When we write poems to a photo, we enter a process of collaboration. A meeting between the photographer and the poet, the image and the words. In collaboration, one can have a conversation, an inquiry, or a conviction. Do your beliefs about the world come through in your poems? Are you communicating or responding? Are you participating or letting the muse take control?
I invite you to reflect on your process today as you write. Leave a small poem in the comments as well as a reflection of your thoughts.
photograph by Molly Hogan
Perspective
The tracks rise to a point on the horizon disappearing into a mist.
We know beyond the page, the path goes on and on.
Margaret Simon, draft
My reflection: Perspective is something an artist has to learn. If you draw two parallel lines, they must converge to give the impression of a continuing road. Our horizon line is not a finite place. The earth is round. When I think about this in a spiritual, metaphorical sense, I think of our own path through life. There is a mirage of an end, but there is always another turn to make.
Note to my readers: We are in the path of Hurricane Delta. School has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. We are preparing. We have a strong house (and a friendly generator named Sparky). I appreciate your thoughts and prayers.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference
I have become enamored of the duplex poetry form, a modern take on a ghazal + sonnet + blues poem invented by Jericho Brown, the Pulitzer Prize Poetry Winner for 2020. I’ve read the description in this article over and over, and every time I see something new. In other words, it’s complicated.
Here are the boundaries:
Write a ghazal that is also a sonnet that is also a blues poem of 14 lines, giving each line 9 to 11 syllables.
The first line is echoed in the last line.
The second line of the poem should change our impression of the first line in an unexpected way.
The second line is echoed and becomes the third line.
The fourth line of the poem should change our impression of the third line in an unexpected way.
This continues until the penultimate line becomes the first line of the couplet that leads to the final (and first) line.
For the variations of repeated lines, it is useful to think of the a a’ b scheme of the blues form.
Jericho Brown
I decided to challenge my writing group, The Sunday Night Swaggers, with the form. Challenges help to get us moving. (I hope my partners aren’t throwing eggs at this blog post.) I enjoyed this process. The repetition with the permission to vary it led to new discoveries.
Old barn between Kalispell and White Fish, Montana by Jan Risher
How many of us have wanderlust? After pandemic shut downs have kept us homebound with theaters, museums, and art galleries closed, many of us have suffered from the strong desire to go somewhere else. My friend, journalist Jan Risher, hit the road a few weeks ago with her husband. Finding travel somewhat doable again, she posted picture after picture of our amazing country.
I was drawn in by her pictures of Montana. We were there only a few summers ago and enjoyed a train ride from Seattle to White Fish. To see more of Jan’s pictures, follow her on Instagram. To read her article about her trip, click The Advocate.
If the spirit moves, write a small poem in the comments. Please encourage other writers with kind comments. I’m sorry this post is late today. I discovered that I can access my blog on my school computer, but I can’t edit or publish the post.
Here where land reaches up to sky with a hand on the heart of America… We see sacred space.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I know school looks different for most teachers this year. For me, I spend my whole day in one building. For the last 12 years, I’ve been an itinerate teacher, traveling to 3 schools each day. Now I travel through a screen to different students. I’m providing virtual gifted services for students who’ve chosen the virtual option. I’m learning very quickly what kinds of writing activities work well and which ones do not in this virtual setting.
Last week I presented a question for quick writing. Yesterday I used a different approach. I presented a poem and asked students to take a line and write from that line. It seemed to go well; however, the kids were not throwing their hands up (or turning their mikes on) to read what they wrote. This is the part I can’t quite figure out. Do they just need more time or is this how it’s going to be?
I still believe in writing alongside my students, so I wrote a poem with them. The poem we were reading together came from Teach this Poem from Poets.org, Cento Between the Ending and the End. The lines I took frame the poem. Before sharing my poem, I explained that when we write together in quick writes, we often write about whatever is on our mind at that moment. My youngest daughter is getting married in our backyard in 3 weeks. As plans begin to finalize, I am getting excited about the family (immediate family only) that with gather with us.
