dVerse Meeting the Bar "Little Traverse Bay (take 2)"

Little Traverse Bay

I plunder her beauty
in search of secrets.

She reflects my image:
face flushed with the rising sun,
splashing, humming, exploring.

If only I'd keep the me she sees,
I wouldn't need a six-sided weathered memento,
uprooted from her protective embrace,

instead I'd store promise internally,
nurture, polish, and appreciate
the imperfect preciousness of me.

by Margaret Bednar, August 30, 2013


This is for dVerse "Meeting the Bar - Give it to Me One More Time (Do it Over Again)"  I used a prosaic poem I wrote August, 1, 2012 (below):

Little Traverse Bay, Michigan

She reflects my image, but I don't see myself; I'm in search of her secrets, some of which lie glistening, imperfect gemstones beneath my feet.  Chillness laps my toes, my fingers, as I plunder her beauty, like a tourist in search of six-sided mementos to nurture, lest I forget.  Forget serenity.  Forget to enjoy the moment.  Forget to step off the path and get wet.  Forget to greet the rising sun and breath it in as it slips beyond the western shore.  Six months from now when I pause and hold a part of her in my hand, I hope I will finally see myself.

by Margaret Bednar, August 1, 2012


A little bit about the Petoskey Stone: HERE


This is about my 500th poem since I have started writing poetry - my first poem was October 18, 2010. Of course, many are not worth re-reading (let alone reading once), but I have enjoyed the journey and thank those who have followed even a part of it!   

"Just My Poetry" is an archive of all my poetry - and can be found on my sidebar.  

Friday Flash 55 "Old Scyene"

 Col. Nichols was shot by John Younger in this store in Scyene, TX December 25, 1869

Old Scyene of 1903

Between Dallas & Mesquite
rests Scyene,
her peeling paint a backdrop

for mockingbirds, wildflowers
and a lone church upon the hill -
all belying rambunctious days

when whiskey was water
and raising hell
made grave-diggers rich

and a law-man dead
for disturbing a Younger
man's breakfast.

Railroads and "respectability"
doomed this six-shooter's town
to faded folklore & history.

by Margaret Bednar, August 29, 2013

This is for Friday Flash 55.   (If one counts the hyphenated words as one and excuses the "&'s" it is 55 words....

The town of Scyene, TX was a true old-west lawless town from 1863-1873.  The above poem is inspired by the Dallas Daily Times Herald, June 21, 1903, pg. 17, col. 1-4.  If you click over, be sure to scan down to read the article "A Frightful Tragedy in the History of Old Scyene".

The article above mentions a woman by the name of Bell Starr (Myra Shirley) and I did a bit of investigating about her.  She had three out-law husbands, and depending upon who you believe, a love child with notorious outlaw Cole Younger.  She was a woman with a gun on her hip and a love for fast horses.    HERE is a link to where she lived and was murdered (shot in the back while riding a horse).

There are two  "highly romanticized" movies out there about Belle Starr, one stars Gene Tierney, another stars Elizabeth Montgomery (Remember the sitcom Be-witch?).

Another fascinating link I have not had a chance to thoroughly read yet is a book written by "outlaw" Cole Younger himself in 1903!  (He rode with Jessie James and his outlaw brother, John Younger, is the man I reference in the poem above).  It is an E-Book (click link) and is fun to look through if not for the old photos themselves.

(Thanks "Run-A-Round Ranch" for the idea for this post)

Below is a google map image of what is left to reference the old town:  Scyene Rd, Dallas, Texas.

Scyene, Texas, truly lost to history - swallowed up by Dallas, Texas

copied from Texas State Historical Association: http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hvs48

SCYENE, TEXAS. Scyene, now surrounded by Dallas, was at St. Augustine and Scyene roads in east central Dallas County. The community, originally called Prairie Creek and Thorpville, acquired its present name in 1854 when it established a post office. An early resident, James Beeman, originally proposed the name White Rock, but the state rejected this suggestion because several existing towns used the name. He then suggested Seine, as unlikely to be duplicated by other towns. His neighbors, however, did not trust his spelling and instead submitted their version, Sceyne, which somehow was altered to the present spelling. Scyene was the haunt of Kansas-Missouri border ruffians such as Myra Shirley (Belle) Starr^qv, who moved there in 1864, Cole and Bob Younger, and Jessie and Frank James. Before the Texas and Pacific Railway bypassed the town in 1873, Scyene had a population of nearly 300, six saloons, a school, a church, a Masonic Lodge, and twenty-six businesses, which included a wagon factory. It had fifty residents and two businesses in 1940. From 1950 through 1980 Scyene was reported to have a population of 155 and two businesses.

