Spiritual Journey is hosted today by Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.
There is so much that is frightening and appalling about our world today. I’m sure it was that way when Jesus walked to Gethsemane, a hopeless time, a time of hatred and fear. Every year when we spend time between Palm Sunday and Easter, I am pulled into the despair.
Tonight I will sing. I am an alto voice in our small church choir. With a strong soprano by my side, I am singing a duet “By the Mark.” It’s been ringing in my ears all week.
Ruth asked us to write about service. When Jesus lowered himself to the ground to wash his disciples’ feet, he showed them and us how humbling yourselves can be a powerful expression of pure love. How can we love like Jesus did?
I fall short every day. Isn’t that the point? If I didn’t fall short, I would not need to repent or be open to change. Today I open my hands in prayer, open my hands to God’s children, and lift up my voice to make a gentle gift of love.
I am yours, Lord, even when I’m tired. If the world dips into darkness, your light precedes me and I will follow.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Marcie Flinchum Atkins, who has a new book coming out on Tuesday, When Twilight Comes.
For the last Friday of the month, the Poetry Sisters offer a challenge. I wanted to give it a try. The form is Ovillejo, a Spanish form described here.
In Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Substack this week, he posted a poem from Rainer Maria Rilke that began with the line “God speaks to each of us as he makes us.” I love this idea of God, intimate and personal. To get started on the Ovillejo, I borrowed this line. As I worked with the syllable count and rhyme, it changed somewhat.
Belonging
After Rainer Maria Rilke
God speaks fondly to each of us, makes each of us.
Birds respond to God’s call with song— You belong.
Set the paddle deep into water, my daughter.
Stop messing with what doesn’t matter. Sit with God and speak in silence. God knows your peculiar cadence.
Like each of us, you belong, my daughter.
Margaret Simon, draft
Twilight on Lake Lanier, Georgia
Our host, Marcie, asked us to post a favorite picture and poem of twilight to celebrate her new book. When I searched my blog history for a twilight poem, I found last year’s Kidlit Progressive Poem.
April Runs Over
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! startle the sleeping grasshoppers delight in each flowering shrub…
Drinking in orange-blossom twilight relax to the rhythm of stars dotting sky as a passing Whip-poor-will gulps bugs We follow a moonlit path that calls us
Grab your dripping brushes! Our celestial canvas awaits There we swirl, red, white, and blue Behold what magic our montage creates!
Such marvelous palettes the earth bestows When rain greens our hopes, watch them grow, watch them grow!
April is National Poetry Month. Each year the #kidlit poetry community writes a progressive poem. The idea originated from Irene Latham. Each day the poem travels to a different blog, and the poet adds a new line to the poem. Past poems can be seen here.
If you’d like to participate in this year’s progressive poem, please comment on this post with your date choice and blog URL link. Come back to this post to copy and paste the schedule into your blog post. Feel free to email me if you have any questions.
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.
Today’s #verselove prompt is from Padma Venkatraman who wrote Bridge to Home and most recently Safe Harbor. Her books never fail to take me to a new place where I can find a relatable character and beautiful language. What a honor to have her writing a prompt for us based on her latest book. She invited us to write about a safe place.
I am visiting Ridgeland, MS, a few miles from the place I grew up. While my visits here bring forth many emotions, this morning I wanted to find solace in a walk in nature. Even though my hotel is near an outdoor shopping mall, there is a creek nearby with a walking path. The creek is the very same creek that ran behind my childhood home, Purple Creek. I used the poetry form of tanka (haiku with a chorus) which has a syllable count of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Janet today at Donna’s blog, Mainely Write.
Irene Latham is gathering Poetry Friday today at Live Your Poem
I didn’t want to write about my father today, but I woke up and looked at the clock at 4:44 AM, so there he was. He would tell us that he always woke up at 4:44. He had a thing for double numbers. His birthday was 11/11/33. On this day 4/11/22, he had a stroke and died 11 days later on 4/22/22.
When I opened #Verselove, I saw a prompt that Kim Johnson shared in our poetry session on Wednesday at the Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival. Unfortunately, Kim had a family emergency, so she had to leave on Thursday. She is supposed to be sitting with me as I write this morning. The loneliness has gotten the best of me, so I had to write about my father. As Kim and I said to our session participants, poetry can be healing. It’s a place of vulnerability. Kim’s prompt can be found on Ethical ELA.
Remember
I remember the phone call in the middle of class. I answered it. I remember thinking something bad had happened.
I remember I packed a bag for 3 nights max (I stayed 2 weeks).
I remember the gruff hospitalist rattling the bed with her pronouncement of no hope. You stared after her with anger and fear.
I remember the long days as you fought, grabbing tubes, glaring helplessly, speech stolen by the stroke.
