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The “I am From” poem form has been a tried and true form to model with students. A few weeks ago, I pulled it out again in hopes to get my students to write for a hometown poetry contest. It didn’t really work out. But while I wrote with them, I ended up with a version that I liked.
I had to explain “pot liquor” to my students because the alarm bells went off when they heard the word liquor. Isn’t it funny how you can know something so well that you don’t even notice? Pot liquor is the distinctly southern delicacy of the broth from boiling greens. (AI says it is also “potlikker”.) My mother would mix it with corn bread and black-eyed peas and eat it with a spoon from a coffee mug. I never developed much of a taste for pot liquor, but what I wouldn’t give to smell it again.
I am From “The most important aspect of love is not in giving or the receiving: it’s in the being” Ram Dass
I am from a gold pearl ring on my right hand. I am from a grandmother with my name– (Margaret, meaning pearl)
I am from Dot, too, from her laughter at things funny, not funny, from her nimble fingers playing classical piano. From lazy afternoons with a Ding-Dong and a Coke.
I’m from photos by the azalea bushes full pink blossoms rising behind our blonde heads. From pot liquor with black-eyed peas and pecan pie fresh from the oven on Thanksgivings in Morton.
I open my mother’s jewelry box, a calm of pearls and golden beads slip on easily. Margaret Simon, 2025
I put this one off, I admit. I knew I had a week of break to prepare, but still I created this last minute. I went back to the poems I wrote for Laura Shovan’s February project using the theme of Space. I had a different poem in mind when I found one I had written about the Aurora Borealis. I had just talked with a friend whose daughter had seen the Northern Lights on a trip to Norway. He shared fabulous photos from his phone. Definitely a bucket list item for me.
I realized I could transform my poem into a weather forecast. The creation part took some time using Canva and playing with placement of lines. I tried to adapt some of the words actually used in a forecast. Forget time; I was in Flow. The image is a bit busy for my taste, but I had to get this post done for the early Poetry Friday posters.
If you are interested in participating in the Kidlit Progressive Poem, click the link and leave a comment or email me your name, date chosen, blog name, and URL. Thanks!
Please sign up to add a line to the Kidlit Progressive Poem coming April, 2025. On your chosen day, you will copy and paste the previous lines of the poem to a blog post and add your own line. When you sign up, create a hyperlink to your home page. For example, Margaret at Reflections on the Teche. Thanks!
Happy May! In many ways, I’m sad that it’s May. I looked over the school calendars, and I have fewer than 10 days left with my students. May’s calendars are worse than December. They are full of “Fun Days”, field trips, and “Awards Day”… Where are the time-with-my-students days?
Of course, there are some wonderful days on the same calendar: Teacher Appreciation Week, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Sleep-in-it’s-summer days.
Today is Inklings Challenge of the Month Day. Linda Mitchell hit us with an interesting challenge to exchange poems and “Fiddle with, play with, tinker, tear-apart, be inspired or stumped by” the poem you were given. I chose to find a nestling ( à la Irene Latham). On this Canva design, you can see the poem Linda sent and my nestling.
Full poem “Star Says” by Linda Mitchell Nestling “Star” by Margaret Simon
Links to other Inklings. Molly had my poem to fiddle with. I can’t wait to see what she did with it.
If you followed the Progressive Poem, you can find the poem as a whole at this link: 2024 Kidlit Progressive Poem: Border Crossing This year felt different, a higher stakes dramatic story evolved. Thanks to everyone who participated.
I will be participating in a poetry reading event on Saturday night. It’s been a while since I have read for an audience. Wish me luck.
Kidlit Progressive Poem is moving along with apprehension and worry for our two refugees. See the latest line at Opposite of Indifference with Tabatha Yeats.
Being a part of the Poetry Friday community has given me much to be grateful for. We are writing together a wonderful Progressive Poem. Today’s line is with Denise Krebs and yesterday was Linda Mitchell. I’ve met these poets along with many others through our weekly postings. These posts have led to collaboration on other projects. Linda is a writing group partner and Denise and I are a part of Ethical ELA and a book we are collaborating on. (More on that later.) I would never have met them in real life. The gathering of a like-minded community of writers has all occurred right here with my blog.
This week I attended the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival and had the privilege of presenting with Irene Latham. Irene and I met through Poetry Friday and in person years ago at the Louisiana Book Festival. We’ve presented together before at NCTE.
Irene is such a humble leader. She turns every eye away from herself toward you. She makes everyone in the room feel like confident poets. What joy! You can see our slideshow here.
Margaret and Irene presenting at Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival: “Poetry as a Time Machine”
Next year, you should consider attending the festival in person. They invite the most inspiring speakers. This year I heard keynotes from Lesa Cline-Ransome as well as her talented husband, James Ransome, Cynthia Leitich Smith (Southern Miss Medallion), and Juana Martinez-Neal who won the Coleen Salley Storytelling Award. Jason Chin, deGrummond Children’s Literature Lecturer, impressed me with his curiosity about the world and how that curiosity has led him to illustrating. He won a Caledecott Medal for Watercress. The book that impressed me the most was The Universe in You: A Microscopic Journey (Caldecott and Sibert Honoree). As you can see, the Fay B Kaigler invites some of the best authors and illustrators in the children’s literature realm.
