Recently I’ve had three different friends travel to Scotland. I think it’s a sign that I am meant to travel there. And, of course “Outlander” on Netflix is my current binge obsession. Mary Lee has been posting daily albums on Facebook of her travels. I chose this one, but they are all amazing. Can’t you just hear the bagpipes and feel the cool breeze?
Let’s travel today in our poems. Where would you like to go? Maybe a stay-cation is all you need. Close your eyes and dream. Please leave a poem in the comments and respond to other writers.
Mary Lee is writing daily cherita poems of one line, two lines, three lines that tell a complete story. So I chose the cherita form.
Scotland calls me
to hear the wind roar across the sea
and be a traveler wondering isle to isle seeking Skye.
Bayou morning with rope swing, photo by Margaret Simon
I’ve been working through the new book 90 Ways of Community by Sarah Donovan, Mo Daley, and Maureen Young Ingram of Ethical ELA. Daily I’ve been reading a prompt to my students and writing alongside them. Today’s prompt comes from Linda Mitchell. Her original prompt suggests to find a list of words in our notebooks to write along to. Her sample poem is “Wishing Well Price List” which led me to think of the song from the musical Oliver, Who Will Buy?.
I took this photo at sunrise on Sunday morning. Hanging from our grandmother oak is a rope swing. I began to imagine how many people over the years have swung on that rope. My grandchildren don’t have the strength yet in their toddler bodies to hold on, but they love swinging the rope and running to keep it from hitting them, a game they made up.
This photo may take you on a journey to another place in your memory. Let it go and write a small poem in the comments. Respond to others with encouraging words.
Who will buy this sunglow on water?
Who will buy the fallsteam rising?
Who will buy a twist of rope to swing on?
Who will buy this changing of seasons? I find a reason to keep my spirits high wondering who will buy.
My grandson drawing with chalk while we wait for our table at a restaurant.
I’ve long been a fan of chalk art. Years ago Betsy Hubbard led a weekly chalkabration in which bloggers posted chalk poems. I’m not sure why we stopped doing this.
Chalk art is temporary. Perhaps that is freeing to the artist, allowing for freedom from perfection. We know the next rain will wash it away.
There is an old Tibetan Monk tradition of making sand mandalas. “These sacred cosmograms are said to transmit different positive energies to the environments that they inhabit and the people that come to view them.” I believe this is true on a smaller scale with chalk art. The act of doing the art itself is meditative. And the viewer is pleased by the art’s energy.
Today I want to offer the form called “cinquain.” The form is five lines and follows the syllable or word count or 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.
Artist patterns petals with a stroke of his hand. He walks away, letting his mark spread joy Margaret Simon, draft
Please leave a small poem in the comments and give encouraging responses to other writers.
My colleague Erica knows I like to raise butterflies. After recess, she came into my classroom exclaiming “You Have to see this moth on the playground!”
My students and I rushed out to find it. At first it was poised on the brick post of the pavilion. Then one of them stimulated it with a stick and it flew to me. Fascinating large creature that is camouflaged as a leaf. Who knew?
With my students, we researched and found out that it was a Pandorus Sphinx Moth. I wrote a found poem from the information on the website Insect Identification. In this poem, each word in the poem comes from the article in the order it was found.
Playground Discovery
Hawk moth boasts– robust fast fliers on aerodynamic wings.
The Pandorus Sphinx Moth blending in inside woodlands at dusk or dawn.
I don’t usually choose stock photos for this poetry prompt; however, today I am listening to the downpour that is the early bands of Hurricane Francine, and I can’t help but think about the helpers. Today is the 23rd anniversary of 9/11. I am not with my students to do any kind of lesson due to our weather. I always struggle with teaching on September 11th. To me it is a day that changed everything. I can remember our fairly innocent and carefree life before. This scene is poignant. Firefighters running toward disaster. That is what helpers do.
Take a few minutes today to remember. Then write a small poem in the comments. Depending on power and internet, I may or may not be able to respond. Try to respond to each other.
Our collective history is marked by single moments– a gunshot that kills a president, a footstep on the moon, a plane crashing into a tower. We are moved and changed forever. Remember the helpers. Thank the helpers. Be a helper. Margaret Simon, draft
Golden Orb Weaver Spider (aka banana spider) by Maggie Simon
I was looking at the photos on my daughter Maggie’s phone and came across this spider. She had taken the photo on a nature walk along the bayou with her children while attending a birthday party. It is commonly known as a banana spider. Can you see its web? I featured a golden orb weaver in my yet-to-be-published book Swamp Song. I wrote the poem as a golden shovel for the golden orb weaver.
A golden shovel is a poem that uses the text of a line from another poem or text. Align the words of the quote down the right hand margin. Use these words to create a poem written around the words of the quote. The poem may or may not be of the same topic of the quote.
Today you can choose to find a quote you like to write about in a golden shovel or write your own ekphrastic poem about the photo. Please post your poems in the comments and give encouraging feedback to other writers.
“Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space”
A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman
Golden threads surrounded her throne, detached from her banana-abdomen, woven in curious ways, measureless vibrations like waves of oceans swallowing flying insects of space. Margaret Simon, all rights reserved
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.
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 