“Walking in the woods today, I came upon a fairy door,” wrote my friend Kim in a text. She suggested I use it here for a poetry prompt.
From Wikipedia: “A fairy door is a miniature door, usually set into the base of a tree, behind which may be small spaces where people can leave notes, wishes, or gifts for the fairies.”
An open invitation for imagination. I’m curious about the R on this door. Is it part of an alphabet trail? Is it the first or last initial for the person who made it? Is there a fairy with that initial?
Today I am choosing to write an elfchen. Somehow a fairy door calls for an elfchen poem.
Fairy holds wishes in the forest Delicate balance of presence Oracle
I invite you into this magical forest to let go of concerns and be imaginative. Write a small poem in the comments. Join me on Instagram during the month of May writing #smallpoems, #poemsofpresence. Tag me @margaretgsimon.
Irene Latham is gathering Poetry Friday today at Live Your Poem
I didn’t want to write about my father today, but I woke up and looked at the clock at 4:44 AM, so there he was. He would tell us that he always woke up at 4:44. He had a thing for double numbers. His birthday was 11/11/33. On this day 4/11/22, he had a stroke and died 11 days later on 4/22/22.
When I opened #Verselove, I saw a prompt that Kim Johnson shared in our poetry session on Wednesday at the Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival. Unfortunately, Kim had a family emergency, so she had to leave on Thursday. She is supposed to be sitting with me as I write this morning. The loneliness has gotten the best of me, so I had to write about my father. As Kim and I said to our session participants, poetry can be healing. It’s a place of vulnerability. Kim’s prompt can be found on Ethical ELA.
Remember
I remember the phone call in the middle of class. I answered it. I remember thinking something bad had happened.
I remember I packed a bag for 3 nights max (I stayed 2 weeks).
I remember the gruff hospitalist rattling the bed with her pronouncement of no hope. You stared after her with anger and fear.
I remember the long days as you fought, grabbing tubes, glaring helplessly, speech stolen by the stroke.
I remember tears and singing, prayers whispering, silently longing to bring you back to us.
I remember someone said the deepest grief comes from the deepest love. I wasn’t ready to remember.
This morning I am writing in a little house in Hattiesburg, MS with my friend and fellow Ethical ELA writer, Kim Johnson. We are here for the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival. Yesterday we presented together about the power of poetry to heal. We shared writing prompts from 90 Ways of Community and led a group of teacher-librarians to discover themselves as writers. The room was vibrating with their energy. We just don’t often take the time to write just for ourselves. It was a wonderful way to begin the 3 day festival.
Today’s prompt for #Verselove comes from Joanne Emery who shared a model poem from Joy Harjo, “Red Bird Love.” I used a striking line from Joy’s poem to write about my friend Mary’s butterfly garden.
Mary’s Invitation
In her garden, there’s salvia, swamp milkweed, that purple one I forgot the name of: you watch a swallowtail circle tall parsley flowers, back around to orange pincushion pistils on a coneflower for a taste of home.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
“How did we meet, Kim?”
She knew right away. “I first knew you from your writing,” she said. “We met face to face when I was in the elevator at NCTE with my boot on because I had a broken foot.”
It all flooded back to me. Anaheim, California. NCTE 2022. I had been writing beside Kim and others at Ethical ELA, and this was our first in-person conference since 2019. I remember when we gathered on and around a bench in the convention center to write together. I remember going to the Slicer dinner and Kim had hobbled her way there, but we insisted she get an Uber back to her hotel.
On the Zoom call, we did not talk about all of this. We were recording our session for the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival coming up in April in Hattiesburg, MS. The recording went well as we easily talked with each other about writing poetry, how writing with others can be validating, healing, and can lead to a connection with another person. Kim knows me better than many of my face to face friends because we write. Writing creates an intimate connection. It helps that we both have dogs and grandkids and live in the south. Kim’s Georgian accent makes me feel right at home.
While we were recording our session, we took the opportunity to share the Ethical ELA site. This is the week of the Open Write which happens for five days each month. Different community members offer a prompt. We opened up the webpage and scrolled to find Kim’s poem pretty close to my poem of the day. Another thing we share is we are early morning writers.
