Reflections on the Teche

Poetry Friday: Raccoon Outside the Back Door

February 5, 2021 by margaretsmn

The beginning of February is finally here and the Swaggers are posting responses to a new challenge. This month Catherine Flynn challenged us.

Copy a mentor poem (or other text) “word for word, then replace [that poet’s] language with your own.”
Inspired by S. Kirk Walsh’s essay “How E.L. Doctorow Taught an Aspiring Writer to Hear the Sounds of Fiction” (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/09/books/review/e-l-doctorow-virginia-woolf-music-literature-language.html )

The Writer’s Almanac comes daily in my email inbox. Some days I barely have time to read it, but others I find a kernel of inspiration, a poem, an author, a rabbit hole. On this day, I remembered Catherine’s prompt and tucked the poem into a document to work with later.

The process was fun. I used the suggesting tool in Google docs editor. That way I kept the original underneath the new text I added. In Greg Watson’s poem, the main character is a yellow lab waiting for its owner outside a coffee shop. We don’t have a yellow lab, but my little schnoodle Charlie goes bonkers when our resident raccoon visits to steal our outdoor cat’s food.

When I’m up early, I feed the cat before dawn. When the raccoon comes, I let Charlie out to the side yard when he goes crazy. One morning, I actually saw the raccoon. It did not run away as I expected, but just stood still like a stone creature from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Watson’s poem gave me the perfect structure to capture this surprising moment.

Raccoon Outside the Back Door

The raccoon outside the back door
today does not move; but instead,
still with ever-expectant energy,
like a heron perched for the catch,
forepaws poised in the air
above the leaf-littered sidewalk,
he stops without making a sound,
knowing that any moment
the cat food will disappear,
slipped back into the human house,
and night will suddenly fall into
day: every sound, sight, and aroma
disturbed, the door swinging
open and shut, with a backward glance
awkward silhouette, following,
as if it had somewhere to go.
Margaret Simon, after Greg Watson

See other Swaggers poems from mentor poems:

Molly Hogan: Nix the Comfort Zone
Linda Mitchell: A Word Edgewise
Catherine Flynn: Reading to the Core
Heidi Mordhorst: My Juicy Little Universe

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged Bayou Poems, Greg Watson, Mentor poems, Raccoons | 15 Comments »

Spiritual Thursday: Take Heart

February 4, 2021 by margaretsmn

Spiritual Journey First Thursday is being gathered today by Fran Haley.

Take Heart is Fran’s choice for our Spiritual Thursday posts. In my Mississippi childhood, Dear Heart was a common feminine expression, similar to cher in the Cajun culture I now live in. Dear heart is an expression of endearment that could have a connotation of condescension.

But Take Heart is not at all condescending. In a sense, its meaning is quite the opposite. To Take Heart is a way to overcome the troubles of the world.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33

Take Heart means to live a life that understands there is trouble, there is hardship, there is pain, but there is a greater spirit that overcomes and offers hope. As I read Out of the Dust with a student this week, he identified the theme, “There is always hope.” A pandemic is a kind of Dust Bowl for our time. We have little control over who the virus will target next. Our handkerchiefs are our masks. We stay distanced to avoid the dust. Yet, there is hope. There is always hope.

I started thinking about ways I overcome and find peace in my own life and wrote a “Things to do” poem.

Things to Do to Take Heart
Notice the singing of morning birds.
Begin each day in prayerful meditation.
Read poetry. Write poetry.
Write a letter to a girl in prison.
Fold an origami heart.
Sing a lullaby to a new baby.
Take a child to the park. Swing with him on your lap.
Kiss the screen on Facetime.
Laugh with your partner.
Go to sleep to the owl’s call.
Margaret Simon, 2021

My students and I are making origami heart messages for V-Day.

Posted in Spiritual Growth, Writing | Tagged Take Heart, Things to Do Poem | 7 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem

February 4, 2021 by margaretsmn

I have followed Kate Messner for years and have many of her wonderful books for middle grade readers. Kate is a real person, as well as an author-hero, who lives on Lake Champlain. Too cold for my southern blood, but she posted photos on her Instagram recently of ice flowers. Kate wrote a blog post about this phenomenon on her website here.

Natural beauty that comes with scientific facts fascinates and inspires me. I tend to dive into googling and wonder. Here is an interesting article from American Scientist. There seems to be controversy or conversation, rather, about what to call this amazing phenomenon. Frost flowers, frost weed, or frost plant, these winter blooms are sure to inspire some small poems.

Lake Champlain Sunrise, Photo by Kate Messner

(I tried a zeno poem today with the syllable pattern of 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1 with all one syllables rhyming.)

Displayed on a black lake blanket
diamond blossoms
gemstones
nice
beauty hidden
stinging
ice
golden morning
winter
spice
Margaret Simon, draft

Leave a small poem in the comments. Be sure to connect with other writers by leaving comments on their poems.

Kate celebrated World Read Aloud Day today with a video of amazing authors reading from their books. Click here to find the video on her website.

