Reflections on the Teche

Spiritual Journey and Poetry Friday: Family and Prayer

August 8, 2025 by margaretsmn

Spiritual Journey First Thursday is being gathered by Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life.

Leigh Anne asked us to write about family this month. Family is my priority always, but since retiring, I find myself dedicating more time to my children and grandchildren.

This week as my husband and I celebrate 43 years of marriage, I am caring for my grandchildren in New Orleans. My colleagues are going back to school and while I admit to feeling a pang of “I should be there”, I am grateful I am not. My mind and body are more relaxed, and I am able to devote energy to my family. What a blessing!

Next weekend we will all gather in Jackson, MS to celebrate my mother’s long life of 89 years. My mother, Dorothy Liles Gibson, was dedicated to family. She taught me the value of being fully present. I have selected this poem to read at her service: “Let the Last Thing Be Song.” My mother was a musician all her life. She taught piano lessons and got her masters in piano. She was a founding member of the Jackson Music Forum. She was also an active choir member at St. James Episcopal Church. I look forward to being with all of my children and grandchildren, siblings and their families, as well as friends and cousins. We will raise our voices to praise her life.

I am taking a poetry workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. This week she used a model poem by Alberto Rios, “When Giving is All We Have” to talk about paradox in a poem. She gave us a prompt with a variety of anaphoric phrases. I chose prayer. “We pray because…” I’m sharing the draft of my poem.

When Prayer is all We Have

After Alberto Rios “When Giving is All We Have”

We pray because we are lost.
We pray because we are found.

We pray because prayer changes us.
We pray because prayer changes nothing.

We hold hands to pray.
We kneel alone in the sand.

Prayers have many ways to begin:
Our Father
Dear Lord
Ah, me
I am here

Silence can be a prayer.

Prayers connect us to the dead.
We are helpless in prayer.

What I do not have, I offer to prayer—an empty voice, a sigh of desperation.
Does it matter who is listening?

The prayer makes all the difference.

Margaret Simon, draft

Molly Hogan has the Poetry Friday link up today at Nix the Comfort Zone.

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Spiritual Growth, Writing | Tagged Alberto Rios, Dot Gibson, family, paradox poem, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, spiritual journey, Spiritual poetry | 16 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Shadow Triptych

August 6, 2025 by margaretsmn

On Poetry Friday, Mary Lee used this photo she took of herself with her brother and her nephew to inspire a triptych poem. I am reposting here with permission.

A triptych poem follows the guidelines similar to a triptych painting with three distinct panels tied together by color and theme. Here is a copy of Mary Lee’s poem about the photo.

I’ve been taking a course with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. Last week she shared a poem by Matthew Rohrer, “There is Absolutely Nothing Lonelier”. I borrowed his first line to write my photo poem today.

There is nothing more hopeful
than summer shadows
following a path—
reaching long, like stilts
on festival clowns.
I wonder if my shadow
would fit in; it’s certainly tall enough.
Shadows still to welcome all.
Margaret Simon, draft

Please join me in writing today to this photo. Leave a small poem in the comments and offer encouragement to each other.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged Mary Lee Hahn, metaphor poem, shadows, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triptych | 11 Comments »

Slice of Life: Monarchs are Here!

August 5, 2025 by margaretsmn

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

The old adage “Build it and they will come” has certainly worked for me this year. Instead of planting milkweed outside in my butterfly garden, I planted two varieties in pots. This was due to a discovery that milkweed is poisonous to dogs. And our dog loves to romp in the butterfly garden.

In the spring, I found monarch caterpillars on the swamp milkweed. A few weeks ago I found two tiny ones on the tropical milkweed. Because of all the predators (lizards, birds, etc.), I decided to put the two babies in an enclosure. What I thought was two became 6 very healthy caterpillars munching away on both varieties. I was hoping I could keep them fed for the growth period.

All six made chrysalises. Four of them had moved appropriately to the top, but one made its chrysalis on a stem and another on the side of the cup holding the demolished milkweed.

Over the past two days they all emerged, two on one day and the other four the next.

Beautiful monarch!

