"Thanksgiving"

"Thanksgiving"

Today we embrace
Happiness, sadness, look yesterday in the eye
And forgive ourselves, others,
Not taking for granted the gifts before us.
Knit everything together,
Shaping a quilt of
Gratitude.
I promise to
View this day as an
Initial step to celebrating the ordinary,
Not fixated on more.  Appreciating less -
Gratified with what I have.

by Margaret Bednar, November 27, 2013

This is another acrostic poem.  I will be back after Thanksgiving.  In the mean time, I wish everyone in the U.S. a Happy Thanksgiving day and Peace to those who live elsewhere.

My post below is my contribution to the 5th Annual Gratitude Quilt compiled by Laura of "Shine the Divine".   The above is a condensed version.

Also will be linked with Friday Flash 55 - Thursday at 8pm.  

"Gratitude and Thankfulness"

My niece's artwork

Gratitude and Thankfulness

Gnarled fingers accept each season,
Reach toward the sky
Asking no more
Than to be.
I have always admired
The strength of trees, their
Undisputed ability to bend, sway,
Displaying a wisdom we humans should
Embrace, not clearcut -

A spirit thats
Nectar is mother earth.
Do we ever

Think to pause from our rat race,
Hesitate for a moment
And give thanks for the day?
Not likely; prayers are often saved for Sundays, holidays,
Knowing flowery words will impress
Friends, family.  Peace, though, starts with
Us being thankful for what we have,
Leaving desires, wants - to rest.  Focusing on what we
Need.  It starts now.  Not tomorrow.  If
Everyone were like a tree, we would
Simply be silent.  Learn to listen.
Simply embrace the light.  Be satisfied.

by Margaret Bednar, November 25, 2013

This is for Laura's "Gratitude Quilt", asking us to write - unedited and letting the words flow - what we are grateful for in this moment?  The above acrostic poem is my response.  I am trying to learn to be thankful for NOW.  Today.  Trying to have an inner joy at all times.  To be satisfied with what I have, not desiring more, more, more.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Americans - and wishing everyone else peace and joy for today.

I am also linking this with "I Heart Macro - Week 28" and "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Open Link Monday".

"Princess Dreams"

Princess Dreams

Behind lace curtains
do you still dream
of white picket fences -
of prince charming?

Do blue eyes shimmer
'cause dreams came true?

Behind lace curtains
is perfection showcased
by white picket fences -
"haves" vs. "have nots"?

Do blue eyes shimmer
'cause you'd settle for "less"?

by Margaret Bednar, November 24, 2013

This is for "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Challenge" - Woody Guthrie wrote what he saw, felt, and knew.  He was often the voice for those who didn't have one.  The challenge was to write our own protest or rant piece.

I took this photo today - was quite charmed by the white picket fence - so "American Dream".   It got me to thinking how little girls are often raised so differently - how often girls are groomed to desire many pretty things, to find a rich husband  - NOT to rely on their brains and talents.  I've known a few women who got "what they wished for" and behind their fabulous "white picket fences" their wish has grown sour.  

"A New Eden"

Panjin, China - Red Beach 

A New Eden

Beneath sky blue,
I blend maroon, burgundy,

crimson, scarlet
into one glorious red -
dip my brush, generously

slash over intolerance,
greed, revenge -

refresh white wings
of Apollo's cranes
as they herald in
one thousand years
of heavenly love,

soar with joy, light, and grace;

consciously omit
all of mankind -

leave the rest up to God.

by Margaret Bednar, November 22, 2013


This is for "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Transforming Friday with Nature's Wonders" - Red Beach of Panjin, China.

This is also for Friday Flash 55.

The crane is a highly symbolic bird HERE .  As beautiful a place as this is, I found it a very difficult poem to create.  

"The Stage"

LOVE Ellen!  She interviewed the band that created "What Does the Fox Say".

This is not a fox - but the "Maned Wolf" from South America

"The Stage"

Crows circle and caw
as Cooper hawk approaches,
silent wings beating;

forest erupts, becomes
an open Greek theatre.

On warm, fallen leaves
fox raises his head,
sniffs, curious if a comedy
or tragedy's at hand;

slinks off.  Will return
after the kill.

by Margaret Bednar, November 20, 2013

Over at the "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Words Count with Mama Zen" we are to interpret "What does  the Fox Say" in 43 words or less. … I've heard that song one too many times (my six year old knows it by heart.)  I think he must just crave a NAP after all the commotion…



Here are fantastic photos of a male fox HERE taken by photographer Ann Brokelman - she lives in Toronto.

My image above is of a gorgeous creature of South America - seems like a cross between a wolf and a fox, but is its own species, I believe.  We have two at our local zoo - Maned Wolf HERE.

"Aldabra"

Aldabra

You lumber gracefully
on toes prehistoric

inquisitive nose upturned,
eyes inches from mine -

don't look at me,
look into me -

and I nearly drown
in two ebony pools -

time suspended.

by Margaret Bednar, November 19, 2013

The past few days we have been entertaining and visiting with the Grandparents.  Monday we visited the Science Center and I had no idea this wonderful aquarium/small zoo was ten minutes from my home!  I always go to the larger zoo 45 minutes away.



