Reflections on the Teche

Poetry Friday: Illuminate

December 22, 2023 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone Rush MacCulloch.

Winter solstice is a day to look forward to, the ending of a school semester, the joy of decorating for Christmas, and our baby JuneBug’s birthday. And yet, almost as soon as I get home from school, the sky darkens and the world feels hushed and harsh and cold. Life is full of these bittersweet moments.

In 2013, I published a book with my poems and my father’s art, Illuminate. (Still available on Amazon.) I wrote poems for each of my father’s Christmas cards. He had done them for 10 years. It was also the year of his 80th birthday. On Novemeber 11th this year, he would have been 90. I miss him everyday. At this time of year, his presence is near as I thumb through his yearly cards and place one of his drawings on my wall. Art has become his legacy.

The Star Still Leads

The light shines in the darkness, and darkness did not overcome it.

Wise men traveled a great distance
with a will
strong enough to carry them
over hills and dunes,
through nights of wind,
storms, and cold.
All in search of a person.

We travel a great distance
recorded in scrapbooks,
dated photographs,
no east, no south,
west, or north,
but names, people we love,
people who sustain us in hope.

We are revealed to God,
our calloused hands
curled in prayer,
warmed by fervent asking
for relationship, for strength,
for understanding.
Asking for a star.
Margaret Simon, Illuminate, 2013

Posted in Poetry Friday, Spiritual Growth | Tagged ekphrastic poetry, Illuminate, John Gibson, pointillism, winter solstice | 12 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: See the Lights

December 20, 2023 by margaretsmn

Today’s photo is a sign of the season, a lit up Christmas tree yard decoration in my neighborhood. I’m an early morning walker and the combination of the darkness and the cold drew my eye to this yard filled with lights. I know the couple who live there, so I was also comforted by their presence, too, inwardly thanking them for this photo opp.

Moss tree with twinkle lights by Margaret Simon

Recently I learned about a new-to-me poetry form, elfchen, from Mary Lee. It’s a fun form to play with, similar to a cinquain, yet each line answers a question. Another word for this form is the elevenie. Being a fan of the number 11 (my birthday and my father’s fall on the 11th), I wanted to give the form a test run.

Row	Words	Content
1	1	A thought, an object, a colour, a smell or the like
2	2	What does the word from the first row do?
3	3	Where or how is the word of row 1?
4	4	What do you mean?
5	1	Conclusion: What results from all this? What is the outcome?

From Wikipedia

Moss Ghost Tree

lights
colorfully twinkle
brighten winter’s darkness
with a firefly-tree
delight
Margaret Simon, draft

How are you handling this winter’s solstice? Do you put up lights in your yard? Take this invitation to write about your own traditions for this time of year. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses. Thanks for your dedication to this weekly practice.

I will not be posting next Wednesday. I’m taking a family trip to North Georgia. This Photo will be back in the New Year. Have a Happy Holiday!

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, #Poetrypals, #smallpoems, elevenie, elfchen, holiday poems | 21 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Winter Poem Swap Continent to Continent

December 15, 2023 by margaretsmn

The yearly holiday poem swap is organized by Tabatha Yeatts. She graciously matches poet to poet. This year my exchange was with Sally Murphy , children’s book author living in Australia.

Imagine my surprise when shortly after Thanksgiving break, full of family and food with little time to think about poetry, I received Sally’s adorable verse novel Queen Narelle. Narelle is a queenly cat. I have one of those. Her name is Fancy which fits her well. I immediately connected with Narelle and Maddie, her girl.

Then there were cute koala sticky notes. And her card to me was a poem “My Country” by Dorothea MacKellar (1885-1968) that begins “The love of field and coppice” and ends with “My homing thoughts will fly.” Such a beautiful ode to Australia. You can read about Dorothea and see the handwritten poem here.

