Staghorn Fern at the New Orleans Botanical Gardens
Yesterday I toured the New Orleans Botanical Gardens with my sister who drove from Baton Rouge to spend the day with me. I am here babysitting my grandson who is in his last days of kindergarten.
Beth and I were fascinated by these magnificent ferns. They are epiphytic ferns that thrive in humid environments. I am wondering how one would do in my own bayou-side yard.
Being fascinated by words, I love how the name of this fern is a metaphor for the shape of its leaves. Their fronds look like antlers.
Today’s photo poem is a haiku. Please consider writing alongside me in the comments. Support other writers with encouraging comments.
With outstretched green horns mounted like taxidermy strong yet supported
I love April! The days start out cool and warm up, but a gentle breeze keeps the heat tolerable. On Sunday, we canoed with friends to the park where there was a symphony concert. The paddling to get there was made harder by the breeze, but we were able to make it just in time for the concert.
On the way, we spotted this Muscovy duck and her babies. The Muscovy is a domestic duck with a warty red bill. Her littles were adorable scrambling around her so quickly that I couldn’t count them.
My quick internet research said, “Aztec rulers wore cloaks made from the feathers of the Muscovy duck, which was considered the totem animal of the Wind God, Ehecatl.” (All about Birds)
At Ethical ELA, Erica Johnson is leading us in writing a “Playful Cascade” which is a poem form that takes each line of the first stanza making them the last line of the next stanzas. I decided to use tercets, 3 lines per stanza.
Muscovy Ducklings Play
Scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth staying in sight of mother duck— gymnasts in a bayou playground.
We slowly push along stroke by stroke keeping watch for new spring life, see scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth.
Whose waters are these, I think I know: these tiny ducklings move so quick staying in sight of mother duck.
This journey we share is not all ease. Time and patience required, we are all gymnasts in a bayou playground.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please join me in writing about this little miracle of life. Be sure to leave encouraging words for other writers.
Rose Cappelli has the line from the Land of Poetry Progressive Poem today. She used her secret favorite devise of alliteration. It’s my favorite, too. As I tell students, it just sounds good.
At Ethical ELA, Luke Bensing prompted us to use alliteration in our first and last lines. The photo today is from my visit to the butterfly exhibit in New Orleans at the Audubon Aquarium and Insectarium. I wrote a septercet, which is a small three lined poem of 7 syllables each.
Purple pops of salvia nectar-seeking flutter by season for saving scents
If you wish to write a poem today, please leave it in the comments and respond to other writers with encouragement.
Gestures weave strips of burial cloth cross-hatching of sounds violent and soothing like a balm on the day of death.
Jesus wept.
Jesus weeps with me in joy and sorrow, frustration and calm.
Our cries do not go unnoticed. We tear off the garment binding us to darkness, enter into the Easter of light eternal.
Margaret Simon, draft
At Ethical ELA, Melissa Heaton prompted us to write an ekphrastic poem, a poem about art. I turned to my father’s illustration of Lazarus. This drawing was in his folder of bible study material. His usual style was pointillism. This drawing, to me, is striking with its wild gestures.
Yesterday, for Good Friday, I led a morning meditation. My friend Carolyn played her singing bowls while the lawn mowers roared outside. At first I was irritated by this invasion, but as I wrote, I found that the juxtaposition of sounds was the point.
Carolyn plays the singing bowls in the sanctuary.
The Progressive Poem is with Donna Smith at Mainely Write.
There’s a lot going on in the photo today. It’s not a great shot, but I love it for the action it conveys. I’m the shadow taking the photo. Stella, age 5, is showing me a heart through the glass. In the background, in typical fashion, Leo, age 7, is leaping. He was outside with his father helping with yard work (note the too big garden gloves.)
On Wednesday mornings I often have no real idea of what photo I will use as a poem prompt. I had forgotten about this one. What’s in my heart may not be in yours, but I hope you can find a way into writing. Please leave a poem in the comments and support other writers with your responses. All are welcome.
Your heart
Is in mine nesting, nurturing, urging me to capture every moment of your love, through the window, over my shadow into my joy-glow.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Each Wednesday I post a photo that appeals to my poetic senses. I invite you to join me in writing a small poem, poem of presence, in the comments and support other writers with encouragement.
Today’s photo is by a local retired teacher photographer Lory Landry. We do not live in the Bluebonnet state of Texas; however, we have a neighbor who has successfully planted bluebonnets in a ditch near the road. I’m tempted every year to stop and romp through the flowers. It appears that Lory did just that and took her camera along. It takes a steady hand and skills to capture a busy bee.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
This photo I took of a visiting cardinal. As the day’s news gets more and more tragic, I turn to nature. Some southerners believe that when you see a red bird, you are visited by a lost loved one.
This morning in my email feed, I received the word of the day from Merriam-Webster, besotted: “Someone described as besotted is so in love that they are unable to think clearly.”
I thought Besotted would make a good title for a poem. This is a drafting post. If you are inspired by the photo, please leave your own poem in the comments and support other writers with positive comments.
Besotted
You in your red cardinal coat distract me humble me enamor me Perched with pride, you say,
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
On my morning walk, I stopped to talk to a new-to-me neighbor. She’s lived in her house for a long time, but my route recently changed. I met her, but she already knows a good bit about me. (Small town)
We talked about my new board book (coming Tuesday), her new great granddaughter she wants a signed copy for, sound frequency healing, and gardens. She told me, “Did you know that the sound of the birds singing in the morning actually makes the plants open up and grow?”
As I continued my walk, I turned off my book on tape and turned on the Merlin app amazed by the number of birds around me. I spoke a poem into my notes app.
The Dawn Chorus
The songs of the birds wake my winter mind: sparrow, wren, small and mighty in their announcement of spring. A tickle of rain, a wave from morning fleabane Two turtles bobbing on a log Stamens seem to say, “Welcome! Welcome to this day!”
Today is the first Friday of the month which is time for our Inklings challenge. This month Molly, our PF host today, asked us to follow a prompt to replace word for word of a Wendell Barry small poem. “Like Snow”
In South Louisiana, we don’t get much snow, but winter is a time for fog. One morning I watched the fog floating above the bayou and wrote my poem response.
Like Fog
What if I became a mist
Like the fog, softly, softly
Lifting the day.
Fog on Bayou Teche
To read how other Inklings met this challenge, click below:
This month the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a tricube. The tricube form is 3 syllables, 3 lines, 3 stanzas.
Molly Hogan sent me the list of prompts from the MoSt Poetry Center. The prompt I used was this:
“Write a poem of presence, in terms of being in a particular place and time, or of having a dynamic demeanor (such as in “stage presence”) or a feeling of an unseen spirit. Here’s an example by Arthur Sze, our new U. S. Poet Laureate:
Every year as I begin to set intentions, I get the universal message of presence. I feel presence is essential to peace of mind, but it is difficult to find.
I have a new kayak. Taking the kayak out took some initiative and help from my husband hero. Jeff had the grandkids in the canoe. When I wanted to try to get the kayak out of the water by myself, my grandson Leo said, “Prove it.” That was all the challenge I needed to pull the 60 pound vessel onto the dock. I did it.
First kayak adventure in “Chrysalis.”
Here after Arthur Sze
Be here now Here frog croaks Here wren calls
Be here now Here stalk grows Here tea steams
Be here now Here oar strokes Here strength comes
Margaret Simon
I want to thank Tabatha Yeatts who offered on Poetry Friday last week to do an art piece for our 2026 words. I took her up on the offer. I’m touched and amazed at how this speaks to my intention for the year as well as the tricube I wrote.
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 