Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Weekly (almost every) on Wednesday I post a photo as a prompt for poems. I invite you to craft a small poem response and type it into the comments. Please encourage other writers with your comments. This space is meant to be a low stakes drafting space.
Somewhere on Instagram I saw a poetry prompt to begin each line with because. I decided to give it a try today.
Friendship Park, Ridgeland, MS
Tie a Blue Ribbon Round the Branch
Because she was running and lost it in the wind.
Because his eyes are still blue
Because we are walking together in silence
Because rain is falling softly
Because the moon is full tonight
Because there is a war and someone is waiting at home
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Granddaughter Stella (right) chats with friend Holland.
On Saturday, my daughter organized a celebration of her birthday to be at The Batture. I had not heard of this place and, frankly, have had a hard time remembering the name. Have you ever heard the term?
My research turned up this description: “Batture refers to the alluvial land between the low-tide of the Mississippi and the levee. The word “batture” comes from the French word “to beat,” referring to the land “beaten” by the river. It is a land formed by accretion; as the mighty Mississippi moves on her way to the Gulf of Mexico, she leaves behind deposits of land which, over time, form the batture. Heavy flooding can cause the batture to increase significantly in a matter of a few years. Maps from the 19th century show that the batture doubled in size in less than a hundred years.” (The Law Library of Louisiana)
This space which makes up a 10-acre tract of land has been claimed and cleaned up for a park. It’s amazing, really. Clean! There were people working constantly to clean up after messy guests. (Our grandchildren)
Open space for active children to fly kites, toss balls, play soccer, dig in sand, a natural playground.
Food Trucks! We ate a yummy burger and Brussels sprouts from Bub’s. Grant, my son-in-law, stood in line for more than an hour to get the very last tray of crawfish.
The entrance to the Batture in New Orleans, LA.
Industrial, modern design along with a small petting zoo, fresh gardens, and colorful Adirondack chairs.
I think my daughter chose it because she could have grown-up time talking with her friends while her children played and ate their first snoballs of the season. My favorite part was Sammy snuggles. He’s my youngest grandson (7 months) who still loves to be held.
My niece, Taylor, gets some Sammy snuggles.
What new places are you ready to explore this spring?
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Get ready, readers, today is the first day of March which means for the next two months I will be posting daily. In March for the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by the Two Writing Teachers and in April for National Poetry Month.
In the early days of February I was babysitting my grandson in New Orleans. I went on a walk around their neighborhood and found a cute Little Free Library. In the box, there was a small clear ziplock holding a crocheted butterfly.
Jasmine Little Free Library free gift.
I crochet and have a crochet group I attend at the local Methodist Church. I brought this along to see if anyone could figure out how it was made. We discussed it. Then I realized that YouTube would be my best bet for finding the pattern. https://youtu.be/0roMpWheBec?si=oHX52nLBuufWV7GL
I made one using some left over rainbow yarn.
My rainbow butterfly
Isn’t it adorable? I decided all my grandchildren will be getting butterflies in their Easter baskets.
Do you have a hobby that is soothing and fun to share with others?
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
This morning I taught three third grade classes for the Teaching Artist Program with the Acadiana Center for the Arts. In my retirement, I found a way to teach and have fun. This is it!
The students were filled with joy and freedom while painting with watercolors. I played music to inspire their color choices. Some created abstract designs while others painted subjects they knew and loved.
After two music and painting sessions, they wrote a poem about their favorite painting.
Just look at their faces! I told them that I am happiest with a room full of kids writing.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I grew up in Mississippi. This weekend with all of our children traveling elsewhere for the holiday (Mardi Gras, not President’s Day for South Louisiana), we decided to take a road trip back home to Mississippi.
Have you ever watched the popular HG network series Hometown that takes place in Laurel, MS? Our first stop on Saturday was this beautiful small town. We stayed in the historic district in a large home circa early 1900 called the Grandiflora. We enjoyed the friendly atmosphere and the homestyle breakfast served around the family breakfast table, cheese grits, bacon, eggs, biscuits, and fruit. Delicious and fun to meet couples from other places.
In the front parlor, a player piano played ragtime music.
This small town had much to offer. Next door to the Grandiflora, we attended an old Episcopal church, St. John’s, where we thoroughly enjoyed the most excellent choir that sang acapella and in Latin. We later learned that music students from USM come to sing and the music program is supported by an endowment.
Following the service, many friendly people greeted us and we made connections. One woman even knows my aunt who lives in Jackson. Sometimes the world feels small.
In Laurel, there is a magnificent art museum with a unique story. Lauren Rogers was a man from a wealthy family who tragically died at a young age. The family decided to build a museum in his honor. The collection is wide and wonderful and open free to the public. We happened upon a presentation by an artist-in-residence’s culminating exhibit. I was inspired by the work she did with local students using collage. Brejenn Allen
I wrote a small poem about her artwork.
Sea Sparkle
An eerie glow bears beautiful blue light caused by farm waste like the art we saw today fashioned from trash soaked in colorful paints shines a light on how beauty bears witness to loss.
Onward to Jackson to see my brother. Here in Madison, north of Jackson, we are staying in a brand new BnB, which is good for me. As my first trip back after my mother’s death, I am happily in a new place away from painful memories. I was worried about how the feelings of grief may overwhelm me, but I’m OK. You can go home again by a different path.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
“Did you kiss?” Seven-year old Leo asked when I said we went dancing.
“No, we danced.”
“But did you kiss?”
“Not while we were dancing, but we can now.” Jeff walked over to me and kissed me.
