Every evening after dinner, my husband and I take the puppy out for a walk. Last night my gaze was up at the sky watching small birds circle and swoop above us. I opened my Merlin bird identification app and found they were chimney swifts.
The sun was setting and coloring the clouds a deep purple and pink. After a few attempts, I captured some of these “swift” birds against the canvas of the sky.
Write a small poem today inspired by this photo. Please share it with us in the comments and respond to other writers. Thanks for being here.
A Swift Fib
Small swifts circle purple sky speckling the evening with dazzling twittering delight @Margaret Simon, draft
A fib poem has a syllable count that follows the Fibonacci series (1,1,2,3,5,8…)
This week was my second week of teaching this school year. We are settling into the routine. My classroom door revolves all day long with incoming and outgoing students. Nevertheless, I am establishing some routines. One of the expectations each week is “This Photo Wants to be a Poem.” On Wednesdays I post a photo here on my blog, but I also post it on our Fanschool site.
My friend Dani Burtsfield is a teacher in Kallispell, Montana. Last week she hosted poet Allan Wolf for her annual reading conference. She took Allan on a hike that she had taken me on a few years ago, so she sent pictures of them. I was wishing I could teleport and be with them, especially since our temperatures are well into the 90’s these days. If you know Allan and his poetry presentations, you know how he creates fun wherever he goes. Dani sent me some pictures.
Allan Wolf photo by Dani Burtsfield
On my students’ blog, I post my own poem as a model, and each student writes their own poem in response. One of my new students is a second grader. I taught her how to write a haiku. First we collected words. Then she spoke lines using the words. We counted syllables. I think she was pleased with her poem.
Crystal clear water you can see mountains through it beautiful blue lake
by Danielle, 2nd grade
Avalyn, now in 5th grade, wrote similes and used repetition. It amazes me how seemingly simple poetic elements can work together to become a beautiful poem.
Like an oversized crystal it falls Like the morning mist it falls Like a Maiden priestess it falls Like an opal river it falls by Avalyn , 5th grade
The final example I want to share made me laugh. Kailyn wrote from the perspective of the waterfall itself.
I love spitting on people, it’s just the way I flow. Paparazzi all around me, trees for hair. My life has been a sequel, the water in me loves to go, go, go! I can just relax and be lazy. If you visit me, you might want to watch what you wear.. by Kailyn, 6th grade
Dani, Allan, and Randy at Virginia Falls in Glacier Park, Montana.
My friend Dani Burtsfield lives in Montana near Glacier Park. She sent me this photo from a hike she took with Allan Wolf, a poet who was visiting as a presenter for her reading conference. She had taken me on this same hike in the summer of 2018.
I don’t know the specific name for these falls, but I thought a postcard poem would be a good form. This week is Open Write at Ethical ELA and Jeania White led the prompt “Postcards from Places I’ve Never Been”.
Postcard from the Falls
Missing you as I feel the spray of cool water on my face remembering we took off our shoes to put our toes in and spread our arms out wide to hold a Montana waterfall.
Margaret Simon, draft
Imagine this place on a postcard and write a small poem in the comments. Please respond to other poets with encouraging words.
When a star appears, I pay attention– watch how it spreads within the crystals of milk reminding me to notice daily miracles. Margaret Simon, draft
Today’s photo prompt is brought to you by my morning coffee. I am no barrister, but I do enjoy heating and frothing oat milk for my morning cuppa. I’ve been to coffee shops and received the gift of a design in the top froth, but this was a pure accident. Not a miracle of great proportions, but a simple reminder to pay attention. As I’ve returned to a daily routine of waking early to get ready for a day at school, I needed this reminder. Find joy. Find delight in the simple things. Know you are loved.
Please write a small poem about a small noticing, a waking up of your mind to something you needed to see. Encourage other writers with your comments.
This photo is a gate in my daughter’s yard. There is so much lush vegetation around that passing through feels like an adventure, a mystery. When the jasmine is in bloom, the scent itself will entice you to wonder. Join me today on a writing adventure. Leave a small poem in the comments and respond to others with encouraging words.
