Pádreg Ó Tuama is a master at the Pantoum poetry form. In his newsletter last week, he offered sentence stems and a 1-8 line prompt. He suggested “Don’t stress over it: bring yourself generously to yourself.” The whole prompt can be found here. If you haven’t tried a Pantoum before, you should give it a try. This time I was pleased enough with the results to share my poem with you.
Time
Today, my mind wants peace and I watch the white cat; although yesterday I sang of grace. As I write, I cling to memory
and watch the white cat. When I was younger, I thought tears were weak. As I write and cling to memory, I couldn’t have known, terrible things would happen.
When I was younger and thought tears were weak, I wish I’d known grief is a bitch. I couldn’t have known how terrible things happen. I had a dream I was a cloud.
Grief is a bitch anyway; although yesterday I sang of grace. I dream of clouds. Today my mind offers peace.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Marcie Flinchum Atkins, who has a new book coming out on Tuesday, When Twilight Comes.
For the last Friday of the month, the Poetry Sisters offer a challenge. I wanted to give it a try. The form is Ovillejo, a Spanish form described here.
In Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Substack this week, he posted a poem from Rainer Maria Rilke that began with the line “God speaks to each of us as he makes us.” I love this idea of God, intimate and personal. To get started on the Ovillejo, I borrowed this line. As I worked with the syllable count and rhyme, it changed somewhat.
Belonging
After Rainer Maria Rilke
God speaks fondly to each of us, makes each of us.
Birds respond to God’s call with song— You belong.
Set the paddle deep into water, my daughter.
Stop messing with what doesn’t matter. Sit with God and speak in silence. God knows your peculiar cadence.
Like each of us, you belong, my daughter.
Margaret Simon, draft
Twilight on Lake Lanier, Georgia
Our host, Marcie, asked us to post a favorite picture and poem of twilight to celebrate her new book. When I searched my blog history for a twilight poem, I found last year’s Kidlit Progressive Poem.
April Runs Over
Open an April window let sunlight paint the air stippling every dogwood dappling daffodils with flair
Race to the garden where woodpeckers drum as hummingbirds thrum in the blossoming Sweetgum
Sing as you set up the easels dabble in the paints echo the colors of lilac and phlox commune without constraints
Breathe deeply the gifts of lilacs rejoice in earth’s sweet offerings feel renewed-give thanks at day’s end remember long-ago springs
Bask in a royal spring meadow romp like a golden-doodle pup! startle the sleeping grasshoppers delight in each flowering shrub…
Drinking in orange-blossom twilight relax to the rhythm of stars dotting sky as a passing Whip-poor-will gulps bugs We follow a moonlit path that calls us
Grab your dripping brushes! Our celestial canvas awaits There we swirl, red, white, and blue Behold what magic our montage creates!
Such marvelous palettes the earth bestows When rain greens our hopes, watch them grow, watch them grow!
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.
Inspiration for writing a poem can come from anywhere. I have learned to pay attention to the signs and thank the universe when words become poems. This week I read Eleanor Wilner’s poem “Of a Sun She can Remember”. This poem is a renga poem in which she took the last line of another poem to become her title.
I used the last line of Wilner’s poem, along with other ideas, lines, words from my daily reading to create a poem.
The Golden Net of Meaning in the Light after Eleanor Wilner
When a missile misses its mark, children die. When channels are closed, prices rise. Choose your trouble. Turn your blinded eyes toward the sun. Pace the meadow filled with butterweed. Give your heart-swift to the clouds hovering. We are all connected as the golden cross-hatched web tethered between rose bushes. What I need to say— After the rain, birds sing a glorious chorus.
Margaret Simon, drafted
Pádraig Ó Tuama
If you would like to participate in the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April, please go to this link to sign up.
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 