Earlier this week I posted my Pile of Good Things Poem prompted by Stefanie Boutelier at Ethical ELA. Stef encouraged us to use technology and shared a design she made in Canva. I shared the prompt with my students on Monday. My little ones in 1st and 2nd could put together this idea for a poem. I am amazed at how easily they use technology at such an early age. Second grader James turned his pile into the shape of a tree.
I’ve been thinking about my pile of not so good things lately. You might say it’s a gripe poem, a pile of pet peeves.
My Pile of Peeves
Scent of cat pee Anxiety at 3 AM Morning cafeteria duty When I’ve lost something Hitting Send before proofing A colleague diagnosed with cancer An unconsolable child weeping over a mistake The sound of my alarm when I’m actually sleeping In carpool line, putting a student back into a toxic environment The big white truck with extra tires passing me to make a right turn from the left lane.
Margaret Simon, ongoing draft depends upon the day
The Kidlit Progressive Poem schedule for April is full. You can copy and paste the code found on this post. Contact me by email if you have any questions.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Quote of the Day
A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.
I literally yelled at the poor East Indian dude who answered my called to the credit card company. They shut down my credit card over 3 weeks ago due to fraud, and I still do not have a new card. I was livid. I bantered on about subscriptions being canceled so I couldn’t even watch TV. A bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point.
He patiently checked on the status and calmly explained that I should wait a few more days. I’ve heard it all before. Then I asked, “Why could the Disney Plus charge go through and I don’t even have the secret number yet?”
He again very patiently explained that some companies allow them to change over the recurring charges. “You mean I don’t have to get on the phone and call all these companies?”
My voice was calmer. I was breathing a little better. I apologized for yelling at him and promised I would try to wait a few more days.
Then I went outside to water plants and ended up pulling weeds. I’ve always wanted to be a gardener. One who enjoyed digging and planting. I am hopeful it may be happening. I was amazed at how easily I calmed down when I dug in the cool brown dirt, watched doddle bugs emerge, and felt that satisfaction that I was doing something productive.
Then I called Mary. Mary is my good friend who is a master gardener. I told her about my butterfly garden. She said, “Come over! I have some plants for you.”
I went shopping for plants in Mary’s yard and came home with pots of native sunflowers, a blooming ground cover, and one other butterfly plant whose name I’ve already forgotten.
The digging, clearing a space for something new, finding new plants, a gift of friendship all soothed by worried soul. And I hadn’t even gotten to a glass of wine yet.
In my notebook this week I used the above quote to create a golden shovel.
“he who plants kindness gathers love.”
When he sees the first hummingbird at the hibiscus, he gathers sugarwater for who– ever may visit; he plants bee balm, hosta, zinnia, and kindness attracting a single ruby-red who gathers us to the window to love.
Margaret Simon, draft
Mary’s orchidMy orchid rebirth
Mary and I share photos of our orchids that are re-flowering.
There are still dates available for the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April. Don’t forget to sign up here.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I love to go for a walk in the morning. Getting out of the house is my problem. First, I have coffee. Then I check email and these days, write a Slice and read some Slices. Comment. I get sucked in. Even with this problem of getting out of the door, once I’m out, I’m never sorry. Most days when I get back home, there’s a mad rush to get ready for school. Somewhere in this morning routine, I try to get in some writing. Sometimes the writing happens while I am walking. Notes app, microphone on.
My grandson Leo visited this past weekend. He is highly creative. He draws with amazing design, unlike most scribblings of a 4-year old. Last week we ran into my cousin Andrew, the architect, during Mardi Gras. I showed Andrew Leo’s drawings. My daughter started a shared album about a year ago, so I have them on my phone.
Andrew told me a story about his second grade teacher. He loved to build things, and his mother, my aunt, would throw out things like paper towel tubes, boxes, and magazines, etc.. But not Andrew’s teacher. She had a box of trash just for him. An Andrew box full of scraps to build with. He has never forgotten this and may be the artist he is today because of it.
Being Mamere I collected toilet paper tubes, gumballs, and a box. Early on Saturday morning (Leo woke up at 5:30 AM), I showed him the stuff. “You can make whatever you want.” I gave him a plastic container with glue and a paintbrush and left him alone. He created something. When his mother saw it, she noticed that he had even found a wad of cat hair to add to the top of one of the towers. I placed the sculpture in my new butterfly garden to hopefully attract insects and caterpillars.
For Poetry Friday, it is the first Friday, so the Inklings (my writing group) have a new challenge. And it came from me. I asked my friends to toy with the use of anaphora (repetition) in a poem using the mentor text from Jericho Brown, Crossing. I wrote one last week that I ended up putting in the trash, so I didn’t have anything to share. Remember the walk I took? I spoke a poem into my Notes app that is my poem offering today.
It’s time to sign up for the 2023 progressive poem. Each year during National Poetry Month, our Poetry Friday community creates a poem. If you would like to add a line to the poem, select a date. On that date, you will copy the poem from the previous writer and paste it into your blog post, adding the next line. Select a date and leave this information in a comment:
1. Date selected.
2. Your name.
3. Your blog title.
4. Your blog’s URL.
I will update the list as I am able. The logo at the top may be used for your blog.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is stopping here today. It’s been on a long journey and now we are turning toward home. I want to take this opportunity to thank all the participants who without much guidance just kept this poem going and growing.
The last stop was with Kevin Hodgson at Kevin’s Meandering Mind. Here is the poem so far with my line added in italics.
Where they were going, there were no maps.
Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today.
Take the adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!
We have to go back. I forgot something.
But it’s spring, and the world is puddle-wonderful,
so we’ll whistle and dance and set off on our way.
Come with me, and you’ll be in a land of pure imagination.
Wherever you go, take your hopes, pack your dreams, and never forget –
it is on our journeys that discoveries are made.
