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Posts Tagged ‘#poemsofpresence’

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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Newly emerged Gulf Fritillary by Margaret Simon

I’ve been raising Gulf Fritillaries in a butterfly enclosure. One day this week we came into the classroom to find one butterfly and within minutes, like magic, there were three. Unlike monarchs, these seem to just pop out in seconds. We haven’t witness the emerging yet.

I am participating in Mary Lee Hahn’s #haikuforhealing on Instagram. This is a way to put beauty out into the world. Join me and my students today writing about the miracles of nature.

Open your wings
Flutter in sacred silence
Then let go and fly

@Margaret Simon

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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Cathy at Merely Day by Day

With my fifth and sixth grade students, I am reading Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse. I’m amazed at the parallels of the Dust Bowl to our current climate crisis in Louisiana, but that is a post for another time. Today I am determined to focus on beauty.

The poem Apple Blossoms was our mentor text. I wrote alongside my students about our favorite fruits. Mine is currently overflowing on a tree in our backyard, the satsuma.

Photo by Davut ERDEM on Pexels.com

Ode to the Satsuma

after Karen Hesse “Apple Blossoms” Out of the Dust

Not just an orange,
you are the ultimate
citrus,
hanging like golden ornaments
on our tree near the fence
where butterflies play
and spiders web.

Your easy-to-peel goodness
makes anticipation grow
in fall, until by Halloween,
the tree is full, overflowing, drooping, dripping
inviting me to basket
a gift for you
to share juicy sweetness
and smile! 

Margaret Simon, draft

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Prayer candles in St. James Episcopal Church, 2024 by Margaret Simon

I was in my childhood home church on Sunday. While the scent of incense lingered, I walked over to the columbarium to say hello to my dad. I saw the metal rack of votive candles. I decided to light a candle for my mother, in hospice care at the end stages of Alzheimer’s, and one for my daughter’s mother-in-law who is battling cancer. To light a candle for someone symbolizes the prayer intention. Do we need this symbols? I believe we can pray without them, of course, but something in me was comforted by the act of lighting.

I invite you to consider holy moments, whether they be in church or out in nature, perhaps even in the quiet of your day. We can set intentions and practice mindfulness. What are your intentions today? Write a small poem in the comments and encourage others who write with us.

Instead of empty…
fill
Instead of fallow…
fertile
Instead of loss…
love
Instead of lies…
truth
Instead of hopelessness…
faith

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Mossy Ghost by Margaret Simon

If you have a tree covered in moss, then you must hang a ghost there.

I’ve taken a number of pictures of Halloween decorations thinking about the photo for this week. This one is the winner. In my neck of the woods (South Louisiana), moss covered trees are common. My husband grew up calling it “spooky moss”. It is the common Spanish moss, and on some trees, the stuff practically takes over the tree, even though I’ve read that moss is a bromeliad in the pineapple family and does not harm the tree.

“Many homeowners think that Spanish moss kills their trees. This is not the case because the moss is not parasitic. The only thing Spanish moss uses trees for is support.” University of Florida.

Yesterday as we were writing metaphors for artifacts in nature (#WriteOut), Avalyn created this form:
The (A, An) object in nature
is/is like …
describe how it is like
end with a connection to life

I tried the form when writing about milkweed seeds. I combined it with a prompt from Ethical ELA to write with words from paint chips here.


A milkweed seed
is a great white egret
showing off its lacy wings
to the mirrored pool in the sky.

Margaret Simon, draft

Spanish moss
are stalactites
hanging on a crepe myrtle
hosting ghostly terrormites.
Margaret Simon, draft

Now it’s your turn. You can try Avalyn’s form or use your own. Please encourage other writers with your responses. Happy Halloween!

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