Reflections on the Teche

We made it to May 1st, and I’m pleased to announce the Progressive Poem has reached a celebratory ending. Thanks to all the poets who participated and took their turns without any prodding or reminding from me. My job as coordinator this year was made easy because we are a community that works ( and plays) well together. See the completed poem here.

This month my Poetry Swaggers group is sharing epistolary poems. I have to admit that when Molly Hogan suggested this form, I didn’t know what it was. Basically this is a letter poem with a fancy name. My poem is written to my notebook, a constant companion these days.

Dear Notebook,

From the time I was a teenager
with a diary that locked,
I’ve written word by word.
Some days the pen scribbles nonsense
or a secret I will not share.
Other days, the blank page
inspires–my words play on your stage.

Whether you are lined or graphed or solid white,
I love the magic of empty pages
filling you with scrolled loops
and curved letters.
When I hold you near, I smell
the scent of flair pens,
washi tape, glue stick– a writer’s incense.

I can be whoever I want to be
in my own little corner
in my own little notebook. 

Margaret Simon, draft

To see more epistolary poems, visit these Swaggers’ sites:

Heidi Mordhorst–My Juicy Little Universe
Catherine Flynn–Reading to the Core
Molly Hogan–Nix the Comfort Zone
Linda Mitchell–A Word Edgewise

In other news, I am the Reader’s Spotlight over at Michelle Barnes’ site Today’s Little Ditty. Thanks, Michelle, for all you do to promote poets and encourage writers.

I subscribe to Poets & Writers The Time is Now writing prompt email each week. This week, the poetry prompt here asked writers to watch a video of a dance in which their movements were stilted rather than flowing. The prompt was to write a poem of one syllable words. I want this to be a new form: single-syllable song.

My dog in many ways is the perfect dog, schnoodle (schnauzer/ poodle mix) so no shedding. He always wants to please. He’s incredibly patient with kittens and babies. However, he is afraid of storms.

Last night a storm rumbled around 11:30 PM. Charlie barked. His bark is more of a squeal. Like a baby’s cry of fear. I got up and held him in my lap for a while until he was calm enough to sleep. That’s where my mind went to write this poem. I like how placing each word on its own line helps bring out the tone of fear and release.

Storm Song
One
step
forth
leads
me
through
dark
halls
when
he
cries
he
pulls
my
heart
grabs
me
in
a
hug
we
fall
to
sleep
dream
of
a
new
way
to
feel.

(c) Margaret Simon, draft

Have you heard of the Zeno form? It’s one of my favorites that I’d forgotten about until I made a “Poetry on the Bayou” episode on my YouTube channel. I’ve been recording myself sitting outside on the back deck overlooking the Bayou Teche. I’m reading poems from my book Bayou Song.

This week I read a Zeno about cypress knees, a strange phenomenon for the bald cypress trees which are prolific around the shores of the bayou. Some people cut the cypress knees and use them to carve decorations or paint on. There is no solid research on how or why the cypress trees make their knees. And my husband, aka the yard man, curses how they interrupt his mowing flow.

A zeno follows a mathematical sequence for a syllable count of 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1. J. Patrick Lewis originated the form and added that the 1 syllable lines should rhyme.

With students, I enjoyed adding the element of a “zine” to create a “Zeno-Zine.” You can see a previous posts about making Zeno-Zines for Dot Day and in Summer Poetry Swap.

Today I released a monarch butterfly that I had sheltered in a habitat for two weeks. The caterpillar came as “lagniappe” on a milkweed plant I bought nearly three weeks ago. The caterpillar made its chrysalis on a leaf. I wanted to plant the milkweed in the garden, so I taped the leaf to the top of the butterfly net, only to have the tape release, and the chrysalis end up falling to the floor. I had luckily taken precaution and placed bubble wrap on the floor. Once it fell, I realized that the tape was sticking too well to the bubble wrap, so I just decided to leave it alone. I really wasn’t sure if it would develop. Call it the miracle of nature or the resilience of monarchs, but the butterfly emerged yesterday, full and complete. This calls for celebration in a Zeno poem.