Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
It’s not even my birthday, but I received three “Just Because I Love You” gifts in the mail this week. A bracelet from “MudLove” that inspires me and helps provide a week of clean water to someone in need.
Word bracelets from MudLove.
A hand-knitted scarf. I took a quick selfie.
A bouquet of roses from my daughter and her fiancé.
These gifts were thoughtful and made me feel special. Two of these friends have come to me from this blogging community. I am so grateful for the friendships I am forging through writing.
My students received some gifts this week as well. An artist who visited our class before Christmas sent tiny journals, just the right size for collecting small Slice of Life moments. They started decorating them on Friday.
Nikki Loftin will be Skyping with my class for World Read Aloud Day. She sent bookmarks.
My students raised money for the World Wildlife Fund by holding a bake sale. They raised $250. This week we received two buckets of animals. Now each student has a tiny stuffed companion.
I celebrate gifts of the spirit, too. Across from our house on the bayou is wooded property. In reality, it’s marshy land that would be difficult to develop, but years ago we bought it with our neighbors in order to keep it wild. In the early morning light, reflections are vivid. Beauty in nature is a gift every day.
Where does a poem come from?
From play with words?
Intention of language?
Simply throwing confetti to the wind?
A poem takes shape
whether I am present or not.
Some days the muse is mine.
Others I merely stroke the fire
waiting for the flame to ignite.
William Stafford said I should kneel
in the deep earth and dig.*
I kneel.
I pray.
I sing.
Then I open my notebook,
lay my pen against soft paper,
and wriggle these fingers.
A gift is given.
I will not let go.
–Margaret Simon
I’ve been thinking about where poems come from and whether the joy is in the process or in the product. I don’t know the answer. But I enjoy asking the question.
Kevin Hodgson sent out postcards. I got one and added my given word on the padlet he created. In this instance, the process was the fun. The sending and receiving of postcards in the real mailbox was exciting. None of us are really quite sure what the product means, but we all agree it’s cool.
* “Successful people cannot find poems; for you must kneel down and explore for them.”
–William Stafford.
Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.
For Spiritual Thursday, we are writing about each other’s One Little Word. This week is Irene Latham’s word, Delight. Irene is a poet, so I wrote a word poem.
Delight is an enchanting word that dances
in the light of the sun
and looks to the moon for inspiration.
Amusement is her cousin
who laughs easily, giddy really.
Not delight.
She quietly relishes in God’s creation.
Watches the birds at the feeder flit and fight.
She wonders about clouds
and contrails in the sky.
Delight is never in a hurry.
If she were, she might miss something,
Miss something delightful.
See the way the cat turns
over and over in the grass.
Delight is with the cat
feeling the soft sweetness of dew.
Delight opens her mouth for snowflakes in winter
And runs in a field of bluebonnets in spring.
Delight fluffs my words up like feathers,
lifts them slightly up to catch the wind
so they may fly to you.
–Margaret Simon
Moss delight: See the way the moss sways in the wind?
Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for Tuesdays Slice of Life Challenge.
February is not National Poetry Month. That’s in April. But Laura Shovan has a birthday, and she invites us all to play with poetry during her birthday month. I love a good word game, so when Laura Purdie Salas. posted about writing Found Moon Poems with 4th graders, I borrowed this idea to write a poem for Laura Shovan’s project. (Found Object Poem Project with Laura Shovan.)
Wonderopolis is a super-duper place to find nonfiction information. When Linda Baie sent the above picture for Laura’s project, I saw a porcupine. I quickly discovered that this was a pufferfish skeleton, not a porcupine, but too late, I had found a Wonderopolis article. Using copy, paste, and strike-through, I isolated words for a poem. When I started putting the poem together, it sounded like two voices to me. Thus a found poem for two voices.
I haven’t tried this activity with my students yet, but I will. I hope they enjoy collecting words as much as I do.
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For DigiLit Sunday lately I have been Tweeting out a topic. The word treasure came to my mind when I saw Kim Douillard’s photo challenge for this week. She is a photographer (teacher, writer, blogger) who captures beautiful images of the beach. Click here to see her blog, Thinking Through My Lens.
The treasure is in the details of Kim’s photographs, the open wings of a gull, the intricate designs of shells, or the silhouette of the surfer.
I am not usually a detail person. I try to be organized, but it’s an effort. I don’t remember people’s names. I could not tell you what you were wearing yesterday. However, when it comes to teaching digital literacy, the treasure is in the details.
On a field trip on Friday, Madison drew this picture from an art piece she saw in the gallery. Look closely. The details on the tiny girl in the foreground, and notice the motion indication on the cow’s tail. When I saw her drawing, these little details delighted me.
