I hear chirps of Pine Siskin hiding in the bushes, watch seeds of cottonwood fly like moths on fluffy wings—
Hold the view of Pacific waters chanting over wishing stones, calling me to inhale.
Open a door to a free poem-of-the-day— Here is Pádraig’s “Our Lady of the Garden”.
Thank you, universe, for all this time with you.
Poem found in a poetry box in Port Townsend, Washington.Illustration by Leo, age 7
This Mamére has been busy this summer. In early June, we took a trip with two of our three daughters and their families to the Pacific Northwest. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and cool. I found poetry everywhere, on trails, in town squares, and in poetry boxes.
This week I was in charge of Leo, my oldest grandson who is seven. Seven changes everything! He can read and write and walk 2 miles in the heat. We took a long walk to our local city park. He humored me by helping me write a poem about our walk. He illustrated. You can see a video of him reading the poem on my Substack.
Our view of the Elwha River and Olympic Mountains, Port Angeles, Washington
When we first arrived in the Pacific Northwest and awoke to an amazing view of the Olympic Mountains from the AirBnB, I thought I would write poetry every day on our trip. That didn’t happen as we got busier with the family, day hikes, town shopping, river rock throwing (children love a good game of throwing rocks). However on that early June morning, I opened Audrey Gidman’s prompts and wrote a poem using a flower as the title, inspired by James Wright’s Milkweed. For the most part, I wanted to capture the essence of place in the amazing peaceful scene of the Olympic Mountains.
Lupine
While I looked beyond the window lost in blue-green of Crescent Lake, I sat in longing. Tall Douglas fir scented the air of Christmases long ago.
I look up now. The view is changed. What was color is a wild warmth seeking my sincerity— a vision of bright red strawberries sweeter than the sun.
Click the image to enlarge. North Olympic Library System Poetry Walk
Last week I was on vacation with my family in the Pacific Northwest. One of our hikes, The Spruce Railroad Trail in Olympic National Park, included a Poetry Walk. I took pictures of the panels and wrote a found poem from them. I invite you to do the same. Found poems are fun. Write the lines that grab you in some way (an image you relate to, words you love to say) and write them in an order that is pleasing to you.
Here is a draft I wrote in my notebook:
Crescent Lake Found Poem
Stenciled on the petal of a bluebell the earth remembered me my thoughts light as moths smell like grass and salt smooth home- the river. 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.
“I mean hate and love and fear and wanting to live and wanting to see your children live,” she said. “Those are the things that shape our consciousness, not the material goods, not whether the tables are made of oak or synthetic plastic … The thing isn’t important. It’s the human emotion — and that, I believe, doesn’t change.” Geraldine Brooks
For a week, I had the privilege of watching my children and their children live and love and play. My son-in-law loves the Pacific Northwest. He and my daughter have been vacationing there each year for 5 years. This year, we were invited to tag along. Then my middle daughter Katherine decided to come along with her son, Thomas. We were missing my youngest daughter’s family so much that we are talking about making next year’s trip a full family one.
Highlights include short hikes to waterfalls…
Marymere Falls, Olympic National Park
Tidal pools…
Watching eagles, fire pit, views of Olympic mountains…
Morning coffee in Port Angeles
Watercolor painting with Stella…
In the airport waiting for our flight home
Throwing rocks…
Leo, Stella, Thomas in the cool water, stop for a photo while throwing rocks.
And playgrounds…
Playground in Port Townsend, WashingtonNew squid-themed playground at the Waterfront, Seattle.
At the end of our trip, we stayed a few nights in Seattle and met up with my husband’s brother and his family which includes a new great niece.
I’m happy to be home to my dog, my bird feeders, flowers, walks with friends, but I will carry the love and life and memories with me.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Saturday, I went to Moncus Park for the Lafayette Farmer’s Market to sell books. I definitely spent more money on food than I made in book sales, but the spring day was breezy and the park was full of people. A former neighbor stopped by, all grown up and married, hoping for a baby someday, so he bought a book.
Garrett and me in the UL Press booth.
A nearby booth had these exotic birds that were pets. They were bright and beautiful, but I don’t remember their breed. I was struck by how they perched and begged for petting.
On the way to my car which was parked a long way from the market, I noticed the new walking path my friend had told me about.
The developers of Moncus Park have been intentional about planting only native Louisiana plants. The reclaimed prairie was full of life.
Moncus Park Prairie, Lafayette, LA
On my walk I found a sign dedicated to a family that included a beautiful painting and poem by my friend, artist Melissa Bonin. I took a picture of it, then used the image and words in a found poem, prompted by Jessica Wiley and Erica Johnson on Ethical ELA.
Garden Amorphous by Melissa Bonin
Moncus Park Prairie after Melissa Bonin
sugar harvest sky lights speckles of goldenrod, cotton weed tucked inside a worn pocket. A dragonfly wraps its wispy-thin legs atop black-eyed Susan’s eye.
Your place is on the gravel path listening to red-winged blackbirds, catching buttercup pollen on the tip of your nose.
Stories smudged on rock gather for the retelling, soft laughter of prairie grass speaking to the wind.
This weekend we visited the Lauren Rogers Museum of Art in Laurel, Mississippi. There was a special show entitled “Art Evolved: Intertwined.” The exhibit featured the “convergence of quilting and basketry—two ancient, tactile traditions reimagined through contemporary fiber arts.”
This quilt was titled “Oil Spill”. My friend commented, “How can something so cheerful and vibrant be about an oil spill.”
“Oil Spill” by Michelle Lipson, quilt included in “Art Evolved: Intertwined” exhibit at Lauren Rogers Gallery of Art.
My eyes focused on the center panel with the yellow and purple “road”.
A Drop of Oil
forms a perfect circle on the sidewalk of her yellow-brick road— jazz spills out on the streets of New Orleans. Don’t forget your dancing shoes. Step lightly over the mess in the streets. Margaret Simon, draft
While I didn’t attend Mardi Gras this year, my social media is full of the images of others reveling. It is a fun time, but not without its share of mess.
Please join me in writing a draft of a small poem and share it in the comments. Support other writers with your comments. Thanks for being here.
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.
Sneeze! Sneeze! Sneeze! The price my body paid for a fabulous weekend at Lake Lanier in Georgia. Between sneezes, I want to tell you about the weekend.
The retreat, “New Year, Renewed Writing”, was put together by Lola Schaefer. She is a powerhouse! She organized a fabulous three days of workshops and critiques with picture book authors, illustrators, agents, and editors. Imagine an immersion into what you love and feel passionate about. Everybody there felt the same way. The atmosphere was one of togetherness and networking and kindness. Also there were many serious side conversations about real life stuff and the difficult world of publishing.
I feel a renewed sense of purpose and commitment to this journey of writing.
Not to mention the retreat took place in a beautiful setting. My friend Mary Beth and I took a walk each day except Sunday when it was frankly just too cold.
The view from our balcony
One of the serendipitous things was getting to meet Robyn Hood Black in real time. She and I have blogged on Poetry Friday for years. I’ve ordered jewelry from her Etsy shop. We had dinner Saturday night and talked for hours. Such a delight to be with her!
Me with Robyn Hood Black face to face!
I am home sneezing and tired, but rejuvenated and feeling hopeful that this writing journey I’m on will continue to move forward.
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.
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 