First day of school-- open the waiting gate create your own path. Margaret Simon, draft
I have traveled this summer vicariously through my friend and fellow Inkling Molly Hogan. She recently went to Seneca Falls with her sisters. She shared her trip on her Facebook page here.
This photo appealed to me for many reasons, the play of metal to shadows, and my curiosity about the placement of bells. When I googled it, there is, of course, a story. The bridge was made famous by “It’s a Wonderful Life”. The bells are placed in honor of lost loved ones.
I started today by trying a triolet form. I came up with a long list of words rhyming with ringing. Thus a failed triolet became this offering.
Echoes of bells ringing send my heart winging memories of you lingering a shadow of love clinging
Margaret Simon, draft
Write a small poem in the comments and kindly respond to others.
We were given a fig tree and planted it this spring. We are now harvesting figs! One at a time. My husband joked that we were having our first annual Simon Fig Festival. I served the single fig cut into 4 pieces for our dessert last night. A small, but successful harvest.
Ethical ELA is holding Open Write this week. The first prompt came from Denise Krebs. She reminded me of a form that Jane Yolen created called the septercet. Each stanza has seven syllables and there are 3 lines per stanza. I wrote a septercet about my first fig.
Do you see rain and complain? Everything wet in your path– Grass and mud slide to the street.
I watch this single fig-fruit turn from green to peachy-red making rain into sweet juice.
You can decide the mood here. Rain or shine, weed or flower Fig tree loves enough of both.
@Margaret Simon, draft
You can choose to write a septercet about your own favorite fruit of summer. Leave a small poem in the comments and write encouraging responses to other writers.
This garden statue was a gift from a friend for my birthday last year (or the year before?) She is nestled in a space with succulents. This morning there was rain and I was drawn to how she seems to be catching raindrops with her upturned face. Maybe she can inspire a small poem in you today.
Angel face upturned glittered with raindrops holding morning clouds with Hope
Today I chose to use the elfchen form. The directions for this form:
Consider writing today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
Franciscan monk feeds the pigeons, Dubrovnik by Molly Hogan
My fellow Inkling (writing group) poet-teacher Molly Hogan went on a fabulous trip to Croatia, Slovenia, and Ireland. She blessed me and all her Facebook friends with lots of amazing photos. I was compelled by this photo. It takes me back to my favorite musical of all time, The Sound of Music. It also reminds me of a kind monk I knew growing up. He was my father’s best friend. His Benedictine name was Brother Anselm. He was witty and wise and an incredible organist.
My poem is a narrative free verse. I wanted to tell a story. I have fond memories of visiting Bill (Brother Anselm) at his monastery in St. Benedict, Louisiana.
Consider writing with me today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Remember this is a drafting space, so kindly write encouraging responses to other writers.
Brother Anselm
Walking into the woods surrounding the Abbey, Brother Anselm and I spoke freely. Our walk was a prayer.
We talked of nothing in particular as his brown robes swished and swayed, a comforting blanket of humble access to a stream of still water.
He reminded me that the holy is not always quiet. Our voices echoed among the tall pines, laughter shaking the ground.
He told me that time was our friend. Use it wisely and with intention. Bless the forest with reverent presence and God will grant you peace.
My grandson Thomas “Tuffy” (age 4.5) is visiting. I took him to get ice cream at a shopping center near the bayou. There is a gazebo that has a bayou lookout up a small metal spiral staircase. I was worried about going up and coming down, but Tuffy and I did it. Tuffy did it over and over, coming carefully down by sitting on each stair.
Photo by Thomas
I had my phone out to take pictures. When I gave it to him, he knew exactly what to do. Some of the shots were selfies of his face in different expressions. But one of them missed his head altogether and became an intriguing photo of the spiral stair. This made me think of the Fibonacci sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13…) that mathematically makes a spiral. Today I am echoing Langston Hughes’ line “Life is no crystal stair.”
Life can be a spiral stair anchored gracefully to solid ground–imagining a future full of open sky, pathway to purpose. Margaret Simon, draft
Please respond with your own small poem. You can use the Fib form if you choose. Leave encouraging comments to other writers.
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 