This month’s Inkling challenge was mine to create. I invited my writing group to share any poem that they may have written to This Photo Wants to be a Poem prompt. I post a photo prompt once a week on Wednesdays. My photos come from my own iPhone photos or from Instagram friend’s photos, by permission.
I enjoy the craft of writing a small poem. Many of the ones I write bring about some deeper wisdom. Often I surprise myself with these, wondering where they come from. Today I am featuring bird wisdom poems. Nature offers itself to us with its revelation of truth.
Peek in on my Inkling buddies and see what they are doing with this challenge:
Today is the first Friday in August and my first day of school, but it’s also time for an Inkling challenge. This month Catherine wanted to give us something easy to write. She thought about sports. I am not all that sporty, but I do have a poem in the anthology Rhyme & Rhythm: poems for student-athletes (Archer Books. 2021). It’s a duplex poem about swimming.
As I contemplated this challenge, I turned to my weekly yoga class. I am going to miss this class during the school year. I love the instructor and the way she speaks to us. I’ve always thought it was like poetry. So on Wednesday, I recorded the class. This poem is a transcription with poetic license. I decided to play with having no punctuation and using space and line breaks to pause. Does this work?
The Sport of Mindfulness
Breathing is healing relaxation brings the body together all cells communicate together Breathe and communicate into one focus. breath
Notice if your thoughts move into a pattern bring yourself back to your anchor your breath
Back and forth a tennis match with yourself building a new skill purposeful intentional thinking
Lean into the stretch spread your fingers press into the palm open your muscles
Stay with the breath Challenge yourself Focus ride the waves of discomfort Then it starts to feel good
Exhale pose thank you colon thank you liver thank you spleen gallbladder pancreas Thank you for all your hard work Toxins moving out release
Come back to the breath The sound of the wind sound of the music Sensation of being in the room among friends No responsibilities
Nature is abundant Bring awareness to your abundance You are abundant thriving We are all thriving
Image by Linda Mitchell Round up this week is with Karen Edmisten.
Today is the first Friday of June, so that means Inkling Challenge! My writing group rotates a challenge for each month, and we post on the first Friday of the month as a group, The Inklings! This month Molly Hogan challenged us to write about a domestic task.
Truth be told, I did not read the mentor poem or write about spring cleaning because the truth is I’ve been very ill. I got Covid on a family trip to Seattle and had to stay alone in a hotel room for five days. My husband’s brother, who is a doctor, was nearby and on call for me, but there wasn’t much he could do. I just had to get through it, so I could fly home. I made it home on Saturday night. I’m still recovering, but I no longer have the virus. On Sunday morning, I read The Writer’s Almanac and used the poem “Joy” by George Bilgere as a mentor text. His poem was about recovering from the flu. I borrowed a few lines. The form helped me write again which brought me Joy.
Joy
after George Bilgere
Today I sit in the kitchen with a glass of Gatorade, on ice, my daily cocktail. The door is open to let in cool morning air. I sit with my body, just the two of us for a change. Covid has left us and moved on to someone else, with its knife well-sharpened to gut and leave behind loose limp skin.
I am sitting in amazement that I am able to be here breathing. Amazed at a body’s will to survive even in the deepest dark cave of fear.
For a while I thought I would never get better. That I would dissolve into dust in a hotel room alone, not discovered for days.
But every day there are miracles. We wake up. We taste and smell the air. Tiny eggs in a nest hatch into finches that will fly.
Today I sit watching a prothonotary flutter at the window, make a mental note to refill the feeders. The desert rose at my front door welcomes me home with a fireworks show.
Today is Poetry Friday and April 1st and the first day of National Poetry Month. My Sunday writing critique group, the Inklings, take on a challenge each first Friday of the month. This month’s challenge comes from Mary Lee Hahn. She suggested that we write a poem like Ellen Bass The Thing Is. Another Inkling, Heidi has the round up this week.
My One Little Word 2022 is Enough. It surprises me how often enough appears in the poems I write. It’s happened again.
The Thing Is
after Ellen Bass
to become yourself, become you more fully even if you don’t like what you see. Even as the river dries, revealing cracks in the surface, displaying a dump of glass bottles as the only thing binding you to this place. You are who you are. You have this one wild life to live, no matter the manifest; That face in the mirror is yours, hold it with affection, send it a kiss like the dew on the womb of the morning*, praising This is Good. This self is enough. You will love her more and more every day.
* Psalm 110:3 Margaret Simon, draft
Azalea morning Pink echoes dawn sky Radiant spring (c) Margaret Simon
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 