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Slice of Life: Courir de Mardi Gras

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , , on February 28, 2023| 8 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I have lived in South Louisiana for 40 years, but had never attended the authentic Courir de Mardi Gras. Courir is a French Cajun word meaning run. In the western parishes north of us, there are multiple small towns that have a chicken run. The basic idea is the krewes are going house to house to get all the ingredients for a gumbo. The final ingredient is a chicken. The chicken run is a crazy, wild drunken race to catch the chicken.

I introduced this cultural tradition to my students, and we did chicken art on the Thursday before our Mardi Gras break. We followed a video created by the Acadiana Center for the Arts linked here. The chickens were created using recycled materials. In Courir de Mardi Gras, the costumes are made with scraps of fabric and masks are made with screen. It is the total opposite of New Orleans Mardi Gras which is all about royalty and elaborate beautiful costumes. Courir de Mardi Gras has a captain rather than a king who leads the krewe.

My husband and I became interested in Courir from a performance we saw at the  Acadiana Center for the Arts. We decided to go to the parade in Eunice when all the krewes come in, some on horse back. My daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids joined us. We had made some costumes by adding fabric patches and fringe to old clothes. I used an old scarf, some sparkling jewel tape, and an old denim shirt. As the parade came through, Leo was poked (in jest) by a couple tricksters; one of them untied my shoelaces. Afterward there was a band we love to hear and dance to, Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys.

I have to admit I was a bit creeped out by the chickens. I refrained from petting one. They walk close to the crowd to allow for petting. The chickens are surprisingly calm. I gasped when I saw a dead one on the ground. And to top it all off, a woman was wearing a taxidermic chicken on her head. While the band was playing, some of the tricksters got on the stage and threw a live chicken into the crowd. Luckily, I was not close by.

Learning more about the culture of my own state is fascinating and fun. I’m also trying to accept some of the craziness of it all. For the most part, it is harmless fun.

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Poetry Friday: Shattered (An Ekphrasis)

Posted in Photography, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , on February 24, 2023| 17 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tabatha at
The Opposite of Indifference.

I have been off this week and joyfully participating in two writing challenges. I truly wish I could do this every day. Writing to prompts makes my creative juices flow. If I write a poem each day, I feel a certain satisfaction that I’ve accomplished something.

This week the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write an ekphrastic poem, which is a poem written to art. Their theme this year is transformation. In the February Project with Laura Shovan, Molly Hogan used photographs of abandoned buildings to prompt us to think about their story. I went to a mysterious place with this image.

Photo by Molly Hogan

I’ve always enjoyed writing about a mystery. In high school, I had a short story published in the school’s literary journal about a portrait in an abandoned house that ended with a question, a mystery. Many in the Facebook group wanted to know more. Mystery is like that. We want to know. I recently heard on a podcast “surrender to the mystery.” I believe that we don’t know all the answers, and we are not supposed to. So let this poem sit with you in all its unknown.

Shattered

She left the curtains
hanging,
the window open,
the cat in the yard.
She left when the air
was warm and damp
fearing her shame
would shatter her dream. 

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Purpose

Posted in Poetry Friday, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged , , on February 10, 2023| 12 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Carol at Beyond Literacy Link

I feel like I chose the wrong One Little Word this year. I’ve grappled with it since I decided. What is the purpose of a One Little Word? Is it a guide or an affirmation? Should you pursue it or let it comfort you?

Every day I choose a quote-of-the-day to post on a Jamboard for my students to write a response to. Lately, I’ve allowed the students themselves to take over this routine. I have a few quote books that they use. We select a photo background and use the text box or sticky note feature to write in. One of the quotes this week was this one. Avalyn chose a background to this Mark Twain quote that was both day and night. It made me think about my OLW: Purpose.

I decided to play around with an acrostic form using Purpose. And this poem emerged:

Pray
Until you
Realize
Purpose is
One
Step at a time
Every day.

Voila! Poetry led me to the answer I had been searching for all along. Life is a journey. There is no destination. It’s a constant discovery day by day. I cannot choose a word like Purpose and magically feel satisfied with myself. It is a word that I will search for the rest of my life. Unlike Mark Twain’s idea that there is a day when you will discover why you were born, I’ve come to the realization that why you were born is a daily march. It’s what we do. And every once in a while, someone or something will knock you off the path and that’s when you need a different word: Grace.

