As August began, the Inklings sat side by side in real person in the WhisperShout studio of our own Heidi Mordhorst. Linda Mitchell provided junk journals and collage materials. I knew this Poetry Friday would be an Inkling challenge given to us by Molly Hogan involving maps in some way.
So I played with paper, paint, pictures, and words. This is what happened. I like it. I don’t understand it, but I like it.
I am reminded of one of my favorite poems by Naomi Shihab Nye.
Naomi Shihab Nye, from Everything Comes Next
Here are links to other Inkling poems. Check them out:
The Poetry Friday Roundup today is at Michelle’s place: More Art 4 All
Today is the first Friday of the month, so we have an Inklings Challenge. Catherine asked us to use a prompt from Audrey Gidman’s June list:
“Read “Digging” by Seamus Heaney. Think about something that has been handed down to you—from a parent, a grandparent, an elder in your life—that feels alive in you now. Think of how it is the same and think of how it has transformed in you. Notice how, for Heaney, it’s gardening and writing—two kinds of digging, but still the digging continues through the generations. Write a poem that digs into what was handed down to you and examines what you carry now.”
This summer I have been doing a good deal of babysitting for my grandchildren. This has been both a privilege and a challenge. I have a lullaby that was passed down to me that I sang to my children and continue to sing to my grandchildren (even to Leo who cringes every time).
Singing
Inspired by Seamus Heaney
My grandson asks for a lullaby while he covers his head, hiding beneath the blankets.
When my mother sang an operatic alto, in a foreign language she’d never spoken, I hid from her joy, let her vibrato shiver my heart under a pillow.
I didn’t want to know opera like her father taught her, but she took me anyway, read the plot before curtain call.
I made my body small in the plush red theatre seat.
Now, I see her face in mine. My voice cracks on the high notes. My smile wrinkles into soft blush. Singing was the last thing to go.
Here, I sit perched on the edge of the bed leaning into a seven year old boy claiming his independence while wishing for a song to cling to.
Happy May Day! My daughter sent this message in our text group: “Friday the first of May is the most powerful day of 2026 so far…strongest full moon and it’s when the Fire horse begins galloping so it will force you to get rid of what you no longer need in your life bc Fire horse can’t gallop with baggage.”
Firehorse postcard from Tricia Stohr Hunt
I worked with first graders this week in a workshop called “Chalkabration.” I think I love first graders. We wrote poems with the line “Summer is…” using all of the senses, “I hear…I see…”
Today is also the first Friday of the month which means Inklings Challenge. Heidi challenged us to “Celebrate May by writing a poem that Maykes use of the verbs may, might, could, can, ought.”
First Graders Cheat at Mother, May I
When lines are drawn rules are made, Or where there’s an “ought to” seven year olds will push, split, cross, test. Mother nature made us to question boundaries, “Who am I?” A galloping competitor or a friendly companion?
I did not do my own assignment. I kept putting it off with excuse after excuse. This month I posed what I thought would be a simple, easy challenge for my Inklings writing group, “Write a poem using the word becoming.”
I searched my notebook, my Google Docs, and no miracle there. I simply had not written to my own prompt. Last night I decided to take inspiration from fellow Inkling Linda Mitchell and write a haiku sonnet. (She had shared hers at our meeting last weekend.) Form does not always become a poem.
Is it cheating to use a repeating line? After playing with the title “Becoming Spring”, I wrote the title “Becoming Beautiful”. Almost daily, my youngest daughter sends new photos of my newest grandson. Yesterday she sent this one with the text, “Someone had a cute spurt today.” We all marvel at how this baby just gets more and more adorable.
“Cute spurt”
Nevertheless, here is my down-to-the-wire draft of a haiku sonnet for this cutie.
Becoming Beautiful
You are born with it in the deep blue of the sea you glisten like gems
You are born with it eventually you smile at your mother’s stare
You are born with it shine like the full blood moon a friend to the sun
You are born with it because that is who you are someone’s true love
No need to apologize Be beautiful as you are
Margaret Simon, for Sam, draft
Check out the brilliant ways Inklings responded to this prompt:
This is January. Here we all are on the cusp of a new year. Catherine Flynn, fellow Inkling, challenged our group to write a poem with “This is January” as a title. I guess you could say the prompt has been in my mind since she posed it, but the words of a poem only appeared on my notebook page today. I took it on as a kind of list poem.
This is January
I open the door to let the dog out shiver from the cold.
