Sojourn

collage by Margaret Bednar

 Sojourn

My thoughts

ride the currents

along the Atlantic,

a migratory pattern

not unlike the Monarch.

Perhaps more an escape 

than a disciplined,

pre-planned route,

timeline to adhere.

Instead, I wander;

parameters of time

disregarded.

Find myself in decades past,

lamenting decisions

I can not change;

careening forward,

wishful of a metamorphosis.

Why the Atlantic?

I'm not sure

other than it's a place

I love to dip my toes,

watch the sunrise,

collect seashells,

lose myself on the horizon,

feel His presence,

witness the journey

of the butterfly;

a fellow sojourner,

seeking, searching,

losing track of time...

contemplating eternity.

Like the Monarch,

make a pilgramage yearly,

a temporary repreive 

from the day to day,

otherwise, like a prayer

or the tingle of fingertips,

this daily sojourn, 

this centering,

this sustenance.

by Margaret Bednar, September 23, 2023

This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Friday Writings #25 - Losing Track of Time".  

I gave myself 10 minutes to write - close my eyes, feel the response, go with the flow, so to speak, edit very little and just post it.  Quite the opposite of how I usually write.  I did have my collage to inspire the direction of my thought - that is usual for me (some sort of image of mine - photo, drawing, collage).

Taken

 

collage by Margaret Bednar

Taken

As the sun slid

behind lucent clouds

she descended 

from Heaven

Flocks unfazed

shepherd boy asleep

Taken from me

on a similar

Autumn day

"Have you saved

a place for me?"

but her smile

seemed taken too

Did she remember

walks in the field

planting wildflower seeds

faces dirt-smudged

beneath wide-brimmed hats?

Far afield she gazed

before turning

"You've time

to grow

into robe and crown

Stay curious

You've time to breathe."

My eyes lowered

held the tears close;

...found her gone

Raised my hand

loosed yesterday's flowers

to plant themselves

Offered my spirit

No longer afraid

Understood the comfort

of ending up Home.

"You took my Mama.

One day you'll take me.

But first, I must live."

by Margaret Bednar, September 21, 2023

This is linked with the fabulous "What's Going On? Take this Poem" 

This is also part of my Emily Dickinson reflections series.  I read and reflected on her "IV Time and Eternity II" .  Her poem can be found "HERE".

The Bluebird

Image courtesy of Susie Clevenger 

The Bluebird

God gifted Bluebird

a cloak of royal indigo

and a vest of orange zest

habiliments worn 

perched upon matronly limbs

while performing lofty melodies 

proclaiming summer love

often silhouetted

against field and sky

singing for none other than himself.

But one day found himself

within a cage; a wild captivity,

requests for joy, ignored.

Ballads dried upon his tongue

vestments became frayed and worn...

a coveted prize no more.

Finally released, 

freedom upon blue feathers

he flew far and wide

and sang so sweetly

of renewal, his gift to God,

angelic song.

by Margaret Bednar, September 16, 2023

This is linked with (THE LAST) "The Sunday Muse #261".  Obviously, a long run and I thank Carrie Van Horn for hosting for so long!  

This is also part of my Emily Dickinson reflections series.  I read "The Bluebird" of which I borrowed her title.  Her "The Bluebird" poem is HERE

Some sounds (and sights) of bluebirds HERE

Summer Shower

Summer Shower

Stillness,

just before a storm,

tickles, teases,

gently lifts a curl,

whispers

as crows abandon shaded sky

and tasseled corn stalks

slightly bend.

I've been writing

beneath White Oak's sanctuary,

personal lines of poetry,

of loss, of love, of longing,

when drops of rain

stain my scrawling ink,

slide down parchment page

in sympathy.

A simple summer shower

kisses field and fauna,

its gentle harmony

soothes floral faces raised

before a final bow.

Drips and drops

fall from leaves and eaves

as Sunshine dons his sweetest smile.

Stillness, the only sound.

by Margaret Bednar, September 16, 2023

This is in response to "Poets and Storytellers United - Friday Writings #94 - Storm, Ink, Love".  Use these three words in a poem.  

I am also starting a series of poems I will work on randomly.  This sereis will be my response to Emily Dickinson's poems.  This one here is offered upon reflection of reading "XI - Summer Shower" - of which I have borrowed her title.   Her "Summer Shower" poem is HERE.  

Appreciation

 

Appreciation

The dog days of summer,

of BBQ, beach and bike rides,

soft serve ice cream

beneath mid-days unforgiving sun

are sadly over -

And Indian summer,

a few final days

of frivolity and farewell

before they too flicker and fade,

is promised -

And yet, perhaps I'm fickle.

Sweaters, neatly folded for months,

long to be matched 

with mittens, scarves, boots,

comfortable friends -

My horse, fluffy as a bear,

will make a path

through pristine snow,

he, dreaming of oats,

me, hot chocolate upon trail's end,

satisfaction -

Soon followed for an eager glimpse 

of Snowdrops, Snapdragons, and Crocus,

several red breasts,

and a steady stream of sunlight,

renewal -

Saying "Goodbye" and "Hello"

to old friends, new friends,

tucking away, dusting off,

a merry-go-round,

a warm embrace.

by Margaret Bednar, September 13, 2023

May 18 was the last time I wrote a poem! It's been too long and I can't wait to read everyone's poems and catch up with "old" friends.  This is linked with "What's Going On? - How's the Weather?"  This ended up being more about the seasons, how did that happen.  I guess my creative juices took a side path but I hope it still fits in a bit with the chalenge.  I need to fine tune my skills!  

Did you know the robin was named "red breast" before the color "orange" was named.