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Posts Tagged ‘#poemsofpresence’

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference.

This week has been weird. Weirdly wonderful. Here on the Gulf coast, we had a snowstorm that broke records all the way back to 1899. The snow fell all day on Tuesday and shut down the whole area for two days. Businesses opened up on Thursday, but we haven’t gone back to school. Our water systems are not built to handle this kind of weather and single digit temperatures, so water pipes have burst and water pressure is down. In Coteau, where one of my schools is located, they cut off water for 12 hours. But my students and my grandchildren have had a blast!

I can’t stop writing about it. On Tuesday, the Ethical ELA Open Write prompt was introduced by Erica Johnson. You can read the full prompt and lots of great poems here.

Enzo Blizzard 2025

It wasn’t until I walked in the snow
that I discovered
snow is wet. In the movies, actors
never seem bedraggled.

And now as a historic blizzard
pours down snow, I remember
my rain boots in the dusty box,
dig out the snap-on hood for the coat,
and place a towel by the back door.

And yet, snow is silent
surprising me with a steady
fluttering rhythm of soft white flakes.

I know this phenomenon is unreal,
ethereal, a moment I want to keep
in a photograph to cherish
and hold.

Margaret Simon, draft

The back of our house in the snow. photo by Maggie Simon LeBlanc.

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Cajun Snowman

Acadiana in Louisiana has gotten a rare, historical snowstorm. Cajuns all around are reconnecting to their Canadian roots and building snowmen. This one was posted by a colleague at my school, Alice Suire.

It’s still bitter cold here, so the snow is sticking. Another snow day! For those of you not familiar with French, the word couillon means fool.

Snowman Elfchen

Snowman
On truckbed
Rare Louisiana snow
Old family traditions reinvented
Couillon

Margaret Simon, draft

Please leave a small poem in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement. And stay warm!

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Dawning Wolf Moon

The full moon greeted me on a frigid morning this week. I don’t think Iphones are great at taking moon photos. This photo with its automatic longer exposure blurred the cloud cover creating an interesting effect, don’t you think? I know I’ve featured moon photos here often. Like ocean view photos, I never tire of the peaceful feeling of a full moon, especially the bright light on a cold morning.

Dawning Wolf Moon

Moon’s perfect circle
holds me in her gaze.
Her royal crown welcomes dawn.

I look up and belong
to her still space.
In her light, I find
my footing.

Today as I write, I am thinking about word choice. The last line has a few scratches in my notebook. The choices were:
I belong to the night
I become myself
I see light that welcomes me

There are many choices when writing a poem, and I am never sure which one is the right choice, and perhaps they are all good. How do you decide what words to choose? What makes a final draft? Is there really such a thing?

Join me today in writing about the moon (again) or anything else that is needing to be written. I offer a safe place where you belong.

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Winter Drive by Margaret Simon

I took this photo from my car window last Saturday as I drove home from Mississippi, from visiting my mom. As I drove farther west, the sun played peek-a-boo in and out of the clouds. I have so many mixed feelings while driving these flat Louisiana country roads. Longing for home while my mother tugs at my heart strings. I have this difficult feeling that I may not see her again mixed with the joy of being with her. She still knows me as someone she loves. Her face brightens when I walk in the room. While I was there, she ate her whole lunch.

Often I find solace in nature, that somehow the natural world knows how I feel and gives me something to hold onto. On this day, it was the setting sun sending rays out from behind the gray clouds.

For our time together writing about a photo, I like to turn to form. Form can give me comfort, too. A safe space to hold my emotions. Today I chose the nonet, nine lines in which each line reduces by one word, beginning with nine. I like how the form looks like a setting sun.

As the sun melts slowly on the horizon, remember
your heart is a safe place for love,
where even on the coldest winter days,
you know you are a child
playing peek-a-boo with the sun.
Memories of happy smiles
fade and lift
an inevitable
horizon.
Margaret Simon, draft

I hope your winter days are giving you some time and space for writing. Please leave a small poem, form or free verse, in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.

