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| Photo provided by Mary Ann Potter |
It's the languid quiet of mid afternoon I remember,
lethargic days spent trance-like, supinely sprawled
beneath Grandmother's cherry tree, bees buzzing,
book more often than not drooped at an odd angle,
obscure dreams reshaping in endless cerulean-blue.
This sweet potpourri of hope I often scoop up,
splash upon face, shoulders, mind, inhale the dreams
of childhood long ago...
I went back once, the farm house bearing up under neglect,
abandonment. What of the knarled, bent umbrella, my protector
of summer heat and youthful fancies? My reservoir of strength
is still there, but only in my mind's eye
and thank God, it hasn't run dry.
by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, February 19, 2012
* * * * *
This is hastily written for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Sunday Challenge. A photographic prompt provided by one of my favorite blogging photographers and poets... Mary Ann Potter. Her blog is "From the Starcatcher". I'm sure I will come back and want to re-work this, but sometimes it is interesting to leave the initial writing as is for a while ...
I have had an extremely busy week and I am behind in my blog visiting and commenting. I look forward to a relaxing Monday morning (of no sick kids, no "responsibilities") catching up and being inspired by my fellow poets and photographers.
16 comments:
i love the last paragraph. so true...
The book, at its odd angle, made this for me. It brought the whole scene alive for me, somehow.
Oh this poem took me right back to my grandma's yard, where my childhood found its safety. This was a beautiful read, reminded me of summer days reading in the hammock.
p.s. I love your "reservoir of strength" very much!
Margaret I love this poem and definitely your photo also! Really speaks to me of how powerful these sweet remembrances are!
I hope your reservoir never runs dry, Margaret, because it is full of wonderful creativity.
This poem could have been about my youth, too. The tree, the book, the dreams...so perfect.
K
I too like the book at an odd angle line. Coming back, everything always seems so much smaller than when you were a child. Gret writing...loved it.
I so enjoyed this, took me back to my own grandmothers house...and what really got to me was "This sweet potpourri of hope I often scoop up,
splash upon face, shoulders, mind, inhale the dreams
of childhood long ago", that is so beautiful and so right on the mark!!
Such a wonderful mood of reminiscence. I love the 3-line bridging stanza - it really tapped into the emotions.
Wonderful ending to this poem. I doubt your reservoir will EVER run dry.
Hastily written?! Margaret, this is absolutely beautiful, and it took me back again to grandma's house in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She'd be honored by this, too. I thank you from the bottom of my heart (really!) for the sweet nostalgia prompted by my photo. It means so much.
Lovely, I also think for something hastily written up it is an excellent write.
I loved this line:
'This sweet potpourri of hope I often scoop up'
This sweet potpourri of hope I often scoop up...I love this line. What a beautiful poem.
Another gorgeous write. You capture the aura of the tenderness perfectly! Oh so many great lines, but I loved this one esp. 'obscure dreams reshaping in endless cerulean-blue.'
Thank-you. This is the photo that I kept returning to as well.
What a wonderful quick write. That reservoir certainly does need to stay strong in our mind's eye.
Well done. It's hard to believe you wrote it that fast. :)
Madeleine Begun Kane
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