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Poetry Friday: Tricube Trying

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged Inklings, poems about teaching, tricube on December 3, 2021| 14 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up is with Michelle Kogan.

This month’s Inkling challenge is from Molly Hogan. She asked us to try a form we’ve been wanting to try. One of her form suggestions was a tricube. Matt Forrest Esenwine wrote about the form here. Matt said the form seems simple, yet it is challenging to say what you want to say in so few syllables. The form uses a mathematical sequence of three, cubed. 3 syllables, 3 lines, 3 stanzas. I wrote one here for my daughters after they treated me to a wonderful birthday weekend.

In my classroom, the gratitude poet-tree has been such a success that we decided to keep it going in December with a Christmas poet-tree. One of my students lost her beloved dog over the break, so I was thinking about how grateful I am for my walking companion Charlie. Charlie is 14 and has a heart murmur, but he still loves to go out for walks with me in the morning.

On Monday, my two students came in chatting about their break. They were talking about how their friend had left the school. Katie said she cried, but she would not admit that to anyone but me. She said, “You’re my closest teacher.” This made my heart swell. Trying to capture this emotion in a tricube.

You’re my Closest Teacher
Open door
to comfort,
welcoming.
Freely said,
“I’ll tell you”
words of truth.
Close teacher
listens well.
You matter.
Margaret Simon, draft for Katie

Linda: A Word Edgewise
Heidi: my juicy little universe
Catherine: Reading to the Core
Mary Lee: A(nother) Year of Reading

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Spiritual Journey First Thursday: Waiting

Posted in Gratitude, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged #waiting, advent, grandchildren, Leo's art, spiritual journey on December 2, 2021| 6 Comments »

Round up of Spiritual Journey posts
can be found at Christine Margocs’ site,
Horizon 51

For our Advent time-of-waiting spiritual journey posts this month, Chris chose the topic of “waiting…with a side of hope.”

Waiting is not easy. It means patience, looking inward… finding peace.

My calendar suggests quite the opposite.

It says go here, do this, buy that.

Hurry up!

So I look to the stars and wonder

What are they waiting for?

The light we see is how old? days? months? years?

Yet it comes anyway.

Christmas will come anyway.

Why worry?

When his mother asked what he wanted Santa to bring him,

he pointed to the Christmas tree

and said, “That funny clown up there!”

Ah, to see waiting through the eyes of a toddler

dancing through each day in wonder.

Let’s change our mantra from “I can’t wait”

to “I Can Wait!”

Waiting brings light and hope and love

wrapped in a timeless gift.

Christmas present by Leo, age 2 yrs 11 months

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Poetry Friday: Ode to Autumn

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, #Poetrypals, Autumn ode, odes on November 26, 2021| 14 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up is with Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town.

Happy Black Friday, a day I am celebrating with another family gathering around our newest grandchild Stella. She is turning one on Tuesday. There will be the traditional day after Thanksgiving gumbo as well as cake and presents and lots of wildness from her toddler brother and cousin. The best kind of Black Friday ever.

In the meantime, I wrote a quick ode to join the Poetry Sisters challenge for this month.

Ode to Autumn
Something in the way you move
attracts the wandering eyes
of this watcher–
a tapestry of yellow and red
settles my wild mind.
Something in the way you move
blows a soft whisper
to my weathered cheek
not warm like a kiss
but tickles just the same.
Something in the way you move
stirs my soul to memory,
opens the stored-away box
of photos releasing a scent
of amber and wood.
You move quickly, Autumn,
dropping by with a basketful
of acorns and satsumas,
sweet sugarcane cigar,
then leave on a storm cloud.
Take my grief with your wind
and turn my heart to joy.
Margaret Simon, draft
For Molly, who lost her dear father on Thanksgiving Day

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Locks

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing on November 24, 2021| 37 Comments »

A Happy Thanksgiving thank you for this little community of writers. Thanks for making time for yourself on Wednesday morning to write along with me and others. I am grateful for you!

This past weekend my daughters and I traveled to Texas wine country. You can read my Slice of Life about it here. Our Airbnb was connected to downtown Fredericksburg by a narrow concrete bridge across Barons Creek. On the chain link fence were locks. Maggie said, “Like Paris!” Oblivious to the reference I took this picture.

Locks over Barons Creek, Fredericksburg, TX by Margaret Simon

I challenge you to write a small poem without using the word locks. If you haven’t tried a tricube form, read Linda Mitchell’s prompt from Ethical ELA. Like haiku, a tricube captures a single moment with few words. Three by three, three syllables in each line, three lines in each stanza, three stanzas. Share your small poems in the comments or on Facebook. Join here.