These days I need Grace more than Purpose. I need to let myself feel what I feel, but not get attached to those feelings. Not let the feelings define me. I received this message from EnneaThought of the Day:

Remember that your cognitive error is to identify with your changing feelings and emotional states, especially negative ones. Since your feelings constantly change, your identity does as well, undermining many of your psychological needs. Notice this tendency in your thinking today.

EnneaThought of the Day,

I’m going to keep Purpose around for a little while longer. It’s only February, but I’m hoping to relax a little and let time do the telling. Maybe another more appropriate, more calming word will emerge.

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Spiritual Journey First Thursday: Colors of My Life

Posted in Poetry, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged on February 2, 2023| 11 Comments »

The Spiritual Journey First Thursday is gathering at Bob’s site.

For this month’s Spiritual Journey posts, Bob asked us to use the theme “Colors of My Life” Ever since my father died in April, the color that reminds me to think of him is yellow.

One day in early June as I recovered ever so slowly from Covid, a male prothonotary warbler came to my window. He flapped his wings, showing off or defending his territory from his reflected invader I’m not sure which, but I internalized it as a visit from my father’s spirit.

Recently I was in an antique shop with my daughters, wandering as they shopped and I found a little ceramic yellow bird with a sweet succulent in it. Now it sits on my kitchen table. Do we need these little things? Probably not, but in some small way, they give comfort and hope.

My cat Fancy overlooks a succulent plant.

Yellow Through My Days

In a terra-cotta pot, daffodil
bulbs sprout, ones my dear friend
nurtured and planted for someday.

Someday, a yellow blossom
will pop open like a sparkle
of light welcoming spring.

Someday, a yellow prothonotary warbler
will find a house perched
at water’s edge, ready for nesting.

Someday, the yellowed pages
of a scrapbook will break
my heart.

But today, yellow is hiding
inside a bulb, on a southern shore
and in a cardboard box

for someday…

Margaret Simon, draft

Daffodils sprouting

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Poetry Friday: Cascade Golden Morning

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on January 27, 2023| 20 Comments »

Poetry Friday is with Jan at BookSeed Studio

This month’s #poetrypals challenge was a new form to me: the cascade poem. I was mesmerized by Molly Hogan’s Slice of Life post on Tuesday. She posted amazing photos of a beach in Maine at sunrise on a very cold morning. I borrowed some words from her post to create a cascade poem about this photo by Molly.

Photo by Molly Hogan

Cascade Golden Morning

Cold. Cold. Single digit cold.
Walking the rhythm of the morning,
Day breaks to molten gold.

Experience moves me. Bold
ripples through me, lifts me.
Cold. Cold. Single digit cold.

Still lost in glory dawning,
toes throb in rebuke,
Walking the rhythm of the morning.

Miniature forests of fairies hold
a treasure chest of sparkling jewels.
Day breaks to molten gold.

Margaret Simon, with words from Molly Hogan

Find more Cascade poems at these poetry blog sites: Molly, Heidi, Mary Lee, Laura, and Michelle.

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Poetry Friday: Bubble Fib

Posted in Books, Photography, Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , , , on January 20, 2023| 14 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by my new poet-friend, Marcie. She is a master at haiku and sends me a beautiful photo with haiku card each month. Here is the latest one:

out of tree crumbs–
tiny mushrooms stake
their umbrellas
haiku and photo by Marcie Flinchum Atkins

Today is my day to be featured on wee words for wee ones for my contribution to Two Truths and a Fib Poetry Anthology: A Poetic Introduction to 30 Subjects with a Twist. Thanks to Bridget Magee for her work compiling this book. If you are not sure about which bio statement is the fib, I’ll give you a hint: I teach gifted kids in grades 1-6.

I was inspired to write about Bubbles because my grandkids love to play with bubbles. Aren’t they fascinating? Kim Douillard granted permission for this photo to be included in the book. She takes photos on the beaches of San Diego, California. There is a bubble person who creates amazing bubbles on the beach. I love how she captures the wonder of a huge bubble in her photos.