Leo stopped asking.
What does he know of love? A long love?
On Monday, my daughter asked me to babysit Leo and Stella because they were not feeling well. When I arrived, Leo was set up on the sofa with a blanket, a stuffie, and a bucket, but it wasn’t long until they both perked up and were ready to craft Valentines.
Leo wrote (unprompted by me) in his journal:
Leo’s journal page
Their energy increased, so we took the bikes out to the park nearby. I wrote this poem for Laura Shovan’s February project. Our theme this year is mysteries and the topic was secrets. I decided to ask Leo if he had any secrets.
True story
I asked him if he had a secret while he shimmied down the fireman’s pole. I love Abby he said. Does she know? I helped him write the Valentine and tuck it in an envelope. When his mother saw it, she said “How sweet! I’ll put it in the mail.” Who is Abby? I imagined a girl on the school playground running from my grandson’s chase. Oh, don’t be silly. He loves Abby, the dog.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I’m sitting at my daughter’s desk in New Orleans. She is on a work trip, and I’ve gotten her son Thomas to school. He’s in kindergarten. Our morning went so smoothly that I am questioning myself. I have rechecked her list, and we did everything. Nevertheless I’m worried.
Thomas has been struggling lately. The classroom environment overwhelms him, and he has meltdowns. My daughter is doing all the things. I am really proud of the way she is taking charge of the situation and working hard toward a solution. As an educator, though, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classroom to see the whole picture. As a grandparent, all I want in the world is for him to be happy.
At my daughter’s desk this morning, I read Kim Johnson’s SOL post about falling in love with ordinary things. Thanks, Kim, for the nudge to write a poem inspired by Georgia Heard’s February newsletter.
I’m sitting at my daughter’s work desk falling in love with the winter slant of sunlight and the small pink framed photo of her as a wild child, holding Pongo, the rat terrier.
Her smile is wide and open, blonde hair flustered by the wind. Is there a stain of chocolate on her chin?
Her wide smile, that joie de vivre, is living in her six-year old son today.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Sneeze! Sneeze! Sneeze! The price my body paid for a fabulous weekend at Lake Lanier in Georgia. Between sneezes, I want to tell you about the weekend.
The retreat, “New Year, Renewed Writing”, was put together by Lola Schaefer. She is a powerhouse! She organized a fabulous three days of workshops and critiques with picture book authors, illustrators, agents, and editors. Imagine an immersion into what you love and feel passionate about. Everybody there felt the same way. The atmosphere was one of togetherness and networking and kindness. Also there were many serious side conversations about real life stuff and the difficult world of publishing.
I feel a renewed sense of purpose and commitment to this journey of writing.
Not to mention the retreat took place in a beautiful setting. My friend Mary Beth and I took a walk each day except Sunday when it was frankly just too cold.
The view from our balcony
One of the serendipitous things was getting to meet Robyn Hood Black in real time. She and I have blogged on Poetry Friday for years. I’ve ordered jewelry from her Etsy shop. We had dinner Saturday night and talked for hours. Such a delight to be with her!
Me with Robyn Hood Black face to face!
I am home sneezing and tired, but rejuvenated and feeling hopeful that this writing journey I’m on will continue to move forward.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Last week when I wrote about my one little word for 2026, I was teetering between sacred and simplicity, and someone wrote in the comments “sacred simplicity”. Of course!
Often the two walk hand in hand, sacred and simplicity.
On Sunday we said goodbye to our church choir director. Leon has been with us for more than 12 years. This past year he decided to get confirmed into the Episcopal church. I thought that meant he would stay; however, a chance to travel to California for 6 months changed his life trajectory. Sunday was his last Sunday as our director. I shed many tears between hymns and our anthem, trying to stay strong when it mattered.
After the closing hymn, our priest asked Leon to come down from the loft. She directed us to gather around him for a blessing, each placing a hand on him or on someone near him. It was a truly magical moment of grace, shared community, and love.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A few months ago, I wrote a post “For the trees” about a nearby empty lot that was sold, and the new owners took out a few of the trees. Well, now, they’ve completely blocked the space as they build their new house.
This weekend when we had the grandkids, I accepted an invitation from a neighbor to walk to her grove of oak trees. She lives on the highway, but as long as we stayed in the yards along the way, I felt it was safe to walk over.
Leo and Alden next to the oldest oak in New Iberia, The Sylvia Oak, named for Beanie’s aunt who once lived on the property.
Her grove became a new forest of wonder. Leo climbed and explored. Along with my neighbor’s 5 year old grandson Alden, he found an old dock with fishing nets tethered to it. The boys tossed those nets in and drug them out over and over again until Alden pointed out that the fish might be getting wise to them because the nets were moving.
Throwing seed to the ducks on the bayou.
Miss Beanie brought out some bird seed for Stella to spread along the bayou banks. A flock of ducks came by, but the boys quickly frightened them by throwing sticks into the water.
Albert (my doodle-dog) and I enjoyed watching their antics and adventures. Every once in a while, a gasp caught in my throat as I considered the dangers. Luckily all was well and they came home safely with only a little bleeding.
Beanie’s yard along the bayou holds the oldest tree in New Iberia. She told the kids it was 450 years old. She showed them how it was struck by lightning and had been held together by thick wires. Those wires have now become embedded into the tree. The kids especially liked her tale about the elephant skin of the tree. “See the elephant’s eye and its trunk?”
Tree climbing!
The new forest is a place we will visit again and again. I am grateful to Beanie for offering the space for us to explore.
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 