dVerse Poetics - Judith Clay (but too late to link up) "Balloons Optional"

"You can fly, Mary" by Judith Clay

Balloons Optional

words

define,

wings release,

so her truth

will forever soar skyward, heavenward -

creating poetry while dancing doves and angels smile.

by Margaret Bednar, August 27, 2013

This is for dVerse Poetics - Judith Clay  (but I'm too late to link up) a whimsical artist in which I just had to try to write a whimsical poem.  I chose a newly introduced poetic form - the Fibonacci (introduced HERE by Imaginary Garden with Real Toads).

This specific print is HERE and is inspired by a 12-year old girl, Mary, who was diagnosed with bone cancer in 2012.  I truly hope she's doing well, enjoying life, but many don't make it.  Children in the hospital so often give a precious gift to so many who visit them, with their sweet souls, hope, and their will to live!

dVerse - Open Link Night Week 111 "I Live Within"

I love to daydream in a flower garden.  Where do you like to daydream?

Would you like to hear this poem read to you by my son?


Check this out on Chirbit

I Live Within

I live within a rev'rie, dance
to Mozart's symphonies and chance
to spread my wings and fly afar
upon imagination's star.

Of truth and knowledge, fine romance
until with jealousy, askance
does dogma take a jealous stance
and cleave and claw a bright red scar!
I live within.

Embrace I must the world and prance
and place a dream's hypnotic trance
upon the minds of those who are
so limited by judgement's glare.
To miracles!  To truth's advance!
I live within.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, July 13, 2012 (REPOSTED 8-27-2013)

This is a rondeau poem which was tricky for me to do...my son pointed out a "fix".  Reverie did not work with the "count" for a rondeau, so I borrowed from Shakespeare (can't go wrong there, right? :)  (Reverie: daydream)

Believe it or not, Albert  Einstein was a daydreamer and considered that and perseverance his greatest assets.   My poem is what I think he would like us all to do... embrace not just what we know, but embrace the world so our knowledge, our truth, can expand!

A quote from him I love is:  "If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales.  If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."  I used the word "fancy" because it fit the rhythm of my structured poem.

Linked with dVerse Open Link Night - Week 111

What kind of daydream is kitty having in this "secondhand" bookstop?

The Mag #183 "Temptation"

Temptation

Dangerous curves
ahead,

testosterone blinding,
warning passed over -

life's fleeting choices
devoured...

full speed ahead.

by Margaret Bednar, August 26, 2013

photo by Steven Kelly

I HIGHLY recommend you flip over to Mr. Kelly's Photographic blog - I have highlighted his "In honour of Shetland" post as the scenic beauty took my breath away ... he writes "thought I'd treat you to a collection of some of my works of the idyllic coastline and dramatic rolling interiors that make these islands so gorgeous."  Truly, it makes me yearn to travel and see the world.

The poem is for "The Mag #183"- her featured photo by Steven Kelly.

IGWRT's "Weekend Mini-Challenge - Fibonacci "The Game" & "If Only"

A painting on the wall outside the Taubman Art Museum in Roanoke, VA

The Game

Time
spins
and we
become sovereign,
lord of creation -
until God laughs and changes the rules.

by Margaret Bednar, August 25, 2013



There are two ways to pronounce "sovereign" (son-rin and sov-er-in)  The first is the one I used for this poem, which is a Fib(onacci).  Click over to Imaginary Garden of Real Toad's for details. 

In my opinion, God is Truth and truth never changes. Human definitions of what truth is does change and often in ways to meet our desires.  And like a parent with a child, God must set us on a course unexpected, but for our own good.  (Just a bit of reflection on my first poem)

I tried to research this form further.  I understand the word count (there are various ways to write it) but I am not sure if it is supposed to be a "fib".  My above form is a bit sarcastic, but let me try again and create a "fib" for this fine Sunday morning.