Sally’s poem for me:

Margaret

She notices beauty
even in the dark.
Shares it
to spread joy
or moments of peace
or a reminder
to breathe
be still
reflect.
Purposefully
nurturing herself
nurturing me
nurturing the world.
Sally Murphy

I hold this sweet poem in my hands and feel grateful for being seen in such a loving way. I wanted to respond to Sally by seeing her. I had not put together anything for her yet, so I took a look at her Instagram and found a post about how she could not close the cupboard for all the to-be-read books inside. She called it an “inevitable bookavalanche.”

For Sally

I found you
under a book avalanche
where you were happily
absorbing
word upon words
story upon stories
filling your cupboard
with timeless treasures.
Margaret Simon

Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Janice Scully at Salt City Verse.

Visit this link to WhisperShout magazine to read two of my students’ poems. Thanks, Heidi for selecting them for Issue #12.

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged Sally Murphy, winter poem swap | 16 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Found Art

December 13, 2023 by margaretsmn

Kim Douillard lives near San Diego, California. She teaches first graders using art and writing. I’m sure she is a kid at heart after I saw this image on Instagram. A beach snowman? Muddy monster? With a stick as a nose and seashell eyes, I found it/him/her engaging. Today I will introduce Cousin It to my students and hope their imaginations will ignite and find a poem. Where does your imagination go? Write a small poem and share it in the comments. We are a caring community of writers. Respond to others with encouraging words.

I gave myself the challenge of writing a triolet this morning. I find that working in form can draw out something new, maybe even weird, that’s been buried under the surface of my judgement.

Champion

In the shape of soil and mud
lives a creature of the night
who transforms as we should
from a shape of soil and mud
to survivors of the flood
holding roots in hope of flight
we bear the shape of soil and mud
living creatures day and night.
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged Kim Douillard, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triolet form | 6 Comments »

Slice of Life: A Visit with my Mother

December 12, 2023 by margaretsmn

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

Maybe there comes a point in the Alzheimer’s journey as in any journey of life, a time when we have accepted the new normal. I thought I had accepted it, come to an unemotional understanding of who my mother is now. We made the 4+ hour trip on Saturday. My brother, a saint in my book, brought Mom to lunch with all of us, my husband and me, my daughter and her 3 year-old daughter, and my sister. The table was alive with conversation, all except Mom who sat patiently as Hunter ordered for her, cut her food, and asked her if she liked it. She was content. But she never spoke.

There was a time not too long ago when she would try to be a part of the conversation. Her words would come in and leave off. Like the thought that created them had shorted out, the energy waned. This time, only a month or so later, she doesn’t even try anymore. Her silence was loud to me.

On Sunday morning, my husband helped me get her to church. It wasn’t easy, but we did it. I sat holding Mom for the service. She fell asleep a few times, but when the organ played, she jerked awake and listened, sometimes singing along. She can still read the hymns and her voice is as beautiful as ever. I told her so in her ear, and she turned and smiled, “Thank you.”

Another time during the service, she turned to me and said, “I miss…” I’m not sure who she was missing, my father, my brother, or one of her favorite priests. For a moment, she was present and missing someone.

We brought her back to her memory care home. She was whisked away by the kind receptionist. I turned away in tears. Every time I visit, it gets harder to leave.

Here is a photo of her holding up a tacky Christmas sweater that my daughter gave to her. She follows directions well, “Hold it up and smile.”

I am grateful for so many things: My brother who deals with all of my mother’s needs, my mother’s contentedness, her amazing care, and the sparkle in her blue eyes. Grief is with me always. I will learn to hold its hand and feel its softness. Someone once said that deep grief comes from deep love.

My mother, Dot Gibson, with her tacky Christmas sweater. “It’s pretty.”

