To begin our National Poetry Month adventure, start here with the Kidlit Progressive Poem. Today’s first line is with Patricia Franz at Reverie.
At Ethical ELA, Kim Johnson invites us to introduce ourselves using a hashtag acrostic. I was challenged by the repeated letters of my name. Like the spelling of Mississippi, I’ve always enjoyed the way my name repeats when spelled out: M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t.
#Margaret
#Mother of three strong women #Ask me to dance #Romantic hopelessly #Grandmother of four potential difference-makers #Artist of poetry #Reserved until I trust you #Early riser #Teacher of gifted children
I love a good form for poetry and one I’ve played with often is Heidi Mordhorst’s definito. It is a poem of 8-12 lines appealing to children that defines a word. The defined word ends the poem.
Feline flexibility, a natural mystery. That deliciously pink belly bouncing when she runs can’t hide a surplus of fat designed to save her, but try as you might to touch this soft spot, Watch out! She will bite. Don’t touch a cat’s tum-tum… primordial pouch.
My three daughters made a last minute plan to meet at the Children’s Museum. They sent pictures, and I fell in love with this one with the paper butterflies (I first thought they were cranes) and Thomas looking up. He’s 4 years old, the age of wonder. Find a small poem or story in this photo and write it into the comments. Be sure to leave encouraging responses to other writers.
Today on Ethical ELA Leilya teaches us about the Naani form originating from India, an expression of one and all in 4 lines of 20-25 syllables.
Paper butterflies flutter through a wind of imagination– a child’s vision of wonder.
The first day of December is here and it is raining, raining, raining. We’ve gone months without rain, so I guess it’s catch up time to meet our rainfall for the year. But I’m not happy about it.
Back in October I learned a new poem form, the luc bat, Vietnamese for six-eight. Wendy Everard posted a prompt on Ethical ELA. The form is quite easy in that each line alternates between 6 and 8 syllables. It’s free with no limit on the number of lines. However, there’s this twist of rhyme. The last syllable of the line of 6 becomes the rhyme for the 6th syllable in the line of 8. Then the word at the end of 8 becomes the next rhyme for 6:
xxxxxA xxxxxAxB xxxxxB xxxxxBxC
Molly Hogan challenged the Inklings to write a luc bat for our December challenge. I’ve written a few of them now and I love how the internal rhyming is both challenging and satisfying.
Today I am posting the poem I wrote in response to Wendy’s prompt. I used one of her lines to get started. This poem reflects on the process my husband and I went through during my illness this past summer. We’ve made it through and are stronger together for our resilience. “In sickness” is one of the hard places in a marriage.
When leaving words unsaid, our shared trauma wed and silent, fears become resilient. Illness causes consistent stress, silence under duress. Feelings close off, repress our love. Searching within, whereof words we can speak with love to heal. Find our way back to real and us.
Margaret Simon, with a line by Wendy Everard
If you want to read more amazing responses to this form, here are the links to my Inkling friends.
This week was the Open Write for Ethical ELA. I love how this event once a month inspires me to sit each day and write. I’m often surprised by what comes out on the page.
Fran Haley prompted us to write a bird story. To see her wonderful model poem and the prompt, click here. It brought back a memory for me.
Eagle over Bayou Teche, Louisiana
Everyone has a bird story
Remember the time we saw the eagle atop the bridge to Seattle? A few days later, you read the eagle died, a car hit it.
Once we saw an eagle while canoeing, elegantly soaring over our bayou–grand beauty symbol of strength. Then you recalled the Seattle eagle. That tragic death hit us hard. He was “our” eagle.
How can we claim ownership of a wild thing? Freedom is temporal. The story remains.
Margaret Simon, draft
Fran is not only a wonderful poet, writer, teacher, she also supports other writers and me with lovely comments. I feel the comments that most resonate with me are ones in which the writer makes a heart to heart connection. This was what Fran wrote about my poem: “I’d have mourned long over this loss as well. I find, as I grow older, these things strike deeper than they ever used to. Yesterday I came through a crossroads where woods had long grown over an old farm and it’s all being bulldozed for building houses, I presume. I thought of the majestic hawks and “my” eagle and wanted to weep – how far will the birds have to go to find a new home? “How can we claim ownership of a wild thing?” Because the wild thing is connected to us, to our essence, in some deep way; as the wild thing goes, so go we. I cannot help thinking of the eagle in your verse in another way, as our national emblem, especially in these true and haunting lines:”Freedom is temporary. The story remains.”
