Southern Charm
The afternoon's heat has shackled me,
sweat pools in places secretive
and I close my eyes, sit upon a scrolled bench,
tidal breeze welcome,
imagine a time when women dressed in layers.
Unfazed, a haughty dandy emerges from the brush,
struts a bedazzled rainbow,
makes my dishevelment more apparent.
"Show-off," I mutter. He blinks, struts his crest.
I wilt, deflated, lean back,
watch sultriness ride the Ashley's blackwater current,
meander her way past the live oaks -
enjoy an age-old flirtation as fingers tickle the surface,
whose emerged roots in turn she caresses with silky coolness.
I raise my chin, invite her to touch me lovingly as well.
It's a courtship: the days simmering lassitude woos
evening's refreshing breath,
begs with open arms all the current can give.
Tomorrow all will be forgotten
as a hasty retreat is made toward the grand city
and bigger horizons, but for now, all is content.
Almost.
The peacock's train fans out, plumage iridescent.
"You win." I stroll back the way I came.
With such ornamentation, I dare not compete.
by Margaret Bednar, April 11, 2013
I'm also linking this poem with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Artistic Interpretations - Beauty". (April 24, 2017) I am the host and my "rules" were a new poem or greatly re-worked - this is neither - but I beg forgiveness. My 90 year old father had a mild stroke and it has kept me a bit distracted. He is improving each day and this is great - but I was unable to write a new poem for this prompt.
---
This is written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads "Destinations and Dialogues". The assignment is to: write a narrative about a place that is special, evil, nostalgic, beautiful, chaotic...whatever you want and try to nail the feeling that it gives you when you are there and confronted with its realness. This can be poetry, prose, technical writing...lol, I don't care. And to "sandwich it between a bit of narrative".
I have described sitting along the banks of the Ashely River which flows in to Charleston SC every morning and flows back towards Middleton Plantation every evening.
DO YOURSELF A FAVOR, CLICK ON THE LINK of Middleton Plantation... if not just for the header which showcases two "take your breath away" images! The link to Charleston has a lovely video. The Lowcountry is truly spectacular. You will see why it has stolen my heart.
I have also linked this with Poets United "Colored". What is more colorful than a peacock?
I love it! "Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man" as the song says. Peacocks are so amazing, and the poor pea hens are so plain! They must feel like throwing up their (figurative) hands, too!
ReplyDeleteTheir warning call is something else, as well. It's used in movies a lot to make a place sound wild and exotic. I was watching a movie not long ago about some place where there just wouldn't be peacocks, but there was that call. Cut! ;-)
Peacocks are certainly the biggest show offs of the bird world! Nice tale of Southern Charm on a hot afternoon.
ReplyDeleteYou bring the scene to life, Margaret. I love 'secretive places' and the image of the stifling hoop skirts of the ante-bellum women. How they must have suffered to be beautiful, as my grandmother always said one had to do. The South is drenched in a sense of place, often ominous, but here you show us her more graceful side.
ReplyDeleteYour ending, wry and accepting of one's own inability to compete with the most gorgeous show in nature, is just the perfect note to conclude things.
(PS. You have a typo in your show-off line)
Accessorized to the hilt and NO ONE can compete with Mother Nature. HA!
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful... what a lovely way to start the day... and I do love peacocks.
ReplyDeletei liked it! i could feel the humidity!
ReplyDeleteThe reoccurring themes in nature boggle my mind. Plumage and attitude can bring desired gains, then the damn whhoping begins in the middle of the night and all bets are off...lol. I love peacocks, I love the symbolism that they have to society and how I can so place them beside an overconfident man and not see the difference. The description and setting were beautiful, the only time I flew in to SC was on the way to Jamaica, but as the plane came in, it was fall and trees were breathtaking. Great piece and thanks for coming by. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! I love peacocks, too.
ReplyDeleteI love peacock feathers but I'm not crazy about the attitude. you've really captured it well
ReplyDeleteThis is really lovely, you capture the scent and sense of the warmth so well,,,and the peacock - well - what can one say?
ReplyDeleteI just love this! Beautiful, vivid writing.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully detailed as in your art--you could be drawing the peacock or the past styles, the water flirting. I Like.
ReplyDeleteA tidal river — what a treat! To my mind, anyway, raised as I was to love rivers.
ReplyDeleteYour sense of place, of time, are perfect, Margaret.
K
Amazing piece of writing, Margaret. You transported me to the river's edge, midsummer and glowing with the heat. So very effective. The photos are gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteYou bring historical places and the ghosts that haunt them to life like no one else. This is superb.
ReplyDeletethe days
ReplyDeletesimmering danger woos
evening's refreshing breath,...love that part margaret...and peacocks are def awesome....love how you bring the scene to life as well...
Peacocks are magnificent creatures with their plumes ~ Who can compete with them, specially in courtship ~
ReplyDeleteLove the pictures too Margaret ~
Love your description of this setting and the peacocks. They used to (and probably still do) run wild in my husband's growing up neighborhood in Pasadena. Quite the characters!
ReplyDeleteThe Charleston Chamber of Commerce, the Visitor's Bureau needs to read this. Everyone will want to move - or at least come for a visit!
ReplyDeleteThis was a delight to read. The sense of place is so serene and lovely. And you made me grin. Those peacocks don't even have to try. Grr. ;-)
ReplyDeleteLOVE this...esp. this stanza;
ReplyDeleteIt's a courtship: the days
simmering lassitude woos
evening's refreshing breath,
begs with open arms
all the current can give.
This gave me the feeling of treading on sacred ground 'Gone with the Wind' etc.
Thank-you for your encouragement today at my 'porch':) You are one of my all-time fav bloggers so please allow me to say I am humbly flattered.
There was a garden in Bermuda where peacock ran about. It was a treat to see the males spread their tailfeathers, but so sad to see the forlorn females, brownish and probably thinking, "That one's too metrosexual for me."
ReplyDeleteLoved your fingers in the river. Hell, that's better than looking like a strutting color palette any day! I say you won. Amy
wow, what sharp, clear images. i know this place, i think. and the peacocks are rather ridiculous in their finery and their call. c'mon, man, take it down a notch. :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful pictures and beautiful scene. Your words have brought all to life. I felt as if I were sitting there too. And I just love peacocks (and peahens too).
ReplyDeleteLovely picture and very beautiful poem full of colour and imagination. It is amazing how creation has provided such vivid pictures of love. Well done.
ReplyDeleteDarn bird...dressed to kill why you wilt. Beautiful photo and conversation. You light your imagination soar with this one!
ReplyDelete"You win." I stroll back the way I came.
ReplyDeleteWith such ornamentation I dare not compete.
With such beauty of a silky nature and of beautiful colors one just feels intimidated!
Hank
Oh this is soo beautiful!❤️ I absolutely adore those images of the peacock; "The peacock's train fans out, plumage iridescent."❤️ Thank you so much for the lovely prompt, Margaret.
ReplyDeleteAn oldie but goodie here, Margaret. Your igwrt post hinted of a rework. I am sooo glad you chose this bird. I was ripe for a wrire about my experience, really wasn't make believe (most). Anyway, thank you very much for the prompt and my read of this lovely poem of the elegant bird.
ReplyDeleteBWT, have you heard of our attack birds down in our Houston Museum District. The mocking birds are digging their claws into pedestrian heads.
..
I think you're excused, Margaret! Glad your father is recovering. And the poem is lovely, and fits the prompt, and it's new to me!
ReplyDeleteYou really captured the heat, here, Margaret.. and the scene itself is meticulously conveyed. Also, the photos are particularly stunning - you have a gift, an eye for composition.
ReplyDelete