Posted in Photography, Poetry | Tagged Frost flowers, Kate Messner, Lake Champlain, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | 44 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Doing the Work of a Poet

January 29, 2021 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday round-up is with Jan at BookSeedStudio.

Last Friday I posted poems from my two fifth grade girls who responded to Amanda Gorman’s powerful words with their own poems. Their poetry prowess has not stopped. On Thursday, Kaia announced that she had written another poem. She explained to me that she saw Beldam, the Other Mother in Coraline. She googled it and found a poem by John Keats, La Belle Dame sans Merci. As she’s telling me this, she is writing and googling and writing and asking me about the Queen and how tall she is. Where is she going with this? In the end, it all led to an original ballad-esque poem.

I told her, “You are doing the work of a poet.”

Her face (her eyes, for she was wearing a mask) lit up. “Really, why?”

I explained that as a writer, we seek inspiration and research it and then write from it. Amanda Gorman explained in an interview with Anderson Cooper that she read other inaugural poets and researched inspirational speeches to write her poem, The Hill We Climb. “You are doing this kind of work. You are not just writing from my prompts anymore. You are actually a poet.”

Those words inspired her to write another poem. I will post a stanza here. She said, “I love how in poetry, you can write about anything. I can write about your desk, that pen, the Kleenex box.”

“Yes, you can.” I thought to myself, a dream come true. Or my One Little Word, Inspire, at work.

I’d like to find a place to send some of her work. If you have any ideas, please leave a comment.

The Work of a Poet
As you pick up the pen, you wonder what to write
Thinking this way and that way, until you see a light
A shining and glistening rhythm it sets off
And helps you to the end of the paper, as fast as a cough
Kaia, 5th grade

Photo by **Jessica Lewis** from **Pexels**

Posted in Poetry Friday, Teaching, Writing | Tagged student writing | 10 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem

January 28, 2021 by margaretsmn

Welcome to a weekly writing prompt. The steps are easy, if you choose to try them. Listen to your muse. Write a small poem in the comments. Leave encouraging responses to other writers. This is a safe and sacred place to write. Begin.

Butterweed by Margaret Simon. I took this photo on my iPhone using the app Camera+ 2.

Cypress knee with butterweed, photo by Margaret Simon

I took these photos in my backyard on Bayou Teche in Louisiana. These are wild flowers known as butterweed that grow before my yard man (husband) has a chance to mow. Sometimes he will mow around them because he knows I love them. They offer a bright spot in a winter yard of bare cypress trees and brown lawn. Here’s a bit of research I found.

Weary of its winter bed
bursts of yellow whisper
secrets of Eos.*
Margaret Simon, draft *Goddess of dawn

Posted in Photography, Poetry | Tagged Bayou Teche, butterweed, photo poem, small poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | 24 Comments »

SOS Magic: Sacred Writing Space

January 27, 2021 by margaretsmn

I’m writing today in response to an invitation on
Sharing Our Stories: Take Space for Writing.

The word sacred can have many connotations. When I read today’s invitation to write about your sacred writing space, I began with thoughts about the word itself. Sacred. Yesterday I read Nikki Giovanni’s poem “In the Spirit of Martin” alongside a fifth grade student. She asked the question, “What does sacred mean?” responding to the poem’s first line, “This is a sacred poem…”

My initial response was “holy.” Sacred is a place that is quiet and contemplative, like a church.

Is my writing space sacred? Consecrated by different sizes, shapes, and surfaces of paper. Blessed with pens which become cat toys if I leave them out. Ordained by hard maple wood. My writing space is my kitchen. It’s where all the animals hang out. It’s close to the coffee pot. There’s a door that leads out to a winding bayou and cypress trees.

Our writing spaces become sacred when we make the space to sit in quiet stillness, to listen to the inner voice, and to be confident enough to put words on a page (or screen).

When the c trades places with the a, sacred becomes scared. Sacred can be scary. I’ve certainly had that mix of butterfly flutters in my belly when entering a sacristy.

Writing can be scary, too.

I’m learning to trust the process. To let my words be sacred. To open up myself to the vulnerable space. It’s still scary, but more often than not, it feels fulfilling and safe.

Posted in #sosmagic, Writing | 10 Comments »

Slice of Life: From Just is to Justice

January 26, 2021 by margaretsmn

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

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice
Amanda Gorman, The Hill We Climb Inaugural Poem

These words from Amanda Gorman hit a nerve. As a white woman raised in the south in the 60’s and 70’s, Just Is was a part of the thread that wove the fabric of racism in our time. Echoes of that’s just the way it is rang through the school hallways I walked, the places we shopped, the neighborhood streets we rode. The only dark faces I saw were our maids and their children.

Desegregation didn’t happen until I was in the 4th grade, 1971. I remember having no school for two weeks while the scramble to mix it up began. That was fun for us kids. When we returned to school, there were new faces, new teachers. My favorite was Miss Love. She was a large black woman with a great bosom for hugging you close. She gave us one of my favorite assignments, a state project. I chose Maine because the capital city is Augustus, my birthday month (of course!). I have never gone to Maine but have a special place for it in my heart because of Miss Love.