Unopened Gift
Everyone we love is gathered around the bride and groom. Side by side, their eyes glow.
We understand this kind of love, tender and new, like a gift waiting to be discovered.
We hold their hearts in our hands, bless them with all that we have. Send them to the blue sky brimming with golden light.
With my 6th grader, Daniel, we wrote back and forth (in a shared document), adding lines to create a Cento* poem. When the first stanza turned out to rhyme, it was a challenge to keep it going. We were both pleased with the results.
I soar to the sun Look down at the sea Bloom how you must, wild Until we are free.
I wish I could share All that’s in my heart. It’s like the world That keeps us apart.
Everyone we love Gathered at the lakeside Marble-glow the fire A new one inside
I wish I could live The body whole bright- Of the day beautiful, Honeyed light.
Cento from I Wish I Knew by Nina Simone and Cento Between the Ending and the End by Cameron Awkward-Rich
*From the Latin word for “patchwork,” the cento (or collage poem) is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Jone at her fresh new blog site.
A few weeks ago Jone asked the Poetry Friday gang to post poems using mathematical structures. She listed the Arun form. I was curious about this form, but a Google search of forms continually came up with nothing. I finally went back to Jone’s post and followed the link to a blog by Girlgriot. On this site, Girlgriot writes about the form and its rules.
An Arun: a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one (1/2/3/4/5 — 3x).
Girlgriot, March 21, 2017
More digging led me to this post in which Girlgriot reveals that she invented the form. And why not?
It still doesn’t seem possible that I created a form. That really should be, must be, someone else’s domain. But here we are, with the arun. “Arun” means “five” in Yoruba (according to The Google), and the name was chosen by popular vote in a little blog poll I put up. It’s not super sophisticated, but I like it.
GirlGriot, March 22, 2017
When I talked to my student Chloe about the form, she suggested that we write one together about “Back to School.” This is our collaborative poem:
Back to School
Masks line the hallways to class, but it’s not Halloween Day yet.
My teacher switching in style with a cart but we stay in place.
One by one take it slow better be safe and not stuck at home.
To help you understand the stylish carts, I took a picture of my across-the-hall colleague and her cart. As you can see, it’s like the teacher carrying her whole desk from room to room.
I’m in my second week of teaching, and it’s going pretty well, despite the weather which has been churned up by Tropical Storm Beta. Dreaming of travel, I took notice of Paula Bourque’s pictures from Maine. She’s taking day-adventures with her husband. This was her message on Sunday:
Mornings are filled with meaningful lessons. They show me that everything changes and moves on. If I can embrace that, I can be open to new wonders and stop wishing for what was, to always be. Life is change. Sunday sermon over.
Paula Bourque, Facebook post
Paula is the author of Spark! Quick Writes to Kindle Hearts and Minds in Elementary Classrooms. We met at NCTE last year when I was the “chair” of her round table session. She presented ways to use images to prompt quick writes in the classroom. So here I am, full circle, using one of her photos as a prompt for a quick write.
Sunrise at Gardiner Landing by Paula Bourque
Leave a small poem in the comments or jot one in your journal. If you share, please respond to other writers with encouraging words.
I would like to be remembered* as someone who softened things like the still, blue surface of a lake at dawn.
Margaret Simon, draft
words from a Ruth Bader Ginsburg quote, “I would like to be remembered as someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability.”
Like many, I am saddened by the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ethical ELA is having its September Open Write. Monday’s prompt came from Denise Krebs. She asked us to write about news that resonated with us. My poem is somewhat of a found poem. I found words and phrases but changed the order to create this poem.
RBG
There’s an empty chair at the table, a vacancy on the highest court.
Candles burn a vigil for a cherished colleague, champion of Justice.
Joan Ruth–a pioneer for equality, for women, for righteousness.
