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Posts Tagged ‘#poemsofpresence’

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Niagara Falls

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged , , , , on October 18, 2023| 15 Comments »

Wildflowers at Niagara Falls, Oct. 2023

For Fall break, my husband and I visited Niagara Falls. This trip was a bucket list item for me. The Falls did not disappoint. They are an amazing feat of nature, the kind that cannot be captured in a photo or video. You have to be there to hear the sounds of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water falling each second. I took a lot of pictures, but when I look at them now, they pale in comparison to the real live event. I’m so happy we did this trip. I highly recommend it. If you are planning to go, let me know. I have suggestions.

This morning’s Poem-a-Day from the Academy of American Poets was by Emily Lee Luan The warble of melting snow is the river. I borrowed her form for my own poem. I find that using a form helps me get out of my head and allowing creativity to do its magic.

The chant of rocks is the falls (after Emily Lee Luan)

is the rush of gravity
is the impulse of water*
is the pull of a mother… child
is the everlasting light of the sun
is the building of power
is the electricity of ages
is the reflection of rainbows
is the promise of peace
is the waking of a dream
is the shift of river
to fall.

Margaret Simon, draft

When you are inspired to write, please leave your poem in the comments so we can share. Write encouraging comments for other writers.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Mossy Sunrise

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged , , , , on October 11, 2023| 25 Comments »

Mossy Sunrise by Margaret Simon

Most mornings I take a walk in my neighborhood. As the days get shorter, I am usually headed home by the time the sun begins to rise. The neighbor’s oak tree drapes over the street and I was drawn to the mossy tendrils hanging. It’s getting close to Halloween, so spooky is on the brain. But maybe this image isn’t spooky at all. Maybe it’s comforting, a sign of almost home, a signature of southern oaks.

My students and I have been writing short poems, haiku and six-word stories, the first two days of Write Out. What I’ve realized and shared with them is that short forms mean every word has to count. On the Write Out poetry page, I found a video by Rich Novack about found poetry. He suggests using nonfiction text from National Park trails to collect words for poetry. For my poem, I googled Spanish Moss and collected a list of words to use in a haiku.

Mother nature braids
her harmless silver ghost–
Sunrise silken shade

Margaret Simon, draft

Consider joining me and my students in writing outside today, observing nature. Perhaps you will find a text to build a poem from. Have fun! Leave your poems in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Fall

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , on September 27, 2023| 18 Comments »

photo by Margaret Simon

Fall here in South Louisiana doesn’t offer much color change of the trees. The oaks stay green. The cypress turn brown. Crepe myrtles are still blooming. I found this yellow beauty near a sweet-gum tree. I picked it up and pressed it into my notebook.

I invite you to think about fall with all your senses.

One of my favorite forms is the zeno created by J. Patrick Lewis. Based on a mathematical sequence, the syllable count is 8,4,2,1,4,2,1,4,2,1 with all the single syllable lines rhyming. I usually decide on the one syllable rhyming words and write the poem around them.

As sun’s glow fades through purple clouds,
I walk alone
seeking
fall.
A yellow leaf
beneath
sprawls,
beckons to hear
barred owl’s
call.

Margaret Simon

Write your own musings in the comments and leave encouraging comments to others. With my students, today I plan to make Zeno Zines. Here’s a video of me sharing a Zine.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Moonflower

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged , , , on September 20, 2023| 15 Comments »

Moonflower in the butterfly garden, by Margaret Simon

In May, my student Avalyn took on a project to create a butterfly garden at her school. When I returned to school this week, she couldn’t wait to show me how the garden was doing. It was full of flowers. The largest was this moon flower. My friend Mary had donated a small plant in the spring and now it is huge! Yesterday we found a fat green caterpillar on it and researched. The caterpillar is a tobacco hornworm and will become a moth. We also found gulf fritillary caterpillars on the passion vine. They’ve eaten it all. I have a passion vine in my own butterfly garden that hasn’t been touched. I will bring some cuttings to help these little prickly cats along. Raising butterflies is a Joy!

Today write your own poem in any form about the moon, this flower, garden pests, butterflies, etc.

Tobacco Hornworm Nonet

Moon
flower
night bloomer
bright white fragrance
among the children
feeds tobacco hornworm.
Watch how he chomps on the leaves;
Aggressive eater, camouflaged
soon will burrow to emerge as moth.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Breath for Flesh

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on September 15, 2023| 19 Comments »

Rose has the round-up at Imagine the Possibilities

This week I have felt nearer to normal. I’ve been thinking about teaching and preparing lessons for my return on Monday. I’m pushing away concerns that I have no control over. Yesterday I invited a neighbor, a retired teacher, to cut and paste magazine words onto Jenga blocks, an idea that originated with Paul Hanks and used by Kim Johnson. (See this post.)

I get a lot of poems in my inbox. Some days it’s too overwhelming to read them all. Some days I find inspiration in a line or a form or an idea. This week I found a first line from Ching-In Chen’s poem Breath for Metal.

Breath for Flesh

This a story
I’ve kept
inside my soft
body. I’ve discovered

breath dissolves
fever–practiced pulling
in, hold, hold,
hold–
sigh.

I am being gentle with her,
speaking softly
through tears
like a light rain in fall.

Release
is real.

Margaret Simon, draft
Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

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Poetry Friday: Enjambed Life

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Poetry Friday, tagged , , , , , on September 1, 2023| 42 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Ramona at Pleasures from the Page.

Today is the first day of September and it comes with a full Blue Moon and slightly cooler temperatures pointing the way to fall. Ah, me! I breathe in deeply and sigh.

