"A Yellow Flower, Pressed"

Yew trees from the UK - "google images"

A Yellow Flower, Pressed

Praise the Oh Lord...

like mist evaporates, I skirt away,
hymnal discarded, chants faintly heard
as I race beneath bowing Yews, until
I see you  through the panes

God of Mercy,

I sigh, your image magnificent,
fills the Great Hall, makes it look small.
I hear you laugh - contagious, I smile,
spy your hand upon hounds head -
recall last night's caress beneath
watchful bishop's painted gaze.

Oh Taste and See,

you pluck a grape, teeth graze its skin,
lick, lean back upon heavy mantel,
eyes wander toward hearth's rug
and I know you recall.

Ask of Me,

not much, for brave I will
another moonless night for echoes
to reverberate in this vast room,
promises captured, muffled by red velvet,
dawn's soft pastel light befalling
a sight of limbs and hair co-mingling.

God of Grace,

we prayed for courage, for victory
beneath arches, hands clasped,
my eyes drawn to not bible held,
but flickering candlelight along your jaw.
Plead for another night before you depart.
will recite, will cherish my knight's
yellow flower placed between breasts
now pressed within prayerbook,
finally able to pray, for

Blessed is the Man.

by Margaret Bednar, September 27, 2013

Image found HERE

This was originally written in September of 2013 and I apologize for not posting an original poem for this challenge for "dVerse - Poetics - time to get a little medieval"

I tried to take things from the room - the bible, the flowers, the candles and also the setting and use if for this piece.  Go and take a look , give it a try!  The image of the room is a miniature on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.  

"A Promise"

Scene from my son's play "Courting Wendy"

 A Promise
by William R. Bednar

I want your always
   And your nevers;
To hold afraid, to find
   Tomorrow in your hands.
My Darling, take my yesterdays,
   My brinks, my fulls,
My almosts,
   And my evers.
Live on the cusp of me,
   The changing country
Where I'm learning you
   Daily, the yearning
Where I grasp upon
   Your lily eyelids
And chart the freckled landscape
   Below your throat.
I want your far aways,
   Your nears, your future,
      And your present.
I want the softness
   Of your secrets
And the sureness
   Of your soul's endeavors.
Lean upon my childish heart
   And dance with my desire.
Bask in this brief eternity,
   Our bodies brimming fire, fire.
 

Scene from my son's play "Courting Wendy"

My son will be graduating from college in a couple of months with a BFA in drama (acting) and he will be moving to NYC.  He is a writer, a poet, a singer, an actor… and I wanted to share with you one of his latest poems.  I am trying to encourage him to look into publishing his poems…

This poem stands alone from his play "Courting Wendy" - it is not a part of that script.  I just thought it sweet as the young lady in the photo is his girlfriend and the poem is written for her.   In his play, my son played Peter Pan and his girlfriend, a grown up Wendy.  

Even though this is NOT my poem, I have from time to time shared his work here with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform."  The images are from my iPhone using the Waterlogue App.  

Henna my Heart

Henna my Heart

Titian tipped, flaxen wings
soar, dip, delicately tickle sky's blue -

Innocence sinks low in tall swaying grass,
mother fox freezes, sniffs the wind -

Crows cantankerously cry
as jarring black eyes demand withdrawal -

so I henna my heart with their essence
and follow the lake path home.

by Margaret Bednar, February 21, 2015

Artwork by W. T. Benda

Linked previously for the challenge below, but now "re-listing" it for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - Art with Toril".

for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again #14"  I choose "Fireblossom Friday: Rhyme Royal & W. T. Benda".  (archived from February 2014)  I selected the option to write a free verse poem to the artwork of W.T. Benda.

"North Carolina"

North Carolina

I do not miss continuous grays of the northern winter sky;
do enjoy February's southern blues and flashes of color
that wing in and out of barren trees adorned
with fall's golden, brittle banners.

I'd be remiss not to say the lack of snow drew me here,
to this state of mountains and sandy shore,
where in between lies a land of temperate bearing
and light, heaven sent; absent whirling squall's
and frigid temper-tantrums.

And yet, there are moments I ache to see
nature's fingertips upon a frozen window pane,
branches drooping as if diamond draped,
and the beach, double-stacked with iced waves
layered, pancaked upon Lake Michigan's shore.

by Margaret Bednar, February 20, 2015

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed".  I used miss/remiss and sent/absent.

"Winter Storm"

Winter Storm

I'm always fooled by the camellias' January budding
softly opening to the first slant of spilled sunshine
from winter's grey and beige sky -
excitedly plan spring and summer vacations
only to find the heavens not so easily diverted.

Begrudge the silence before the fury -
raise an eyebrow as a dove perches
upon my adirondack chair as if a peace offering;

wisely embrace these next few hours of solitude.

by Margaret Bednar, February 18, 2015

This is for "Poetry Jam - Loneliness/Solitude".   I remember when we first moved south and my Camellia bush bloomed the end of December.  Wonderfully pink buds!  I thought spring was around the corner - and I still get fooled a bit each year.  Winter still has a hand or two to play… negative ONE (degrees) tomorrow night!   However, blessings did arrive this week as school has been cancelled for four days and even though it isn't exactly quiet, we have lounged around and read books and stayed cocooned, for the most part, in our house.  It's been quite nice.