If you are looking for a safe place to write and share poetry, try Ethical ELA. At first it may seem intimidating, but, believe me, the community of writers is worth the risk. Today is the last day of Open Write and the prompt is from Katrina Morris, a Dictionary Poem. Join us?!
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.)
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
In the book “90 Ways of Community”, Kim Johnson writes about a quirky family tradition of hiding a Where’s Waldo figurine around the house for others to find. We all have quirky traditions. I thought about a quirky tradition we have in my classroom. I decided to use a haibun form.
I remember the day that Chloe wrapped the tail of Jack-the-lemur, a class plushie, around the bars of her chair and left him there for other students to find. From then on, magically around the first of December, Jack comes alive. He travels each day to a new space–hanging on the American flag, digging in the mailbox of origami figures, even riding a cardboard prothonotary warbler hanging from the ceiling. Where will he go next? Years later, my students wait for this month of wonder.
Who needs elf-on-the-shelf when there’s Jack-the-lemur? Quirky classroom fun.
These days not many exciting things come into the mailbox. One of the thrills of summer is the Summer Poetry Swap. Two of the final swaps (organized by dear Tabatha Yeatts) overlapped and arrived close to the same day. My kitchen counter was dappled with cards and stickers and sweet poems.
A set of photo cards by Carol Labuzzetta.
Carol sent a poem she wrote in two voices, the two of us in our vocations side by side, along with a set of her original photo cards. Little did she know I needed this dose of confidence to start my new school year.
Tabatha, our poem swap organizer, sent a poem she wrote about a friend who thinks about writing. I do admit to having days like these when the notebook stays closed.
POSTPONED
by Tabatha Yeatts
When will she write in the notebook, I wonder, the blank one engraved Nina’s Adventures on the front? Once my plans come to fruition, she says, after my dreams come true, when the good times begin. How many stories has she already told? The pet goat who played with dogs, the thief she wrestled, the song she wrote and translated into fifty languages, the love story, its tragic end. Don’t they deserve a space on the pages? No, no, she says, once the adventures start. When I see her, she regales me with her storm-tossed ride, but her pen is in a drawer and the words turn away from the pages, settle everywhere but there.
Thanks to all of the poem swappers this summer. It’s a small way of spreading poetry love.
Another way to spread poetry love is to put our new book on your to-be-bought list. I am proud to be a part of Words that Mend: The Transformative Power of Writing Poetry for Teachers, Students, and Community Wellbeing. The book has been a labor of love. It will be released on Sept. 2nd and will be available for free as a download or for print cost only on Amazon. Hop over to Kim Johnson’s post to see her poetic expression of excitement.
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!”
Today’s Poetry Friday Round up is with Dave at Leap of Dave.
Today was the first Poetry Friday of the new school year. Prompted by Kim Johnson who is writing daily to Dictionary for a Better World, I decided to begin at the beginning with the word Acceptance. Irene Latham wrote the model poem we read today. I have to admit starting with such a metaphor-driven poem was challenging. “I am a word with teeth– a crocodile” At first my students thought the poem was all about a crocodile. We had to work hard to make the connection between the title and the illustration.
From Dictionary for a Better World by Irene Latham and Charles Waters.
When it came time to write, I suggested using Irene’s form for an opening line. I am a word with ______. Adelyn chose the word Art. I adore what she wrote for her first poem of 4th grade gifted class.
ART
I am a word with imagination
A rainbow over my head
Some understand me, some don’t
Yet I don’t wait for supplies I improvise
I rest in a messy room
Full of markers, crayons and sketch books
As I dream of a
peacock flying overhead
by Adelyn, 4th grade
I am happy to be writing poems with kids again!
Here is my poem after Irene on the word Gracious:
Gracious
I am a word with wings– a butterfly landing on a red blossom.
Some want to catch me. Others let me be.
Yet I do not waste time (as you do) in the muddy banks between despair
and hope. I rest in freedom– air, wind– lightly lifting
as nectar fills my soul with sweet gratitude.
Margaret Simon, draft, after Irene Latham
Consider joining me with my friends over at Ethical ELA for this weekend’s Open Write starting tomorrow through Wednesday.
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 