If Only

Time
spins
and we
willingly change,
virtues not vices
honed; lessons learned from our ancestors.

by Margaret Bednar, August 25, 2013

IGWRT's - Artistic Interpretations "The Sisters"

Susan Macdowell Eakins "Portrait of Mary & Elizabeth" (detail) 1879

The Sisters

Faultlessly gentle my sister, her laughter

a hesitant lift of an otherwise
perfectly strung bowstring mouth -
usually generously bestowed,

yet here we sit this afternoon
in exaggerated solitude, her lashes
fan pale cheeks, eyes downcast,
silver-tipped finger guiding
evenly placed stitches -

I sense more than hear
the altered rhythm - first hint
all is not right, glance sideways,
notice her little finger quivers, fidgets
above a scarlet drop splashed
upon light blue.  Her knee shifts
from mine - first hint I'm the cause
of such distress.

I return to my read, notice
her shoulders rise, hold, release,
as if counting down from ten,
ponder whether "Anna Karenina"
meets not with approval -

think to myself a trifling romance
of hypocrisy, jealousy, and passion
is exactly what she needs.

by Margaret Bednar, August 24, 2013

I am hosting over at "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - Stillness, Silence, Solitutde."  It was first presented on Friday, but I know Friday's are busy and late arrivals are welcome - we always have "Open Link Monday".  Also linked with "IGWRT's Open Link Monday"

Anna Karenina

IGWRT's - Out of Standard "Transformed"

Transformed

Lonely, sad, misunderstood,
I stand, silhouetted,
waiting for a glimpse
of your face.

Often I'm wrapped within
wooly shawl, sometimes
shoulders bared
to summer's soft breeze.

By nature I'm impatient,
driven, jealous
of everything, everyone,

but you gentle me.
A pendant about my neck
shimmers your likeness
a yin to my yang -

and I'm transformed.

by Margaret Bednar, August 21, 2013

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Out of Standard" Blue Moon Special - the twist:  the poem must NOT contain any concepts of night or sky (or night sky) and replacing with adjectives will be CHEATING and will incur a heavy fine.

Moonstone & Emerald Necklace HERE.

Also for Friday Flash 55 , and dVerse "Getting Tight (in here)

Poetry Jam & Friday Flash 55 "The Sound of Silence"

The Sound of Silence

Have you ever touched
the sound of silence,
stood in its embrace,

marveled that its stillness
is often vibrant, fragrant,
even intoxicating?

A gift often unexpected,
thrilling, stunning
if we pause to listen?

I asked my five year old
if he had ever touched silence.
"Of course.  It's a prayer
to and from my heart."

by Margaret Bednar, August 15, 2013

This is for Poetry Jam "The Sound of Silence" and Friday Flash 55.   The photos are from a few of my walks over the past few days.

IGWRT's Open Link Monday & Sepia Saturday #190 "Sweet Reward"

My grandmother titled this photo "Eating Stolen Pie"

Sweet Reward
by Margaret Bednar, August 12, 2013

Bertha was fair
yet often unnoticed,
'til the day she perfected
her sweet apple pie
for a summer picnic.

As college lore goes,
upon sorority steps
young men swooned,
even acted silly,
eager to prove
steadfast devotion
as they competed
for morsels and
fair Bertha's hand

who had become
quite selective,
leaving many a man
downhearted;
but not for long,
as word had spread

to many a feminine ear
and consolation became
its own sweet reward.

My Grandmother titled this one "Mr. Popularity"
For my poem I've entitled it "Sweet Consolation"

This is linked with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Open Link Monday" and

Sepia Saturday #190. Theme photo is available by clicking over ... and it has to do with summer and picnics. This is an amazingly interesting and talented group of people who share historical photographs.  Click on over and enjoy!

My grandmother, Marguerite Hutchins (Beckington) from what I can tell, attended Northern Illinois State Normal School from 1909-1912 earning a teaching degree.  The original campus was one building known as "the castle on the hill" (CLICK HERE) and opened its doors September of 1898.  In 1957 it became Northern Illinois University - its education beyond teacher education... now expanded to business, fine and applied arts, and liberal arts and sciences.  

The Mag #181 "At the Moulin Rouge"

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec "Chilperic" 1895

At the Moulin Rouge

Pointed shoes, swirling skirt
rouged cheeks, painted smile,
bouncing cleavage,  veiled eyes,
frivolous laugh, rhythmic sway,
slow death...
endless bohemian nights.

by Margaret Bednar, August 11, 2013


This is linked and written for The Mag #181.