When we teach digital literacies, we need to take time to notice the treasure in the details. Even our youngest students can use these tools to express themselves effectively. Take a look at another of Madison’s recent creations. We were learning about Antarctica and poetry with Irene Latham’s book When the Sun Shines on Antarctica. Madison is in second grade, and this year is her first year in my class. She has jumped right into digital literacies and blogging. I love this poem she wrote about penguins. She used the craft move from Irene’s poetry to show the movement of the penguin diving into the sea. I didn’t watch her do this, but I am sure it took quite a bit of patience tabbing over and placing the words just right. What a treasure in that little detail! (Click on the image to see a larger view.)
Take time to delight in the details this week. Notice when your students make an effort to be precise and intentional in their work.
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
On Friday we took our youngest gifted students on a field trip. The day started at A&E Gallery. Paul Schexnayder, the owner, is an artist and teacher in our talent program. He opened up this old historical building to the wandering eyes of 1st-3rd grade kids. I asked them to find a piece of art that makes them amazed. I had made a form for them to use for a cinquain poem. After they wrote, they created a final draft to give to Mr. Paul. He will place the poems next to the art piece for visitors to see.
Gwen Voorhies, artist.
Madison wrote about the peaceful painting above.
Lynzee wrote about a 3-D piece of an alligator on the high trapeze.
We ventured onward to the Hilliard Museum in Lafayette. This museum is a fine art museum, different from the co-op gallery in New Iberia. The children drew a postcard of a painting and wrote as if they had visited the place. The docent then brought them to an art room where they could color their pictures with oil pastels and colored pencils. My students enjoyed exploring these art materials.
Exploring drawing with oil pastels.
An art display of dresses made from cut up romance novels.
Our final stop (after lunch in the park) was the Lafayette Science Museum where the kids were allowed to roam freely to see dinosaur bones, insects, magnets, and a favorite of all, video games.
Field trips are a great way to expose our students to new things like art. As I was chatting with the docents, they shared with me that not many teachers take advantage of their program. This is disappointing to me. We need to take our students out of the school and into the world of ideas and creativity. This field trip was inexpensive, too. We only charged the students $5. They brought their own lunches and our gifted program procured the school bus.
I celebrate the beautiful day (temps in the 70’s), art, enthusiastic docents, and students writing, learning, and playing. An added bonus: Our students are all from different schools, so they made new friends, too.
Poetry Friday round-up with Kimberley at Written Reflections
Inspired by Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem How Long Peace Takes from 19 Varieties of Gazelle, my students and I wrote our own How Long poems. The repeated line “As long as” followed by images works well to inspire poetry. I wrote one about healing. I am slowly recovering from my tailbone injury. The bayou seems to appear often in my poems and as I am recovering, I have watched the bayou every day. Such a peaceful place to heal.
Peak through the old cypress to the brown bayou.
How Long Healing Takes
As long as reflections of tall trees on a winding bayou.
As long as the slow mowing of a field of grass.
As long as the the thread of soft yarn
winds its way into a baby’s blanket.
As long as the body insists
on being separate and human.
As long as instinct is ignored
and we just talk louder to each other.
As long as the cat
finds a box in the closet,
comfort in cardboard.
She hides all day invisible.
As long as the flowers in the vase
smile their peachy-orange smile
and say stay,
rest,
be well.
–Margaret Simon
And now for a few students’s poems.
How Long Patience Takes
As long as you rise at dawn
As long as the sun rises above
to shine upon us
As long as the teapot sings
a steamy song
As long as long as you make a wish
at 11:11
As long as you blow out you candles
on your special day
As long as you have
patience
As long as you leave at dusk
–Emily, 5th grade
How Long Creativity Takes
As long as you’re reading
with a smile on your face
so deep in your book
you can’t hear anything
As long as you’re drawing
letting the pencil control you
light and dark lines
here and there
As long as you’re brainstorming
with ideas flowing out left and right
shouting them out like you don’t care
while you peacefully think of some more
As long as you’re writing
with a pen in your hand
as you think of a story
and poem at the same time
As long as you let your imagination flow
making dreams a reality
and never losing hope
and letting your mind run wild
As long as you never stop believing
believe in the impossible
step out your comfort zone
and live a creative life
Laura Shovan is a poet who shares the love. For her birthday month, February, she commits to writing poems every day and shares the experience with anyone who dares to jump in to the party. Read her introduction to the project here.
I have joined in her project every year and find the experience challenging, inspiring, and enriching. I don’t know if I get better at writing poems, but I know for sure that this is a welcoming and passionate-about-poetry group. I am honored to host today.
In preparation for this month of writing, Laura called for images of found objects. I sent her this image of lotus seed pods I picked up out of the swamp on a winter canoe trip. They sit in a pottery piece that is also reminiscent of nature.