And now for a poem. Following Ethical ELA VerseLove has kept me writing a poem each day. Yesterday’s prompt was an ode to the unworthy. I’ve lived in Louisiana and Mississippi all my life, so I’ve had many hurricane experiences. I wrote an Ode to the Hurricane.
Ode to the Hurricane
As the wild winds swirl together above the Gulf, you become a massive creation threatening a nation.
No matter how we prepare– buy bread, water, flashlights, charge up Sparky, the generator, your fierce presence is feared.
They give you gentle names: Katrina, Ida, Andrew, Camille. Names that will live in history. Names that define an era.
After you pass through, an eerie calm descends upon a community. We band together to feed each other, to clean up destruction you left behind.
Oh, hurricane, you are the hint of end times. Behold your survivors–we tell your story.
This first Friday of National Poetry Month, we have an Inklings challenge brought to us by Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee asked us to write a haiku sequence about poetry without using the word poetry.
I’ve been on an Emily Dickinson kick watching the surreal series “Dickinson” on Apple TV and reading through a dog-eared collection of her poems. When I read Mary Lee’s challenge, I decided to write individual haiku on slips of paper from the pile on the kitchen counter. That way I could arrange them in a logical/ illogical/ artistic/creative way.
random collection of haiku
I played with the order and this is what I have, for now. One of the best parts of writing poetry is revising, so I am open to rearranging and rewording or throwing it all into the flame.
Envelope opens words release into hands timeless treasure
2. Flame rises too high under the white carnation searing joy to ash
3. Whispers of wishes within earshot of your eyes written by my hand
4. Slips of paper feathers folded in hope message delivered
5. Metaphoric company of lacewings urging me to fly
Spider Lily among cypress knees on Bayou Teche, Louisiana
I wanted this swamp lily to be a star lily, but research is telling me it’s a variety of spider lily. On Ethical ELA, the prompt by Wendy Everard asks us to explore the place of a favorite poet. I chose Mary Oliver and a striking line from her poem Fall: “what is spring all that tender/ green stuff”
I’m not sure what heaven is but amazement like spring when all green that was hiding in tender seed fills green bridal bouquets blossoming beautiful stuff.
Margaret Simon, draft
I’m also writing a word poem each day. Today’s word is vernal which means of, in, or appropriate to spring. Today’s form is an acrostic.
Variety of colors eagerly popping- resurrection- nature’s recital. April, I Love you.
To begin our National Poetry Month adventure, start here with the Kidlit Progressive Poem. Today’s first line is with Patricia Franz at Reverie.
At Ethical ELA, Kim Johnson invites us to introduce ourselves using a hashtag acrostic. I was challenged by the repeated letters of my name. Like the spelling of Mississippi, I’ve always enjoyed the way my name repeats when spelled out: M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t.
#Margaret
#Mother of three strong women #Ask me to dance #Romantic hopelessly #Grandmother of four potential difference-makers #Artist of poetry #Reserved until I trust you #Early riser #Teacher of gifted children
I love a good form for poetry and one I’ve played with often is Heidi Mordhorst’s definito. It is a poem of 8-12 lines appealing to children that defines a word. The defined word ends the poem.
Feline flexibility, a natural mystery. That deliciously pink belly bouncing when she runs can’t hide a surplus of fat designed to save her, but try as you might to touch this soft spot, Watch out! She will bite. Don’t touch a cat’s tum-tum… primordial pouch.
This week I met with two local poets, one a former student who is nearing 14, and the other a visiting musician from Argentina who is 26 (I think). We met at a local coffee shop to write poetry together. I brought a poem I received from the Poetry Foundation, To Our Land by Mahmoud Darwish.
To our land, and it is the one near the word of god, a ceiling of clouds
To our land, and it is the one far from the adjectives of nouns, the map of absence
To our land, and it is the one tiny as a sesame seed, a heavenly horizon … and a hidden chasm
We talked about what we noticed. The anaphora of To our Land became our prompt for writing “To Our _______”.
Our discussion was surprisingly sophisticated, so truly engaged in the words, the feelings, and how each of us responded differently. Fran said, “We must do this again next week.” A writing group was formed.
I said, “We need to have a name.”
Kaia looked up at the pecans surrounding us (we were in the Pie Bar of a pecan company.) “What about three pecans?”
To Our Poets after Mahmoud Darwish
To our poets speaking with their pens pencils tearing the page.
To our poets, and he is the one grieving his land a prize of war, a jewel that glimmers for the far upon the far.
To our poets, and she praises the birds, the imagination calling to us announcing our place in a family of things.
To our poets, the ones who gives themselves permission to be poets, folding pages of a notebook that unfold their untold secrets.
And for us who listen and find fresh air to breathe.
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 