On my way
across paths
of rivers
I hold on
to your hand
with fervor
Our two hearts
are combined
with vigor
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Ode to the Letter M

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #gratitude, being grandmother, Margaret poems, ode on November 19, 2021| 8 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up is with Carol at Beyond Literacy Link

This prompt came to me in an email from Poets & Writers, The Time is Now. When my Inklings saw this poem, Mary Lee thought the prompt was surely In Gratitude by Abigail Carroll which was featured on this episode of The Slowdown. I love how the universe is like that sometimes, synchronous, speaking to each other. I join the conversation with my own ode to a single letter.

Ode to Letter M
But I love the M, mountainous-
hill-valley-hill-valley
signed with 3 fingers hugging a thumb,
the way milk-full infant fingers
grip my thumb and hold on tight.

I love the M handed down on grandmother’s tea towels,
embroidered like the sign of the cross
on my forehead. I baptize you in the name of
Margaret.
I stand with the Roman numeral (M)
confident in her thousand mornings
musing on the mimicry
of a single mockingbird.
Scent of magnolia fills the room
from the lit candle, like a warm May breeze
that blows homemade cards,
memories, and a rainbow handprint
identifying me
as Mamère,
as someone to love.
Margaret Simon

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Opossum in Persimmon Tree

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged #gratitude, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, opossum, South Louisiana, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Wildlife on November 17, 2021| 37 Comments »

Opossum in a persimmon tree–say it three times fast. I caught this guy one morning on my walk with Charlie through the neighborhood. Does he look guilty to you? He didn’t move at all while I wandered to different perspectives to take his portrait. He was suspicious, yes, but completely still. Charlie didn’t bark. I don’t think he saw the opossum. We, opossum and I, however, locked eyes, and I will never be the same. These creatures usually freak me out, but this one…this one…was different somehow. Maybe it was the persimmon tree backdrop or his ~~innocent~~ guilty stare. Tempted to name him, I’ll just post his portrait here for you to muse about.

Opossum in persimmon tree, by Margaret Simon

Leave a small poem in the comments. I’ll be back to post mine. Be kind in your responses to other writers. Enjoy!

Opossum in a persimmon tree
Staring right back at me
Did I catch a thief
or make a new friend?
Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: Mentor Poets

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged Amy Ludwig Vanderwater, circle poems, Mentor poems, student poems on November 16, 2021| 10 Comments »

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

Through blogging communities like this one (Slice of Life) and Poetry Friday, I’ve met many mentors for writing. Amy Ludwig VanDerwater is one of those special teacher-poets who generously gives of herself. During the pandemic shut down, she recorded videos in Betsy, her writing camper, every day. These can be found on her YouTube channel. Last year she went back to teaching, so she didn’t blog as much. Boy, did we miss her voice in cyberspace!

But she’s back and each week on Friday, she posts a mentor poem on The Poem Farm with student-friendly (and adult-friendly) instructions for writing your own poem. This past Friday, her poem came up on my Instagram and was just right for our writing time.

One of our kindergarten teachers is having a baby, so I crocheted a little hat for her new child. This was on my mind when I wrote alongside my students. I gifted the poem to Miss Heidi along with the hat.

The Wool Hat
after Amy Ludwig VanDerwater “Circles”
When sheep’s wool
becomes yarn
becomes crochet
becomes hat,
a newborn baby’s head
holds a sheep,
yarn,
hands,
needle,
warmth,
and I wonder
how prayers
offered for a stranger
growing inside a friend
becomes a child
wearing a hat
passed on
from sheep to hand
to heart
to warmth
to love.
Margaret Simon

Jaden, 6th grade, has started a new trend when he writes his gratitude poem. If he makes a mistake, he turns it into a picture. I noticed his little designs and complimented him. He said, “Oh, I made those dots and stars because I messed up.” That sounds like a poem to me. And so he turned his mistakes into stars into a poem.

Recycle Poem
Old mistakes
become rainbows
and new designs
old mistakes
become new inspirations
when I look at the designs
will I remember the old mistakes?
will I think of new ideas?
shapes like stars and squares?
or something new?
what will the new mistakes become?
Jaden, 6th grade

One of the fourth grade teachers is raising monarchs. Katie was inspired by this and wrote her circle poem about the life cycle of a butterfly.

