Grandfather

My youngest son who is in high school now! 

 Grandfather

It's the freedom of childhood,

raised high, secure,

knowing Grandfather won't let go;

playing "I Spy" when laughter erupts.

It's horizons, youthful and old,

merging, finding common goals.

Beneath necklaced peaks of yellow gold

   and sunset clouds of Touraine blue,

'long old black bears trail

resides gossamer lit havens and veiled vaults,

glimpses of time begun,

viewed upon swaying bridge.

Trading preconceived notions

of boring, for adventure tapped

when living begins.

Remnants, delicately interwoven

amidst folds and cracks layered ancient:

triumphs, tragedies, truthful tales

of character and struggle

along hidden, well-worn paths,

beneath blood-red sourwoods 

and pumpkin-hued beech.

It's finding joy in each other,

guidance along rocky paths,

a safe place to rest one's head;

of wisdom shared

and shoulders strong.

by Margaret Bednar, December 14, 2022

Playing along with "Girlie on the Edge's Thursday Six Senctence Story". Word is VAULT. 

I used to live in Boone, NC where Grandfather Mountain is a destination for locals and tourists.  We climbed parts of it many times. 

Grandfather Bednar passed away, but he was full of life and love.  He was very important in our lives and my children adored him.  He had a love and personality as big as a mountain.

Grandfather Mountain's original Cherokee name was "Tanawha" meaning fabulous hawk or eagle.  It is steeped in Native American lore.  HISTORY about Grandfather can be read HERE.

Stars & Moonbeams

 

Stars & Moonbeams

Winter's fast approaching

and what's left of Autumn gold

resides in tonight's evening sky

whose embers illuminate

flocks of southbound geese

slipstreaming their way into the night

where they will surf celestial stars 

and wing their way through moonbeams.

by Margaret Bednar, December 13, 2022

Playing along with "dVerse Poetics - St. Lucy - Bringing light into the darkness".  The photo I snapped tonight (it's two blended into one image) and knew I had to write a poem.  

The Sewing Circle

Collage by (me) Margaret Bednar

The Sewing Circle

Stitches pull taut,

arms extend, slightly raise

as if holding heavenly swords,

not needles,

and within each breast,

shy or fierce,

resides Joan of Arc

battling the Devil's claw.

by Margaret Bednar, December 8, 2022

playing along with "Shay's Word Garden Word List: The Smiths".  20 words provided, I used 5:  stitch, Joan of Arc, heavenly, devil, shyness (shy)

Devil's Claw is a quilt block pattern.

Allure

 

lino print be me, Margaret Bednar

Allure

With a sweep of her eyes

she read the room, not for what was,

but for possibilities.

Red ties alluded power, but one,

a bit twisted, a bit loosened,

defied the "importance" of the room,

obligatory whisky held loosely,

sipped, fascinated her

as his tongue followed just as slowly.

She lowered her eyes, adjusted her dress;

of an era when bra straps shouldn't show 

and ladies didn't stare.

Reticent by nature, she downed her Mojito,

side-glance a bit unsure, rum and mint 

a slight burn; something they laughed about

for years to come.

She kept her dress, ditched the bra,

learned how to entice with a tempting eye;

a possibility he spied when he'd read the room.

He lost the tie, slow-danced in their kitchen,

enjoyed the range of contradictions

she tossed his way; possibilities, promises,

adventure.

by Margaret Bednar, December 7, 2022

Playing along with Girlie on The Edge's "Thursday Six Sentence Story Link Up!"  The prompt word is RANGE.  Link-up begins today at 6 p.m.  

Apricity

 

Apricity

No footprints in the snow,

just a hazy shade of winter white 

yawns before me this morn,

as cold-weather blues court Gainsborough, 

paint sky above outstretched fingertips 

of evergreen and oak,

into a white winter hymnal

framing a congregation flocking south,

leaving winter things behind.

Cries of, "Let it go" float downward,

encourage me to fashion roses from snow,

a "make love, not war" invitation,

which I accept.

The hounds of winter have yet

to swirl and nip their way across the lake

through a long December night,

and Jesus, 21 feet below,

has yet to be trapped beneath ice,

but when lit, will encourage me

to love like winter, sun warm upon my face,

truly feeling kissed.

by Margaret Bednar, December 7, 2022

Playing along with "dVerse Poets Come Sing with Me!" Use at least two titles within the body of a poem.  I used 11 of 16.  GO GIVE IT A TRY!  

Apricity is an amazing word that dates back to 1623 and never really caught on.  It is a "warming" winter word - Have you ever gone outside and felt the soft warmth of a winter sun?  This is apricity.  (spell check wants me to change this word as it doesn't recognize it - truly archaic!

Thomas Gainsborough 

HERE (click for article) is a link to the Giant crucifix beneath the shores of Little Traverse Bay, Petoskey, MI.  I hope to experience it some day.  Love my hometown.  

Driven

Print by Margaret Bednar (me)

Driven

Looking back

means tampering 

with consequence.

She prefers 

eyes straight ahead,

candor the guiding light -

no time or patience

for vanilla-lipped explorers

with hymns in their throats.

Determination her oxygen

as she reaches for star-flocked sky,

Milky Way garlanding obsidian tresses,

moonbeam grasped in the fist of her hand.

by Margaret Bednar, December 4, 2022

playing along with "Word Garden Word List - Paige Ackerson-Kiely"

20 words, pick at least 3. I chose tampering, candor, explorers, flocked, garlands, hymns, oxygen, vanilla

We've all heard of velvet-lipped but I like the idea of vanilla-lipped.  LOL.  Thanks, Shay, I had fun with this. 

Longing

 

Longing

Beyond the lonely light of the moon

I witness all that is quiet,

and my fingers,

familiar with beaded bone,

wish this was my ordinary,

this temporary oasis before stretch of day.

Wish I could join the dance,

let moon become my friend again,

for a glimpse at water's edge,

of blessings,

of beautiful melodies,

all without a hint of subterfuge,

where newfound desire to shine

would be appreciated,

gifting me with freedom, with life;

for service, not idolatry.

Yet, of the sweet, stubborn, and selfish,

some things never change.

by Margaret Bednar, December 1, 2022

This is written for the challenge over at: dVerse MTB (meeting the bar): In my end is my beginning.  Take ending lines of your most recent poetry (at least 12) and create a new poem.  Lines must remain intact, but can be placed in any order, may add preposition, conjunction, and change tense.  Enjambment is allowed.  

I looked at about 30 of my most recent poems and selected ending lines from 16.

THIS WAS NOT EASY!  (beaded bone = rosary)