Glenda took inspiration from Terrence Hayes’ book American Sonnet for my Past and Future Assassin. “I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison, Part panic closet, a little room in a house set aflame.”
I borrowed the opening line to write about a parking lot annoyance of mine, backing in. The title is a play on words. My grandson asked me if “pissed” was a bad word. Then he playfully asked about “piston”.
Parking Lot Piston
I lock you in your white Ford truck backed in over the yellow line. You are not my kind, hefty and trumped on four jacked-up off-road tires designed to crush little people like me with your oversized parts.
I won’t hitch up my skirt to take a ride. I park nose-front & take my time not to cross the line. I return the wire buggy to the cart-horse paddock, flash a fake smile to the sweaty boy maneuvering the train.
I hold my superiority under my side slung purse where my soft belly holds verses of quiet fortitude.
Last weekend I participated in the Open Write with Ethical ELA. Erica Johnson’s prompt “Talk about Trees” inspired me to praise the state tree of both of my home states, Mississippi and Louisiana.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On Saturday, I went to Moncus Park for the Lafayette Farmer’s Market to sell books. I definitely spent more money on food than I made in book sales, but the spring day was breezy and the park was full of people. A former neighbor stopped by, all grown up and married, hoping for a baby someday, so he bought a book.
Garrett and me in the UL Press booth.
A nearby booth had these exotic birds that were pets. They were bright and beautiful, but I don’t remember their breed. I was struck by how they perched and begged for petting.
On the way to my car which was parked a long way from the market, I noticed the new walking path my friend had told me about.
The developers of Moncus Park have been intentional about planting only native Louisiana plants. The reclaimed prairie was full of life.
Moncus Park Prairie, Lafayette, LA
On my walk I found a sign dedicated to a family that included a beautiful painting and poem by my friend, artist Melissa Bonin. I took a picture of it, then used the image and words in a found poem, prompted by Jessica Wiley and Erica Johnson on Ethical ELA.
Garden Amorphous by Melissa Bonin
Moncus Park Prairie after Melissa Bonin
sugar harvest sky lights speckles of goldenrod, cotton weed tucked inside a worn pocket. A dragonfly wraps its wispy-thin legs atop black-eyed Susan’s eye.
Your place is on the gravel path listening to red-winged blackbirds, catching buttercup pollen on the tip of your nose.
Stories smudged on rock gather for the retelling, soft laughter of prairie grass speaking to the wind.
Map by Tabatha Yeatts with place names added by Progressive Poem participants.
I have been leading the Kidlit Poets in organizing the Progressive Poem for six years. I was worried about the poem this year because I only had 27 days covered. Tabatha Yeatts stepped up to save the day. Not only did she start us off with a painted map and first line, she volunteered to round out the poem in a complete quatrain on April 28. I had to be OK with only 28 lines. I am more than OK. I am thrilled with the resulting poem. I will post it here and archive it on my blog.
The Land of Poetry
On my first trip to the Land of Poetry, I saw anthologies of every color, tall as buildings. A world of words, wonder on wings, waiting just for me! Birding for words shimmering, flecked in golden gilding.
Binoculars ready, I toured boulevards and side streets, exploring vibrant verses, verses so honest and tender. feathery lyrics, bright flitting avian athletes soaring ‘cross pages in rhythmic splendor.
In the Land of Poetry, I am the conductor, seeking oodles of poems that tug at my heart, a musical medley of sound and structure, An open mic in Frost Forest! Wonder who’ll take part?
There’s a pause in the program; no one takes the stage the trees quiver, the audience looks up. Raven lands, singing Earth’s message of the sage. “Poetry in motion will be forevermore, from forests to sands.”
“Scatter,” she croaked. “Beyond Wilde Pond, to each and every beach.” Meek Dove mustered courage and sang, “Instill humanity with compassion and peace. Let Thackeray’s middle name, from this thicket, hearts reach!” Her gentle coo-ooo-ooos reverberate, soft as fleece.
Words dart, dimple—Do I dare warble what’s in my soul? I’ve inhaled inspiration…yes, I’ll risk my refrain. I fly to the mic, chanting “Tadpole, mole and oriole! Come all living beings from water, land, air; come high and low terrains!
Come, living your poems, hearts open, ablaze, Sing out your noise, adding to our forest-filling chorus! Together. Empowered. Our choir conveys,“Why poetry? Words transform and restore us!”
Thank you to everyone who contributed to this year’s poem:
As we come to the end of National Poetry Month, I want to thank everyone who has taken time to read, contemplate, and add a line to our collaborative poem. Each of you thought deeply and utilized your best rhythm and rhyme and other marvelous poetic devices. The community of poets lifts me up and holds me steady in these days of hopelessness and senseless violence.
