Washington DC at night is beautiful

"Baby Turtle"

Baby Turtle

Like a thumbprint
you're unique, but common
in your perched preference,
still and content

until I wend my way forward
curious
if one so young
will hurtle away in fear.

Quickly answered
as pond's tranquil surface
safely pockets
your tiny, tumbling fury.

Guilty, I retreat
beneath July's blue sky
feeling ever the growling giant
to your tender little Jack.

by Margaret Bednar, July 27, 2014

The photo is a blurry mess - hastily taken with my iPhone.  I did take a video of it scurrying across the rock and back flipping and ker-plopping into the pond.  It really was cute … but I accidentally deleted it.

I've never seen a turtle so young and so small.

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads" - where I revisited Grapeling's word list HERE.  

"Unpretentious"

Unpretentious

I long for a window open
to grey mornings and bird-song

where heat
trickles in upon ocean's breeze

and afternoon storms
circle, swirl,

wash songs of ancient wayfarers
to sandy shores

where life's complexity and beauty
I hold in my hand

unpolished.

by Margaret Bednar, July 26, 2014

This is for "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads -Words Count with Mama Zen - Complexity writ small" in 60 words or less.  

"A Mother's Pondering"

A Mother's Pondering

Wings heavy with annoyance pick up speed, beat faster
than a diva's lashes.  Your parting words indecipherable
as I don't speak heron - but annoyance is universal.

Time and again I've held my breath, tried to come close.
Perhaps shyness I can understand, even recognize the need
for solitude - for wariness is evident in your tilted head.

You're often a blur in photographs:  s-curve neck, pointed toes,
expansive wings - a moment frozen - somehow a reminder that time
becomes memories - every second, day, week, month, year

all seem equally like yesterday, equally unchangeable.

I hope I embrace those I love with the same exuberance I feel when you stretch
and glide before my eyes.  Hope I've given my children the freedom to soar
without feeling the need to flee, without the need to lament my presence.

by Margaret Bednar, July 23, 2014

This is linked with dVerse - Poetics - Time & Time Again.  

"This Poem"

"This Poem"

This poem is a salve to my wounds.
This poem is an escape.
This poem points the way home.

This poem is a cool cloth
upon fevered brow, a song
sung low and soft, a caressing hand
comforting, soothing, easing.
This poem is a salve to my wounds.

This poem is a feather
upon an ocean breeze, a child
barefoot upon a forest path,
a wish granted.
This poem is an escape.

This poem is a topsy turvy map
of twists, turns, diversions, a flickering light
guiding, a haven sheltering, welcoming -
is buttered crust, cinnamon and baked apples.
This poem points the way home.

This poem heals all wounds.
This poem offers freedom to escape.
This poem welcomes all wanderers home.

by Margaret Bednar, July 21, 2014

This poem is linked and written to the challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Boomerang Metaphors.  Hannah has created this form - follow the above link to read the details.

I have also linked with IGWRT's Open Link Monday.

"Live"

Photo Credit - Toril of Second Cloud on the Left Farm

Live!

Yesterday and Tomorrow are for dreams,
for regrets - untouchable.

Today I can surrender insecurities,
grasp life, ride its rainbow,
worry not if my road isn't paved
with golden bricks.  Brave one foot
in front of the other, listen to my heartbeat,
make a difference whether big or small

before time runs out.  It's the only path I know
leads to a happy ending.

by Margaret Bednar, July 17, 2014

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Bits of Inspiration - The Yellow Brick Road".

I have a dear friend who has always inspired me - Toril, who is co-owner of Second Cloud on the Left Farm - also has a blog HERE and can be found on Facebook.   She took the above photo from her beloved farm nestled in the hills of Wisconsin.

Also, thank you, Laurie Kolp, for inspiring me with the Dalai Lama's quote.  He said, "There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done.  One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live."

"The Rio Grande"

image found HERE

The Rio Grande

The river
no longer sings
restless with Apache war cries,
but hums memories
now and again
as tears
flood her banks
beneath slivered moon,
resurrects many a battle,
many a struggle
with ghosts of then
and now.
Faithful streams
swell her bosom -
the pleasure of some,
misfortune of others.
To navigate her
is to know her.
Few do.
And yet she nourishes,
unconcerned
whether Mexican
or American;
cradles the dead,
offers hope, life, freedom
when and if she can.

by Margaret Bednar, July 13, 2014


This is in response and linked to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads -Sunday Mini-Challenge: Claribel Alegria ".   She is a poet whose poetry's themes are often political and social - a voice for those who don't have a voice (lost or denied) in political struggles.

I used a few lines from her poem "The Rivers" - specifically "the rivers no longer sing" and "cradle the dead".  My thoughts were on the current political crisis with the thousands of children crossing over into the U.S.A. from Mexico.  No matter what political views one holds, one must have empathy for these children being sent… and can really only try to imagine the desperation a mother & father must feel in order to do something like this.

HERE is a blog that has translated some of her poems.  "The River" can be found on the "IGWRT's" link.

