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Posts Tagged ‘#poemsofpresence’

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Cat in the Window, Kilcullen, Ireland by Jone MacCulloch

When I choose a photo to feature as a poem prompt, I choose what pleases me. Sometimes it’s a picture I’ve taken during the week, but this week it’s a photo that caught my eye on an Instagram post from Jone MacCulloch. I asked her if I could use it this week, and she sent me the photo and the collage she had made with it.

Collage by Jone MacCulloch

Jone wrote, “The piece you like is a mixed media piece. I have been playing with landscape scene. This was a cat in Kilcullin, Ireland, 2022. This has some pieces of my grandmother’s journal(copied). It’s part of a new exhibit in April.” Congratulations to Jone on her upcoming exhibit.

I love how blogging has opened windows and doors for me to creative people. Jone and I have not met in person, but we’ve been on multiple Zoom meetings together. We’ve had conversations through blogging and email. She featured this same photo on her blog for “Wordless Wednesday.” But I think the photo invites words.

Please join me in the comments by writing a small poem today inspired by Jone’s photo or art collage. Encourage other writers with comments.

“A cat’s eyes are windows enabling us to see into another world.” Irish proverb

Behind a lace curtain
on a warm windowsill,
a nonchalant cat
holds a light
until her people
come home.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Sun dappled live oak on Bayou Teche

EnneaThought® for the Day


Type Four EnneaThought®

“Are you still yearning for your ideal life? Appreciate the small daily pleasures, kind words, and heartfelt exchanges that are already present. You’re already more appreciated than you may think.”

I am a type four on the Enneagram. I’m the one who cries, who ponders over the past, and who turns to romanticism. Daily the message for me is to be present. Be still and know…

Recently I have felt rushed and busy. I try to take some time or myself in walks and in writing time. What space can I give to just being in the moment? How can I slow down to breathe and be present?

In poetry, I find a place to be present. When I write with specificity and imagery, I feel present. I also like the comfort of anaphora, a phrase that leads to a new thought. This poem I wrote in response to a prompt on Ethical ELA here from Sarah Donovan. She used the mentor poem “A Place to Breathe” by Christine Hartman Derr from a free Ethical ELA anthology Just YA.

There’s a Way to Breathe Today

It’s the way the sun
dapples the oak tree
with a halo of light.

It’s the way the cypress
needles pop out like
green leprechauns.

It’s the way a bayou
runs through and around
a town of ancestry.

It’s the way I sit
at my table with coffee
and a pen.
Margaret Simon, draft

I hope you find a little corner to breathe in today. Find stillness. Find peace. Write about it.

Don’t forget to sign up for a place in the Kidlit Progressive Poem.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Rose Capelli at Imagine the Possibilities.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Scrap metal on the bank of Bayou Teche

Is it trash or is it art? When my grandkids, my husband, and I were canoeing on Sunday, we passed this piece of metal.

“Look at that! It looks like a heart.”

“I want a photo of it.” Jeff knows what that means. He has often rerouted our canoe trips because of my directions to get a picture. I was extra pleased when, by the time we made it back to the “art”, there was a beautiful reflection of it in the bayou water.

I hope this photo inspires you to stop and see. Maybe write a small poem. If you write a poem, share it in the comments and encourage other writers with responses. Today, I wrote a 15 word poem.

If you find
still water,
place a piece
of your heart near;
reflect imperfect love.
Margaret Simon, draft

If you would like to participate in the Kidlit Progressive Poem for National Poetry Month, sign up in the comments on this post.

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Happy New Year! Today is the Chinese New Year and this year, 2025, is the year of the snake. I am totally afraid of snakes. I even find it hard to touch a photo of a snake. But this year I’m trying on a new skin, a more brave stance toward the scaly beasts. What are they good for?

At a recent art show, I saw this sculpture from nature. Can you find the snake skin? It is fascinating that snakes get to shed their skin in order to grow and change. Snakes symbolize transformation and creativity. How can we as humans “take off our skin” and begin again?

I was reminded of the cherita form in a post yesterday and wanted to offer it for today’s writing prompt. Simply put, a cherita tells a short story in stanzas of one line, two lines, and three lines.

What are your hopes for 2025? What skin do you need to leave behind? Explore with me in a small poem.

Hidden in a bramble of dried prairie grass

A single snake skin looms
empty, translucent, urging me

To believe* in the possibility
of creative transformation
and strength.
by Margaret Simon, draft

*One Little Word 2025

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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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