A quiet hope whispers in a voice I recognize.
I keep dreaming about children playing. Awake now, I’m still humming.
Amaryllis grows an inch each day expectant red blossom.
Carolina wren fusses calling to me to be my first new year bird.
Cypress trees are bare, brown. Their shade is not needed resting, waiting.
My husband remarks, ”If there was a need for cypress needles, we’d be rich.”
We are rich, I think, to be here loving and living each day.
Poetry Friday is gathered this week by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem.
Advent is here! Our priest announced last Sunday, “Happy New Year” because the Episcopal liturgical year begins with Advent. Jone inspired us to write about the Advent words- hope, peace, joy, and love.
For Spiritual Thursday, I offer an image poem for each word of advent.
If you are interested in joining the Spiritual Journey posts each month and hosting one month, fill in this Google sheet or send me an email.
For the first Poetry Friday each month, the Inklings do a challenge. This month Heidi asked us to write a letter to an article of clothing. Last year, I bought a cozy robe at the L.L. Bean store in Maine. The weather has turned dreary and cold here this week, so my robe is doing its job keeping me warm. I didn’t write a letter, though. I took an idea from fellow Inkling Molly Hogan to write a Wordle haiku with the three words I guessed today. If you haven’t done Thursday’s puzzle yet, you can come back later.
Blue plush peace fleece a strip of fake fur cuff Tulip in winter.
To see how other Inklings did the challenge, check out their posts.
Today is the first Friday of a new month, October, and time for an Inklings challenge. I asked my writing group friends to exchange photos for an image poem. I invite you to participate in image poetry every Wednesday right here with This Photo Wants to be a Poem.
My exchange partner was Heidi. She had the opportunity to visit fellow Inkling, Molly, in Maine this summer. I am quite jealous that they all made blueberry jam together. I could not resist the delicious collection of jars in Heidi’s photo.
Georgia Heard inspired my poem by sending her own recipe poem through her newsletter.
Click on each link below to see other image poem posts from Inklings.
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 Triptychby 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
Buffy Silverman is hosting today’s Poetry Friday.My summer writing space
This first Friday in June is time for another Inklings challenge. I am sitting outside on my back deck hoping something will come to me soon. Heidi challenged us with this:
Write a poem that lists or explains some things that you as a woman no longer care ‘bout for whatever reason. It does not have to be because of peri/menopause. Try to replicate Melani’s deadpan delivery, if that’s possible in a poem. TWIST: include something that you DO care about, that requires you to make space by jettisoning some of the other stuff.
Mary Lee used a conversational tone that I like, so I borrowed her format to write mine.
While we’re sitting here, let me explain
For starters, I don’t care to wear mascara anymore, no more black goop that smears every time I cry which is a lot these days. I care too much sometimes and my eyes show it.
Just so you know, I care about plants, but I don’t care to bend over in the heat to pull out the weeds, so you may not think I care until the air cools (which by the way the forecast looks won’t be until October). Deal with it.
Here’s the thing, I care about family first, so I may not answer your call or text if I’m with my mom, husband, kids, or grandkids. It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do. I’ll get back to you soon enough.
And while we’re on the subject, you should know that I care about the white cat at my feet and the echo of a red cardinal in the fruit tree. I want this beautiful space I live in to last longer.
Won’t you sit with me and write your truth, too?
I would love to know if you accept the invitation to write to this prompt. Leave a comment, if you care (dare).
Be sure to check out Linda’s and Heidi’s “We Do Not Care Club” poems.
Mary Lee Hahn has the Poetry Friday Round up at A(nother) Year of Reading.
Today is the first Friday in May which means it’s time for another Inklings challenge. This month, Linda Mitchell asked us to consider a line borrowed from poet Whitney Hanson, “In poetry we say…”
I took out an old favorite anthology of poems in my classroom, Poetry Speaks to Children, and created a cento poem using lines from other poems. The process was interesting and fun. You may even recognize some of the lines.
Lines from these poets:
Rita Dove Robert Frost Gwendolyn Brooks Carl Sandburg Lewis Carroll Maxine Kumin W. S. Merwin Jane Yolen William Shakespeare J. R. R. Tolkein Joy Harjo Langston Hughes John Ciardi Nikki Giovanni Sonia Sanchez
The 2025 Kidlit Progressive Poem is complete! See the poem as a whole along with all the participating poets archived here.
To read how other Inklings approached this challenge:
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 