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.
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
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
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.
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
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.
Amanda Potts on Instagram is @persistenceandpedagogy. She’s become quite the photographer on her daily walks in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. She posted this one last week of an open pod of milkweed seeds. I am waiting for my milkweed to sprout, but I’m worried that the freeze killed it.
Amanda’s photo stirred an emotion in me. Look for the light. These seeds seem to be glowing from the center. They have places to go, places to land, places to nurture our most precious monarch caterpillars.
Write a small poem inspired by this photo and leave it in the comments. Please encourage other writers with your responses.
Parachute on wind gentle flight for precious gems whirl to wake the world.
Today’s photo is a sign of the season, a lit up Christmas tree yard decoration in my neighborhood. I’m an early morning walker and the combination of the darkness and the cold drew my eye to this yard filled with lights. I know the couple who live there, so I was also comforted by their presence, too, inwardly thanking them for this photo opp.
Moss tree with twinkle lights by Margaret Simon
Recently I learned about a new-to-me poetry form, elfchen, from Mary Lee. It’s a fun form to play with, similar to a cinquain, yet each line answers a question. Another word for this form is the elevenie. Being a fan of the number 11 (my birthday and my father’s fall on the 11th), I wanted to give the form a test run.
Row
Words
Content
1
1
A thought, an object, a colour, a smell or the like
2
2
What does the word from the first row do?
3
3
Where or how is the word of row 1?
4
4
What do you mean?
5
1
Conclusion: What results from all this? What is the outcome?
From Wikipedia
Moss Ghost Tree
lights colorfully twinkle brighten winter’s darkness with a firefly-tree delight
Margaret Simon, draft
How are you handling this winter’s solstice? Do you put up lights in your yard? Take this invitation to write about your own traditions for this time of year. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses. Thanks for your dedication to this weekly practice.
I will not be posting next Wednesday. I’m taking a family trip to North Georgia. This Photo will be back in the New Year. Have a Happy Holiday!
December is a time of diminishing light. Days are getting shorter. Sunrise is later in the morning. Sunset is earlier in the afternoon. The change of light leads us to winter solstice with more darkness, cooler temperatures. Do you feel the change? Does your mood change? What does diminishing light in the rear view mirror symbolize to you?
Rear view window on a country road (Coteau Road)
Driving on the Coteau Road rushing toward my day,
I looked in the rear view mirror, noticing the rising light.
Beacon to feel the past push me toward future with healing hope.
Margaret Simon, draft
My poetry writing happens early in the morning when the hum of the heater makes me want to pull the covers up and sleep. For This Photo, I draft directly into the post. I accept whatever comes. I hope you will give yourself a moment of meditation and write a small poem draft in the comments. Meet yourself where you are, without judgement. Leave your draft in the comments and encourage each other as writers who give a piece of themselves to the page.
Leigh Anne Eck has been naming moons. I was taken by this photo she posted and her commentary about it:
I have been naming skies for a few months now. Typically I capture the morning sky on my way to school. Tonight I captured this one on my way home from a basketball game.
I have named it “perspective.” Sometimes when we look at something from another perspective, our eyes and hearts become open to new possibilities! I hope you see something with new eyes this week!
When I was walking in the early morning on Tuesday, the sky was a deep blue with the moon glowing its heart out before the sunrise. We are often mused by the moon, I know, but I hope you will write another time and another about this mysterious and magical being. Leave a small poem in the comments and write encouraging words for other writers. Your vulnerability is safe here.
I’ve been listening to The Book of Common Courage by K. J. Ramsey. She writes poems and prayers as she is going through a healing journey. I loved the term “holy margins” and borrowed it here to write a luc bat short verse.
Sometimes clouds bloom above clouding the image of your light. An orb of love this night you fold in my tears, tight and true with holy margins blue.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 