Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #naturepoems, #smallpoems #poemsofpresence, elfchen on October 1, 2025| 5 Comments »
Last week this lily appeared at my back door. I vaguely remember a neighbor giving me some bulbs, but I planted them ages ago. When I placed my Google lens on this flower, surprise lily came up as one of many names. It’s also known as spider lily and naked lady. Today in my poem I am focused on the surprise.
Surprise!
a ribbon
burst from soil
on a stemmed gift
lily
Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your response.
Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, wild flowers on September 24, 2025| 2 Comments »
Today, I’m in love
with a purple wild petunia
popping like a party balloon
present and speaking
peace.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please join me in writing about what you love today. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers.
Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged elfchen, Scotland, small poems on September 17, 2025| 10 Comments »
I’m still dreaming of Scotland. This photo was taken from the bus window, so it’s not super clear, but I like how the sun beams down on the modern bridge. Imagine up ahead is the old town of Edinburgh. Scotland was a study in the modern and the ancient alongside each other.
On our return home, I went back to my genealogy to find that I have ancestors from Scotland.
Today I’m turning to the elfchen (or elevenie) form.
Bridge
carries across
Firth of Forth
Travelers of time to
Ancestors
Margaret Simon, draft
Please write a small poem in the comments and respond to other writers.
Posted in Photography, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing on September 10, 2025| 3 Comments »
On our second day in Glasgow, Scotland, we walked to St. Mungo’s Cathedral. The cathedral is the oldest building in Glasgow, its foundations dating back to 1100s.
This photo was taken of the doorway into the cathedral. I was intrigued by the layers of marble and mortar work. Like these columns, our lives, our ancestry, are made of layers.
Can you hear the stories
blowing in the wind of Scotland?
Wrapping layer upon layer
hiding our innermost beauty
in the heart of hewn stone.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please write your own poem in the comments and support other writers with your responses.
Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, haiku, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on August 20, 2025| 15 Comments »
Summer is winding down. Although, the temperatures remain high. Once again, I turned to teacher-writer-photographer Molly Hogan for a photo prompt. Molly captured this water strider in perfect stride to open up a world. The photo itself is a poem.
It’s a just right day for a haiku. Please consider writing a response poem. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.
Glass pebbles glide
below water strider toes
tapping into green.
Margaret Simon, draft
Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, Timothy Liu on August 13, 2025| 16 Comments »
I wish I was a better photographer of birds. This one was taken with my phone out of my kitchen window. I wish you could see the red crown, but I do like the profile and how you see that sharp beak.
This tree is a satsuma tree that succumbed to the freeze this past January. I’m grateful we haven’t taken it down, though, so this beauty could come visit.
I’ve been taking an online poetry workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. One of her mentor texts was a poem titled “Romance” by Timothy Liu. I borrowed the opening line for this poem.
Renew
There is nothing renewable
about the frozen satsuma tree,
unwieldy branches outside the kitchen window, grey with age, dead from winter’s storm.
Yet I see a small downy woodpecker tapping
the old tree’s skin, jump-tap,
jump-tap, searching for insects to eat.
How I search my fractured memory
for signs of my mother, holding comfort
of a long life lived,
given over at the right time
for renewal.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please consider writing your own small poem inspired by this photo. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Mary Lee Hahn, metaphor poem, shadows, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triptych on August 6, 2025| 11 Comments »
On Poetry Friday, Mary Lee used this photo she took of herself with her brother and her nephew to inspire a triptych poem. I am reposting here with permission.
A triptych poem follows the guidelines similar to a triptych painting with three distinct panels tied together by color and theme. Here is a copy of Mary Lee’s poem about the photo.
I’ve been taking a course with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. Last week she shared a poem by Matthew Rohrer, “There is Absolutely Nothing Lonelier”. I borrowed his first line to write my photo poem today.
There is nothing more hopeful
than summer shadows
following a path—
reaching long, like stilts
on festival clowns.
I wonder if my shadow
would fit in; it’s certainly tall enough.
Shadows still to welcome all.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please join me in writing today to this photo. Leave a small poem in the comments and offer encouragement to each other.
Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Inklings, Mary Lee Hahn, Molly Hogan, sympathy cards on July 30, 2025| 7 Comments »
I am feeling uninspired, tired, and sad. Yesterday a dear friend died. Just last week she sent me a sweet card giving me sage advice about the death of my mother.
“I’m sure your emotions must rotate from one to another. I don’t need to remind you to take care of yourself. Sending you positive energy and caring thoughts.” Betty LeBlanc
I’m trying, Betty.
This card featured today came from my Inkling friend Molly Hogan. I’d also like to share a poem that another Inkling, Mary Lee Hahn wrote for me:
And if the darkness is not
a hallway, perhaps it’s
a bridge
a reflection
an eye into your soul
or into the mystery
that comes at the end of a day
or a life.
Mary Lee
If you are so moved, write a poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your comments. Thanks for walking by.
Posted in nature, Photography, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triolet on July 23, 2025| 5 Comments »
The flowers I planted for the pollinators are loving all the rain we’ve been having. This one is called Red Hot Poker. Unfortunately, the stem weakened and it is now flopped over, but before that happened, I took this “portrait mode” photo.
I hope this invitation to write finds you in a place of peace. Please write a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your responses.
For each photo poem, I give myself a challenge. Today, I am trying a triolet. It is a poem of eight lines in which line one repeats in lines 4 and 7, line two repeats in 8. The rhyme scheme is abaaabab.
Red Hot Poker Triolet
Torch lily towers and shines
for the day will be hot and wet.
Butterflies float to its wine.
Torch lily towers and shines.
Summer firecracker’s a sign:
sweet nectar steams like a jet.
Torch lily towers and shines
for the day will be hot and wet.
Margaret Simon, draft
Posted in being mamére, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, newborn, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on July 16, 2025| 3 Comments »
This week’s photos may be a bit selfish on my part. I hope you can find a way into writing from your own life. Leave a poem in the comments and respond to other writers.
Two weeks ago my youngest daughter gave birth to my youngest grandchild, Sam. He is absolutely perfect. I marveled at him for days. All his tiny parts, especially his long fingers and his tiny toes. Two of his toes are webbed.
I can’t really write anything that isn’t sappy, but never mind, just dig right in to it. Grandmothers are made to be sappy.
Perfection Is
Ten fingers
ten toes
that treasure your gentle touch.
Fingernails
tiny and sharp—
His simple signature.
Two hands
two feet
fill a heart with love.
Margaret Simon, draft
Our address on the Bayou Teche
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April 1 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
April 2 Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect
April 3 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Denise at https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/
April 6 Buffy at http://www.buffysilverman.com/blog
April 7 Jone at https://www.jonerushmacculloch.com/
April 8 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 9 Tabatha at https://tabathayeatts.blogspot.com/
April 10 Marcie at Marcie Flinchum Atkins
April 11 Rose at Imagine the Possibilities | Rose's Blog
April 12 Fran Haley at Lit Bits and Pieces
April 13 Cathy Stenquist
April 14 Janet Fagel at Mainly Write
April 15 Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink
April 16 Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm
April 17 Kim Johnson at Common Threads
April 18 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
April 19 Ramona at Pleasures from the Page
April 20 Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 21 Tanita at TanitasDavis.com
April 22 Patricia Franz
April 23 Ruth at There's No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town
April 24 Linda Kulp Trout at http://lindakulptrout.blogspot.com
April 25 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
April 26 Michelle Kogan at: https://moreart4all.wordpress.com/
April 27 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 28 Pamela Ross at Words in Flight
April 29 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 30 April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors
Reflections on the Teche 