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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference.

This week has been weird. Weirdly wonderful. Here on the Gulf coast, we had a snowstorm that broke records all the way back to 1899. The snow fell all day on Tuesday and shut down the whole area for two days. Businesses opened up on Thursday, but we haven’t gone back to school. Our water systems are not built to handle this kind of weather and single digit temperatures, so water pipes have burst and water pressure is down. In Coteau, where one of my schools is located, they cut off water for 12 hours. But my students and my grandchildren have had a blast!

I can’t stop writing about it. On Tuesday, the Ethical ELA Open Write prompt was introduced by Erica Johnson. You can read the full prompt and lots of great poems here.

Enzo Blizzard 2025

It wasn’t until I walked in the snow
that I discovered
snow is wet. In the movies, actors
never seem bedraggled.

And now as a historic blizzard
pours down snow, I remember
my rain boots in the dusty box,
dig out the snap-on hood for the coat,
and place a towel by the back door.

And yet, snow is silent
surprising me with a steady
fluttering rhythm of soft white flakes.

I know this phenomenon is unreal,
ethereal, a moment I want to keep
in a photograph to cherish
and hold.

Margaret Simon, draft

The back of our house in the snow. photo by Maggie Simon LeBlanc.
Cajun Snowman

Acadiana in Louisiana has gotten a rare, historical snowstorm. Cajuns all around are reconnecting to their Canadian roots and building snowmen. This one was posted by a colleague at my school, Alice Suire.

It’s still bitter cold here, so the snow is sticking. Another snow day! For those of you not familiar with French, the word couillon means fool.

Snowman Elfchen

Snowman
On truckbed
Rare Louisiana snow
Old family traditions reinvented
Couillon

Margaret Simon, draft

Please leave a small poem in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement. And stay warm!

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

I woke up this morning to snow, snow, snow! That may not be so unusual for those of you in most of the country, but to us in South Louisiana, this never happens. It’s never happened in my 42+ years of living here. The prediction was for 4-8 inches, and I believe we have reached the higher mark. I’m sure it’s a problem for some because our systems are not prepared for this, but I’m enjoying all the texts of photos and videos of my grandchildren. I’m staying warm and safe.

Here’s a gallery of photos:

Winter Storm Enzo Pantoum

Flakes of white flutter in the wind
as snow layers over green.
Festival of inches is a historical event–
One hundred years before snow returns.

As snow layers over green,
dim light shines on bayou brown.
Will snow return in a hundred years?
“This snow is awesome!”

Dim light shines on bayou brown;
Old boots from a dusty box I found.
“This snow is awesome!”
The world stops, watches, and listens.

Old boots from a dusty box I found
stomp in a festival of inches, a historic event,
while the world stops, watches, and listens
as flakes of white flutter in the wind.

Margaret Simon, draft

Poetry Friday is being gathered today by Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect

Last week I read Rose Cappelli’s post. She decided to write a poem each month using her One Little Word. I have actually picked two words: Still and Believe. I’ve been determined to train my puppy Albert “Al-Bear”. He is an 11 month old miniature golden doodle with a lot of energy. He’s been developing some bad habits. One of them is barking at us when he wants to play. I bought a collar with a vibrator on it, so I can give him a little buzz (remote control) every time he barks at us. It’s working…slowly.

I receive a prompt each week from Kelly Bennet called News from the Fishbowl. Last week she introduced me to a form I hadn’t heard of, Shadorma. It’s from Spain. There are 6 lines with a syllable count of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 5. The topic can be anything, but usually the poem is all one sentence.

Puppy Training

I believe
this puppy can learn
to be still
to cuddle
warming my cold morning lap–
blending our perfume.

Margaret Simon, draft

Dawning Wolf Moon

The full moon greeted me on a frigid morning this week. I don’t think Iphones are great at taking moon photos. This photo with its automatic longer exposure blurred the cloud cover creating an interesting effect, don’t you think? I know I’ve featured moon photos here often. Like ocean view photos, I never tire of the peaceful feeling of a full moon, especially the bright light on a cold morning.

Dawning Wolf Moon

Moon’s perfect circle
holds me in her gaze.
Her royal crown welcomes dawn.

I look up and belong
to her still space.
In her light, I find
my footing.

Today as I write, I am thinking about word choice. The last line has a few scratches in my notebook. The choices were:
I belong to the night
I become myself
I see light that welcomes me

There are many choices when writing a poem, and I am never sure which one is the right choice, and perhaps they are all good. How do you decide what words to choose? What makes a final draft? Is there really such a thing?

Join me today in writing about the moon (again) or anything else that is needing to be written. I offer a safe place where you belong.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Kat Apel. with a fun poem about cats and dogs.

My students have gotten off with a rocking (and sometimes rocky) start to 2025. I have become re-committed to giving them notebooking time and prompts to consider. When they get to “poem-ish” on their notebook page, they often turn to the good-ole acrostic. In fact, I asked them yesterday to tell me why they like that form so much. “It’s a curse,” one student piped up. “Everybody’s got it.”

This response made me laugh. The curse of the acrostic. Perhaps it’s also a crutch, a form they can depend on. When I looked closer at some of the poems they had written, though, I found some thoughtfulness as well as expression of emotion. It may be a curse, but sometimes it works.

