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Posts Tagged ‘#smallpoems’

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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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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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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Franciscan monk feeds the pigeons, Dubrovnik by Molly Hogan

My fellow Inkling (writing group) poet-teacher Molly Hogan went on a fabulous trip to Croatia, Slovenia, and Ireland. She blessed me and all her Facebook friends with lots of amazing photos. I was compelled by this photo. It takes me back to my favorite musical of all time, The Sound of Music. It also reminds me of a kind monk I knew growing up. He was my father’s best friend. His Benedictine name was Brother Anselm. He was witty and wise and an incredible organist.

My poem is a narrative free verse. I wanted to tell a story. I have fond memories of visiting Bill (Brother Anselm) at his monastery in St. Benedict, Louisiana.

Consider writing with me today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Remember this is a drafting space, so kindly write encouraging responses to other writers.

Brother Anselm

Walking into the woods
surrounding the Abbey,
Brother Anselm and I spoke freely.
Our walk was a prayer.

We talked of nothing in particular
as his brown robes swished and swayed,
a comforting blanket of humble access
to a stream of still water.

He reminded me that the holy
is not always quiet. Our voices
echoed among the tall pines,
laughter shaking the ground.

He told me that time was our friend.
Use it wisely and with intention.
Bless the forest with reverent presence
and God will grant you peace.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Photo by Molly Hogan.

Welcome to Wednesday This Photo Wants to Be a Poem Day. While you are here, take a moment to be in/ with the featured photograph. When you feel moved to write, write a small poem inspired by the photo. Leave some or all of your creation in a comment. Respond to other writers with positive feedback.

Today’s photo was taken by Molly Hogan. She is a teacher-poet-photographer friend in Maine. When I first saw and saved this photo, I hadn’t seen the full reflection in the water. I’m not sure where this photo was located, but I want to be there today. Don’t you?

God encircles us
rainbow stretched over water
glows endless hope

Margaret Simon, draft
Molly has the Progressive Poem today.

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On Saturday in downtown New Iberia, we held the Books along the Teche Literary Festival. I spent most of my time volunteering in the children’s tent, but in the late afternoon, I went to hear Faith Broussard Cade ( @fleurdelisspeaks.) Over the past 6 years, Faith has healed from a traumatic brain injury by writing daily affirmations. These Instagram posts have caught fire and have made her an influencer and entrepreneur. I am so proud of her. She is the daughter of a close friend, and she was in my oldest daughter’s high school class.

Faith told her story. She also taught the audience how to write affirmations. Use an I message. Think about what it is you most need to hear. Keep them close to you. She gifted each of us with cotton deckled paper and a flair pen, her go-to tools. She said that her affirmations come from God. She is just the medium. She promotes self-care for women who tend to care for others without taking care of themselves.

Yesterday I used the lavender pen I got to write a poem for Ethical ELA. James prompted us to write a tanka (5,7,5,77) about a moment when everything seemed possible. I have that feeling when I write.

Writing is a choice, yes, but for me, if I don’t do it, I feel something is missing. Yesterday as I was walking, I spoke into my notes app and wrote this small poem, another one in a stream of words that are processing my experience with Alzheimer’s. I am hopeful that somehow these poems connect with someone while they give me processing time, space for my grief.

I Forgot

when it started
and wonder about its end 
as my pace slows
to hear the calls
of the Carolina wren that once nested
in a begonia pot on her porch.

There are so many things
I do not know.
There are so many things
I have yet to know,
but on this day as the birds sing,
I do know she will always love me.

Margaret Simon, draft
The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Ruth today at There is no such thing as a God forsaken town.

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