When I wrote the above poem, I assumed this was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge before I listened to the video below.  If you care to learn about this Post-Impressionism oil painting, please listen to the video below.  It's meant for kids, but I enjoyed it.




Recently I visited the Art Institute of Chicago and really enjoyed this piece of Toulouse-Lautrec's up close.  An oil painting on vellum (a tambourine):

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, "At the Circus: The Bareback Rider" 1888

dVerse - Cowboy Poetry "Death of a Dream"

Death of a Dream

Her beauty reflects
the land she rides,
a harshly seamed mosaic
of repentance and pride,

and as the haunting cry
of a crow's lament
oft' does signal
a songbird's death,

so too womanly dreams
of hearth and home
dashed to bits,
forever to roam

due a jealous rage
and a forty-five,
with the blackbird's caw
her ode does rise.

by Margaret Bednar, June 14, 2013

This was previously published for a cowboy poetry prompt I did a while back for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and I wish I'd had time to write an original for this prompt.  The above is the fabulous photography of Merri Melde of "The Equestrian Vagabond".  She also has a horse BLOG.

Today I link this with dVerse "Cowboy Up".  I hope dVerse revisits this theme again.  Many cowboys (back in the day) were illiterate, yet came up with great meter and rhyme poetry which reflected who they were, how they lived.

I have fallen in love with Cowboy poetry and here are a few links to some I really enjoy:

One of my favorite cowgirl poets is Virginia Bennett and this poem "All that is Left" is one of my favorites.

And here is one, great for a chuckle "Big Boobs Ain't So Hot"

Jack "Trey" Allen does a great job HERE in a poem that tells what cowboy poetry is.

Cursor down the page, but you will find a HUGE index of cowboy poetry HERE.

Poetry Jam & dVerse "No Escape"

No Escape

A blanketed moon
and veiled stars
offer not
a comforter of dark -
no respite upon
woodland's floor
as the devil's descent
unerringly pinpoints
where the hunted hide.

by Margaret Bednar, August 10, 2013

This is linked with Poetry Jam "When the lights go out" and dVerse Open Link Night - the place to be on Tuesday nights.

IGWRT's Transforming Friday's with Hannah "Holy Water"

photobucket - Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

Holy Water

In search of holy,
I mixed essence of rose
and moonlight,

purchased a bit
of Galilee, Fatima,
and Lourdes.

My priest salted and blessed
crystal jar of tap water,
instructed "sprinkle sparsely."

Travelled to Bolivia,
danced upon reflected calm
of Salar de Uyuni -

finally found a cleansing

of prayer, faith, 

and devotion.

Margaret Bednar, August 9, 2013

This is for Imaginary Garden of Real Toads "Transforming Friday's with Hannah" - Hungry and Haunted.  We are pondering the "salt flats" of southwest Bolivia, Salar de Uyuni.  (for a bit of info & more photos follow the "Salar" link)

Magpie Tales #180 "The Model"

M.C. Escher "Drawing Hands" 1948

The Model

Eyes of brown
become strokes of blue,
curved lips, hips,
a brushed caress.

Blush no longer,
yet he paints innocence
in field of flowers,

oak studio floor
transformed
as much as I.

Resigned.

He'll never see
beyond his hands,
beyond creation.

by Margaret Bednar, August 8, 2013


This is for Magpie Tales #180  A weekly visual prompt given by Tess Kincaid for our writing enjoyment.  

IGWRT's Word's Count With Mama Zen - "Suspicion"

Suspicion

I followed faith's tradition,
thumb pricked, bled, dripped -
husband's morning coffee flavored,
my love he'd never flee.

Yet from his shirt I plucked

long, golden strand.
Suspicious.  Unsure.

Singed and discarded
treacherous silky hair -
sent voodoo spell
her wanton way

only to reap a doubters
grief.  He hadn't loved her
so she shot them both.

by Margaret Bednar, August 7, 2013 

Maire Laveau is a fascinating read.  She was a black woman in New Orleans, LA, and was known as the Queen of Voodoo.  Some say she converted to Christianity (Catholicism) before she died.  Either way, it is said most of her spells were to help the poor and the needy.

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Words Count with Mama Zen - Voodoo in 73 words or less.

And I changed this up a bit a day later but it is still 55 words so... this is also for Friday Flash 55.