It is time to sign up for hosting Spiritual Journey in 2024. We post on the first Thursday of the month. If you would like to host our round-up one month, please fill in this Google Sheet. Email me if you would like more information before signing up. (margaretsmn at gmail.com)

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged Alzheimer's, mother, spiritual journey | 11 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Healing Poetry

December 9, 2023 by margaretsmn

Have you ever had that student? The one who sits in the back of the class, holds herself in tight, rarely, if ever, raises her hand to share a poem with the class. The closet poet.

That’s not me because I believe in writing with my students and sharing my vulnerable poet self so they feel safe sharing theirs. And most of the time, it helps. I’ll share, then the shy ones will look at me with their longing eyes asking “Is it OK?” They know that poetry is a little piece of themselves. It’s bleeding on paper as someone famous said.

I wasn’t going to post for Poetry Friday. Life is just so full of family and busy that I can’t get caught up. But when I read A’s poem, I felt compelled to share it and how she came to write it.

I presented Irene Latham’s poem “Peace” from Dictionary for a Better World. Irene shared it in her newsletter here. This poem came at the perfect time in my lesson planning because we talked about symbolism this week. Irene so effectively used chocolate as a symbol of peace. There were so many wonderful craft moves to notice. Then I set my students loose to write. I invited them to create their own metaphor for peace and to borrow the phrase, “If only”.

A’s words both broke my heart and then healed it. At the age of 10, she expresses her internal life of anxiety and hope in a mature way. And yes, there were tears. I am privileged to be her teacher, her friend.

From the Tide, To the Moon (A letter from a friend to a friend)

If only we all
could just look up in the sky
and see that things aren’t that bad.
We aren’t that different.
We’re all human.

If only the stars could join us
and show us peace in the world.

If the moon could tell the tide
to think for itself.
To flow on its own.

And when you tell me
when to make decisions,
me when to make a choice
and what choice I should make,
think about how different we are
from the tide and the moon.

You aren’t the moon,
So beautiful that we stare up at it.
I am not the tide,
That flows without ecstasy.

Not a moment of freedom.
No justice for the torrent.
Leave me be.
Leave me to my space.
Leave me to my freedom.

But don’t leave me…
My friend.
Adelyn, 5th grade

Posted in Gifted Education, Poetry, Teaching | Tagged Dictionary for a Better World, Irene Latham, student poem | 15 Comments »

Spiritual Thursday: Dark and Light–Chiaroscuro

December 7, 2023 by margaretsmn

Spiritual Journey gathering is hosted by Jone MacCulloch today.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5 New International Version

My father, John Gibson, often talked about the chiaroscuro (play of light and dark) in his art as it symbolized a belief he held dear, that Jesus came to be the light of the world. He would have been 90 on Nov. 11th. I miss him everyday.

Jone asked us these questions to ponder for our December spiritual journey posts:

How do you honor/embrace this time of darkness?
Where do you find the points of light in your life?
In a few weeks, winter solstice will be here, how do you honor this and Christmas?
How do you use this time of year for self-reflection?

My father-in-law was born on the Winter Solstice, so for the years he was alive, we celebrated this day. Since his death in 2004, we have not gathered as a family for Winter Solstice…until this year. Baby June Margaret was born last year on Dec. 21st. The labor was long for my youngest daughter after she was induced on Dec. 20th. Of course, we wanted her to progress quickly and have the baby before midnight; however, June had other plans. She pushed her way into our world in the earliest hours of Dec. 21st, Papa’s birthday and Winter Solstice Day. This year our family will gather on the 16th to celebrate her first birthday.

In Anderson Cooper’s interview of President Biden for his podcast “All There Is” (which I highly recommend), they speak about the strength of family and how the light of children in your life keep you going when there is loss.

June is our light. She reminds me of my Purpose (My 2023 One Little Word). Being a grandmother has given me new life, new light, new purpose. I’m no longer looking to move upward in my career or to go to school for further degrees. I’ve put in many hours of professional development. I am the teacher I am, but the greatest joy in my life is being grandmother to Leo, Stella, Thomas, and June. I wish my father-in-law was here to meet them. I wish my father could admire them. I wish my mother could remember their names. But despite this grief for what isn’t, I rejoice in what is. The light meets the darkness and overcomes it.