"Midsummer"

Midsummer

Midsummer time languishes,
spring's bursting forth
long since soothed -n- settled.

Metallic wings skim over listless ponds,
hover, watch.  Fish slap -n- flop,
birds exchange half-hearted warbles

and sun-glazed horses swish corn-silk tails
as shadows slant long, cool fingers,
cue the katydids to defy season's stupor.

by Margaret Bednar, July 10, 2014


This is what it sounds like in my neck of the woods come night:


This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Word List for July" - of which I used three words: burst(ing), exchange, defy.

"Mid-Heat"

Mid-Heat

It's a secret world of silhouettes and caution,
of motionless pond lilies, gently swaying blue flag,
and cattails straight and true.

Of patience measured by the sun
and seasonal patterns ingrained as S-curved necks
wing overhead, thin, long legs trailing.

A tawny shadow flickers and fades, dandy drakes
promise momentary fidelity, and yellow belly sliders bask
beneath branches draped above water's stagnant edge.

All this is offered me, this resting during the mid-heat
of day.  One is wise to accept this as a gift,
clear the mind.  Just breathe.

Margaret Bednar, July 7, 2014

Linked with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Open Link Monday.  I hope you can breath this in and feel what a beautiful bike ride I had on Sunday!   I was on my own, so I had no one to annoy when I wanted to stop, watch, and photograph.

"My Dearest,"

My Dearest,

Monarchs migrate along Highway 12,
flutter between Atlantic's relentless push
and Pamlico's slick cam, saltwater lagoon.

Pelicans, seagulls wing from morning's horizon,
feast on fisherman's leftovers and soar away…

yet I wait, rooted where you surprised me
with a kiss.  Every morning, glance through lace
towards white picket gate, dream of finally kissing you back.

by Margaret Bednar, July 5, 2014

This if for Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - Life on an Island 

& Flash Fiction 55 a story in 55 words, no more, no less.

HERE is an incredible photo of Highway 12!!  I've driven it many times - sand drifts onto the roadway quite often.  Each fall, Monarchs migrate south to Mexico along Highway 12, often stopping to gather nectar from goldenrod at such places as Pelican Island (south of Nags Head), etc.

Ocracoke Island is my favorite vacation place as to date for relaxing.  I usually prefer bigger, historic cities with things to tour and do.  But for pure down-time - nothing is like this gem of the Outer Banks. HERE is a pretty good history of the place - it also was the site of WWII training base and combat information center.  It closed in 1946.

The Ocracoke dialect, or brogue, is unique to this area, and "slick cam" means a very calm water - usually referencing the sound.  If you click on the IGWRT's link, there are many words given as example - Dingbatter, Meehonkey, & Wampus Cat to name a few.   Below is a brief trailer where you can hear what it sounds like.

"The Unicorn"

The Unicorn

Lore, Legend, Isaiah, and Job
reference freedom fierce
of strength and speed -

even the national animal
of Scotland's the unicorn,
emblazoned on many a coat of arms.

So don't be afraid to dream
the impossible.  Never doubt
the strength of your tears.

by Margaret Bednar, July 2, 2014.

This is for the always challenging "Imaginary Garden of RealToads - Out of Standard" hosted by Isadora Gruye.  Today the challenge is to visit "The Amazing and Interesting Fact Generator" and take a fact and build a poem around it.

The fact I "drew" was "even the national animal of Scotland is the unicorn".

The King James Bible uses the word "unicorn" (explanation HERE) and unicorn tears (and blood) are said to be healing.

"The Gift"

Red fluttered out of sight until just before I had to leave

The Gift

July's bog garden
is a quiet song, a hushed melody,
a gauzy wrap draping my shoulders.

Spring blooms are gone,
summer greens run rampant,
speckled light tickles forest floor

as I seek my Great Blue Heron.
We met once, he hiding in shaded,
shallow ripples… I tiptoed away.

Today's stagnant pond
offers up ducks loitering water's edge
and an elusive red, darting flash.

I follow, peer through thickets, vines,
trip over roots, stones,
child-like wonder not dissuaded,

feel more than hear thunder's rumble,
glance up towards veiled sky.
"Sweet, sweet, sweet".  Framed by light,

I swear Red's laughing, teasing as I leave,
flutters down, skips along wooded rail,
tracking me, so it seems, cocks his head

as if to say,"Thanks for playing".
I race to beat storm-grey clouds,
clutch his gift of "light" within.

by Margaret Bednar, July 2, 2014

I purposefully went out with my camera to capture light and wouldn't you know it… a storm rolled in.  I have NEVER been followed by a cardinal before - they really are so elusive and flitter away, usually.  This little guy really did sing to me… and fluttered down and hopped along the railing toward me as I photographed him and cocked his head as I walked away.

I really didn't think I was going to find anything to write about as everything seemed a bit drab… but honestly, the light that snuck between the canopy and the "light" this little bird infused in me for the rest of the day was awesome.

These were taken with my iPhone - easy and fun when walking the dog.  I DID just purchase a Canon D70 and am reading the manuals as I am really focused on learning my manual settings.

"Red" walked this whole railing as if following me