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Archive for the ‘Poetry Friday’ Category

Poetry Friday is gathered today by Laura Purdie Salas who has a new picture book Line Leads the Way. Visit her site for all the poetry goodness.

The first Friday of each month is reserved for the Inklings challenge. This month Catherine tuned us in to Ada Limon’s project You are Here. Her question is What would you write in response to the landscape around you?

Last month I participated in Ethical ELA’s Open Write. Mo Daley prompted us to write a type of found poem called “X Marks the Spot.” The idea was to take any text and draw an x across the page, then use the words to make a new poem.

I look forward to trying this prompt with my students soon. Having a bank of words to use in a poem can be just the push you need. “You are here” is often marked by an X. I used a poem found in the American Scholar magazine titled “The Bougainvillea Line” by Ange Mlinko. 

This summer our landscape has been saturated by rain. This is better than drought, to be sure, and my garden has loved it. This poetry exercise stretched me to find a new place to land. The found words are in italics.

Summer Soaked in Rain

Driving the back roads which 
pass by train tracks which carve ditches
of untended weeds, we breathe the familiar
lime-lit gravel there
swarming with wild volunteers.

Illuminated porches bark with fervor,
tomatoes once sweet, pock-marked
by bird beaks.

I think of my own garden
full and overgrown, untrained vine
of bougainvillea stretching underfoot
with poor allegiance
to the government of gardens
dissolving in rained-on glory.

Margaret Simon, draft

In my butterfly garden, Albert chases a Gulf fritillary. Photo by Margaret Simon

To see how other Inklings responded to this prompt, go to these links:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @Another Year of Reading
Heidi @my juicy little universe

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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Marcie Atkins at her blog.

I am always touched when someone from the Poetry Friday community takes the time to get to know me and send me a personalized poem. The Summer Poetry Swap is organized by Tabatha Yeatts. I received a package from Tricia Stohr Hunt with delightful surprises. She sent a postcard of Capitol Street in downtown Jackson, MS. from 1944. My father would have been 11 years old and living a block away.

The poem she wrote has a lovely repetition. She said in her note that the “people” in the poem are me.

Musings on Mississippi

I traveled through 
Mississippi once
in a rented car, speeding
from Mobile to NOLA
in the dark
there were only twenty-four hours 
of liberty

I was in the dark
about Mississippi
familiar only with 
minutiae learned in elementary school
Capital: Jackson
Nickname: The Magnolia State
Abbreviation: MS
Fun Fact: birthplace of Elvis

Minutiae learned in elementary school
tell an incomplete story
I know the stereotypes
the ugly bits of history
but it’s the people 
that interest me
their lives, their stories

People interest me
the ones with big hearts
who wear their love 
loud and proud 
love for the land
love for poetry and music
love for the beauty of the world
  for this place called home
  and every living thing

From Tricia Stohr-Hunt

Tricia personalized her gift even more with handmade items, a letter-block print of an excerpt from Naomi Shihab Nye’s “Valentine for Ernest Mann” and a lavender folded book including a window to her original print art. Her gift was overflowing with creativity and inspiration.

Summer Poetry Swap gift from Tricia Stohr Hunt

This week I wrote with Ethical ELA’s Open Write. On Wednesday, sadly the last day for this month, Mo Daley prompted us to write a dodoitsu poem, a Japanese limerick of 7, 7, 7, 5 syllable count. My poem was dedicated to this supportive online community. I am feeling the love.

A Community of Poets

Poems drift across this room
and hide within our voices.
Pressing forth among like minds–
Cheers to word choices.
Margaret Simon, draft

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The Poetry Friday Roundup this week is here. Scroll down to enter your links into the inLinkz party.

My summer is quickly coming to an end. I will be returning to teaching on August 1st (yes, it gets earlier every year). Two weeks left, but as every teacher knows, you must start working on plans and classroom arrangement much earlier. So today I am here with a praise poem from my summer.

Today, I Praise
(after Angelo Geter)

Today I will praise
the sharp teeth of a puppy
how he nips without force
licking my hand
with scented puppy breath.

I swoon over
a Gulf fritillary in the garden
flitting zinnia to zinnia,
how her wild orange gown
opens to the light.

Today, I praise
fairy tale enchantment
a stage of costumed pretenders,
how they rise above us
sing and dance a trance of fantasy.

Praise summer rain.
Praise magic of evening’s glow.
Praise long shadows of draping oaks.
Praise songs we sing because we know all the words.

