Make Believe
I imagine I'm a southern belle,
strolling jasmine scented pathways,
besotted beau beside me
as I smile charmingly after saying something coy.
Practice a hair toss, lashes lowered,
glance over shoulder...
find elderly gentleman watching me
as I blush (yes, 50 year olds can blush),
mutter to myself, attempt dignified exit
across arched bridge, past live oaks;
impromptu theatrical audition witnessed
by one other, a chipmunk, who scampers away
almost as quickly as I,
my sketchbook not as forthcoming
as this poem (years later).
by Margaret Bednar, October 23, 2018
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Notebook Poetry". We had an option to handwrite our poems ... but I hate my handwriting so I thought I would show you a glimpse into my sketchbook. The top two are colored pencil, the chipmunk is watercolor and pen. I talk to myself a lot (especially when in a creative mode) and historical places always get me dreaming and imagining things...
18 comments:
I can see that hair toss as though you're standing there on the bridge in your sketch.
Margaret,this is a very intriguing read for this elderly fellow here. As well.as for the lass I was wishing I knew more of their.situations. Vulnerability yes for her and of a different kind for him, of days gone by, and of imposibility to make new friends for each.
..
Jim - Thanks for reading and commenting... It always intrigues me how readers interpret my poetry. I wrote this very quickly and perhaps I didn't communicate properly. I kept the undertones light, I thought, beginning with the title. As a very young girl my mother said I made up "make believe" friends, talked to them. I have continued talking to myself all my life (but I don't have make believe friends anymore :) I often even forget to turn on my car radio as I am thinking - and when taking photography or creating artwork, often review the process out loud (quietly to myself).
Anyway, this poem is a true story - I was embarrassed to be caught "in the act" of pretending to be a southern belle form days gone by - and the person who came upon me happened to be an elderly gentleman. He nor I had no interest in establishing a friendship - I was just embarrassed ... as simple as that :)
I did not mean any undertones of anything else - although I understand what you are saying and of course, we come at understanding poetry form our own individual experiences so your interpretation for yourself is not wrong!
Again, thanks for reading and commenting :)
At this juncture in my life, handwriting is not legible so I print! I really enjoyed your poetic adventure from long ago.
Thanks for sharing, Margaret. Yes, on its face it seems very simple. My sister had an imaginary companion, only one. He was "Two Year Old Kid" and was with her nearly all the time. He didn't change his name when she became three and was lost somewhere before she was four. The two of us grew up on a farm, the dog was my other companion.
..
I love this make believe scenario and smiled at the opening stanza ❤️❤️❤️
Ah, your sketches are wonderful.
I really enjoyed this make-believe scenario, in all its theatrics and actions. A lovely verse! :-)
Nice sketches. I am an old southern belle, born and bred. Unfortunately I chose professions that are dominated by men. I like the wwalking and talking to yourself and blushing. It is important that we never take ourselves too seriously. It seems you do not and that is a wonderful thing.
Love the sketches as I did the make belief playing with a chipmunk to watch you
The coy lass, the chipmunk.. lovely scene! And great sketches to go with it!
Beautiful sketches...charming poem.The elderly guy must have thought all his birthdays had come at once LOL
Who really wants to grow up and be sensible when ones imagining is fun and can take you back a few years to those halcyon days of freedom? I'll be honest and admit I have felt this way as well.
A luxe Southern quilt, endearing of all the crafts you embrace.
I love your sketches, Margaret, and the poem is a delightful capture of a moment - we all have our seasons.
I feel that I have you at a disadvantage, so I'll level the playing field; When I do the dishes, I practice my touchdown dances, even though I haven't played football in years. I'm 45.
I loved this poem and I can relate to the vulnerability of being "caught in the act" of indulging in personal whimsy.
Also, your drawings are exquisite. :)
This is lovely Margaret...it brought a smile to my face. Your artwork is amazing!
Lovely poetry and beautiful sketches!
Post a Comment