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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Sycamore

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged memorial tree, Summerhouse Beaux Ridge, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on July 27, 2022| 2 Comments »

Welcome to my weekly musing. Leave a small poem in the comments and share encouraging support to other writers.

The last five days I was with my mother at her retirement home. I have so many mixed emotions when I visit. I miss Dad who died in April. I have gotten to know many of the residents and staff and enjoy spending time with them. I worry about Mom who has early Alzheimer’s. I am surrounded by childhood memories.

This weekend I was helping to move Mom down the hall to a smaller apartment. My girls and their spouses and toddlers came in on Saturday to help. It was chaos that was efficient. The men moved the big furniture pieces with ease. The toddlers bounced on the bed mattress and played with a basket full of toys and generally screamed as toddlers do. I was grateful for the help. After they left I worked on organizing, culling, and hanging paintings and photographs. By the time I left yesterday, Mom was settled and happy in her new space.

All that is really beside the point of the photo today. In the midst of mayhem and moving, I walked with Mom to Dad’s tree. We had a sycamore tree planted on the grounds. Mom loves going out to visit the tree. It has already grown about 2 feet in three months. It’s not even close to the height of the surrounding pines, but there is something serene and strong about it.

Have you ever planted a memorial tree?

Sycamore Tree in memory of John Gibson, 11/11/33-4/22/22
Summerhouse Beaux Ridge Independent Living

In the face of storms and sun,
you stand, grow, reach
for the heavenly space
where God is good.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Slow Sloth and Poetry Exchange

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged antonym poem, Ethical ELA, Jennifer Guyor Jowett, Molly Hogan, open write, Ray Bradbury, Summer Poetry Swap on July 21, 2022| 10 Comments »

Poetry Friday is with Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading.

Sloth video from my phone. Turn sound down or off. The guide explains the different kinds of sloths near the end. This is a two-toed sloth.

Slow Sloth
I am to you
scribbles of God.
My two toes
touch the heavens
on leaves like tea
left behind for someone to read,
a lie between sun and moon.
I am blind to you.
As I slowly pass through
parting seas of green,
only the fruit follows me.
I know heaven is green
as all sorrow in amorphous shape.
I neglect symbols,
and drink from mud.
I stop and sleep
because you are always there.

Margaret Simon, 2022

I wrote this poem after Swift Hummingbird by Ray Bradbury. On Ethical ELA, Jennifer Guyor Jowett introduced antonymic translation in this week’s Open Write. Ray Bradbury wrote of the hummingbird which immediately made me think of the sloth we saw in Costa Rica last week. It was fun to write a poem about it.

Molly Hogan, fellow Inkling, sent me a Summer Poem Swap. Her tranquil poem sent me the blessing I needed along with some homemade (by Molly) strawberry jam and other goodies. Thanks, Molly, for the full-of-care package.

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This Photo wants to be a Poem: Puddle Reflection

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Ethical ELA, Jennifer Guyor Jowett, puddles, summer on July 20, 2022| 4 Comments »

This week is Ethical ELA’s Open Write. If you haven’t tried it out, you should. The prompts are good and the community is supportive. It’s a great place to try on a poem.

On my morning walk earlier this week after a rain, I saw the reflection of the clouds in puddles. I thought it would make a good photo prompt. And then over at Ethical ELA, I used Jennifer’s prompt to write about this photo. Today I share both with you. I hope you find inspiration here. Write your own small poem in the comments and support other writers with comments.

Summer Morning
I walk after the rain soaked
grass to cool green, steam rising.
I walk in the air soaked
in sweat of summer.
I remember the bobwhite singing
in the pine forest beyond Purple Creek.
I remember building forts, skipping rocks
singing, “Easy come, easy go, little high, little low.”
I see reflection of sky
in asphalt puddles. I am
a reflection of that child,
dancing through puddles,
watching clouds roll by.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Buffy Writes

Posted in Books, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged Buffy Silverman, Finding Fall Treasures, On a Gold-Blooming Day on July 8, 2022| 23 Comments »

Jan has the round up today at Book Seed Studio

My friend, poet Buffy Silverman is releasing a new word-blooming picture book, On a Gold-Blooming Day coming September 6, 2022. This rhythmic, rhyming, all-about-fall book is enchanting from start to finish. You will be transported to the season through words and images.