Avalyn chose a quote that used the word Glow and wrote the following poem in her notebook.

Get up and
Love your freedom,
or love someone.
Wisely understand that you are a free bird.
Ignite that flame of love.
Never let your wings be pierced,
Gone, broken, or enslaved.
Avalyn, 5th grade

Carson was responding to the photo (This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Winter Drive). All week we have been wearing heavy clothes because of the freezing temperatures.

Just started on a New Year
An arctic blast is happening
Nature makes trees bare
Under the weather limit
All of us have jackets
Runny noses
You are frozen. Everybody is frigid.
by Carson, 3rd grade

I presented Mary Lee’s poem from last week and wrote my own notebook page about the prompt “What wisdom do you yearn for?”

Where is wisdom hiding?
Illusive
Search for
Definitive understanding
Overcoming the overwhelming
Melancholy
Margaret Simon, draft

When you are looking for a way to enter your daily writing, try an acrostic. You may surprise yourself.

Winter Drive by Margaret Simon

I took this photo from my car window last Saturday as I drove home from Mississippi, from visiting my mom. As I drove farther west, the sun played peek-a-boo in and out of the clouds. I have so many mixed feelings while driving these flat Louisiana country roads. Longing for home while my mother tugs at my heart strings. I have this difficult feeling that I may not see her again mixed with the joy of being with her. She still knows me as someone she loves. Her face brightens when I walk in the room. While I was there, she ate her whole lunch.

Often I find solace in nature, that somehow the natural world knows how I feel and gives me something to hold onto. On this day, it was the setting sun sending rays out from behind the gray clouds.

For our time together writing about a photo, I like to turn to form. Form can give me comfort, too. A safe space to hold my emotions. Today I chose the nonet, nine lines in which each line reduces by one word, beginning with nine. I like how the form looks like a setting sun.

As the sun melts slowly on the horizon, remember
your heart is a safe place for love,
where even on the coldest winter days,
you know you are a child
playing peek-a-boo with the sun.
Memories of happy smiles
fade and lift
an inevitable
horizon.
Margaret Simon, draft

I hope your winter days are giving you some time and space for writing. Please leave a small poem, form or free verse, in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.

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

The first day back from our holiday break, my students were excited about the idea of beginning the year with 100 Days of Notebooking (à la Michelle Haseltine) and One Little Word.

I saw an Instagram post by Jen Vincent (2024 Donald Graves Award recipient and all around fabulous writing teacher) about using question-storming for discovering your One Little Word. @storyexploratory

Jen graciously sent me a pre-made Google slideshow to use. (Ah, I love a free gift.) My older students, 4th-6th, responded well. The younger ones in 2nd grade needed a bit more guidance. But the basic idea was to write down questions about how you could make 2025 an awesome year. The answers to the questions would lead them to a One Little Word.

I chose a word last week and posted about it for Spiritual Thursday. Jen’s question-storming led me to a different word. I was surprised by this. Is it OK to change your word? As I look to retirement at the end of this school year and wonder about my future, the word Believe came forward.

After the question-storming activity, I allowed some creative working time. Some students made a sketch of their word. Some wrote an acrostic poem. I encouraged them to post on Fanschool. A few came up with their own idea: Make a whole slideshow. At the end of class, we were all sharing eagerly.

If you haven’t found your One Little Word yet, try asking yourself some questions. I was impressed with the sincerity of my students and how they wanted to explore and share their ideas. I feel we’ve started off the second half of our year together as a community of thinkers and writers.

Poetry Friday is hosted by Mary Lee today at A(nother) Year of Reading.

Dear Poetry Friends,

I am posting on my phone because I’m having trouble connecting in a hotel room. I’m visiting my mother who is in the end stages of Alzheimer’s. This time is filled with hard and love, tears and joy.

Heidi challenged the Inklings this first Friday to choose a prompt from her Yule calendar. Since I spent last week in the company of my grandchildren, I was drawn to the prompt “Capture the sound of laughter in rhyme.”

I am taking delight in watching my grandchildren laugh. This poem is dedicated to my granddaughter, June, who was two on Dec. 21st.

De-Light

I taste a note of nutmeg
on my tongue, a slight burn
while I yearn
for sweetness,
and your song

“Happy Day Day”

your two-ness
of delight    candles to blow
ribbons flow

twisting into this gift
of a child shifting,

becoming laughter.

Margaret Simon, draft

June is Two!

To see how other Inklings wrote to this challenge:

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

Oklahoma Rock Still Life

My family of eleven traveled to Oklahoma for our Christmas trip. Everything was just right, all of us together, the cousins playing, gathering around the fire pit. In Oklahoma they have rocks. One day we went to a place where the kids could mine for rocks. Cheesy, yes. So was the shesquatch who brought donuts. But it was all part of the attitude of vacation.

I took this rock from the yard of the house we stayed in. I placed in on my kitchen table with a butterfly clip that was on a Christmas gift. I want to remind myself when things get busy again that there is time for stillness.

Please join me on this first day of 2025 and commit to stillness in which writing may come.

Like hearth is to home

Your love is my solid rock

Keeping me steady

Margaret Simon, draft