I have been comforted by all of the sympathy notes and messages from this Poetry Friday community over the death of my mother this summer. I appreciate more than ever how this community supports and cares for each other.
In the summer poem swap, organized by Tabatha Yeatts, Denise Krebs sent me two poems, a raccontino and an acrostic of my one little word, Still. She also sent a beautiful crocheted twirly that I’ve hung in my kitchen window.
Still acrostic by Denise KrebsBy Denise KrebsCrochet Twirly from Denise Krebs
My response to Denise:
When a poem comes wrapped in swirls of gold and tied with a ribbon, I open, find, feel myself touching soft grass with my toes finding cool comfort there.
Thanks, Denise, for your comforting words and gift of swirly gold.
The Roundup today is hosted by Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe. We switched dates, so I will round up on Friday, Sept. 5th.
My mother at the piano
After Packing my Suitcase for the Funeral
Then I turn to a portrait of you at the piano (Were you 12 or 13?), your smile the same one I saw in the last days when moving was hard. Your long fingers like a metronome holding rhythm on the bedding. At the funeral, we will cry. We will let you go, ashes to ashes and all. Sing you into heaven and praise the glow of the summer sky.
Margaret Simon, draft
Today I will be traveling to Mississippi where our family will gather and celebrate the life of my mother. I can’t seem to write a poem this summer that does not have her in it. Forgive me, but it seems necessary at this time.
Tabatha Yeatts of The Opposite of Indifference coordinates a poetry exchange. She sent me a poem she wrote based on a podcast she heard and thought of me. I love this Poetry Friday community and how we share poems as well as life events. Thanks, Tabatha for sharing your creativity with me.
Butterfly children
by Tabatha Yeatts
Jo Nagai, boy-scientist,
believed in love-memory,
thought his caterpillars greeted him
after becoming aeronauts, hovering
close as though he was
a dark-eyed flower.
Their memory not wing-scale thin,
but thick as honey.
He loved the before,
the tickle of their round bodies
held on his arm as he conducted his tests
so he shared their small pulse of discomfort.
He loved the after,
the wobbly wings,
the legs slim as a kite’s string.
Jo noted everything,
page after page,
as the butterflies responded
the same as their caterpillar child-selves.
No matter how great the metamorphosis
of being swaddled in the chrysalis
and rebuilt in the soup of creation,
even into the next generation,
young butterflies swooped into
the future’s flowers with messages
from their ancestors:
before you break open,
here’s what I know.
Inspired by Radiolab’s episode “Signal Hill: Caterpillar Roadshow” about a Japanese second-grader who scientifically studied what butterflies can remember.
One of my recent monarchs, “legs slim as a kite’s string.”
Sloth video from my phone. Turn sound down or off. The guide explains the different kinds of sloths near the end. This is a two-toed sloth.
Slow Sloth
I am to you scribbles of God. My two toes touch the heavens on leaves like tea left behind for someone to read, a lie between sun and moon. I am blind to you. As I slowly pass through parting seas of green, only the fruit follows me. I know heaven is green as all sorrow in amorphous shape. I neglect symbols, and drink from mud. I stop and sleep because you are always there.
Margaret Simon, 2022
I wrote this poem after Swift Hummingbird by Ray Bradbury. On Ethical ELA, Jennifer Guyor Jowett introduced antonymic translation in this week’s Open Write. Ray Bradbury wrote of the hummingbird which immediately made me think of the sloth we saw in Costa Rica last week. It was fun to write a poem about it.
Two-Toed Sloth, Wikimedia Commons
Molly Hogan, fellow Inkling, sent me a Summer Poem Swap. Her tranquil poem sent me the blessing I needed along with some homemade (by Molly) strawberry jam and other goodies. Thanks, Molly, for the full-of-care package.
Today I am posting with the “Poetry Sisters” (Tricia Stohr-Hunt, Sara Lewis Holmes, Kelly Ramsdell, Laura Purdie-Salas, Liz Garton Scanlon, and Andi Sibley) who challenged the Poetry Friday community to write zentangle poems. If you are unfamiliar with this form, check out this post by Kat Apel.
I have done zentangle before but I’ve never been satisfied with the results. I got a card in the mail from Jone MacCulloch along with a plaque print of her amazing collage response for our Spark exchange. Jone’s card inspired me to try again with a mentor to emulate.