From On a Gold-Blooming Day, photos by Buffy Silverman

I asked Buffy to tell us how she is inspired to write.

I have been fascinated with the natural world for as long as I can remember. When I was six I collected a jar full of grasshoppers from an empty lot to keep as pets in the garage. I learned the hard way that insects need oxygen! I spent hours perched in the branches of our maple tree as a kid, watching the world below.
I still search out the small animals that share our habitat. We are lucky to live at the swampy end of a small lake, with frogs, turtles, birds, and woods as neighbors. We stopped mowing most of our backyard about twenty years ago, and a meadow has grown in its place, attracting a variety of insects. Now I collect critters with my camera instead of in a jar, and try to share what I see through my writing. My hound keeps me walking every day, no matter what the weather or season, so I get plenty of opportunity to make new discoveries!
I hope that my words might inspire a young person to look more closely at and fall in love with the world around them. The world desperately needs a generation of environmentalists, and I think that is most likely to happen if children spend time outdoors, make their own discoveries, and fall in love as I did with nature.
Buffy Silverman

From On A Gold-Blooming Day by Buffy Silverman

This golden glowing book is for preschool through 3rd graders. The back matter provides more information about the animals and plants mentioned in the text and images. A glossary of new words helps developing readers. Add this book to your fall reading list. Buffy’s website is here.

On Wednesday, Buffy responded with a very Buffy-styled poem to This Photo Wants to be a Poem.

Fishing Expedition
Long legs.
Long beak.
Step right.
Cool creek.
Step left.
Trout streak.
Stoop low.
Sneak peek.
Fast jab–
full cheek!
–Buffy Silverman

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Spiritual Thursday: Presence

Posted in Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged being mamére, Fears, Owls, spiritual journey on July 7, 2022| 10 Comments »

Spiritual Thursday Round up is here today.

Close to midnight when the darkness is darkest, I was sleeping next to Leo, my 3 year-old grandson. He woke up startled on his first night staying with us last week. “Mamère, what’s that?” he asked.

“That’s an owl. Can you hear it? Who, who, who!”

“Is it in the house?”

“No, no, it’s across the bayou way up high in the trees.”

Whoooooooooo!

“Scary.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here. The owl is far away.”

“Far away? Outside? In the trees?”

We talked for a while about owls, how they live in trees, hunt at night, call to their friends. The questions went on and on until I sleepily said, “It’s time to be quiet now and go back to sleep.”

I turned on the sound machine and the ocean waves calmed us both back to sleep. But Leo talked about the owl for days. Who knew that his 3 year-old brain would be so curious and so afraid of owls?

Our fears, our worries, especially in the darkness of the night are unreasonable. We know this, but nevertheless, the threat feels real.

How do you listen to the owls?

My presence will go with you and I will give you rest.
Exodus 33:14

Enter your Spiritual Thursday blog posts here: https://fresh.inlinkz.com/p/7ce77be0aa2142e583f84dd128d477e7

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Poetry Friday: Persistence

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged dandelion, Inklings, Tony Hoagland on July 1, 2022| 12 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Janice Scully at Salt City Verse

This month’s Inkling challenge comes from Heidi Mordhorst: I’m looking out at my yard, my garden, and no matter what’s happening outside or in, THE PLANTS KEEP GROWING. They rarely give up. There are so many ways in which we’ve all (but especially as women, as educators) had to be persistent, despite our weariness. Write a poem (for kids or adults) about PERSISTENCE.

Heidi suggested a model poem by Tony Hoagland, Please Don’t. I borrowed a few lines and the word swobtoggle.

Dandelion Garden
Hello, dandelions
in the ditch,
You pop forth
taller than I’ve ever seen,
reaching higher
for a taste of the sun
before the storm comes
to swobtoggle*
your seeds away.
You look at me
with a wispy wink
waiting for a child to hold
& blow.
Persistent in your volunteer work
knowing
someday soon,
you will fly.
*from Tony Hoagland, “Please Don’t”
Margaret Simon, draft

Dandelions in a ditch, photo by Margaret Simon

See what other Inklings did with this prompt.

