandparents are here to greet you.
Grandparents we hope you have a lot of fun.
Grandparents are the best.


Vannisa's poem

Vannisa’s poem

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jen at Teach Mentor Texts

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jen at Teach Mentor Texts

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Poet Jane Hirshfield

Poet Jane Hirshfield


Jane Hirshfield is one of my favorite poets. Such a gentle soul! I attended a reading years ago at the Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival, a blessing to be in her presence. I don’t remember what she read but how she read. Her voice was like the soft rocking of a grandmother. I wanted to stay in her voice and live there.

I spend too much time on Facebook, but it’s not what you may think. I skim over the pictures of my friends’ families and dinners and children and click on links from my professional learning communities. The other day The Academy of American Poets posted a link to this Jane Hirshfield article, 5 Poetic Essentials for the Home Cook.

I spent some time with her article to absorb the essence of it. Here I have created a found poem.

Simple obedience isn’t possible.
Right now you are making something
of this very moment. Imagination
rises like wild yeasts. Why not invite it?
What else is needed? Lemon zest of curiosity, yes!
Taste the boldness. Experiment because failure is inevitable.
Classic companions-oil and water-make good company.
We sustain one another. The pause here is essential.
However brief or silent, it changes the day
seasoning with powerful gratitude.

–Found by Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Laura Shovan at Author Amok

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Laura Shovan at Author Amok

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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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