May this holiday season bring you lots of small moments of great joy!
While I was in Ohio for NCTE, my husband sent me this photo of a harvested sugarcane field under an awe-inspiring sunset. He described it to me this morning, “It covered the whole world!” Ethical ELA held its Open Write this week. Kim Johnson prompted us to write a poem using Ada Limón’s poem Give Me This. I wrote a golden shovel about this photo using a striking line: “Why am I not allowed delight?”
So many sunset photos, I wonder why
attraction to orange, pink, purple sky is what I am
with you. Loving this mirror–I
with you, noticing. We are not
the same, yet we’re always allowed
a sunset delight.
Margaret Simon, after Ada Limón
I invite you to write an ekphrastic poem about this photo. Imagine the bigness of the sky, the awe-inspiring sunset, a field of brown…wherever the muse takes you. I hope you take a moment away from your Thanksgiving preparations to write. Come back if you can to comment on others’ poems with encouraging words. Most of all, “Happy Thanksgiving!”
I’ve had a wonderful week getting back into the classroom. I have some new students as well as the ones I taught last year. I teach gifted ELA pull out for two elementary schools. The hardest part of the job is packing up the cart and moving to the next school. Once I am there, though, all is right with the world. I am meant to be a teacher!
On Wednesday I led my kids through “This Photo Wants to be a Poem.” We use Fanschool and I place the same photo from my blog post to Fanschool. The kids write their own poems in the comment section. Two of my students who signed into gifted this week had never written a poem before. I find joy in the process. I think I spread that passion to them. Their responses were amazing.
This week was Ethical ELA’s Open Write. I wrote about one of my students in response to Barb’s prompt here. A comment from Kim Johnson gave me an idea for the ending metaphor. This is a wonderful community of teacher-writers. Join us in October, 21st-25th.
Volleyball Team
Last year in fourth grade she would skip recess awkwardly reading in a corner of my classroom.
Fifth grade offered a volleyball team. She arrived with a brightly colored volleyball, tossed it with confidence, leaning on it while writing.
“I’m on the volleyball team this year.” We talked about the serve I could never master. She showed me how it’s done now– from the palm-up wrist rather than the thumb.
A flower blooming through a crack in the concrete, hoping to find its way to shine on the court.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Have you ever loved a dog? Or the more important question, has a dog ever loved you? Dogs tend to love without any conditions. Of course, they want their treats. Charlie would almost hyperventilate when it was pill pocket time. And how did he know to tell time? 6:00 AM and 6:00 PM, he would start with the begging.
“Lord, help me be the person my dog thinks I am.” I bought this bumper sticker years ago and taped it on the utility room cabinet. Charlie thought I was delicious. He wasn’t a face licker, but show him your bare toes and he would lick till it tickled.
Strangers were new friends to Charlie. The repairmen that visit our house look for Charlie so they can toss him the tennis ball. He would play ball 24/7 if you let him.
Charlie loved a walk. Sometimes he would get out, and the way I coaxed him back was showing him the leash and saying, “Petey’s here!” Petey was my mother-in-law’s dog and we walked together for years after my father-in-law died. These walks made Petey and Charlie best friends, and Anne “Minga” and I grew closer, too.
This week is Ethical ELA’s Open Write. When I read the invitation to write about food from Stacey Joy, I thought of the cinnamon bread my neighbor (and fellow dog lover) left at my back door. Another neighbor who I walk with these days, Shirley and her lab Claire, made me oatmeal cookies. If you’ve had a dog, you can relate to the empty feeling. When I get up in the morning, I go to the back door, turn the lock, and look for Charlie. He’s not there.
Charlie lived a wonderful life. We got him in the fall of 2007 and named him one of our boy names, after my grandfather Charles Liles. It was the perfect name. He was the perfect dog. I miss him, but I have no regrets. He was 16 and in renal and heart failure. He gave me the look that said, “Let me go.” I will sprinkle his ashes in the butterfly garden.
