After NCTE, my Inkling friend Mary Lee also stayed in Denver as a tourist. She sent me some of her photos of murals. I chose this one today to pair with Georgia Heard’s prompt “Write about a sound in nature that calms you.”
In my Wordle attempts this morning, I used the word “flame.” The line of hot pink at the bottom of this mural reminds me of the burning of cane fields that happens this time of year.
When you write today, can you find a word to use in a new way, playing with metaphor?
Morning wakes with the call of barred owls hooting up a flame of grass fire filling this day with sweet light.
Last week in Denver I took pictures of murals. They were everywhere. Today for this photo I chose this beauty.
Georgia Heard offers a monthly prompt calendar. Today’s prompt is to write 5 small things you are grateful for. After a very full Thanksgiving weekend, I am enjoying the silence of this cold morning.
Morning quiet
Warm poodle on my lap
Fog on the bayou
Sleep
Writing
In gratitude, I offer this small poem. Please consider writing your own small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.
In her silent reverie, she doesn’t notice the squirrel on the ground lifting a tiny petal she dropped, joining her in gratitude.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Dear Readers,
I am writing this post from a historical B&B in downtown Denver. I’m still here after a whirlwind weekend at NCTE. Have you ever gone to a conference in a new-to-you city and never had the chance to see the city?
On Sunday Jeff flew in, and I switched from conference mode to vacation mode. Yesterday we walked over 20,000 steps in Denver, an exploration that included murals, food, coffee shops, a bookstore, and a Japanese knife store. The weather was perfect for walking.
While I was attending NCTE “Dream Boldly”, I was worried that I wouldn’t find sessions that spoke to me as a retired teacher; however, I look back in my notebook and realize that I am still a Writer.
In a session with wonderful poets Georgia Heard, Joyce Sidman, and Rebecca Kai Dotlich, we were given prompts and time to write.
Joyce Sidman has an amazing new book, “Dear Acorn, Love Oak”, and she used a simple formula from her book to lead us into writing our own letter poem: Write to an inanimate object, Dear ____, including a compliment, a question, and a wish.
I loved how this prompt could work with any age group, and the participants shared some wonderful responses. Here’s mine:
Dear Black Bic Pen, Your ink is flowing nicely today, with only a few blotches here and there. Do you like writing poems, being my muse? I wonder if you’d rather be pink and scented like a rose. I wish I could write poems with you. Can you whisper a line or two? Love, Writer’s Block
Not only did NCTE fill my writer’s cup, it also filled my soul. My husband calls it “hobnobbing with my fellow wizards”. I was in the company of many wizards who, after 20 years of attending this conference, are now friends. Lots of hugs, conversations, and laughs.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The TECHE Project with a grant managed by the Center for Louisiana Studies from the William C. Pomeroy Foundation placed a Legends and Lore marker about the Teche Tunnel.
Last Friday was “Talk Like A Pirate Day” and what better day to celebrate a new historical marker in town. The Legends & Lore marker was placed on the grounds of one of the oldest homes in town. This property originally belonged to the Duperier family, a founding family of New Iberia. The building was a school for many years, Mt. Carmel Catholic Academy for girls.
At the ceremony, people spoke about the different stories that have been passed down for generations about the tunnel. The tunnel is no longer safe to access, but it is there.
Some say that Jean LaFitte, a famous pirate of the 19th century visited the Duperier family and used the tunnel as an escape route. There are still tales of buried treasure in the area.
Paul Schexnayder, an artist, educator, and picture book author, created a whimsical painting about the legends.
The legends of the tunnel by Paul Schexnayder
Paul explained his imaginings about the tunnel: a place where the sisters gambled, where they hid the pregnant girls, where slaves escaped, where prisoners were jailed and Jean LaFitte escaped, and even a story from the 80’s where a Satanic group worshipped.
Whether or not any of these stories are true is beside the point. The point is history gives us stories and stories connect and entertain people. The marker adds one more spot on the map of our little quirky town of New Iberia.
Queensferry Crossing over the Firth of Forth, Edinburgh, Scotland
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.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I retired at the end of the 2025 school year. I’m still finding my way.
Check off travel: We spent a week in Scotland over the Labor Day weekend. (It seems like a dream now.)
My husband Jeff and I on the Britannia in Edinburgh.
Daily walks with my dog, Albert: We did this earlier on school days. Now I get to stop and chat with neighbors along the way.
Time with grandchildren: I’m driving to New Orleans this afternoon for another few days with Thomas. I hope to get in some Sam snuggles, too.
Grandparents’ Day in kindergarten with Thomas!