Change is easy for kids. Children don’t really know racism. I didn’t when I was ten. But now, in retrospect, I see more clearly how “just is” was not “justice.” I cannot change the past. None of us can. But we can do better when we know better, another famous quote from an African American hero– Maya Angelou.

Posted in Slice of Life, Spiritual Growth | Tagged Amanda Gorman, Maya Angelou, racism | 18 Comments »

Poetry Friday: The Sounds of Words

January 22, 2021 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday round-up is with Laura Shovan.

Like the nation, I have fallen head over heals in love with Amanda Gorman, the youngest inaugural poet ever, and a heroine to many young girls just like the ones I teach. All girls, no matter their race, can now dream of being a Vice President someday. As much as I admire Kamala Harris and her accomplishments, the star of Inauguration Day was young Amanda Gorman. I couldn’t wait to present her to my students this week.

We started on Tuesday with her poem “In this Place (An American Lyric)” written for Tracy K. Smith’s inauguration as Poet Laureate in 2017. (This post from the Library of Congress contains the poem and a video from the reading.) As Kaia heard that poem, she was writing. And after class that day, she sent me two more poems. Amanda lit a fire in her, a flame for words.

There’s a poem in this place
after Amanda Gorman

Not here nor there
But there’s no need to look everywhere
tug and pull on my hair
Hoping that this poem, has time to spare
There’s a poem in this place
While i’m in disgrace
Of finding my lyric
That belongs in this place
There’s a poem in this place
Still not being found
Is it in a dog hound?
No, it weighs more than that one pound
There’s a poem in this place
While the wind is hitting my face
Being withdrawn due to lack of space
Without leaving any sign of a trace
There’s a poem in this place
Where could it be?
Wait, I have found it!
It’s in YOU
and ME.
Kaia, 5th grade

On Thursday, we used Pernille Ripp’s generous gift of a slide show to visit and discuss “The Hill We Climb.” While the message of this poem was powerful, I was drawn to Amanda’s effective word choice, how they sound and how their meanings change with usage. Combinations like just is and justice, arms, harm, and harmony, and tired, tried, and tied. Chloe’s poem below is her good effort to play with word sounds like Amanda.

There’s a poem in sight
Too bright
To fight
It takes flight
To the world
of an artist
Who’s never artless
Who just started
to harness
The sharpest words
That bring out
The creativity
With a twist
And a big
Dream to
Feel like
They exist
Chloe, 5th grade

Posted in Poetry Friday, Teaching, Writing | Tagged Amanda Gorman, Inaugural Poet, student writing | 20 Comments »

This Photo wants to be a Poem

January 21, 2021 by margaretsmn

I don’t live in a cold climate, and with our lows in the early 30’s last week, I was grateful for sweaters and scarves and hats. I don’t love cold, but I love photos of snow and ice. Amanda Potts lives in Ottawa, Canada. She walks every day (making me feel like a wimp when I don’t want to walk in the cold). She posts wonderful photos on Instagram. Most of her photos are close up. This one was so close that you can make out little ice sculptures in the branches. There’s a whole fairy tale world right there in the photo.

On the Merriam-Webster website, there is a quiz about words for snow and ice. I failed miserably. Perhaps if you want to challenge your knowledge, as well as gather words for your poem, take a chance: Words for Snow and Ice Quiz.

Join me in writing a small poem. Leave it in the comments. Be sure to support other writers with encouraging words.

Glimmer*
Ice birds
peck at thorns
finding the silver lining.
*ice newly formed in cracks, holes, or surface puddles of other ice
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing | Tagged Amanda Potts, ice poems, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | 25 Comments »

Slice of Life: I am a Flower Dress

January 19, 2021 by margaretsmn

As a teacher-poet, I am most fulfilled when I have inspired a young person to write a poem. My colleague and friend Beth was recently entertaining her two granddaughters, Annie and Eliza. Their mother, Beth’s daughter, would be coming home soon with their new baby sister. Beth read to them a poem from Bayou Song, I am a Beckoning Brown Bayou. Beth is a wonderful teacher, and possibly she talked to them about poetic elements, but I also know these girls have been read to as long as they have been alive, six years for Annie, and four years for Eliza. Lyrical language is a part of who they are!

Beth sent me a text with each of the girls’ poems. She gave permission for me to publish them. I sent an email response to the girls naming the things I noticed in their poems. Beth said they read my email over and over. Every writer, even ones as young as four and six, love to get feedback.

I am a flower dress
I decorate a pretty pony tailed girl
I twirl and spin around
I move when she does
I wiggle like a snake

I am a flower dress
I am pretty pink and purple
I have sparkles shining like a colorful rainbow
I am beautiful like rose sapphire
by Eliza, age 4

I am a dinging doorbell
I am squeezed in my belly button
I am rung by a little girl with brown hair and a checkered dress
I giggle when people press me to be funny

I am a dinging doorbell
I am shy when visitors come
I am happy when I am answered
I ring when I am pressed.
I get excited whenever I am used
I am a dinging doorbell
Annie, age 6