Historic tributes glow for her stalwart stature in a lace collar.
Margaret Simon, found poem
The Learning Network of the New York Times has this great Lesson of the Day about RBG.
Last week I posted a poem I wrote for my mother-in-law, a work commissioned by her for a local writing festival fundraiser. I commissioned a poem for myself and selected Bonny McDonald to write it for me.
Bonny and I have lost touch over the years, so I enjoyed our email exchanges that put us back into that comfortable place of friendship. You know the kind. When you feel like you were never really separated.
Bonny didn’t just take the questionnaire that was given by the Festival of Words organization. No, she emailed me more questions like What makes you think of your ancestors, and what messages do you get or teachings do you carry in your heart from those who came before you in your family?
My answers to that question and to “Who is your favorite poet lately?” (Jericho Brown) led to this wonderful duplex poem just for me. I cried when she read it at the Zoom event.
Namesake
A duplex for Margaret Simon, inspired by the portrait of her grandmother, Margaret Shields Liles
The mother of your mother is with you Margaret, still, a figure in a painting
Margaret’s figure sits still in the painting Her violin poised to spring up for a tune
A tune fit for a violin springs up For the child of your child in your lap
Oh child of my child, a song for you I wrote a few verses to leave with you
Now to leave them is what’s left to do A note resonates with the lift of the bow
A note resonates a little while Harmonics hold to a foundation
Your grandchildren hold you to the place where The mother of your mother is with you
Bonny McDonald, all rights reserved
This portrait of my grandmother Margaret hangs in my dining room.
These first days of school have been exhausting. Yet I am happy to be doing what I am meant to do. When I get home, I mindlessly scroll through my Facebook feed. I love posts that relax my brain, beautiful landscapes, quotes, flowers…
This one caught my eye. I haven’t seen these colors yet. Dianne Dempsey-Legnon posted this wistful message, “It’s almost here. Looking forward to the crunch of leaves under my feet, the crackle of a fireplace, and cinnamon in my hot tea.” Ah, yes! With all the back to school prep, I forgot that the season is changing. Fall will come.
Photo taken on Pig Trail outside of Hot Springs, Arkansas by Dianne Dempsey-Legnon, 2019
In the comments, post a small poem inspired by the photo. Please comment on other writers with encouraging words.
Fall in the air makes me sneeze. Mumbled through a cloth mask, you say, Bless you and mean it.
Last night I participated in a poetry reading Words for You with the Festival of Words. It was a fundraiser event for the festival. We usually find sponsors and read in a day long poetry event in downtown Lafayette, but this year fundraising, as everything, looks different. Louisiana writers volunteered to be commissioned to write a poem. Each poet wrote a special, unique poem for the person who selected them. I was chosen by my mother-in-law, Anne Simon.
I was touched by a poem by Li-Young Lee “From Blossoms” and used it to form a poem for “Minga” (her grandma name my oldest child gave her). Just a few words about this amazing woman. She is a retired district judge. She’s the mother of three, grandmother to six, and great grandmother to 2 with another on the way. She is fond of birds and flowers, tennis and basketball, and foreign travel. She’s taken me along on a trip to Greece when she turned 80 and Africa for her 85th birthday.
I hope that my poem honors who she is in some small way. Writing for someone you know well is not as easy at it may seem.
Desert Rose for Anne Simon after Li-Young Lee “From Blossoms”
From a broad-base bonsai trunk, trumpet-like blossoms pop festival-red, that desert rose Julie bought at Lowe’s when Love was a potted plant.
From desert soil “complex, yet refined” a pearl in an ocean of sand, your hand taps to test its dampness. You are judicial
even in your watering. The flowers stand up and notice your kindness. O, to take what we love inside the porch, a safari, to see not only the rose, but the whole Serengeti.
There are days we talk as if death will not separate us; Your voice, my heartbeat from love to love to love, from rose to soil to deepest esteem, the deepest kind of esteem.
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 