Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
What an amazing month for flowers! They are everywhere. Knockout roses, wild purple salvia, native Louisiana iris. I even say a few poppies in a neutral ground. Jasmine is blooming sending fragrance through the windows. I am finding hope and poetry in the flowers this month. Today I want to offer two poems about flowers. I hope you are watching flowers blooming in your part of the world. Small daily miracles.
Louisiana iris clipped from our bog.
Iris in a Glass Vase
If you want to know hope as the deepest thing, look at each flower blossom. The iris yellow eyes like little candlelight wrapped in a purple gown. Nature plants seeds for us to notice new life to believe that God wants us to rise up and wink at the sun, to hear the sounds of birds as they shout out loud, We are here! We are here! We are here!
Margaret Simon, draft written to my own prompt on Ethical ELA
This next one is after Clint Smith as prompted on Ethical ELA. Pop over to see many wonderful poems.
Today I will write a poem about a small white flower opening overnight to burst into fragrant song–
Jasmine climbs boldly over a picket fence persisting to be here in a place where no one cries, innocently hidden from view.
The scent of it opens over spring breeze announcing its place in the family of things.*
Being a part of the Poetry Friday community has given me much to be grateful for. We are writing together a wonderful Progressive Poem. Today’s line is with Denise Krebs and yesterday was Linda Mitchell. I’ve met these poets along with many others through our weekly postings. These posts have led to collaboration on other projects. Linda is a writing group partner and Denise and I are a part of Ethical ELA and a book we are collaborating on. (More on that later.) I would never have met them in real life. The gathering of a like-minded community of writers has all occurred right here with my blog.
This week I attended the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival and had the privilege of presenting with Irene Latham. Irene and I met through Poetry Friday and in person years ago at the Louisiana Book Festival. We’ve presented together before at NCTE.
Irene is such a humble leader. She turns every eye away from herself toward you. She makes everyone in the room feel like confident poets. What joy! You can see our slideshow here.
Margaret and Irene presenting at Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival: “Poetry as a Time Machine”
Next year, you should consider attending the festival in person. They invite the most inspiring speakers. This year I heard keynotes from Lesa Cline-Ransome as well as her talented husband, James Ransome, Cynthia Leitich Smith (Southern Miss Medallion), and Juana Martinez-Neal who won the Coleen Salley Storytelling Award. Jason Chin, deGrummond Children’s Literature Lecturer, impressed me with his curiosity about the world and how that curiosity has led him to illustrating. He won a Caledecott Medal for Watercress. The book that impressed me the most was The Universe in You: A Microscopic Journey (Caldecott and Sibert Honoree). As you can see, the Fay B Kaigler invites some of the best authors and illustrators in the children’s literature realm.
And now for a poem. Following Ethical ELA VerseLove has kept me writing a poem each day. Yesterday’s prompt was an ode to the unworthy. I’ve lived in Louisiana and Mississippi all my life, so I’ve had many hurricane experiences. I wrote an Ode to the Hurricane.
Ode to the Hurricane
As the wild winds swirl together above the Gulf, you become a massive creation threatening a nation.
No matter how we prepare– buy bread, water, flashlights, charge up Sparky, the generator, your fierce presence is feared.
They give you gentle names: Katrina, Ida, Andrew, Camille. Names that will live in history. Names that define an era.
After you pass through, an eerie calm descends upon a community. We band together to feed each other, to clean up destruction you left behind.
Oh, hurricane, you are the hint of end times. Behold your survivors–we tell your story.
This poem comes from a prompt on Ethical ELA VerseLove by Joanne Emery. She asked us to read Jane Hirshfield’s poem My Life Was the Size of My Life and borrow a line to use in our own poem that expresses something about ourself. I used the line “I told my life I would like some time.”
I Told My Life
I would like some time. I wanted to hit Pause, rise in another space– maybe a vase of flowers beautiful & scented then tossed away.
I told my life to hold on while I slept, dreamt I was flying.
What does it feel like to be free?
I told my life I would like some time to get back a broken piece of me.
This painting by my friend, artist Melissa Bonin, was exhibited at the Acadian World Congress in 2019 in Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada. When Melissa posted this photo of her art on Instagram, I was inspired to ask permission for our ekphrastic poetry this week.
Did you experience the eclipse? The experience was exciting for everyone. Although there were clouds and rain, a few times the sun peeked out and we were able to view it. My students were fascinated.
Every day we Come closer to Learning our lesson. I stand in awe Pretending to feel Safe on our fragile Earth.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please write a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.
Fifth grader Kailyn blows India ink into a mysterious shape.
Thanks to a grant from Alpha Delta Kappa educational sorority, I funded a field trip for the elementary gifted students in Iberia Parish. The purpose of the field trip was to expose our students to the mystery and magic of art.
The students were able to tour an exhibit at The Hilliard Museum in Lafayette, LA. They saw the art of George Rodrigue, who was born in New Iberia and became world famous with the creation of his Blue Dog series. The students were fascinated to learn of Rodrigue’s origins and how he created amazing paintings throughout his life until his death in 2013. They recognized the iconic Blue Dog from a sculpture that we have in a downtown park dedicated to his memory.
They also viewed the art of Beili Liu who used the element of water to create an abstract hanging of paper above their heads. She also made blue cyanotype prints of objects from the ocean to draw attention to the problems of pollution.
Denise Gallagher, a local author, illustrator, and graphic artist led the students in an abstract activity using small straws and India ink on paper. Enjoy the gallery of art. Some students wrote poems to accompany their creations.