Photo by Kim Douillard

I want to share my Fib poem. The Fib poem form was created by Greg Pincus using the Fibonacci series for syllable count: 1. 1, 2, 3, 5, 8,…

Blow
Big
Sturdy
Flexible
Shape-shifting whispers
Large enough for you to ride on.

(c) Margaret Simon, 2023

Consider ordering a copy of this book full of fun poem forms and fibs: Click here.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Under the Pier

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged , , , , , , on January 18, 2023| 29 Comments »

I can’t resist a good sunset photo. I don’t think I’m alone in this. A brightly colored sunset reminds us that things will be alright. I saw this wonderful photo on Mary Howard’s Facebook. She often posts sunsets from her new home in Hawaii, but this one is from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She happily granted permission for me to use it.

 “I was in Myrtle Beach SC for a SERRRA presentation. Each night I’d walked the beach to get sunset photos. On this day I noticed that I could actually walk under this and it made for a perfect photo. I’m learning to pay attention to my gut!” Mary Howard

Please post a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouraging responses. I will be posting my own poem later today.

Sun reluctantly sets
in golden glow
sending us a message
of hope.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Thibodeaux Turns

Posted in Poetry Friday, Teaching, Travel, Writing, tagged , , on January 13, 2023| 13 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Susan at Chicken Spaghetti.

What is the greatest gift a poetry teacher can ever hope for? A student who keeps writing poetry, even though you are no longer teaching her. You may remember my student Chloe. She’s now in 7th grade and attending another school, but last week she sent me a poem. She told me that she was in Thibodeaux, LA for a gymnastics meet. Her father went to college in the town and showed her the route to where he had lived. He asked her to write a poem about it. And what father do you know encourages the poet-daughter? I was charmed, of course, and asked if I could post her poem here. Please leave encouraging comments for Chloe.

Thibodeaux Turns

Extravagant land that turns your world 

The world that grew with you 

That rested with you

That prayed with you

Never felt alone with this land 

These bodies of water mark journeys in our lives 

And heart

And minds

Traveling tree roots that build our homes and house animals that feed us 

This air that circulates our bodies and arms and legs

Blowing away our doubts and fears 

Bringing us to our pot of gold at the end of our Louisiana adventures 

Our sugar cane grounds desperately reaching for the water we provide 

Thibodeaux turns turn our history 

Our signs 

Our lives

Chloe Willis, 7th grade
Bayou Lafourche, Thibodeaux, LA.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Full Wolf Moon

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , on January 11, 2023| 63 Comments »

Did you see the moon last week? The Full Wolf Moon came out on January 6, the 12th night of Christmas. I was struck by a photo from Jone MacCulloch on Instagram. Like Jone, I was taking an early morning walk and tried to capture it with my phone. She used an iPhone 13. They seem to improve the camera feature on every new phone.

When I asked Jone about the photograph, she wrote, “Every morning I take the dog out sometime between 6:30- 7:30 ( when he gets up. I’m always the first up). This was last Friday. I used an IPhone 13. The moon was setting and one thing that struck me was how it is now more northerly in the sky.”

Can you follow your moon muse and write a small poem? Share in the comments and write encouraging comments to other writers.

Full Wolf Moon by Jone MacCulloch

The moon glows
in harmony with the sun–
a perfect reflection
of peace.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: Small Moments

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , , on January 10, 2023| 3 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

All we have are these moments: the golden trees,
the industrious bees, the falling light. Darkness
will not overtake us.

Barbara Crooker, “Poem with an Embedded Line by Susan Cohen”

My One Little Word for 2023 is Purpose. I am trying to purposefully capture small moments and hold them close. My dog Charlie is near the end of his life. He is 15. He sleeps most of the day. But he still gets excited about treats.

We were having a rainy day. I heard the rain, but it didn’t register that I had let Charlie out in the side yard. I don’t know what made me remember. Perhaps it was his slight scratch at the door. Or the boom of thunder. He is usually afraid of thunder.

I opened the door and Charlie ran in, soaking wet. I grabbed a towel and sat down on the floor. He ran into my arms and let me rustle him around in the towel. Then he’d run away and turn around, back into the towel, rub rub rub, shake, shake, off he ran again. He did this a few times. I was giggling hard.

My old dog has some life left in him!

What are your small moments of joy?

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