Linda@A Word Edgewise
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly@Nix the Comfort Zone
Catherine@Reading to the Core
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading

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Poetry Friday: Heartfelt Exchange

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged Kat Apel, summer poem swap, wood duck chicks on June 24, 2022| 8 Comments »

Poetry Friday is with Catherine at Reading to the Core.

Thanks, Tabatha for leading the Summer Poem Swap.

Each summer Tabatha connects us kidlit poets by coordinating a poem swap. My first poem swap was with Kat Apel, all across the globe in Australia. Believe it or not, we have met face to face. She is a tall, sunshiny gal. I finally got around to sending her a poem yesterday, and she has shared it with the world today. Check it out here.

Kat loves nature and often writes about it. She has watched our wood duck nesting box project over social media. She sent me this poem a few weeks ago. She captured the photo from my video, so cute with two ducklings peeking out. The poem is a lai form (which I looked up here.)

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Southern Mimosa

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged Ethical ELA, Fran Haley, syllabic verse on June 22, 2022| 15 Comments »

Read, write, share

I have a soft spot for the mimosa tree. One was growing in my grandfather’s yard when I was a child. My brother and I would climb its branches and use the seed pods in mud pie and “soup”. On a recent walk I took pictures of the mimosa blossom. It’s beautiful in its feathery flounce. When I took a moment to Google the tree this morning, I found out a few things:

The tree comes from Asia, known as the Persian silk tree or the pink silk tree.
The wood of the mimosa is brittle and prone to break. Thus the tree has a short life span.
The tree is an invasive species from China.
The tree attracts webworm.
The mimosa pod (which my brother and I used in pretend play) is poisonous.

This mimosa tree was growing wild in Mississippi. I’ve also seen a few in our city park and near the bayou in a wooded area. Write a poem based on this image and put it into the comments. Please reply to 3 other writers with encouragement. Thanks for being here.

Fran Haley is leading the Open Write at Ethical ELA today. I used her prompt to create my poem.

Mimosa
evanescent blossoms
perky pink feathering
flames of flower power
invasive Asian tree
reaching for the sunlight
my childhood memory
Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: Say I Love You

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged Alzheimer's, family, loss, parents on June 21, 2022| 1 Comment »

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

Two months ago today, I took my mother to see my father in the hospital for the last time. He was not responsive. She held his head and kissed it over and over saying, “I love you.” He died the next morning.

I never heard my parents say “I love you” to each other. My father told me he believed that if you said it often, it would lose its meaning. Ten years ago, after he had colon surgery, I vowed to tell them both I love you every time I talked to them on the phone. Mom would respond, “hmm hmm.” Dad would say something like, “me, too.” Over Covid isolation, they finally said an audible “I love you.”

But this doesn’t mean they didn’t love us or each other.

Yesterday in the dining hall of the retirement home, a resident said she’d never seen such a loving family. She said we cradled my mother. I said, “I wish I could cradle her every day.”

Alzheimer’s is trying to take my mother away from us. She knows Dad died. She knows we planted a tree in his memory. She visits it every day. However, when we took her across the hall to look at a one bedroom apartment for her to move into, she said, “Is Dad moving, too?” I hugged her and said, “No, he’s gone. But he’s in your heart.”

My brother said, “Taking up less space.” We laughed. That’s something Dad would say. He loved irony.

Then Mom said, “You suppose I could find another man?” More laughter.

Mom at the Columbarium visiting Dad on Father’s Day.

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Poetry Friday: Honestly

Posted in #sosmagic, Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged friendship, grief, honesty on June 16, 2022| 5 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Michelle Kogan

Honestly, I’m not sure
if I’ll be home soon.
I’m glad you were able to see me.
I love how you hear a different story from my eyes,
how we find honesty under the moon–
a strawberry moon
rising–
like a beacon through the trees.
You read me with an elder’s wisdom.
Tears well up when you hold my heart with your eyes,
how they flow with knowing.
Your own tears leaking onto your cheek.
You never even met my father,
but he was speaking through you,
his presence nowhere and everywhere.
Honestly, the well of deep compassion
grows when watered with our tears.
Margaret Simon, for Carolyn