I have been comforted by all of the sympathy notes and messages from this Poetry Friday community over the death of my mother this summer. I appreciate more than ever how this community supports and cares for each other.
In the summer poem swap, organized by Tabatha Yeatts, Denise Krebs sent me two poems, a raccontino and an acrostic of my one little word, Still. She also sent a beautiful crocheted twirly that I’ve hung in my kitchen window.
Still acrostic by Denise KrebsBy Denise KrebsCrochet Twirly from Denise Krebs
My response to Denise:
When a poem comes wrapped in swirls of gold and tied with a ribbon, I open, find, feel myself touching soft grass with my toes finding cool comfort there.
Thanks, Denise, for your comforting words and gift of swirly gold.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Kim Johnson, fellow slicer, has made a plan for her daily musings. I’m not one to make a plan. I like to be more open to what the universe is giving me to write about; however, I read Denise Krebs’ post yesterday. She sliced about the early morning. She reminded me of my daily walk.
I usually start out around 6:15, buckle up puppy Albert (who is now a year old and much better about the leash). On this particular morning, I went to my Insight Timer app for a walking meditation. I selected the first one in the queue. A soothing female voice guided me to be present in my body, to feel the breeze, to listen to the sounds around me, and to let my thoughts float in and out without giving them much notice.
Ah, yes. A walking meditation is the just right way to start my day. Sometimes my walk inspires a poem.
Notes from a Walk
I want to pick up a pile of oak leaves the pile of leaves blown from the curb, rejected into the street.
I want to hold a gathering of leaves in my hands, carry them home, make mulch. Mulch that will feed the soil.
I want to pick up all the gumballs those countless gumballs that fall from the sweetgum tree. We could create art together.
I could give you supplies: leaves and gumballs, a cardboard tube. You can make it yourself. You can make a masterpiece.
We can be a masterpiece, you and me. Margaret Simon, from 90 Ways of Community: Nurturing Safe & Inclusive Classrooms Writing One Poem at a Time (available for free download here.)
Inspired by Denise Krebs at “Dare to Care”, I am writing a quick post on my phone at a coffee shop near the beach. Denise’s poem begins with These hands.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Every class we begin with notebook time. My students know to open their notebooks as soon as they walk in. I’ve started teaching some little ones, second graders, and it’s not so well established yet with them, but we’re trying. One thing that Brayden knows already is that on Mondays we write a Slice of Life. But first, we played Mad Lib Poetry, created by Taylor Mali, that I read about on this Poetry Friday post from Denise Krebs.
Brayden answered the prompt, “Name an object that represents your mother” with “butterflies.” This stayed with him, and he wrote his Slice of Life about his mother. “My mother is a butterfly. She is beautiful.”
With my different groups of students, I wrote the Mad Lib Poem 3 times. Here is one of my versions:
I was born in the year of Donny Osmond albums.
My mother was a grand piano and my father, a pointillist drawing.
Is it any wonder that I grew up to be an amazing cross between Alice in Wonderland and a great blue heron?
Take a worried look at me. I am weary and feeling old.
Is it any wonder that I still have nightmares about teaching a whole class of second grade boys?
On Friday with my 6th grade writers, we played three rounds of metaphor dice. This is a great game for this grade level. They grapple with the strange combinations and amaze themselves and me by what they write in 2 minutes. I think this is a great activity for critical and creative thinking.
I liked how this next poem came out as a little love poem.
My heart is a burning kiss, burning like the fire inside that makes bread rise, the heat that helps babies grow, the warmth that feeds the seed which is to say your tender kiss melts my heart into pure gold that withstands the test of time.
This week I started following Denise Krebs’ blog, Dare to Care. We met each other virtually through blogging. She introduced me to a poetry form called 4×4. Here are the rules copied from her post:
4 syllables in each line
4 lines in each stanza
4 stanzas
4 times repeating a refrain line–line 1 in the first stanza, line 2 in the second stanza, line 3 in the third stanza, and line 4 in the fourth stanza.
Bonus: 4 syllables in the title
No restrictions on subject, rhyme, or meter.
It’s a fun form to play with. I’ve combined it with using quotes or a stolen line as the repeated line. I have to admit this form has been tough for students to use. While teaching it to kids, I’ve written a few poem drafts this week. Here are two that I don’t hate.
Awareness is everything we need to know to stand for something.
Don’t fall for it. Awareness is looking deeply into your soul.
Answers will come to questions asked. Awareness is waiting for you.
No choice ever is possible until you know awareness is.
Margaret Simon, draft
Hang on to love. Find someone who cares for you most, holds you in trust.
Trust can be hard. Hang on to love anyway, ’cause you matter, too.
When hearts are turned to the sad news, hang on to love to get you through.
Not all sparkles or shiny smiles, for steady hands hang on to love.
Margaret Simon, draft
Last summer I wrote with the National Writing Project during a virtual writing marathon. My poem, Muses, is published in their online journal here.
Chloe wrote a 4×4 poem and read it on a Flipgrid video:
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 