Diane Mayr was considering skipping today. And that very thought made her write a skippy poem. You never know where the muse may hide. I love the rhythm of the flower names and of course, the final truth.
Mama Planted a Garden
(a skipping rhyme)
Mama planted a garden,
but it came up weeds.
Oh, my silly Mama!
You planted the wrong seeds.
No, my little Missy,
they were the right ones.
A flower to a father
may be a weed to the son!
Buttercup, aster, and bergamot.
Maiden pink, dandelion, forget-me-not.
Columbine, bunchberry, periwinkle.
Violet, lady slipper, honeysuckle.
Always remember this,
my little daughter:
one person’s weed
is another one’s flower!
–Diane Mayr
Patricia VanAmburg did some research on lotus pods and found out there is a disease, Trypophobia—fear of holes. So she wrote a rather empty poem about that feeling of empty nest, one I know all too well.
Empty
Of what use this pod
Without her seeds
Temporary filler for
More fruitful flowers
But every life
Returns to earth
Fragile as the cradle
In an attic corner
Brittle as mother’s ribs
After every baby has gone
–Patricia VanAmburg
Jessica Bigi sent an image of a lotus flower while she takes us back to ancient rituals.
Photo and poem by Jessica Bigi, all rights reserved.
Carol Varsalona is cross-posting her poems on her blog. I love how she is digitally playing with the image as well. I imagine sitting with Carol enjoying a warm cup of coffee and the quiet.
As I sit by the window,
the morning sun
drifts on in,
singing the praises
of yet another day.
A zen-like quality emerges.
Rays bouncing from
winter white blankets
bring outdoors in.
A hushed quiet
envelops the room.
In a corner,
upon a mat of bamboo,
cut-open pods of grace
in triad formation
adorn a desk
of muted colors.
Indoor life merges
with outdoor sights
in a seasonal burst,
reminding me that
new life is waiting
in an early spring.
Violet also did her research on Trypophobia and wrote an erasure poem from an article on Mental Floss. Who knew? I certainly did not. Thanks for the learning as well as the poetry.
Trypophobia
skin crawls, heart flutters
shoulders tighten, I shiver
crazy revulsion to holes, bumps
images of holes, parasites
bot flies, worms, ravages of disease
pregnant suriname toad
lotus seed head
give people trypophobic
heebie jeebies
soap bubbles trigger
nightmares
~ Violet Nesdoly
Heidi Mordhorst digs into the earth to consider how an anthropologist looks at things.
Day 10
anthropology
once thought to be
an elaborately carved musical
instrument used
only on the wedding day
of a woman born under
the eleventh moon
it is now understood to be
a deliberately culled muscular
implement used
only on the winding way
of a man burned under
the oppressive soon
context is everything
Here’s another from Heidi. This one is a child’s wonderment at the things of this world.
Making Sense
First it’s something to see–
almost black among the greens and yellows,
scalloped around the edges like
crayon clouds or flowers,
clouds full of black hailstones–
or it’s a leopard-skin jellyfish.
Next it’s something to hold–
not weighty like a microphone
or a metal shower head,
but light and hollow, not plastic
and not wood, part smooth
and part ridged and rumpled.
Now it’s something to hear–
take it by the curving handle oh!
is that a stem? and shake, shake
shake–those blackish beads or
beans or oh! they’re seeds!
they make a marvelous rattling!
~Heidi Mordhorst 2016
all rights reserved
Donna Smith makes a simple poem reveal a truth of nature. Love the alliteration, one of my favorite literary devices. I think Donna is a little bit chilly in Maine, so she has thoughts of overcoats.
PODS
Purposefully plopping pondward
Out of open overcoat
Drooping, dropping down
Swamped seeds settle, silently sprout.
To write my own poem, I turned to form and tried out a Bio-poem. Laura Purdie Salas used this form with 3rd graders this week. See her post here.
Lotus
mystical, pure, beauty, enlightened
Daughter of Bodhi
Lover of muddy water, sun, and spring
Who feels spiritual, open to the light
Who gives wisdom, joy, and peace
Who fears storms, drowning, neglect
Who would like to see the ocean (Is it as blue as me?),
tomorrow (My life is fleeting.),
and world peace (Doesn’t everyone wish for world peace?)
Who lives in Atchafalaya Swamp
Who knows noble truths
Lily of the Mud.
–Margaret Simon
And here is Laura with another of my favorite forms, a Fib poem. Read more about Fib poems here.
Lotus Pod Fibonacci
By Laura Shovan
Three
brown
pods shake
rattle, roll.
Seeds fly. We stomp them
into the ground, part of the dance.
Molly Hogan was flying under the radar with her first attempt at haiku. This challenge is pushing us all to find what form fits best.
Day 10 –My first attempt at haiku.
Autumn maracas
Invite you to merengue
Shake a leg, baby!