I believe that children should be exposed to art and learn that they are creators. Denise and Callie, the educational docent at The Hilliard, helped our students feel comfortable and inspired by art. The students were pleasantly surprised and proud of their creations.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Saturday in downtown New Iberia, we held the Books along the Teche Literary Festival. I spent most of my time volunteering in the children’s tent, but in the late afternoon, I went to hear Faith Broussard Cade ( @fleurdelisspeaks.) Over the past 6 years, Faith has healed from a traumatic brain injury by writing daily affirmations. These Instagram posts have caught fire and have made her an influencer and entrepreneur. I am so proud of her. She is the daughter of a close friend, and she was in my oldest daughter’s high school class.
Faith told her story. She also taught the audience how to write affirmations. Use an I message. Think about what it is you most need to hear. Keep them close to you. She gifted each of us with cotton deckled paper and a flair pen, her go-to tools. She said that her affirmations come from God. She is just the medium. She promotes self-care for women who tend to care for others without taking care of themselves.
Yesterday I used the lavender pen I got to write a poem for Ethical ELA. James prompted us to write a tanka (5,7,5,77) about a moment when everything seemed possible. I have that feeling when I write.
Writing is a choice, yes, but for me, if I don’t do it, I feel something is missing. Yesterday as I was walking, I spoke into my notes app and wrote this small poem, another one in a stream of words that are processing my experience with Alzheimer’s. I am hopeful that somehow these poems connect with someone while they give me processing time, space for my grief.
I Forgot
when it started and wonder about its end as my pace slows to hear the calls of the Carolina wren that once nested in a begonia pot on her porch.
There are so many things I do not know. There are so many things I have yet to know, but on this day as the birds sing, I do know she will always love me.
Visits with my mother are hard on me. I don’t live near enough to get used to her Alzheimer’s silence, the confused look in her eyes. I keep thinking one of these days I will accept this. But it seems so unfair. She was such a vibrant and thoughtful person. She is safe and happy and generally in good health, so I convince myself I should feel gratitude. Despair and grief take over. I can’t even look at this photo without tears welling up.
At Ethical ELA, we were prompted by Katrina to write about a photograph. I chose the one above.
We see a child delighted to hug his great grandmother generations of love passed on with a kiss on top of his head.
We don’t see the grief seeping into the moment the loss of a mother whose memories fleet past through empty eyes always questioning.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem originated from an idea that Irene Latham had to celebrate National Poetry Month in 2012, to bring a community of writers together as they collaborated on a poem. I began coordinating the effort in 2020. Each writer who volunteers creates a new line of the poem.
The poem has passed to me today. Patricia Franz started it off in the form of couplets. I’ve structured it into quatrains to see how it rides. The poem will take shape as it moves along toward 30 lines.
Thinking about this character who dreams of peace and lullabies of hope, he/she begins a journey across a border. Is this a literal border or figurative one? Irene set the character in motion with action. She also gave me a good word to rhyme; however, rhyme isn’t a rule in this ongoing pattern. I hand off this adventure to Marcie Atkins. The full schedule is on the sidebar. Stay along for the ride.
cradled in stars, our planet sleeps, clinging to tender dreams of peace sister moon watches from afar, singing lunar lullabies of hope.
almost dawn, I walk with others, keeping close, my little brother. hand in hand, we carry courage escaping closer to the border.
My feet are lightning; My heart is thunder. Our pace draws us closer to a new land of wonder.
This first Friday of National Poetry Month, we have an Inklings challenge brought to us by Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee asked us to write a haiku sequence about poetry without using the word poetry.
I’ve been on an Emily Dickinson kick watching the surreal series “Dickinson” on Apple TV and reading through a dog-eared collection of her poems. When I read Mary Lee’s challenge, I decided to write individual haiku on slips of paper from the pile on the kitchen counter. That way I could arrange them in a logical/ illogical/ artistic/creative way.
random collection of haiku
I played with the order and this is what I have, for now. One of the best parts of writing poetry is revising, so I am open to rearranging and rewording or throwing it all into the flame.
Envelope opens words release into hands timeless treasure
2. Flame rises too high under the white carnation searing joy to ash
3. Whispers of wishes within earshot of your eyes written by my hand
4. Slips of paper feathers folded in hope message delivered
5. Metaphoric company of lacewings urging me to fly
Robert selected the topic of everyday miracles for this month’s Spiritual Journey posts. Jennifer Jowett led us at Ethical ELA to explore a letter of the alphabet. Combining both prompts, I wrote about the letter M, my first initial that carries the legacy of my grandmother as well as the letter of my grandmother name, Mamère.
M is for miracle, mountain of twin peaks, how mothers are made, become Mamères watching a boy learning to write his name- “up, down, up, down” ride the pen roller-coaster how calligraphic M wears a fancy dress to the letter party. Maybe M moves mountains, makes miracles, but most of all M glows in the heart when your child mutters, “Mom, I missed you.”
Margaret Simon, draft
I continue to find fascinating words to write about. Today’s word lulu means an outstanding example of a particular type of person or thing. Years ago we rescued a greyhound who came with the name Lulu. I had no idea that the name had this meaning. This poem is sometimes called taking a word for a walk.
Lulu is a luxurious word we say with a lulling lilt calling the lazy dog- a lulu of a greyhound- blond furry wind a blur when she ran. She loved lulu weather. We love our Lulu memory.
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 