And then it was time for singing.
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain, paint with all the colors of the wind, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky?
Suddenly, they stopped and realized they weren’t the only ones singing.
Listen, a chattering of monkeys! Let’s smell the dawn and taste the moonlight, we’ll watch it all spread out before us. The moon is slicing through the sky. We whisper to the tree, tap on the trunk, imagine it feeling our sound. Clouds of blue-winged swallows, rain from up the mountains,
Green growing all around, and the cool splash of the fountain.
If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden,
a bright, secret, quiet place, and rather sad; and they stepped out into the middle of it.
Their minds’ libraries and lightning bugs led them on.
The darkwood sings, the elderhist blooms, the sky lightens; listen and you will find your way home.
The night sky would soon be painted, stars gleaming overhead, a beautiful wild curtain closing on the day.
Mud and dusk, nettles and sky – time to cycle home in the dark.
There are no wrong roads to anywhere
I am away from home staying with my mother. My father is in hospice care in the hospital after a stroke ten days ago. This liminal time has been a blessing in many ways. I am listening to my mother play the piano as I write this. She and Dad are big Leonard Cohen fans. My father gave her a picture book of “Dance Me to the End of Love” illustrated by Matisse. I am not sure my line makes sense with the poem, but I also know that poetry is a safe place and a place of mystery. So I’m just going with it.
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
1. The Imaginaries: Little Scraps of Larger Stories, by Emily Winfield Martin 2. The Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien 3. The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame 4. Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech 5. inspired by “[in Just-]” by E. E. Cummings 6. “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory 7. Maybe by Kobi Yamada 8. Sarah, Plain, and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan 9. inspired by Disney songs “A Whole New World” from Aladdin and “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas 10. The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor 11. adapted from Cinnamon by Neil Gaiman 12. adapted from The Magical Imperfect by Chris Baron 13. adapted from On the Same Day in March by Marilyn Singer 14. adapted from a line in Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson 15. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett 16. Prince Caspian by CS Lewis 17. The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera 18. Kate DiCamillo’s The Beatryce Prophecy 19. The Keeper of Wild Words by Brooke Smith 20. Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv 21. ThePhantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster 22. Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen
And here is today’s new line from poet Janet Clare Fagal, a blogless soul who posts on Facebook as Janet Clare and whose poems can be found in a variety of anthologies (pictured below), and online at nlapw.org. If you are not a Facebook friend, please send Janet a request if you would like to connect!
I am happy to be participating once again in the Poetry Friday Progressive Poem! Thanks to Margaret for hosting me this year.
Such an adventure we have begun. I tried a little formatting to get a feel for the bones of our poem, but please feel free to try your own version as we move along down the path! For my line, I found one from Neil Gaiman, and using my poetic license, I adapted/edited the line to make it work a bit better for the poem. I am eager to pass the poem to my friend Jone Rush MacCulloch!
Don’t we all love the adventure of April in this wonderfully creative Blogosphere of Kidlitosphere poets and writers! I am so glad you started this Progressive Poem, Irene, I look forward to it every April.
Where they were going, there were no maps.
Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not Today.
Take the adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!
We have to go back. I forgot something.
But it’s spring, and the world is puddle-wonderful, so we’ll whistle and dance and set off on our way.
Come with me, and you’ll be in a land of pure imagination.
Wherever you go, take your hopes, pack your dreams, and never forget – it is on our journeys that discoveries are made.
And then it was time for singing.
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain, paint with all the colors of the wind, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky?
Suddenly, they stopped and realized they weren’t the only ones singing.
(Now for my addition! An adapted line from Cinnamon by Neil Gaiman.)
Listen, a chattering of monkeys! Let’s smell the dawn and taste the moonlight, we’ll watch it all spread out before us.
Lines 1 -11, poet and where they are from:
Irene (The Imaginaries)
Donna (The Hobbit)
Catherine F. (The Wind in The Willows)
Mary Lee (Walk Two Moons)
Buffy Silverman (a bit from e.e. cummings)
Linda Mitchell (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)
Kim Johnson (from Maybe by Kobi Yamada)
Rose Cappelli (Sarah, Plain and Tall)
Carol Varsalona (Disney Songs)
Linda Baie (The Other Way to Listen.)
Janet Clare Fagal (line adaptation from Cinnamon by Neil Gaiman)
Poetry Friday is with Amy at The Poem FarmThank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I’m excited to hear from Tabatha that Imperfect II is almost here. I have a few small poems included. The anthology is ready for pre-order here. The blog for this book is here.
Hardcover for Imperfect II
My blog is featured on Twinkl as a Top 10+ poetry blog for children.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem begins on April 1st. The schedule is ready to go. Irene Latham starts us off. I can’t wait!
Click here to copy and paste the Kidlit Progressive Poem schedule.
I won a copy of Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s new book If This Bird Had Pockets, released March 1st. Amy is one of my favorite poets and people. Her poetry makes me smile. It’s accessible to children and is just plain fun!
Personal signature on the title page of If This Bird Had Pockets
Many poets take on a poem-a-day project during National Poetry Month. I haven’t decided yet if I am creating one or just following along with someone else. What are your plans for celebrating National Poetry Month?
You may use the graphic for your Progressive Poem Post
Poetry Friday Peeps, it’s time to sign up for the National Poetry Month Progressive Poem. If you’d like to play along, you can commit to adding a line to a child-friendly progressive poem and posting it on your own blog. Copy and paste the poem into your post and add a line. You can also copy the following schedule (once complete) onto your blog site with the above graphic.
I live on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. I love teaching, poetry, my dog Charlie, my three daughters, and dancing with my husband. This space is where I capture my thoughts, share my insights, and make connections with the world. Welcome! Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 