Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Waking up this early Thursday I didn’t know what I should write. Daily slicing is a good discipline, but I am not as motivated this year as I remember being in the past. Who knows why. Thank goodness this is a community full of ideas for writing, so after reading Elisabeth’s post which was inspired by Hannah, I decided to do Three Things I’m Thankful for Thursday.
French Press Coffee
French Press Coffee: I needed a new coffee routine because my Keurig has been acting up, so I bought a French Press. Now I grind beans, heat water, pour over, press and create a fresh cup of coffee for my morning latté. Always frothed oak milk and a pottery mug!
2. Flowers on my morning walk: Azaleas are blooming. A sure sign of spring!
Azaleas in my front yard.
3. Sisters Text: Almost every day my three daughters and I exchange a text in a group. Last night we were talking about the upcoming wedding of my niece, their cousin. My youngest daughter was having dinner with my grandson, her nephew and sent this photo.
Martha wrote, “I’m on a date but he just called me Sophie so it’s not going well.”
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
March is the season for clover. It’s popping up on lawns, in fields, everywhere. I love remembering my childhood in clover, sitting with friends and weaving long chains of clover flowers into crowns, necklaces, veils, anything a princess may need. Clover enhanced my play as a child growing up in Mississippi. I can still smell the freshly mown clover.
Clover by Margaret Simon
Kim Douillard wrote on her blog recently that a colleague of hers described haiku as “in one breath.” I love that thought and encourage you to try a breath of a haiku about clover, spring, childhood, whatever comes to mind. Leave a small poem in the comments and write encouraging responses to other writers.
Breath of fresh clover becomes a princess crown in a field of wonder
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
FaceTime with my grandchildren. Dinnertime of salmon, rice, and beans. Leo gives me a virtual taste of an animal cracker. But the best gift of all was Stella (15 months) saying “Mamére!”
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
At this hour… Charlie paces waiting for a walk. I slowly sip my morning smoothie, (don’t have my appetite back). Leisurely read other slices finding inspiration and community. I worry about my students today as I take another day to recover. My kitchen counter is covered with a variety of medicines. I know this too shall pass.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I have volunteered to write for Poetic Justice: Distant Learning.
Poetic Justice’s mission is to offer restorative writing and creative arts programs to individuals who are incarcerated in women’s prisons and jails.
Our vision is to offer opportunities for healing and growth by holding space to process trauma and rewrite personal narratives to transform the story of incarceration.
This week’s writing prompt was to write about a favorite room. The prompt involved comparing objects in the room with animals. For me, I wrote about the animals in the room. I read a quote from an article about Ukrainian refugees in National Geographic. The quote became interspersed into my poem. I will send this poem to my writing partner and hope for a response. I haven’t heard from her yet, but I am assured that I should keep writing anyway.
The Living Room
“We don’t need much,” said one refugee Lidiya Ivanenko. “A warm corner is enough.”
A warm corner is enough, where a red fleece blanket with holes the dog chewed covers my bare legs. This warm space is my respite from a war-torn world, from sound of sirens, from calling chores.
The white cat plays in the corner jumping for elephant ear leaves. She darts away like lightning then back in a flash kneading the blanket purring, bunting my hand.
We don’t need much. We long for safety, for the warmth of a room that says you belong here.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I considered not writing today, taking a sick day because I am sick. I’ve had a cold and cough (Covid negative) for a week. This morning I decided to go to Urgent Care, and they have fixed me up with a steroid, cough medicine, and antibiotic. Excuse me while I cough.
I hate being sick. Does anyone really like feeling bad? No. But I can still be grateful.
For a cup of tea, and my dog next to me.
A soft place to lay, a comfortable place to stay.
Gratitude still owns my heart when all else seems to fall apart.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Kat at KatWhiskers.Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Here we are again at another first Friday of the month. Since it’s Slice of Life Challenge month, this is a dual post. It was my turn to choose a challenge for my writing group, the Inklings. In my classroom, we are writing responses each day to a quote. I challenged my fellow Inklings to find a favorite quote and write a poem. Form was optional.
I am pulling a poem from the February project for Laura Shovan’s birthday. The prompt came from Ruth Lehrer who posted a video of Theo Janson’s Wind-Powered Sculptures. Fascinating. And the same day I saw a Madeleine L’Engle quote in my Instagram feed. I think there was also an influence of form from a poem-of-the-day, but I can’t remember which one. Muses, muses everywhere.
“Believing takes practice” Madeleine L’Engle
If believing takes practice then wind plays with swirling moss hanging in the trees practicing for inevitable storms holding on for the ride to come.
Tell yourself you believe over & over again like the Dutch artist who preserves the beach by creating beach animals walking believing so when midnight comes vacant empty of moon or stars, you can reach out & touch the heart of the lonely and bring them back to love.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Every first Thursday I join a group of bloggers writing around a spiritual topic. Today, Ruth is the host, and she chose ashes as the topic. Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. I am Episcopalian and attend an old historical church that was built by slaves in the mid 1800’s. I’ve attended this church for close to 40 years. In the last year, my friend Annie has taken the position of priest in charge. She is the first female priest in the history of our parish. Annie’s compassion and her ability to be present in the moment comforts me, even when she was marking my forehead with a smudge of ash and saying, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
Impermanence. We are not here forever. It’s not the most joyful thing to embrace. But in understanding and accepting my impermanence, I can be present in the moment. I can feel the soot on my forehead and touch the bread of life and know that I am loved.
The sign of the cross in ashes is the same gesture the priest makes with oil at baptism, saying “You are marked as Christ’s own forever.” No one can take away my belonging to God. Some days, especially during Lent, I need to sit with this belonging and be okay with who I am. I am enough.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Welcome to This Photo Wants to be a Poem. If this is your first time here, let me explain. Originating with Laura Purdie Salas’s weekly writing prompt 15 Words or Less, This Photo is a weekly photo-inspired writing prompt. Each Wednesday I post a photo and invite you to write a small poem in response in the comments section. If you write a poem, please write encouraging comments to other poets by replying to their comments. This is a safe place to play with poetry. No worries. No critics.
This week I am posting a photo that my daughter Maggie took of her 3 year old, my grandson Leo as they were leaving a diner. That’s as much as I want to tell you because when I saw this picture, I thought there’s a story in this photo. You can write the story in your small poem. Have fun with it.
Photo by Maggie Simon LeBlanc
Did you have your coffee? Do you see the door? I’m ready to explore. Won’t you come with me?
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Today is the first day of the March Slice of Life Challenge sponsored by the Two Writing Teachers blog. A group of teacher-bloggers join in a community of writers to write each day of March. I’ve done this challenge for many years. I can’t remember how many. Nine, maybe 10? Every year I feel daunted by the idea of writing every day, but I also know at the end of the month, there is satisfaction in having written. And the writing builds community and connection.
Thomas, 2.5 with beads
Today is also Mardi Gras Day which in South Louisiana is a big deal. This year the celebration is back after a hiatus for the pandemic. We have the week off of school, so I am traveling and visiting family. This weekend I was in New Orleans with my daughter and her toddler son. Above, he’s curious about the beads hanging from the porch railing. Beads can be found everywhere, in the trees, on fences, and even on a fire hydrant.
Beaded fire hydrant in New Orleans
My sister and I drove up to Jackson, MS to visit our parents. She brought a taste of New Orleans in a traditional King Cake. When she cut pieces for Mom and Dad, she said, “Watch out for the baby!” and sure enough, Dad got the baby. He is certainly royalty to us! You can read about the tradition of the king cake in this article.
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 