Zentangle by Jone MacCulloch
From Preservation, Spring 2021 Object Lesson dig over enslaved pieces a tea bowl lives on
This week I received a wonderful summer poem swap gift from Michelle Kogan. Michelle is a watercolor artist in Chicago. She saw posts from me about our wood duck nest boxes and “Jump Day.” I admit to teary eyes when I saw her painting and poem. So special. She sent me a print as well as a homemade notebook with the painting on the cover and poem on the back. I have been writing poems about the wood duck experience and now I have a special place to write them. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks!
I love how Michelle’s poem captures the essence of Joy we feel when we see the ducks jump from their nest box.
Last week I wrote down two lines from Poetry Friday posts. The first was a line from Amy, “If you let yourself.” The second was a clunker that Linda was giving away. “the wish is the thing.”
From those two line gifts, I wrote this draft that I haven’t thrown away yet.
If you let yourself fail & appear worthless, a freedom sets in. Instead of focus on results, you can concentrate on the work of being human.
If you let yourself trust the sun to fertilize, you can leave the blooming to God & be still– the wish is the thing.
Margaret Simon, draft
I received two gift poems today from Tabatha’s wonderful summer poetry swap. Tabatha herself sent me a snake poem. Apparently July 16th is World Snake Day . Who knew? On that day, I opened my storage shed to get the hidden key to our house, and a small very wiggly snake was at my feet caught up in a spider web. I grabbed the key and ran, leaving the door open in case the little scoundrel got itself loose.
For her poem, Tabatha imagined me going on a snake hunt with my grandson. Coincidentally, Leo and I did find a dead snake in our yard a few months ago. He still remembers that snake and points to the spot where we saw it every time. “Nake gone.”
SNAKE HUNTING WITH GRANDMA
Grandma packs our drinks and snacks,
squirts sunblock and rubs it in.
I pick a stick for each of us
to peek at things hidden.
We need a map to follow—
I draw the view from east to west,
plus rainbow snakes sleeping
next to eggs in their nests.
It’s rainbow snakes we’re hunting—
I see garters every day—
A water snake isn’t rare
and king snakes come to play
(sort of). But a rainbow snake’s
a serpent I haven’t seen,
a funny kind of rainbow
with no orange, blue, or green.
Grandma and I walk and watch,
hear noisy birds, see speedy deer,
steer clear of snapping turtles,
and spook hares that disappear.
As we go, we keep our eyes peeled
for the stripes of rainbow snakes.
If we don’t spot one, we still had fun,
and we will hunt another day!
by Tabatha Yeatts
for Margaret Simon,Summer Poem Swap 2020
I also received a poem from Christie Wyman. She, too, captured the bayou life and joy of grandparenting.
Wandering and wondering Together, hand in hand Through the parish Along the Teche’s shores Among sugar cane and pages
Listening For whispers, songs, and the wood duck’s call Feeling Life in abundance Seeking inspiration
Summer means the Summer Poetry Swap which is coordinated by Tabatha. I’ve already received two poetry gifts, and it feels like summer just began.
The first poem I received came from Laura Shovan, a dear poet friend and author of The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementary and Takedown. Laura sent sourdough starter, a whimsical pen, and this poem.
Bread and Water by Laura Shovan
My second poem came from Buffy Silverman. Buffy and I have never met, but I have enjoyed her poetry for years. What delight to open an email from her with this image and beautiful poem about wild iris, blue flag!
Blue Flag by Buffy Silverman
This week Linda Mitchell and I teamed up to provide prompts for Ethical ELA. This site by Sarah Donovan is a wonderful place for teachers to write and receive positive feedback. I enjoyed being a part of the community this week. The poetic responses were amazing! Here is a link to the 5 Day Open Write.
I wrote two poems in response to Linda’s prompts. The first one was a list poem. I had a receipt marking my notebook page. My oldest daughter is having a girl (Yes!) in November. At a local children’s store, I bought the first thing for this new one, a newborn gown.
For the Little Ones
Shorts Shirt Gown–> NB
white silky soft edged with pink stitching to welcome a sister now growing day by day a girl to embrace a girl to bless a girl to love
Margaret Simon, draft
The second prompt from Linda came from Linda Baie’s prompt in Laura Shovan’s Water Poem Project, to write a fiction poem. I took some quotes from my weekend with my kids and built this scene.
Heat
What is it about the 90 degree mark that turns a sunny day into fire burning you through to the bone?
They didn’t speak in the heat; Their brains thirsty, wrung out beyond droplets of sweat, couldn’t fathom anything worthy of saying.