Life Cycle Poem
Out of a small egg
comes a small, slimy, bean.
A bean that squirms
and grows and grows.
Grows into a small
chrysalis where it stays for a while
until it’s ready to fly.
Fly into the real world
with beautiful, colored, wings
and to reproduce
another small egg.
Katie, 6th grade

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Poetry Friday: Reading with Poets Laureate #Gratitude

Posted in Gifted Education, Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #gratitude, #poet-tree, Bayou Teche Museum, Smithsonian Water/ Ways Exhibit on November 12, 2021| 12 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up is with Matt at Radio, Rhythm, & Rhyme

Three months ago I said, “Sure!” when my friend Stephanie asked me to participate in a poetry reading. I figured I had plenty of time. And here we are less than a week away. The poetry night is in conjunction with a Water/ Ways traveling Smithsonian exhibit. Stephanie, the assistant at the Bayou Teche Museum, wrote the grant and wanted to add arts into the presentations. I asked her, “Do you realize I write for children?”

The topic is water, so I plan to read from Bayou Song, a swimming poem from Rhymes and Rhythm, and two yet-to-be published poems from Swamp Song. There will be three poets laureate reading alongside me. I’m excited to meet the newest state poet laureate Mona Lisa Saloy. I’ve seen her present on Zoom, but this reading together will be in person.

Darrell Bourque is a mentor of mine. He was poet laureate in Louisiana from 2007-2011. And Jonathan Mayers is coming from Baton Rouge. He is the city’s poet laureate. Melissa and I have been friends since our writing group days in the 90’s. We will support each other as the two non-poets laureate.

In my classroom, the gratitude “Poet-Tree” is filling up with leaves of grateful poems. Yesterday a few teachers stopped by to tell me they were reading the poems and one even said she wanted to write her own and put it on our tree. Spreading poetry love!

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Slice of Life: Classroom Haibun

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged #gratitude, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, haibun on November 9, 2021| 10 Comments »

On Saturday as part of the Festival of Words, I had the privilege to attend a small workshop with Aimee Nezhukumatathil. She led us through a number of writing exercises and ended with a discussion of the haibun.

From Poets.org: “Haibun combines a prose poem with a haiku. The haiku usually ends the poem as a sort of whispery and insightful postscript to the prose of the beginning of the poem. Another way of looking at the form is thinking of haibun as highly focused testimony or recollection of a journey composed of a prose poem and ending with a meaningful murmur of sorts: a haiku.”

Aimee added to this definition with two concepts: Aware, a Japanese concept similar to natsukashisa, a type of nostalgia with a fondness for what is gone but also slight optimism for what’s ahead and a sense of calm because this is the natural course of things. She also Nezhukumatathiled the form with the addition of scent. She spoke about scent as a way to activate the reader’s mind to a memory.

On Monday, I went to a former school to screen a student for gifted. They put me in my old room to do the testing and while the child took her test, I wrote this poem.

I enter the spacious classroom, and you are not here. So many hard days in masks and social distance
defined our relationship then. Your desk is gone. The smell of pencil shavings is sharp
mixed with musty-mold of an old school. Today I am testing a girl like you,
bright and edgy with a little swagger to her walk. But she isn’t you. No one can be you but you.
This chair, the small blue square that lost its cushion years ago, holds me again.
I trip over its wobbly wheels wishing you were here to laugh at me. Where are you now?
In another classroom, another school, same masked face, same suspicious eyes.
I want to know if you are OK. I only ever wanted you to be OK.
Students come in
Twist my heart into a knot
And leave it longing
Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Percentage Poem

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged Inklings, Maria Popova, percentage poem, The Marginalian on November 5, 2021| 26 Comments »

Poetry Friday round-up is with Mary Lee at A(n)other Year of Reading

The Inklings challenge this month comes from Linda Mitchell. She charged us with writing “a poem that includes the idea of percentage or percent. Percentages are all around us in recipes, prices, assessments, statistics. Include the idea of percentage in your poem in some way.”

I put off this challenge for a while until a muse slapped me in the face from Brain Pickings (which is now called The Marginalian). This article is beautifully written: Every Loss Reveals What We Are Made Of by Maria Popova. Incorporating inspiration from Maria Popova and a quote from Maria Mitchell, I crafted a poem container of loss, aging, and rebirth.

We Reach Forth
The way we stand at the mirror
and see strands of hair
overnight lose their color,
devoid of fresh light
gone gray in the way
a leaf loses the green of chlorophyll.
We lose our vigor.
The way I collapse on the sofa
after the grandchildren leave–
how it sags from years
of holding us.
The way, like branches, we reach forth
and strain every nerve,
but we seize only a bit of the curtain
that hides the infinite from us.*
How 96 percent of the universe
is dark matter
invisible to us, how can we know
what tomorrow will bring?
The way we shed more color,
fall to the ground,
crush into mulch,
then hatch from darkness
and find light
find light
find light.
*Maria Mitchell
Margaret Simon, draft