Domestic stuff: Watering the grass, doing the laundry, cooking (wait! I haven’t done much of that), financials, cleaning…There is always a list of chores.
On Monday, I told Jeff I was finally going to have a real retirement day. I had a massage and lunch with a friend (also retired). Taking care of myself in this way makes me feel guilty. Isn’t there something more productive I “should” be doing?
I had to buy a paper calendar, no free one from the school photo company. It’s mostly full, but I find myself with pockets of time rather than a whole day. So what do you do with an hour here or there?
People say I will get into a rhythm, a routine, settle in to retirement. It’s only September.
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.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A week ago, I was on a tour of Edinburgh Castle, the heart of the UNESCO preserved area of Edinburgh, Scotland. During the reign of Robert the Bruce, the whole castle was destroyed except St. Margaret’s Chapel. I was drawn in to the history of Margaret, Queen of Scots, and want to claim her for an ancestor. Her life was from 1047 to 1093. She was an unusual saint because she had eight children and was not a virgin or a martyr. Yet she followed the teachings of St. Benedict and was pious and generous.
Yesterday I read a “poem a day” by Damir Soden found here. The commentary included this quote about poetry, “Poetry being the most sophisticated way of dealing with language is therefore of utmost importance when it comes to preservation of one’s identity.”
I want to preserve memories of my trip to Scotland. Preserve the feeling of being taken back in time. Preserve my connection to my name.
Edinburgh Castle, Scotland
Is like a time capsule toured daily by thousands walking back through time’s doorway into St. Margaret’s small chapel finding a sanctuary most sacred place in Scotland atop the highest point of Castle Rock spared by Robert the Bruce— a resting place.
How her spirit caused his pause… We pause to imagine to inhale the soft scent of gunpowder to rediscover holiness in a place of violence.
Can you feel the longing?
St. Margaret’s Chapel, the oldest preserved building at Edinburgh Castle.Simple adornments in St. Margaret’s Chapel.Stained glass window of St. Margaret by Dr. Douglas Strachan in 1922.
There is a guild of St. Margaret that keeps the flowers in the chapel. Anyone with the name Margaret can be a part of this guild. We are encouraged to place flowers in our own churches on St. Margaret’s Day, November 16th. Here is a prayer from the booklet I bought (charitable donation).
O God our Father, who didst kindle a flame of divine love in the heart of thy servant Queen Margaret and didst by her humility and kindness show forth the way of royal service: grant that, encouraged by her example and strengthened by her fellowship, we who bear her name may follow her in the joyful spending of ourselves for others; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
My brother lives in Madison, MS, north of Jackson. My sister and I have been visiting. Yesterday he performed at the weekly farmers market. The theme was New Orleans, so he had a sax player join him, and they played New Orleans jazz tunes along with some favorites.
The afternoon had been the setting of a pop-up storm, but as soon as Hunter sang “When the Saints Go Marching In”, the sky opened up and “the sun began to shine.” My sister bought a box of fresh blueberries for us to enjoy for breakfast today.
What does a summer farmers market conjure for you? Please write a small poem in the comments and come back to support other writers with encouragement.
I am writing a nonet today, a form in which the syllable count goes up from 1-9.
Come enjoy Jazz and juice, plump blueberries, tomatoes, peaches, kids jumping for bubbles, ice cream pops and cookie cake. Fill your shopping bag with sunlight. Take home golden garden groceries. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Cat in the Window, Kilcullen, Ireland by Jone MacCulloch
When I choose a photo to feature as a poem prompt, I choose what pleases me. Sometimes it’s a picture I’ve taken during the week, but this week it’s a photo that caught my eye on an Instagram post from Jone MacCulloch. I asked her if I could use it this week, and she sent me the photo and the collage she had made with it.
Collage by Jone MacCulloch
Jone wrote, “The piece you like is a mixed media piece. I have been playing with landscape scene. This was a cat in Kilcullin, Ireland, 2022. This has some pieces of my grandmother’s journal(copied). It’s part of a new exhibit in April.” Congratulations to Jone on her upcoming exhibit.
I love how blogging has opened windows and doors for me to creative people. Jone and I have not met in person, but we’ve been on multiple Zoom meetings together. We’ve had conversations through blogging and email. She featured this same photo on her blog for “Wordless Wednesday.” But I think the photo invites words.
Please join me in the comments by writing a small poem today inspired by Jone’s photo or art collage. Encourage other writers with comments.
“A cat’s eyes are windows enabling us to see into another world.” Irish proverb
Behind a lace curtain on a warm windowsill, a nonchalant cat holds a light until her people come home.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 