He handed her the phone, clicked play on a video of animal faces, noses in particular, that made her smile, despite herself. She didn’t bother to ask why.
Humor finds its way into the cracks of relationship, beneath the surface of burning skin to release toxins from the crease of a smile.
One of the joys of summer is participating in Tabatha Yeatts’ Summer Poetry Swap. Tabatha creates the matchups, and we enjoy sending and receiving poetic gifts.
This week I received a gift from Jone MacCulloch. Jone took an amazing trip this summer to Page, Arizona where she took photos in Secret Canyon. She wrote a beautiful poem capturing the feeling of being there. She had the image printed onto a plaque that has a stand, so it all becomes a piece of art to display.
I took a quick trip to the beach in Florida last week with my daughter. I posted an interesting image on Instagram and invited friends to write a haiku to it. I had a few takers. The catch was they couldn’t use the word “sun”.
Beach reflection, photo by Margaret Simon
reflective water meets the blinding summer’s jewel they kiss in between
Kaylie Bonin ( a former student, now college freshman)
day’s ending water ignites one final moment
Linda Baie
yellow and white light drawn together by nature reflects the divine
Evelyn Migues
my eyes catch the light bright reflection from above I need sunglasses
Gloria McKenzie
If you want to play along, leave a haiku response in the comments.
Who knew the anhinga could be a beautiful bird, but through the artistic eyes of Michelle Kogan, it is. I love this painting she sent me for the Summer Poetry Swap (organized by Tabatha Yeats). And she wrote a poem dispelling the myth that this is a “devil bird.”
poem and art by Michelle Kogan
ANHINGA
Devil bird– Not I, look in my lichen-like eyes. I’ll wait while wings dry, for kindness to cleanse rumors and lies.
Michelle Kogan (c) 2019
Kindness cleanses me with this wonderful poem. We look at nature and can see ugliness or beauty. We can find danger or kindness. Michelle reminds me that rumors and lies are not real; they are on the surface. When we look deeper, we find beauty and kindness. It’s there.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Jone at Deo Writer.
Each summer I participate in Tabatha’s Summer poetry swap. Poetic gifts coming and going inspire me and uplift me.
My first swap came by way of email from Donna Smith. Donna has been busy selling her house in Maine and moving to Pennsylvania, so snail mail didn’t work for her. The method matters little when you receive a poetry gift. Here’s her poem for me.
poem by Donna Smith, 2019
My second gift was from Kay McGriff. She sent a notebook she had made by hand along with two bookmarks. Her poem for me is a golden shovel from a line I wrote on my blog during National Poetry Month. Both Donna and Kay included images from my life here on the bayou. I appreciate the time they took to read and learn and write a personal poem. We do this in the name of poetry love.
Golden shovel by Kay McGriff
Note about Tropical Storm Barry: Yes, we are in its path. We are ready. Our house is strong, and we have a generator named Sparky. All will be well. Thanks for your concern.
Poetry Friday round-up is with Catherine at Reading to the Core.
The summer is made so much brighter by the exchange of poems arranged by Tabatha Yeatts. Mailboxes share a bit of insight (along with the proverbial wasp or two). I have been pleased to receive two poems so far. The first sent from our friend Ruth Hersey. Ruth sent a postcard of a Georges Seurat painting, one we are all likely familiar with. She also sent this photo that she took of observers of the same painting. Her poem comes from the wisdom of watching these observers.
A Sunday on La Grande Jatte
“Some say they see poetry in my paintings; I see only science.” Georges Seurat
On a summer Sunday afternoon in 2018
We look at a painting of a summer Sunday afternoon in 1884.
All those people with exquisite posture
Whom Georges Seurat saw by the Seine
Have been gone for years,
Bustles and parasols packed away,
The monkey’s chittering long silenced.
And all these slightly scruffier people
Looking at his painting by the Chicago River
Will be gone one day too,
Their baseball hats empty
And their phone screens blank.
The sun through the skylight
Illuminates the Parisians and the Chicagoans,
Shines on those millions of dots of paint that will outlast us all.
Ruth Hersey, (c) 2018
My second poem exchange came this week. It slithered like a snake between bills and advertisements to delight me. Rebecca Herzog wrote a concrete poem (these are so hard to do well) about the Bayou Teche. I am touched that she took time to research the legend of the Bayou Teche. Her research comes together in this fabulous snake.
Poem by Rebecca Herzog (c) 2018
Thanks to Ruth and Rebecca for taking the sting out of getting the mail!
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 