June at 11 months can stand with one hand and wave with the other.

Posted in Spiritual Growth, Writing | Tagged One Little Word, spiritual journey | 7 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: The Rear View

December 6, 2023 by margaretsmn

December is a time of diminishing light. Days are getting shorter. Sunrise is later in the morning. Sunset is earlier in the afternoon. The change of light leads us to winter solstice with more darkness, cooler temperatures. Do you feel the change? Does your mood change? What does diminishing light in the rear view mirror symbolize to you?

Rear view window on a country road (Coteau Road)

Driving on the Coteau Road
rushing toward my day,

I looked in the rear view mirror,
noticing the rising light.

Beacon to feel the past
push me toward future
with healing hope.
Margaret Simon, draft

My poetry writing happens early in the morning when the hum of the heater makes me want to pull the covers up and sleep. For This Photo, I draft directly into the post. I accept whatever comes. I hope you will give yourself a moment of meditation and write a small poem draft in the comments. Meet yourself where you are, without judgement. Leave your draft in the comments and encourage each other as writers who give a piece of themselves to the page.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, country roads, sunrise | 19 Comments »

Slice of Life: The Story of the Story

December 5, 2023 by margaretsmn

On Sunday afternoon, the rain had stopped, the air was a perfect 70 degrees, and my house was full. Full of people with great admiration for my mother-in-law, Anne Simon, who once served as a district judge in a three parish area of Louisiana. She was not holding court, but the respect and honor was present. Minga (her grandmother name given by my oldest daughter) was signing her 5th book. Her first book Blood in the Cane Field came out in 2014. She has only been a writer for 10 years. She is 92 years old.

Actually, Anne has been working on being an author for a long time. She graduated from Wellesley and was the token woman chosen from her class to attend Yale Law School. Mona Lisa Smile was a movie based on her Wellesley class. At Yale, “They didn’t even have female bathrooms,” she told me. At Yale, she met Jerry Simon, a young man from an exotic place, New Iberia, Louisiana. In 1956, she was the only woman law school graduate in her class at LSU Law School. Jerry had swept her away from Yale to plant her firmly in Louisiana soil. From 1956-1984, Anne and Jerry practiced together as partners in a law firm. My husband Jeff joined the practice in 1981. In 1985, Anne ran for District Judge and became the first woman to hold that office. In her retirement, she served as an ad hoc judge for the Louisiana Supreme Court. All that time, she collected stories.

On Sunday, Anne told the group gathered in our home about how she came to write this latest novel, Blue, Gray, and Black Blood: The Civil War in the Bayou Country. She was interested in Civil War history. In her studies, she found that farm boys from western Massachusetts volunteered for the Union Army. She knew this area of the country well (Wellesley is located in Massachusetts) and imagined that they might have crossed paths with French speaking African Americans in Acadiana.

This photo shows Anne talking with Phebe Hayes, a historian and founder of the Iberia African American Society. Phebe was studying her family’s genealogy when she had lunch with me and Anne on the back porch of Anne’s house. I was there when the two discussed Phebe’s discoveries about her ancestry. Her ancestors were French speaking Creoles who joined the 52nd Massachusetts volunteers heading west. Through Anne’s thorough research, she wrote a historical fiction book “so you could imagine what it would have been like to live during that time.”

Phebe Hayes, left, and Anne Simon, right, celebrate the publication of a book that shares their history.

“We need to know every group’s history, not just our own. They intersect and we understand more when we know more,” said Anne to the crowd gathered. I was honored to be able to provide my home for the book signing. And many thanks to the people who helped with the event.

Posted in Books, Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged Anne Simon, Blue Gray and Black Blood, Civil War, historical fiction, Iberia Parish, Louisiana, Phebe Hayes | 11 Comments »