I remember tears and singing, prayers whispering, silently longing to bring you back to us.
I remember someone said the deepest grief comes from the deepest love. I wasn’t ready to remember.
Mural in process at The Southern Linen Company, New Iberia, Louisiana
I was running late for a lunch date with friends, but I had to stop. The artists, Hannah Gumbo and Terez Molitor, were hard at work painting this bright and cheerful mural. A little while later, they stopped for lunch at the same cafe. I was able to get their names and thank them for their tireless work on the mural. They both lit up. Creating this art brought them joy. And now it will bring joy to passers-by. Public art is for everyone!
Can you write a small poem inspired by this photo? Join us in the comments. After you write, be sure to stop back by to leave some comment love on other writers’ poems. Together we are creating art with words.
At Ethical ELA Verselove, Leilya inspires us to write a tricube poem. This form is 3 stanzas of 3 lines with 3 syllables each.
Mural Art
In spring, red dances with yellow light.
Buds become butterfly, bee feeders.
Painted walls fill my heart with delight. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Today is the last day of March which means I have finished my 12th year of writing a slice of life for 31 days. It’s easy to think this is some great accomplishment. But who matters more to me are the bloggers I do this with. Through the Two Writing Teachers blog, we have connected over time and space and supported each other. I always end with the wish that I had read more and commented more. What a wonderful community of teacher-writers! Thank you!
I also want to express my pride over my students who stuck with the daily slicing challenge. Julian wrote “This is the final day for writing and I cannot believe I actually did it. Before I ever did this challenge I was having trouble with writing 1 SOL a week. I never would have thought I would be able to write one continuously for a month straight. But I did and I’m very proud of myself.” You can view their posts at Fanschool/ GT Allstars
Tomorrow begins another writing adventure: National Poetry Month. Many of my poet blogger friends are doing projects. I will be writing with Ethical ELA VerseLove as I have done since 2020. At Ethical ELA, there is another great community of teacher writers who support each other.
I coordinate a gathering of children’s poets to write the 2025 Kidlit Progressive Poem. Linda Mitchell has bravely agreed to start us off. You will find her post at A Word Edgewise. We have three slots left at the end of the month if you want to play along. Kidlit Progressive Poem 2025 Sign Up.
Tomorrow is a big day for me. Release day for Were You There? A Biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet that I co-authored with Phebe Hayes. I will be presenting this weekend at the Books Along the Teche Literary Festival at the Shadows on the Teche Visitors Center at 11:15 AM on Saturday. My co-author Phebe Hayes and I are excited to launch this important book about the history of New Iberia, LA. If you are local, please join us for this long awaited release.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
If you are a blogger and would like to add a line during National Poetry Month to our Kidlit Progressive Poem, please make a comment or send me an email with a date choice and a link to your blog. Everyone is welcome to play!
The early morning school playground was covered in a sheet of fog. Avalyn and I went outside to write. This is something she often requests. There is an old oak with a picnic table in a just right spot for writing in our notebooks. I wrote about my surroundings, observations of the morning.
The fog hovers over the playground. I hear echoes of a church bell chime. Traffic moves beyond carrying the day-workers. Birds call to mates as spring slowly wakes sprouting on this weary morning.
Form can give us a container for our words. I looked up the triolet form. I labeled my paper with the number of lines and the rhyme scheme. The poem changed shape while still holding the mood.
Fog hovers on soft spring air, tip-toes as a church bell chimes. Work day traffic moves on everywhere. Fog hovers on soft spring air. Breeze tickles my face with hair. Morning wakes right on time. Fog hovers on soft spring air, tip-toes as a church bell chimes.
(Margaret Simon, draft)
I used these two drafts to discuss revision with my students at the next school in the afternoon. I suggested they go back to a poem and revise it.
Max who is a humble poet will rarely share his poems out loud, so I asked his permission to share his revision here. He wrote it on Fanschool, and you can leave comments specifically for him there.
“Insects buzzing all around,
Bugs are feeding on the ground,
For there is no need for them to hurry,
So why should they need to worry?”
March 25th, 2025: I absolutely despise the quality of this poem. REVISE!
Insects hover in the air,
Gracefully, glide without care.
Spot a flower, beautifully white.
Harvesting energy, basking in the sunlight.
Insects, bugs, air and the ground.
Moving, flying, all around.
To hurry is not a worry, for them.
Unless by something, they’re found.
Then Scurry!
I would add something else, but this is just about it. (Max, 6th grade)
How do you approach revision? Is it hard for you? I think students don’t usually like to revise. They like to write and move on to the next thing. Honestly until I read Max’s post, I thought the class didn’t think much of my little revision lesson. Modeling our own writing process with our students makes us vulnerable, but in the long run, shares how we all are in this together, writing side by side.
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 