August has been a dark month for me, and I am just beginning to emerge from the cocoon of illness. When I asked the Inklings to study and use the tool of enjambment in a poem, I had no idea how my whole life would be enjambed. My hysterectomy in June had the worst possible complication, an opened and infected incision. I had a second surgery on Friday, August 18th. I was in the hospital for 5 days and in bed at home for 10 days following. As I begin to feel better and the cloud is lifting, I am cautiously optimistic that I am healing.

For the enjambment challenge, I offered my friends a model poem from former Louisiana poet laureate Jack Bedell.

Ghost Forest
        —Manchac, after Frank Relle’s photograph, “Alhambra”

1.

Backlit by city and refinery’s glow
these cypress bones shimmer

on the still lake’s surface.
It’s easy to see a storm’s

coming with the sky rolling
gray overhead and the water

glass-calm. Even easier to know
these trees have weathered

some rough winds, their branches
here and there, pointing this

a-way and that at what
we’ve done to this place.

Read the rest here.

Jack Bedell

One early morning this week, I sat outside (at the urging of a close friend) and watched the bayou. This small draft of a poem came to me. I offer it here because it’s the only thing I have and doing this makes me feel normal again. Thanks to all of you who have expressed concern and sent cards and messages.

Is it
the play of light
on the surface
or air bubbles moving
over glass-calm

water I watch
still, quiet bayou
breathe, like me,
slow and deliberate
taking in life-
giving oxygen.

We are trying to survive,
bayou and I,
trying to make this day
meaningful
all the while knowing
breath is all
that matters.

Margaret Simon, draft
Bayou Teche Sunset, by Margaret Simon

To see how other Inklings used enjambment, check out their posts.

Heidi Mordhorst @ My Juicy Little Universe
Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core
Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Phlox with Water droplets

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged , , on August 30, 2023| 41 Comments »

I hope this post finds you happy and healthy and enjoying the last dog days of summer. My friend, fellow teacher-poet Molly Hogan has been getting outside and taking amazing photos in nature. I borrowed this photo from her Facebook page. She identified the flower as phlox. The water droplets transform this image into something new entirely. I’ve been watching a great white egret appear on the bayou each day, so my haiku turns the image to the egret. Use your imagination and write a small poem in the comments. Be sure to read others and encourage with your responses.

Phlox with water droplets by Molly Hogan.

White wings drape water,
bloom droplets of crystal grace
Egret makes no waves

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Dragonfly

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged , , , , on August 9, 2023| 18 Comments »

Deep down south we have many varieties of dragonflies. I love to watch them. They fascinate me and take me away from worry to a place of gratitude. Who doesn’t love a good Google search for meaning?

“Dragonfly’s can be a symbol of self that comes with maturity. They can symbolize going past self-created illusions that limit our growth and ability to change. The Dragonfly has been a symbol of happiness, new beginnings and change for many centuries. The Dragonfly means hope, change, and love.” https://dragonflytransitions.com/why-the-dragonfly

That first sentence grabbed me “self that comes with maturity” because this is the week of my birthday. I will be 62. If there is an age of maturity, I’d go with anything past 50, but now that I’m in my 60’s, stuff keeps happening that requires me to be mature, to change the things I can, and accept the things I cannot change.

Consider writing with us today. You can choose one of the many things that a dragonfly symbolizes or write whatever comes. This is a safe place to explore. Perhaps time yourself for 7-10 minutes. Turn off the critic and let the words flow. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.

Dragonfly dazzles
a dry branch, revealing
self-purity

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Volunteer Zinnia

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , on July 12, 2023| 35 Comments »

Volunteer Zinnia by James Edmunds

Have you ever really focused on a zinnia? They are one of the few flowers that can be grown by seed and withstand high heat. My neighbor, James Edmunds, posted the above photo of a volunteer zinnia. Volunteer means it was not planted by people. It just shows up, and usually in an odd location. I found the one below growing from a crack in a sidewalk.

Zinnia in the sidewalk by Margaret Simon

Reminds me of the Leonard Cohen lyric, “There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

I’m also drawn to the flower in a flower of a zinnia’s center. There are multiple florets. These are important to the reproduction of the flower and most likely the cause of volunteers.

Please join me today in musing on zinnias and cracks and light and anything else that is on your mind. Leave a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with response comments. Thanks for being here.

Patience

Focus on the crack
Feel the throb of pain
Plant a tiny seed

Believe
someday… light
will reach… in

something… new
will grow.

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Portugal Portal

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged , , , on May 31, 2023| 43 Comments »

Summer is here! This is the time I travel vicariously through others. Because of circumstances keeping me at home this summer, I will not be traveling. But my 24 year-old niece recently toured Portugal and posted dreamy, beautiful photos. I asked her if I should put Portugal on my bucket list and her response was “Yes! The hills/stairs are killer but it’s so beautiful.” I’m having second thoughts, but maybe I can build up to it. My walking path is flat and the last time I did an elliptical, I couldn’t walk for a few days. This photo was taken by Taylor Saxena in Madeira, Portugal.

For this flash draft, I used my Insight Timer, an ap that offers a timer with ambient sounds as well as meditations. I’ve set the timer for 5 minutes. When you write today, consider a time limit and accept what comes.

Thoughts come and go. Feelings come and go. Find out what it is that remains.

Ramana Maharshi

Sometimes
I think about going.
Sometimes
I feel what it means to stay.
Stay near you,
listen to the sounds of your voice;
stay for what may be
the last time.
Margaret Simon, draft

Please sit and stay. Write what comes and place your words in the comments. They don’t have to be good or perfect, but they are yours for now, this moment. Reply to other writers with encouraging words.

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