This garden statue was a gift from a friend for my birthday last year (or the year before?) She is nestled in a space with succulents. This morning there was rain and I was drawn to how she seems to be catching raindrops with her upturned face. Maybe she can inspire a small poem in you today.
Angel face upturned glittered with raindrops holding morning clouds with Hope
Today I chose to use the elfchen form. The directions for this form:
Consider writing today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
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.
One of my students brought a small photo album to school and shared with me this photo of her as a baby, probably between 18 months and 2 years old. She was a flower girl in a wedding. There are so many things to love about this photo. The facial expression, her rosy baby cheeks, and the celebration of love. So I took a photo of the photo, which doesn’t make for great quality, but you get the idea. May Day is a time for celebrating the warmth of spring and the blooming of flowers. (I do not have permission for the use of the photo.)
Flower girl
To honor the Asian tradition, I wrote a Luc Bat. The syllable count is 6, 8 (luc bat translates to six, eight) and in the 8 syllable line, the 6th syllable rhymes. There is no limit to the number of lines, but it typically ends on the 8 syllable line.
Our song begins with praise fills temple as we raise our one voice. Flower-scented hands held together by bands of love.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please respond to this photo with a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.
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.
I wrote a book years ago about a girl who loved a chicken. Her name was Blessen. Blessen still lives in my heart. I don’t know her, but I know her because I created her. Here is a child I don’t know. She is hugging a chicken. I love the image and I borrowed it from Facebook. I don’t have permission to publish it, so please do not take it.
Can you create a character in a poem today? A child who loves chickens or all animals? Who is she? Explore her with a fictional poem. Today I am choosing the form of cherita which is a 6-lined poem broken into 3 stanzas. (stanza 1: one line; stanza 2: 2 lines; stanza 3: 3 lines.) Cherita means story, so the poem should tell a story. An example from Mary Lee is here.
Curly locks and black feathers
hold on to each other– friend to friend
Cherishing a moment before the parade when black feathers will fly.
Margaret Simon, draft
There is a weird tradition here in South Louisiana at Mardi Gras when country folks chase a chicken for a gumbo. It’s a drunken, barbaric affair that I struggle with. Many believe it is harmless fun.
Leave your own poem (cherita or other small poem) in the comments. Give encouraging responses to other writers.
Instead of Christmas presents, we gave our children and their families a house in the Appalachian mountains of North Georgia. This is a view of the house from the lake below. I don’t think I could have picked a more perfect spot. Today it becomes an image for inspiration. You may focus on the green moss on the log, the act of looking up, or the idea of a perfect place to rest. Happy New Year! I hope it brings you joy and renewal.
I am still ruminating on my One Little Word for 2024. It may or may not be the word at the end of this poem. I’ve been having fun playing with the elfchen (elevenie) form. The basis is 1 word, 2 words, 3 words, 4 words, 1 word. The magic of the form seems to happen when writing about the first word leads to a conclusion in the last word.
Tomorrow I will host Spiritual Thursday. We are writing about our One Little Word choices. Please join us.
Mountain House
Wood chopped, stacked the fire pit where secrets are shared– Connection
Kim Douillard lives near San Diego, California. She teaches first graders using art and writing. I’m sure she is a kid at heart after I saw this image on Instagram. A beach snowman? Muddy monster? With a stick as a nose and seashell eyes, I found it/him/her engaging. Today I will introduce Cousin It to my students and hope their imaginations will ignite and find a poem. Where does your imagination go? Write a small poem and share it in the comments. We are a caring community of writers. Respond to others with encouraging words.
I gave myself the challenge of writing a triolet this morning. I find that working in form can draw out something new, maybe even weird, that’s been buried under the surface of my judgement.
Champion
In the shape of soil and mud lives a creature of the night who transforms as we should from a shape of soil and mud to survivors of the flood holding roots in hope of flight we bear the shape of soil and mud living creatures day and night.
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.
While I was in Ohio for NCTE, my husband sent me this photo of a harvested sugarcane field under an awe-inspiring sunset. He described it to me this morning, “It covered the whole world!” Ethical ELA held its Open Write this week. Kim Johnson prompted us to write a poem using Ada Limón’s poem Give Me This. I wrote a golden shovel about this photo using a striking line: “Why am I not allowed delight?”
So many sunset photos, I wonder why
attraction to orange, pink, purple sky is what I am
with you. Loving this mirror–I
with you, noticing. We are not
the same, yet we’re always allowed
a sunset delight.
Margaret Simon, after Ada Limón
I invite you to write an ekphrastic poem about this photo. Imagine the bigness of the sky, the awe-inspiring sunset, a field of brown…wherever the muse takes you. I hope you take a moment away from your Thanksgiving preparations to write. Come back if you can to comment on others’ poems with encouraging words. Most of all, “Happy Thanksgiving!”
I discovered The Private Eye Project years ago and have a set of jewel loupes in my classrooms. For our nature field trip last week, I brought them with us. One of our goals was to look at nature from different perspectives, as art and as explorers.
I took this picture of a rock one of my students shared with me. There is a whole kingdom inside one sedimentary rock. Use your imagination to write about this ordinary object in an extraordinary way. Make a list of what the rock looks like. You can create an extended metaphor poem. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers.
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 