"Think of Me"

Think of Me

Spring promises fragrance,
summer buzzes with song,
fall bursts forth splendor,
while winter ensures we pause
to cherish it all.

by Margaret Bednar, February 15, 2015

"Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Promise"  I wanted to share my 12 year old daughter's passion of song with you AND tried loosely tying it into this challenge.

"Available"

upon your wing a blush - female cardinal

"Available"

"Is love a tender thing?" William Shakespeare

Winter weary perhaps but upon your wing
a blush, a flush of red;

crested and full of song - male cardinal

a promise

of springtime and tender love
from one crested and full of whistling song

who lost his mate of late

to rapacious rival; swooped in low and fast
and seized her heart;

but surely

as Aquarius makes way for Pisces, so to
does winter's ever-beating march advance toward spring.


by Margaret Bednar, February 13, 2015

Rapacious Rival aka Immature Red-Shouldered Hawk 

I was thrilled to watched this hawk (which I think is a young red-shouldered hawk - correct me if I'm wrong) perch and occasionally course through my backyard woodlot this afternoon.  And boy did he (or she) shock me when he decided to glide over my new bird feeder and go after a female cardinal!   The hawk was gliding much faster than she took off - but they flew out of my view of the window frame and I can only hope she made it to the bushes.

I KNOW, hawks need to survive too, but I did move my birdhouse to a safe alcove by my other window and a few more bushes and trees for security.

All photos were taken from inside my house.

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Kerry Says - Is Love a Tender Thing".

"A Courtship, of Sorts"

A Brown Thrasher

A Courtship, of Sorts

I enjoy sparrows, towhees,
titmice, finches, and wrens.

Of course, cardinal's red
and Jay's blue do impress;

yet wait for cinnamon garbed bird
to fly in low and land;

flash yellow eyes,
bare speckled breast.

Watch woodland's edge;
rewarded at last

as curved bill and slim, long tail feathers
grace suet dish.

Lured, but silent; anticipate a morning
he'll serenade with elaborate song.

Margaret Bednar, February 11, 2015

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform" and for "Poetry Jam - Silence".

About a month ago I added suet to my bird feeder to attract woodpeckers.  I have been successful.  I was really surprised when this Brown Thrasher showed up - apparently they have a taste for it too.  The bird guidebook says they hop along a woodland's edge like the Blue Jays, but I have never noticed them in my backyard as they obviously blend in.  Their song is magnificent - and I really hope to be serenaded with it soon.

"Red"

Nancy Medina Art

Red

“...because a red geranium has blossomed open.”   Carilda Olivar Labra

Grandma’s red-roses nest my earliest memories
of sisters and me seated beneath fragrant blooms, 
white trellis a backdrop for Polaroid images now faded with a time

when Grandma sat and enjoyed evening’s breeze
while we balanced blocks sky high, tested sidewalk’s freedom 
in front of her small red house, unsuccessfully tried 
to quiet childish country voices.  

Earthy and safe was the scent of her yard, clothes wrung 
and hung on t-post clothes line, grass tickled bare feet 
as we picked cherries from gnarled trees; impatiently waited 
for warm tart pies with buttery crust.

***

Drove by her house long after she’d passed, years after I’d married.  
Gone, the splash of reds which made Grandma’s house stand out.  
Had to circle round twice to be sure.

To this day wish I’d a green thumb; thank heaven 
for my hardy scalloped lace-leaved flowers that last 
all summer long, give me that dash of color I'll always crave.

By Margaret Bednar, February 9, 2015

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge: Poet Carilda Olivar Labra"  

The beautiful painting is by a phenomenal artist Nancy Medina.  Her website is gorgeous and her paintings and workshops are truly awe inspiring.  Please, go check it out!  

www.nancymedinaart.com

Reflecting upon this challenge, I realized I really do crave red.  It is prominent in my bedroom and I have splashes of it all throughout my home.  

Would you like to hear me read my poem? 

"Burgeoning"

George Robertson 1856 - Oil on Canvas

Burgeoning 

As a child, I'd dip my toes
in slow moving rocky waters
the Suak and Fox called Sinnisippi

believed if I closed my eyes
I'd feel history clear through my fingertips…

recall Black Hawk's towering profile
overlooking his beloved rugged hills,
the birdsong…

touched my hand to the old oaks;
wondered if he'd leaned against these very trees
that dip and sway at river's edge…

remember sitting amongst clover
and alfalfa, sun upon my shoulders,
immersed in various thoughts

forgetting about chores I'd been sent out to do.
Labeled "lazy".  Like to think it was the birthing of a poet.

by Margaret Bednar, February 7, 2015 

The challenge over at "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads- Your Poetic Eye: Kumulipo" (imagined by Ella) is to share the embryonic state of a poem we write AND add the richness of the state in which we were born.  My state is "Illinois".   I also twisted the challenge a bit and used the idea of how my poetic views might have originated way back when I was a child and had little confidence in myself - dreaming to become an author  (dreamed I would write the sequel to "Gone with the Wind) never believing I was good at anything (still struggle with this)

I do remember going to see Chief Black Hawk and was quite caught up reading about him.  I also grew up on a 10 acre "farmette" in which the Rock River flows directly below the banks of our field and tree line.  My parents still live there - and I haven't visited that spot in over 25 years.  I will have to walk over the field and down the rather steep bank, and cross a seldom used railroad track.   Of course, I'll bring my camera.   The Rock River is a tributary of the Mississippi River.

I am also linking with a very nice and kind poetry challenge site "Poetry Jam" - Journey is the topic for topic for today.

and linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform" .