Yesterday on Ethical ELA, Jessica Sherburn prompted us to write instructions for writing a poem. What would your instructions be for spending time in The Land of Poetry?
Instructions for Turning a List into a Poem
Find your glasses.
Block out the sound of the song in your head.
On second thought, play the song to the end; there may be a poem hiding there.
Heidi is hosting Poetry Friday this week and she shares a video conversation she recorded of Jone MacCulloch, Heidi Mordhorst, and me talking about our teaching artist experience. Please click this link to check it out.
A big thank you to Heidi Mordhorst for hosting today and for taking the time and energy to create a video about our work with students as teaching artists. I learned so much from Jone and Heidi that I hope to add to my repertoire of workshops.
National Poetry Month is moving along in starts and stops for me. One day the words come, the next I look at a page full of senseless scribbles. I am trying to respond daily to the Ethical ELA VerseLove prompts. Yesterday, Stacey Joy of California prompted us to write an etheree. I wrote once again about wood ducks. (I have a whole book of poems about the Wood Duck house) Our first clutch hatched and fledged, so we have another hen coming in. I am endlessly fascinated by them.
When eastern sunlight gleams a beam across greening cypress trees, another wood duck hen flies in, wiggles her belly beginning a new clutch to watch in hope for new life to lay waiting. Cycle of birth always a miracle.
Margaret Simon, draft
The Kidlit Progressive Poem took a surprising turn this week with a Poetry Slam! Check out today’s line with Robyn Hood Black.
Tabatha Yeatts has graciously offered to end the poem on April 28th. She had the beginning line and is the creator of the map.
Rose Cappelli has the line from the Land of Poetry Progressive Poem today. She used her secret favorite devise of alliteration. It’s my favorite, too. As I tell students, it just sounds good.
At Ethical ELA, Luke Bensing prompted us to use alliteration in our first and last lines. The photo today is from my visit to the butterfly exhibit in New Orleans at the Audubon Aquarium and Insectarium. I wrote a septercet, which is a small three lined poem of 7 syllables each.
Purple pops of salvia nectar-seeking flutter by season for saving scents
If you wish to write a poem today, please leave it in the comments and respond to other writers with encouragement.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is moving along through The Land of Poetry. If you’d like to participate, please send me an email. Today’s line is being added by Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken Town.
I’ve been in New Orleans all weekend, Monday, and today hanging out with my daughters and their adorable children. Yesterday Aunt Kacky and I took the three kids to the Audubon Aquarium and Insectarium. My favorite experience is always the butterfly exhibit. There are so many different species of butterflies flying everywhere.
Finding time and space for writing doesn’t happen when I’m being Mamére, but that’s OK. I’ve had a wonderful weekend of snuggles and giggles.
Ethical ELA’s poetry prompt yesterday was from Wendy Everard on Forgiveness. I turned to William Carlos Williams’ This is Just to Say.
Have you ever had a person in your life who just knows how to punch your buttons? It annoys me that I can’t just turn around and let it wash over me. My whole body tenses, and I usually say something to distract from my obvious irritation.
This is Just to Say
I have seen your weakness and rolled into the muck of ignorance
The mirror of doubt is revealing so clear and critical
I should say something kind but all I muster is a lie.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Saturday was the first day of March’s Open Write on Ethical ELA. Anna J. Small Roseboro is leading the prompts around women for National Women’s History Month.
I wrote an acrostic dedicated to my mother, Dot Gibson. I am coming to a place 8 months after her death where I can remember her before Alzheimer’s took her from me.
My mother Dot in the center feeling joy with my brother, left, and “Elvis.”
Dedicated to the church Open hearted Teacher
Giving smiles through the doorway Inviting southern drawl Best friend Sympathetic listener Optimistic Never leaving me
Poetry Friday is here today! Please scroll to inLinkz to post your link.
In addition to Poetry Friday, one of my favorite places to hang out is Ethical ELA during the monthly Open Write. This month we were hosted by Stacey Joy and Seana Hurd Wright.
I am sharing three poems I wrote in response to their prompts.
I Believe in Morning
reflections bayou glows heron hunts
chickadee dee-dee-dees feeder swings
doodle curls on my lap All is well
“Let us open and open without knowing how” Billy Merrell from “Moth” ( found in Dictionary for a Better World)
Like the butterfly in spring, Let your heart know the us of the universe: We open the screen door and swallowtail flies to the open skies without anyone holding on or even knowing where it was going, just how.
This week giant swallowtail butterflies hatched from their over winter chrysalises.
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 