Praise words.
Praise songs.
Praise me.
Praise you.

Margaret Simon, draft

Gulf Fritillary on a zinnia blossom, photo by Shelli Helms.

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!Click here to enter


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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge.

July came in with a poem from Grateful Living. A poem I know and love. One I’ve carried in my pocket often for Poem in your Pocket Day. It’s likely one that you know as well, Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye. In my notebook I wrote a riff on the line “You must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.”

You Must Know

Sorrow buries itself
in the marrow of your bones,
zaps your energy
so all you can do is stop, rest, breathe
slow and steady.

Then you emerge, shedding
a former skin
to feel Love
as the deepest thing,
how sorrow lights on a fence post
to show you
what is true.
All a part of you.

Margaret Simon, draft

Dragonfly by Julie Burchstead

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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jan at Bookseed Studio

July is a popular travel month. Heidi challenged the Inklings to write a postcard poem for this first Friday. “Write a short postcard poem with choice details of your vacation/holiday/getaway/escape location and activities. Conclude with “Wish you were here” or some variation!

Unfortunately, we had to cancel a Europe trip due to my husband’s injury. I have been perusing social media and pondering the travel of my friends. This is not a healthy situation. I’m having bouts of travel envy.

A friend recommended John O’Donohue’s interview on the On Being podcast. O’Donohue died young in 2008. His interview with Krista Tippett was inspiring. I was especially attracted to his poem “Beannacht” found in his final book: To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings and used it as a mentor poem for my poem “Blessing for Travel”

Links to Inklings:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @Another Year of Reading
Heidi @my juicy little universe

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Poetry Friday is being hosted by Tricia Stohr Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect.
The annual Summer Poetry Swap is coordinated by Tabatha Yeatts.

This week I received my first poetry swap poem from Rose Cappelli. Rose sent a dreamy note tablet, a Mary Oliver poem, and a cascade poem about peonies. As Rose explained, in a cascade poem, each line from the first stanza repeats as the final line of each subsequent stanza. Rose does this seamlessly.

Thank you, Rose, for the lovely cascade poem.

My mind has been on the flowers, prompted by Mary Oliver, Rose, and Maggie Smith. I subscribe to Maggie Smith’s Substack newsletter. This week she wrote about naming things.

“I love when I can accurately identify things when I see (or hear) them: a bird, a tree, a flower, a constellation, a kind of nest. (As the poet Pattiann Rogers once said in an interview, ‘naming is a form of honoring something.’)”

Maggie also writes about not knowing the name of something and how that can lead to wonder and discovery. I found a flower in my mother-in-law’s collection of pots that she nor I could identify. We could tell it was a type of hibiscus. I began by writing a list of metaphors. I am still playing with how to insert the not knowing, but wanted to share the small poem that I wrote in my notebook.

Hibiscus Moment

You are Love’s red lace,
blooming beet-red bow
on a woman’s flowing gown.

You open only for a day
flirting like a spool of yarn
to a kitten, taunting us

to feel unhinged with marvel.
So much bravery
in your fleeting face.
(Margaret Simon, draft)

Swamp Hibiscus or Rose Mallow by Margaret Simon

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Poetry Friday gathering is with Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference.

I have fallen out of a daily writing practice. I don’t have my students to keep me honest. Summer break has seeped into my psyche and everything feels like a pause. Good news I feel rested. I’m sleeping better, and my daily exercise has leveled up. But I feel guilty about the writing. I really thought I would do more of it.

Ethical ELA helped me out this week with daily prompts for June’s Open Write. On Saturday, Sarah Donovan started us out with a prompt from June Jordan’s poem “These Poems.”

These poems
after June Jordan

These poems
they are sated
with sweet wine.

These lips
open for words
whispered to wind.

These wishes
wander in warm sun
hoping to find
your heart
to hold.

I follow these strokes
stem by stem
scribbles of ink
seeking recognition.

Do you see me?

On Sunday, I led the prompt about writing a duplex poem after Kay Ulanday Barrett who wrote after Jericho Brown. The poem I wrote came to me after my husband’s recent dog bite injury. Everyone we talked to wanted to know all the details. He is doing better, but he is wearing a wound vac that is a gismo that continually pumps the bad stuff out of his wound. We are hoping this method works toward faster healing. (Thanks for all of your thoughts and prayers.)