This Aldabra (giant tortoise) was very active and swung his great head my way and walked and climbed up the log with his front legs and peered into my eyes -  his nose almost touched my iPhone.  I bent down and looked right into his beautiful eyes… what a "jolt" of sensation!

Linked with "dVerse Open Link Night #123"

"I See Her"

I See Her

I'm one among many,

middle school auditorium

squeezed in tightly

with anticipation

lights dim, room hushes

voices ring out

try to harmonize center-stage -

the loudest note, off key

as young warblers part

for my daughter's solo.

The crowd fades as I

sit transfixed

as the soft light

caresses

her angled cheeks, full lips -

dances down her lithe form

fingertip to toe, arabesque -

silhouetting her figure,

more hour-glass than boxy

as she sings, soprano

of love flirtatious

exuding confidence

and then

she blends back in

harmonizing with the other children

and I see her as if for the first time

still beaming, but now

with a tear in my eye.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, January 29, 2012


and yet, a part of me will always see her like this:

we were asked to find a favorite poem.  I love writing historical pieces, and perhaps one of those is my best, and lately I really enjoy writing about nature and the seasons, about horses… but, my mother's heart wins out when I have to pick a personal favorite and that is what "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Fireblossom Friday" is all about today.  

I selected the above poem partly on the fact I adore poems about a sliver of a moment, a sudden emotion.  

She asked for ONE.   But, I must submit at least one per child which was very hard for me to do.  So, if anyone is interested, below are a few other poems which cover most of my children.

**********

The Sentinel  (a personal favorite of mine as well)

Lonely 

My Butterfly

Noble Warrior

The Scryer

Nostalgia

Etched

"Langsyne"

Langsyne

Lemon-yellow, crisp orange,
cranberry and sugar snap green,
sparkle beneath a deluge of dappled light
poured forth from sky's blue pitcher.

I wade in this autumn sea,
backstroke through memories
of mountains raked, bodies flopping,
burrowing, giggling - barking, digging,
rescuing; of maple helicopter races; 
a pony's fuzzy warm muzzle.

Wonder at today's silence, its stillness.

by Margaret Bednar, November 24, 2013

This is for Friday Flash 55.  Langsyne is a Scottish word (I think) and it means times long past, especially those fondly remembered.

Where are the children?  We would play outside all day on a crisp fall day.  Ride horses, build forts, rake leaves.  Growing up I had a dog, Sugar, who loved to play hide and seek.  My best hiding spot was in a pile of leaves.  She finally found me because I was giggling.

"Madness"

Mike Worrall,  Artist 

Madness

From flamed maple and spruce
a tenor's voice vibrates
a song my fingers create

'til madness recedes,
mindlessly spins, loses itself
in a labyrinth of sensation.

How long repressed
is anyone's guess -
how long till the Minotaur

devours me whole?

by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2013

The above painting is entitled "Poet's Corner".  Couldn't help but reflect on how many artists are on the verge of madness - and often are overtaken by it.

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Challenge - artwork of Mike Worrall".   Also linked with Open Link Monday.

"Margaret -ism"

Margaret "ism"

Margaret is woken by rain,
is a rare breed who believes in truth
over all other considerations,

is a rare thing among saints, is clear
in her aims, is a woman on the right -
is no stranger to empowering the future.

is a dedicated mother to her children,
in addition, is a wonderful mother
to her two cats.

Margaret is skilled at getting her voice
across to a wide audience,

is presented with a bouquet of
"is wonderful".   Is alive, is happy
to belong.

Margaret is in the room.

Margaret Bednar, November 8, 2013

This is my second Margaret poem, this time using "Googlism"  I had not understood the difference between this and "Google" when I did my first Margaret (post below.

HERE is the Googlism page for Margaret (if you are interested)  Disclaimer:  I refused to type in "Margaret is fat"  :)

This is for dVerse where the exercise is to "Google" a topic and create a "list poem" of information.  I googled my name.  I hope this is what Samuel Peralta had in mind.  Check out the challenge "dVerse Form for All - List Poems and the poetic Heart of Google".

"Margaret"

Margaret

I'm really quite a simple girl,
rarely indulge illusions of grandeur,

yet there are moments
I ponder myself a queen, a princess,
or a resident at 10 Downing Street -

imagine escaping a dragon,
being martyred at Antioch -

was disappointed "Margaret"
rated only three stars -

remember as a teenager
wishing my last name was "Mitchell".

by Margaret Bednar, November 7, 2013


"Margaret" is a movie that actually, under "Rotten Tomatoes" garnered a 3.5.  :)

I googled my name and this is what I got… you should try it.

This is for Friday Flash 55 - a story (or in my case, poem) in 55 words.

"I Listened"

I Listened

I cannot tell you what tomorrow holds

nor what yesterday means just yet,

but I know last evening I listened

as summer's last songbird splashed

its lyrics against a tangerine sky, 

its sentinel voice bowing

to river's restless murmurings

of numbered sun-drenched days.

