The Overlook

The Overlook

Spring trees are rowdy, elbow each other below 

as I sink into the terrain before me, 

ravine full of wordy beech, birch, and buckeye.

Tulip tree steals the scene, her full dowry

on display, trillium's satin white sprinkled beneath.

I might be a bit naive, but I listen to their spirited stories,

spruce-fir whispering his tall tale from a distance

and believe every word as it sinks into my skin;

breathe deeply and settle myself.

Just before pink's onset and the subtle change 

of yellow to gold, I watch the hand of God 

brush over the bluest of skies with the rosiest silvered glaze

and reset the scene.  

I'm still no saint and this is no Garden of Eden, 

but all have become silent; even black-capped chickadees 

have stopped their sorties as I lean back upon outcropped stone.  

I know it's late, but I'm lulled by the Master's touch,

stream's serenade, and the hint of a thousand nightlights

beginning to twinkle above my head. 

by Margaret Bednar, May 28, 2020

This is linked with the fabulous "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #21 - Anagrams" I used the following:  below/elbow, dowry/rowdy/wordy, ravine/naive, sink/skin, listen/silent, trees/reset, satin/saint, rosiest/sorties/stories, subtle/bluest, late/tale, stone/onset, masters/streams.

I have been absent from writing poetry for almost 2 months.  We have a house full because of this pandemic.  I am thankful I am able to help my oldest children out and have them and their spouses/significant others stay with us for a while.  They hailed from NYC and San Francisco.  I also was homeschooling my youngest son and my high school daughter is on autopilot - I just allow her to do her thing.    Summer has finally begun for me, school is out and the older ones are going back to their places in a few days.  

So, I'm back and I have missed everyone.  I can't wait to read your poetry.  (and thank you, Jim, for checking up on me)

Faith of a Child

My New Poetic Challenge I host - please join in!  Artistic Interpretations

Faith of a Child

Sanctuary is the smell of lilies, incense
lifting me bodily into ornate ivory,
intricate Stations of the Cross -
a guilty pleasure as a child,
(and sometimes, I admit, to this day)
diversion from homily, from prayer -

Myself in each scene: sitting beside Mary, my hand
touching Jesus' linens, John's compassion evident
in his tears, thankful for carved alabaster (no blood-red).

Perhaps I'm wrong.  Perhaps it was an intimacy,
a vision, a message to ponder,
a conversation between God and me -
a seed nourishing the narrow path,
providing safe harbor when life strikes,
threatens to rock the boat, rip my sails -

Pray my vision's a bit cunning; no need to see Jesus
walk on water.  Trust in the power of the parables
and lilies placed in a vase, reminding me

of childlike wonder residing in my breast.

by Margaret Bednar, April 8, 2020

I invite you to listen to me read my poem:  



This is linked with my NEW CHALLENGE I HOST:  "Artistic Interpretations #3 Moonlight Sailing"  All are welcome.

Also linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #14 - Let's use Pathetic Fallacy, shall we?"  I used it really just in the first stanza... I think.  Hope this qualifies to link to the challenge.

Also linked with Sky Lover Poetry's word list  #skyloverwordlist (Instagram) for the month of April.  I used about 12 words.