I feel a sense of accomplishment that I successfully raised 6 new monarchs to fly free into the world.

Four new monarchs ready to fly free!

Posted in nature, Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged bayou life, monarchs, nature | 8 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Summer Bird Triptych

August 1, 2025 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday roundup is hosted today by Jane Whittingham.

This first day of August is time for a new Inklings challenge. Catherine Flynn asked us to write a triptych poem using Irene Latham’s model poem here. I also looked at Summer Triptych by Linda Pastan.

This summer with my mother’s passing, I have been thinking about the three summers that stand out in my mind in the long process of losing my parents. The first summer I had to face the reality of their aging was 2019 when they decided to move to an independent living apartment. They left the house full, and my siblings and I had to clean it out.

In the summer of 2022, I was grieving the death of my father and searching for a sign of him. And this year, my mother…

Solace, peace, comes to me in this poem. I hope you find it there, too.

Summer Bird Triptych

July 2019

The hummingbird feeder,
blown glass
swirling
primary colors,
reflects the sun,
attracts a ruby throat hovering
while I sit alone on the porch,

Remembering.

July 2022

I hear a tap, tap at the window.
A bright yellow prothonotary.
Does he see his reflection?
Does he want me to come out?

Is it you, Dad?

July 2025

The crows seem angry.
The Merlin app identifies fish crows.
They call with a fervor I feel deep in my belly,
calling me back to nature

and myself.

To see how other Inklings met this challenge:

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

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, birds, Inklings challenge, Irene Latham, Linda Pastan, triptych | 10 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: The Path

July 30, 2025 by margaretsmn

I am feeling uninspired, tired, and sad. Yesterday a dear friend died. Just last week she sent me a sweet card giving me sage advice about the death of my mother.

“I’m sure your emotions must rotate from one to another. I don’t need to remind you to take care of yourself. Sending you positive energy and caring thoughts.” Betty LeBlanc

I’m trying, Betty.

This card featured today came from my Inkling friend Molly Hogan. I’d also like to share a poem that another Inkling, Mary Lee Hahn wrote for me:

And if the darkness is not
a hallway, perhaps it’s
a bridge
a reflection
an eye into your soul
or into the mystery
that comes at the end of a day
or a life.
Mary Lee

If you are so moved, write a poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your comments. Thanks for walking by.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Inklings, Mary Lee Hahn, Molly Hogan, sympathy cards | 7 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Silk Scarves

July 25, 2025 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Marcie Flinchum Atkins at her blog.

My mother died a few weeks ago. It was expected. She suffered for years with Alzheimer’s. My grief for her loss has happened over time. I feel relief now that she is no longer suffering. Nevertheless, we had to clean out her room at the memory care home where she’s been for two years. Many of her clothes were soiled and worn. Most of them were trashed. Some we gave away. I was grateful for my husband who was with me. He hauled the trash bags to the dumpster.

When I came upon a hanger of silk scarves, I couldn’t bear to give them away. I don’t even know why they were still there. So while Jeff was taking out the trash, I tucked them away in a box to bring home. I wore one to a funeral last weekend and felt comforted.

Silk Scarves

I saved her silk scarves,
each one a bright
replica of art.
I couldn’t bear to place
such brightness
into a black trash bag.

We worked quickly
making choices to give away
or throw away. Why?
I asked myself
did these scarves call to me?

I remember when appearances
were important to my mother.
She never left the house without
coordinating clothes, make-up, jewelry.
The end erased who she had been.

Lord knows I don’t need
any more scarves.
Tiffany stained glass (butterflies)
will soften my neck
above the black dress.

Margaret Simon, draft

This poem was written in response to an Ethical ELA Open Write prompt found here.

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, Alzheimer's, Ethical ELA, grief poem, mothers, poems of healing | 15 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Red Hot Poker

July 23, 2025 by margaretsmn

The flowers I planted for the pollinators are loving all the rain we’ve been having. This one is called Red Hot Poker. Unfortunately, the stem weakened and it is now flopped over, but before that happened, I took this “portrait mode” photo.