Cinnamon Bread
Lisa brought me cinnamon bread when my dog Charlie died. Shirley made oatmeal cookies as though sweet carbs could fill me, help me forget the lonely
walk without holding a leash, opening the door without the wag of tail.
Can I take a taste inside to keep sadness away?
Can I drop a crumb and not look down for the dog to lick it up?
There are days he lived only to comfort me. Little ankle licks to let me know I was loved.
Familiar becomes foreign until time adjusts us, keeps us upright ready to be crushed again.
This has been an April full of poetry. In between the dreaded test prep, I have offered my students poetry breaks. I pulled out all of my poetry books and let them dig in. We also wrote some poetry. My students, when they hear the word poetry, breathe a sigh of relief and joy. I am lucky they are young and haven’t been stained by the bee that says poetry is hard.
We’ve watched a few of Allan Wolf’s Poetry Month videos. They are all on YouTube. It’s like having him visit my classroom with all his humor, antics, and natural Po-Love. My students loved watching him juggle while teaching them about dactyl meter. Sadie, 4th grade, is writing her own poems using dactyl meter.
My emotional bees
Make me want to have pet fleas!
My emotional bees
They just never seem to ease!
Sadie, 4th grade
My third grade student, Avalyn was drawn in by Marilyn Singer’s reverso poems in Mirror, Mirror and Follow, Follow. I sent Marilyn a message on Instagram, and she sent us a “Tips for Writing Reverso Poems.” Avalyn borrowed a few lines and created a poem of her own. We discovered reversos are really hard to write well.
Very pleasant, happily ever after. Luggage is packed. You sob. Nobody is there.
Nobody is there, you sob. Luggage is packed. Happily ever after, very pleasant.
Avalyn, 3rd grade
Each week I present This Photo Wants to be a Poem on my blog and with my students on Fanschool. You can see their Prime Number Haikus this week at this link by clicking on the comment button at the bottom of the page.
Prime Number Haiku
Bubble Blossoming Grows great and strong but Will not stay for very long You try to win but you will pop very soon
Adelyn, 4th grade
April has been a wonderful month of poetry. Thanks to all of our Poetry Friday friends who have contributed to the Kidlit Progressive Poem which is still traveling, almost done. Today it’s at Karin Fisher-Golton.
I am keeping all of my daily poems in a slide show. Here’s my own Prime Number Haiku which was a prompt from Ethical ELA.
This month, National Poetry Month 2023, I’ve been following the prompts on Ethical ELA, a virtual treasure of inspiration. But I keep writing about the same thing over and over. My father, my mother, my own role as a grandparent. I think when we write condensed lines, we push our deepest thoughts up to the surface. I’m trying to let that part of me flow where it wants (or needs) to flow. This week I’ve written two of these kinds of poems to #VerseLove. Prompts can be found here.
If you want to be a poet, I highly recommend joining in with #VerseLove. Just like the hashtag says, it’s all about love. Each day that I write, I feel wrapped in the arms of other writers, tenderly cared for. Putting your writing out there into the world is hard and intimidating. Finding a caring community is rare and special. Like the community of writers at Two Writing Teachers, the teachers at Ethical ELA have become my friends. I am grateful to all the writers there, especially the ones who seek out my writing amongst many and comment like wind beneath my wings.
Photo and poem by Margaret Simon.
I am saving my poems in a Google slide show which allows me to save each slide as an image and share it here. Above is a photo of my father and my granddaughter Stella in the summer of 2021.
Today’s Ethical ELA prompt was given by Jessica, a self-identifying cinquain.
I am a Grandmother
Altered state of being fertility startled by faces of me reflected in you.
Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I’ve been participating in VerseLove over at Ethical ELA. Today, Fran Haley invited us to write a triolet. This is a form I find challenging because the repeated lines, while they should be easy, make it hard to create an original poem in which the flow doesn’t seemed forced.
I love nature and observing the intimacy of birds. Recently I witnessed a cardinal couple feeding. Such a sweet moment to see the male feeding the female. In case you are wondering, I intentionally changed the last line to play with metaphor.
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 