A few weeks ago I attended a writing workshop with one of my mentors Darrell Bourque, former poet laureate of the state of Louisiana. He asked us to look at common language to explore in a poem form. He suggested a pantoum. I wrote one there, but there were parts that didn’t work for me, some rhymes that seemed forced. Was my heart in it? I knew what I wanted to say. Sometimes a form is the just right thing to contain all that your poem wants to say.
This workshop, Darrell’s gentle guidance, have stayed with me. Last week I copied into my Notes app a billboard catch phrase, “I triple-dog-dare you.”
Yesterday I read Fran Haley’s post, a beautiful pantoum about a rainbow. I looked up the form again and took another shot. This one satisfies me.
On Sunday I texted my neighbor to go for a walk with our doodle dogs. Her husband passed away last Sunday. I didn’t know if she would be up for it, so I was pleased when she agreed to go. Even though she thanked me profusely for reaching out, I felt it was my honor to be with her. Grief can be a weird time, and we are often not sure of the “right” thing to do to help someone through it. The dog walk was the right thing for both of us.
Dog Walk Pantoum
Split in a million heart pieces,
I triple-dog-dare you to go.
We walk our dogs on their leashes
connecting puzzle pieces as we go.I triple-dog-dare you to go
to the place where grief hides in shadows.
Connecting our puzzle pieces as we go.
Comfort in our walk-talk grows.The place where grief hides in shadows;
Listen close to the sound of the wind.
Comfort in our walk-talk grows.
Each of us finds a good friend.Listen close to the sound of the wind
chimes, like a million heart pieces.
Each of us finds a good friend.
We walk our dogs on their leashes.Margaret Simon, draft
National Poetry Month 2019: I am playing with poetry alongside 
Reflections on the Teche 