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Poetry Friday is hosted by Mary Lee today at A(nother) Year of Reading.

Dear Poetry Friends,

I am posting on my phone because I’m having trouble connecting in a hotel room. I’m visiting my mother who is in the end stages of Alzheimer’s. This time is filled with hard and love, tears and joy.

Heidi challenged the Inklings this first Friday to choose a prompt from her Yule calendar. Since I spent last week in the company of my grandchildren, I was drawn to the prompt “Capture the sound of laughter in rhyme.”

I am taking delight in watching my grandchildren laugh. This poem is dedicated to my granddaughter, June, who was two on Dec. 21st.

De-Light

I taste a note of nutmeg
on my tongue, a slight burn
while I yearn
for sweetness,
and your song

“Happy Day Day”

your two-ness
of delight    candles to blow
ribbons flow

twisting into this gift
of a child shifting,

becoming laughter.

Margaret Simon, draft

June is Two!

To see how other Inklings wrote to this challenge:

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core

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Oklahoma Rock Still Life

My family of eleven traveled to Oklahoma for our Christmas trip. Everything was just right, all of us together, the cousins playing, gathering around the fire pit. In Oklahoma they have rocks. One day we went to a place where the kids could mine for rocks. Cheesy, yes. So was the shesquatch who brought donuts. But it was all part of the attitude of vacation.

I took this rock from the yard of the house we stayed in. I placed in on my kitchen table with a butterfly clip that was on a Christmas gift. I want to remind myself when things get busy again that there is time for stillness.

Please join me on this first day of 2025 and commit to stillness in which writing may come.

Like hearth is to home

Your love is my solid rock

Keeping me steady

Margaret Simon, draft

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Main Street Fountain by Margaret Simon

Last weekend I took my grandchildren to the Main Street library to do Christmas crafts. They enjoyed playing around the fountain. They were full of questions: Can you swim in there? Can I touch the water? Leo genuflected with the water, a move he apparently saw Spider-Man do.

I took this photo, marveling at how the drops of water seemed to dance in the wind.

I offer this photo as inspiration for your writing today. Do you have memories that may emerge? Can you write a small poem or haiku describing what you see? Anything is possible in poetry.

I’ve been writing Advent elfchen. Today’s poem sticks with this form.

Fountain
Dances along
While children play
Splashes of joyful laughter
Bubbler

by Margaret Simon, draft

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Live oak roots

Here in the deep south, live oak trees are iconic. This root is old and has emerged over time from the ground. I took notice of its unique design. As no two humans are exactly the same, I imagine trees have their own personalities, too.

I started the year 2024 with writing daily elfchen. For this Advent season, I’ve picked up the form again. Here are the rules:

Grounded
Roots revealed
Begging us hear
The true language of
Connection
Margaret Simon, draft

Join me today in writing to this photo prompt. Come back to offer encouragement to other writers.

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Lobster trap tree

As we end our vacation in Portland, Maine, we found the best place to eat lobster, Luke’s. Outside the restaurant on a peer overlooking the Old Port Harbor, there was a young boy putting finishing touches on the huge stack of lobster traps turned Christmas tree.

As we head back home to Louisiana for big family Thanksgiving, we are grateful for this time to relax and enjoy a different place in the world.

I invite you to leave a small poem of gratitude today.

An ordinary trap

Becomes a beacon of light

For traveling mercies

Margaret Simon, draft

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Butterfly Mushroom? by Margaret Simon

I noticed this mushroom in the grass and how in its disintegrating process, it looked like a butterfly, but on closer examination, there is a small worm crawling that camouflaged as the butterfly’s body. Our eyes play tricks on us all the time. Think about what you see and contrast that to what’s not actually there that you may imagine you see. Share a small poem in the comments.

Filaments of brown
turn mushroom inside out
peaceful inclusion

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