I hope this invitation to write finds you in a place of peace. Please write a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your responses.

For each photo poem, I give myself a challenge. Today, I am trying a triolet. It is a poem of eight lines in which line one repeats in lines 4 and 7, line two repeats in 8. The rhyme scheme is abaaabab.

Red Hot Poker Triolet

Torch lily towers and shines
for the day will be hot and wet.
Butterflies float to its wine.
Torch lily towers and shines.
Summer firecracker’s a sign:
sweet nectar steams like a jet.
Torch lily towers and shines
for the day will be hot and wet.

Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in nature, Photography, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, triolet | 5 Comments »

Slice of Life: First Musical

July 22, 2025 by margaretsmn

Have you seen Matilda, the Musical? I’ll take any excuse to see a musical. Our local performing arts league, IPAL, does a musical every summer with kids under the age of 18. I am always impressed with the skills of these young people and their directors. Matilda was no exception.

Last summer I took Leo to Beauty and the Beast. We weren’t sure how he would like it, but he sat in his seat mesmerized for the whole play. We took a picture with Gaston.

Leo, age 5, with Gaston from Beauty and the Beast (IPAL, 2024)

This year Leo is 6, which means he’s all grown up and knows about musicals.

Sister Stella is four. So it was a long shot to try to take her to the show. My daughter decided to go with us because two kids are harder than one.

Stella was not as mesmerized as Leo. She asked a lot of questions.

“Why is Miss Trunchbull a boy?!”

I explained the beauty of theater is that boys can be girls and girls can be boys.

Stella also had a little trouble suspending belief.

“Her father is so mean!”

“He’s just pretending, remember?”

Leo and Stella both enjoyed the time called “Intermission” when they could get treats.

While Stella lost her patience about a half hour before the play was over, “Is it over yet?”, she can’t wait to go to another musical.

Posted in being mamére, Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged #beingmamére, IPAL, musical, theater | 15 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Tiny Letters

July 18, 2025 by margaretsmn

Today’s roundup is hosted by Jan Annino at Bookseedstudio.

My well has been running dry lately. I could use the excuses that I’ve had a lot on my plate, but the real answer is I haven’t felt much like writing.

When I get this way, it helps to turn to poetry prompts. Georgia Heard sent out a monthly newsletter with a calendar inviting us to write daily tiny letters.

Today, to make myself accountable, I will share two of them from my notebook.

Dear Breath,
Find my sorrow.
Lift it up.
Draw from within
a purple flower
a single petal
remembering
how to bloom.

Margaret Simon, draft

My butterfly garden is overflowing with passion vine waiting for the Gulf Fritilary butterflies.

Dear Voice,
From your hiding place,
come home.
Give me strength
to know when to say no,
when to say yes.
Be there as a guide
when silence
grates on my nerves
like the rain
clanking through the drain.
Wake up, oh voice of mind.
Find my comfort zone.
Come home.

Margaret Simon, draft

If you are not familiar with poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, I have found her poems uplifting and accessible. I signed up for a poetry class with her that begins next week. I am hopeful she will put me back in touch with my own voice. She has released an album of spoken word. This amazing and uplifting poem is included. Take a moment to listen.

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Georgia Heard, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, tiny letters | 15 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Fingers and Toes

July 16, 2025 by margaretsmn

Baby Sam’s fingers holding Mamére’s finger.

This week’s photos may be a bit selfish on my part. I hope you can find a way into writing from your own life. Leave a poem in the comments and respond to other writers.

Two weeks ago my youngest daughter gave birth to my youngest grandchild, Sam. He is absolutely perfect. I marveled at him for days. All his tiny parts, especially his long fingers and his tiny toes. Two of his toes are webbed.

I can’t really write anything that isn’t sappy, but never mind, just dig right in to it. Grandmothers are made to be sappy.

Perfection Is

Ten fingers
ten toes
that treasure your gentle touch.

Fingernails
tiny and sharp—
His simple signature.

Two hands
two feet
fill a heart with love.

Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in being mamére, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged #beingmamére, #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, newborn, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | 3 Comments »