Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On my morning walk, I stopped to talk to a new-to-me neighbor. She’s lived in her house for a long time, but my route recently changed. I met her, but she already knows a good bit about me. (Small town)
We talked about my new board book (coming Tuesday), her new great granddaughter she wants a signed copy for, sound frequency healing, and gardens. She told me, “Did you know that the sound of the birds singing in the morning actually makes the plants open up and grow?”
As I continued my walk, I turned off my book on tape and turned on the Merlin app amazed by the number of birds around me. I spoke a poem into my notes app.
The Dawn Chorus
The songs of the birds wake my winter mind: sparrow, wren, small and mighty in their announcement of spring. A tickle of rain, a wave from morning fleabane Two turtles bobbing on a log Stamens seem to say, “Welcome! Welcome to this day!”
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Yesterday for my teaching artist program I was sent to Gueydan, pronounced gay-dahn, 46 miles west of me in New Iberia. I was so excited to be doing my very first Chalk-a-bration workshop. I was also nervous because I would be working with little kids, K, 1, and 2.
The population of Gueydan is around 1,100. Everybody knows everybody. I was surprised to find that I did not see a black face. In one pre-k class, I counted 8 of the 14 children had blue eyes, and 2 of them were red heads. I didn’t ask the question, “Where are your black people?” But I was struck by it.
My husband conjectures that perhaps it’s a town where there was, historically, no slave labor. Today it is predominantly farmers who live there. Rice and crawfish are their major industries. It is also known as the Duck Capital. There’s an annual duck festival. (Louisiana towns each have a signature festival.)
My first group of kiddos were kindergarten. They were a trip! talkative, little focus, but absolutely adorable.
For the second group, second grade, I was better prepared, and they were more responsive. They actually knew about the seasons!
I read a poem from these three books, Firefly July, Poems for Every Season, and Ten-Second Rainshowers. We talked about words and senses. What do you see in spring?
The poem was a simple form:
Spring is ________ I see _________ I hear ________ I feel _________
Spring is __________ I taste __________ I smell _________ Spring is _________
Spring is beautiful I hear birds chirping I see butterflies I feel happy
When I left the school, I went to the only real restaurant in town, Cafe Veiller. I was the only customer in the place, so I struck up a conversation with the owners. They told me a little bit about the town. They were friendly and happy people who plan to buy a house in the area. They said many of the people who live there are retired because the cost of living is so much lower than other areas.
I enjoyed my adventure to Gueydan, a friendly and happy place.
I did not do my own assignment. I kept putting it off with excuse after excuse. This month I posed what I thought would be a simple, easy challenge for my Inklings writing group, “Write a poem using the word becoming.”
I searched my notebook, my Google Docs, and no miracle there. I simply had not written to my own prompt. Last night I decided to take inspiration from fellow Inkling Linda Mitchell and write a haiku sonnet. (She had shared hers at our meeting last weekend.) Form does not always become a poem.
Is it cheating to use a repeating line? After playing with the title “Becoming Spring”, I wrote the title “Becoming Beautiful”. Almost daily, my youngest daughter sends new photos of my newest grandson. Yesterday she sent this one with the text, “Someone had a cute spurt today.” We all marvel at how this baby just gets more and more adorable.
“Cute spurt”
Nevertheless, here is my down-to-the-wire draft of a haiku sonnet for this cutie.
Becoming Beautiful
You are born with it in the deep blue of the sea you glisten like gems
You are born with it eventually you smile at your mother’s stare
You are born with it shine like the full blood moon a friend to the sun
You are born with it because that is who you are someone’s true love
No need to apologize Be beautiful as you are
Margaret Simon, for Sam, draft
Check out the brilliant ways Inklings responded to this prompt:
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Leigh Anne Eck is rounding up the Spiritual Thursday posts today. She has asked us to write about her One Little Word, Strength.
I think of my father during the season of Lent. He would always try to take something on rather than give something up. He felt that by practicing his faith more fully during Lent, he would grow in strength. He was a reader and a thoughtful theologian.
I have joined my church’s Wednesday evening service and study group. We are reading Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber. Some people in the group are having a hard time getting used to her language which can be profanity, yet that is one of the things that attracts me to her. She has spunk!
For Lent, Nadia is promoting the hashtag #40daysofgoodshit. When I used it on a few posts, I certainly got the attention of my friends. I am not one to curse, but one of my favorite sayings is “shit happens” because it’s so true.
So I am leaning in to the idea of noticing good stuff this Lent. A gallery of good shit:
Grandparents’ DayDancing with a paintbrushMaking crochet butterfliesNew trellis for my rose bushJeff holding SammyAzaleas in bloom
Kim Johnson is writing Cento poems during the March Slice of Life Challenge. Cento poems use lines from other poems. Here I am attempting to create a poem with lines from Accidental Saints.
You are Not “The Blessing”
Silence felt holy and grave I am defenseless So there I was Christ’s presence in the hungry being fed No one gets to play Jesus We experience Jesus When did we ever feed you, Lord? All we have is a promise that our needs are holy His kingdom is here
(Cento of words and phrases from Accidental Saints chapter 5)
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.
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 