I smiled as stubborn oak, fully ablaze,

stood defiant, prepared to hang on 'till spring

despite wind's gorging appetite

while more prudent creatures scampered

and burrowed beneath falling, spiraling

canopy, snuggling spring's promise

and I adjusted my jacket, pulled out 

my mittens, and saw my breath 

beneath beaver moon's filtered light.

Margaret Bednar, November 6, 2013

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed with Ed Pilolla" and "Poety Jam - What do you Know for Sure"  

I believe this year's "beaver moon" will happen around November 15th - but it worked for the poem, so go with it :)

Photography is courtesy of my friend "J.B."  (thank you!)

"In Pursuit of Peace"

In Pursuit of Peace

Serenity is upon the water,
swirling, floating.
It is in trees, posturing
amongst leaves, content,
teasingly before me.

I breath deeply, thinking
I can capture such bliss,
but it eludes me.

So I lower my camera,
still myself.  Observe cardinals
flitting about, cocking heads,
seeds cracking between beaks,
finches chasing food scattered
upon forest floor.  Notice
one shy fellow perched
in branches, high.  Witness
a dance as they swoop
and with perky feet, balance
along feeder's rim, pirouette
upon dainty toes before gliding
to lofty shrub all in a rhythmic
harmony I faintlly hear.

Laughter and talk break my trance,
human feet tread my way
and I'm surprised to find,
that for a few moments
peace had been mine.

by Margaret Bednar,  updated  November 4, 2013 - originally written February 6, 2012

This poem is dedicated to the subject of PEACE.  Of finding peace.

I have linked this poem with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Open Link Monday - "Dona Nobis Pacem" (Grant us Peace).  

Another "Pigeon Pie"

Another "Pigeon Pie"

I lift my arms,
tilt my chin skyward,

as if to drape these fields
of blue afternoon shadows
about my shoulders -

open my palms,
fingertips outstretched

toward the kaleidoscope of trees
bursting with migration's song -
try to absorb their pulse.

Not to hoard,
but teach others

of nature's indispensability
"for the heart that gives,
gathers" -

but I fear
this slice of fulfillment

may soon become another pigeon pie
devoured by bulldozers, served up as the
"American Dream".  White picket fence, optional.

by Margaret Bednar, November 3, 2013  


This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Birthday in November - Marianne Moore"  She believed meter, or anything else that claims the exclusive title "poetry" is not as important as delight in language and precise, heartfelt expression in any form.  She believed it a poets artistic right to also tackle the sometimes ugly, uncomfortable or harsh realities of the human condition.  To read more about her, follow the above link.

I was unable to meet (nor did I really understand) the "line syllables" aspect of Ms. Moore's writing - I  read a number of her poems and couldn't see a pattern of such - but what do I know.

Our challenge was to find an idyllic setting that would become the backdrop for our "imaginary garden"  and produce a "real toad" into the piece.   It should raise a very realistic social issue.

I must tell you, I really struggled with this challenge.  Thanks, Kerry, for making me step out of my comfort zone as I don't usually write from this viewpoint.

The quote in my above poem "for the heart that gives, gathers" is from Marianne Moore.

NOTE:  The Passenger Pigeon once filled the skies, houses replaced habitats, and people killed the birds en masse, baked them in pigeon pies - and finally these birds became extinct.  

The last passenger pigeon, Martha, is mounted and preserved at the Smithsonian.  HERE is a link that will tell you a little about her story.

I stand guilty, as we moved our family to a rural development complete with tennis courts, clubhouse and pool.  Head one way, we are "in town", the other, we are driving winding roads amongst fields, horses, cows, hills.    New communities are starting up in these very areas we adore and we don't like it one bit…

"Winter Sunflower"

Winter Sunflower 

Goldfinches have long since picked you dry,
flittered away after the crucifixion.

A crown once awash with light
now rests upon drooping neck,

tarnished not with pity,
but sacrifice.

Your face hints of sun-drenched days,
yet the tappity splat of thawing, frosted air

is the beginning of springs's marching band
and your resurrection.

by Margaret Bednar, November 1, 2013

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - with Maria Wulf".  Maria is a fiber artist and blogs at "Full Moon Fiber Art" and lives on "Bedlam Farm" with her husband, author John Katz.

"Heatwave"

Photo by Margaret Bednar

Heatwave

A fever oscillates across my skin
swigs stamina and strength from my bones,
yet offers no toast to acknowledge my hospitality.

I'm just "southern" enough to graciously welcome
unwanted guests, find beauty in wilting leaves bowing temporarily
to a stronger force; enjoy the ballet of grandmother's quilt
as it lifts a corner, flutters gracefully as the fever exhales;

imagine I'm a bartender serving shots during happy hour,
carefully pour each living thing a drink - temperance observed;
join the hens in a silent brooding, thankful the border collie
rallies strength to scan for the devil;

look forward to the lick of night when the visitor rests,
yellow haze behind my eyelids finally fades to black.

by Margaret Bednar, November 1, 2013

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - with Maria Wulf".  Maria is a fiber artist and blogs at "Full Moon Fiber Art" and lives on "Bedlam Farm" with her husband, author John Katz.