I Ask

(Duplex after Jericho Brown after Kay Ulanday Barrett)

the poem what it wants me to hear today.
What thread runs through the details?

Everyone wants to know the details.
What happened at the corner lot?

What happened at the corner
turned his life, his legs inside out.

Turned his life, his legs inside out,
details that thread the woven story.

They tell details to thread the woven story.
Shout for justice for the finish line.

Say justice is truth; shatters the plan,
pulls the thread on the whole thing.

Pull a thread, the whole thing changes
to what the poem wants me to know. 

Monday’s prompt was from Susan Ahlbrand. She shared clips from Gilmore Girls to prompt us to write about graduation day. I took a quote from Lorelei who said, “I’m not crying.”

On the final day, I was taking care of two of my grandchildren, so I put together a quick book spine poem, prompted by Jessica, from my daughter’s son’s shelf. This week revived my soul and hopefully put me back on a path of daily writing.

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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tracey Kiff-Judson at Tangles & Tails.

Here we are again with a monthly Inkling challenge. This month Molly challenged us with a prompt from Pádraig Ó Tuama who said “A poem is a word-event going in many directions at once. Sometimes the “you” of a poem is a specific person, at other times it’s the poet, or a general audience, and at times there’s no you at all so the poem addresses itself to the world.”

Molly asked us to write a narrative poem that includes observations about the world and explores the craft of address, the you of a poem. On a recent morning walk, I spoke two observations into my notes app. I felt invaded upon when a truck high up on oversized wheels revved its engine at me as it passed. The other observation was not connected at all. I saw oak tree arms leaning on electric wires. We’ve had a number of sudden storms this summer, and each one is frightening. That’s all to say that poetry is a place where I can vent; I can let steam rise and fall. I address this poem to the you of a random monster truck.

Grandmother Oak Sunrise
June 6, 2024

You disturb my peace.

You! with your hot wheels
rumbling down the road,
motor revving, disrupt
this peace of mind I’m in
writing a poem
in my head
about birds singing.

Birds sing as you pass,
your rolled-up windows
beat-boxing,
shaking a rhythm

of my walking, heart pumping
brow sweating. I’m in this groove
you move your hard edge
against. 

My poem wants
to be kind, but I cannot wash
away your harsh sound
that erases the wind
heaving a heavy sigh

like the old oak arms
leaning on electric wires
holding heavy vibration–
a lightning bolt I cry

to be saved from. 

Margaret Simon, draft

Take a look at how my Inkling friends approached this challenge:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @Another Year of Reading
Heidi @my juicy little universe

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Poetry Friday gathering is with Michelle Kogan .

I take inspiration for writing from many sources, but one of my favorites is Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Poetry Unbound. A few weeks ago, he featured sections of a poem by Joy Harjo. I listened, then read the whole poem. I was reminded of a conversation I had with my husband when we passed road construction on the way to visit the doctor.

Two weeks ago, my husband was mauled by a German shepherd. He’s going to be okay, but his calves were pretty torn up and he’s had two surgeries so far for repair and debridement. This is the kind of thing that turns your world on its edge, just checking in to see if you’re paying attention.

When I am thrown into a deep hole, I make my way out by writing poetry. Joy Harjo inspired this one. It may help to know that Jeff is a real estate attorney.

Road Construction

As we pass the road construction,
he told me the owners agreed
to the sale if they saved the tree.


The tree is gone; one hundred years
of life gone for a road.

We don’t know how long we have.
How long until a dog escapes its fence
and takes you down to the bone. 

This land does not belong to us to give.
The house on the corner did not own the tree;
it was not theirs to give, but there’s the empty space 
filled with mulch, the former bark
of a tree giving up its life for a road. 

Margaret Simon, (c) 2024

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Linda Mitchell is gathering posts with another fun clunker exchange.

A friend of mine suggested I listen to a podcast with Jane Hirshfield. It was a lovely hour. Even though I split it between multiple shorter listens, I want to go back and listen straight through. You can find it on Spotify on the Ezra Klein Show.

I write a poem-a-day, but honestly, I don’t always write a good, shareable poem each day. This week the only one I somewhat like is an acrostic to a Jane Hirshfield quote. One of my students found a Mary Englebright quote “It’s just a bad day. Not a bad life.” I’m applying that to my poetry writing. “It’s just a bad poem. Not a bad poet.” I like Linda’s idea of exchanging clunkers. Maybe some of my starts and fits will bloom on another page. For today, it’s Anything.

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