–Molly Hogan
Catherine Flynn found the lyrics to the life cycle of a lotus at the New York Botanical Garden.
Photo and poem by Catherine Flynn, all rights reserved.
Buffy Silverman offers another haiku, which is the ultimate nature poetic form. Hard to capture a moment in few syllables.
dried lotus pods
shriveled and moored in mud
cradle tomorrow
–Buffy Silverman
What’s a poetry parade without Charles Waters? He bounced in with this sunshine.
LOTUS FLOWER (HEY BUDS)
Fuchsia covered buds
stretch out in praise of morning
revealing their sun-shined heart.
(c) Charles Waters 2016
lotus pods
seed mysteries
three days
of flowering
rebirth
an open heart
If you have a poem for today’s found object, put it in the comments and I will add it to the post. Thanks again for joining us and for reading all the way through to the end. Mardi Gras ended yesterday, but this is a joyful parade of poems to keep you passin’ a good time!
Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for Tuesdays Slice of Life Challenge.
I am honored to be writing with friends. Recently I read the book My Name is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout. I loved this book, but I am not going to write a book review. What I did was took a page, page 191 to be exact, and stole the first line along with the form. “At times these days I think of the way the sun would set on the farmland around our small house in the autumn.” The rest of the page is one long sentence beautifully flowing and drawing me in to the scene.
I am not Elizabeth Strout, but I can pretend for a moment that I am. I wrote.
At times these days I think of the ways the trees look in winter, all that bareness, the blue sky open beyond as wide as the ocean, and how birds are exposed on the branches, last year’s nest an unhidden cluster, and I search in my own life for meaning, trying to make a life when things are not as they seem, when all the leaves are gone, the quiet branches of a tree in winter, and the sky above, open and alive. –Margaret Simon
Then I invited some writing friends to write from the same prompt. Here are their responses.
At times these days I think about the ways the ocean invites my attention, as the cliff rises up to meet the road, looking down I feel as if I could reach out and touch the blue stillness, and yet below the surface the cold Pacific digs and pulls showing an endless uncontrollable power calling me towards its vast space that was, is, and will be, long after I am gone. —Julianne Harmatz
At times these days I think about how I will be remembered and if it will be because I made them laugh or because I made them think as I talked and talked and talked when maybe I should have been listening and I think it’s because I am changing into someone who needs more time to reflect and be purposeful instead of someone who needs to charge ahead and get it all done and I guess this makes me seem to be going off in a different direction and I guess I am because it not only looks different but it feels different like somehow I am becoming that person I should have been had other influences not forced me to develop traits for survival and strength instead of personal fortitude and introspection. —Kimberley Moran
At times these days I think about the ways my children’s arms and hearts reach out to me…once their hearts beat inside my womb and mine kept time and half time to theirs, I knew each beat and pull of muscle, each twitch of nerve. Now, they live apart from me, but every fibre of every nerve reacts and responds as it did so long ago when they call about heartbreak, loss, love, and hope. Again, in that moment, we are one body and our hearts beat in rhythm again. —Tara Smith
Then we talked about the process. The writing of it and how we each came to it with our own unique lens. The beauty of this. And how we can do this for our students. How when we write together in community, not only does our creativity flow, our connection is enriched.
But we also talked about trust. How we wrote and shared because we trust each other. When we write alongside our students and build a community of writers, trust must be present. The students need to trust each other, and they need to trust me. That I will honor their words and honor the place they came from. Real writing comes from a vulnerable place. We need to experience this vulnerability ourselves in order to understand it in our students. A teacher of writing must be a writer. This is what I believe and this is what my friends writing together proved.
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I have been “under the weather” lately. After I wrote that sentence, I had to tab over to Google search where that idiom comes from.
“To be under the weather is to be unwell. This comes from a maritime source. In the old days, when a sailor was unwell, he was sent down below to help his recovery, under the deck and away from the weather.”
This cold that came on with laryngitis sent me below deck. Our gifted program is a pull-out academic program, so my students just stay with their regular teacher when I am not there. I sent an email to all the teachers asking that my students be allowed to use the computer. There I can keep connected with them through our kidblog site.
I know a lot of schools have become Google schools, but our district isn’t there yet. But kidblog works. Here is the screen to my posts this week. I can send an assignment with links as well as individual messages for students. And I shared that we won Douglas Florian’s book on Today’s Little Ditty! Yay!
Through our kidblog site, we can also connect across the miles with other kidblog classrooms. As we approach the March Slice of Life Challenge, I am pushing my students to pay more attention to these connections. If you want to connect your class with mine, let me know.
In what ways do you stay connected to your students?
Do you know about Digital Learning Day? Sponsored by the Alliance for Excellent Education, #DLDay is scheduled for February 17th, 2016.
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 