Friday, February 26, 2016

"Beyond the Hush"

Beyond the Hush

She rests in the hush,
watches as summersaulting remnants
of last fall's brilliance sweep with crumbling footprints
the swirling dirt floor.

Comfort to me always smells
of Bluegrass, Timothy, or Rye
upon which she nestles and listens
to wind's whispered warning.

Crows add cries of caution;
what rankles them today, who knows,
and pony raises his head from a pile of hay;
hears it all.  Understands far more than I.

The weekend's chore list waves "get busy"
but summer's fan spins as if to say
"It's time to play, to enjoy this day
as winter's storm is on its way!"

And so we head out, pony and I,
nod to feline as we pass.
We'll be back before the rains descend,
stall doors latched, secured,

but for now the rafters creak
and the latches bang,
offer up barns symphony of joy -
or lament; either way, I'm glad I listened.

by Margaret Bednar, February 26, 2016.

I have been inspired by Maria Wolf of Full Moon Fiber Art to record "Visual Poems".  Which would lead one to think a video recording - of course I have to add a photo and a poem so I probably defeat the purpose!  I need to remember to turn my iPhone horizontally for a better image AND the "choreography" needs to be improved - I think it is a learned process.

You're invited to Listen:

* Note - not really rye as it isn't good hay for horses - but it sounded better than alfalfa :)

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's - Natures Wonders - explore the world of footprints"  I stretched the meaning a bit I think... leaves are not animal tracks ...

Also linked with "dVerse Poetics - Adventures in Traveling"

My son, William Bednar "In Winter" a poem

My Son, William Bednar, Actor, Writer, Poet, Musician
His Band:

"In Winter" 
by William Bednar 

The sweetest love
Is love that’s innocent,
And you have always known
The child in me
And loved these paws,
My soft, symphoric hands,
That love the miles
Of snowfall in your eyes.
Tomorrow will renew today
And herald in our holly-tide,
Will charm December, wake
The sleeping World into parity,
And revel with
The sudden solstice
Of our hearts.
In love, I learn the truth
Of the unlearned soul;
Each moment is a dance,
Each hour is mint
And cinnamon and snow,
Each kiss is fresh
When months are cold,
Each minute new
When days are short,
And when my love
Is worn by you.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

"Empire State Building"

Empire State Building

Surrounded as it is
by Tudor, Gramercy, Chelsea, and Hell,

this beacon of white,
within the city of eternal light,

proudly poses
upon a stubborn slip of land,

a lucent spire never resting,
tossing fear aside

proclaiming for its nation:

by Margaret Bednar, February 17, 2016

You're invited to Listen:

The Empire State Building often changes its signature white for various colors for different occasions and organizations throughout the year.

ESB Timeline:

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Micro Poetry" - "One this snowflake (alighting) is upon a gravestone" e.e. cummings.   Well, there IS only one Empire State Bldg... and I chose a free verse style.  (no surprise there)

Monday, February 15, 2016



Desire the crooked curve of his lips,
roving wink, easy laugh.

Delight in his quick wit, repetitive hair flip,
caressing hand down your back.

Distrust everyone else.

by Margaret Bednar, February 15, 2016

This if for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Carpe Jugulum" using Terry Pratchett's "Carpe Jugulum" "Don't trust the cannibal just 'cos he's using' a knife or fork!" as a foundation.

I think most of us at one time or another have fallen for such a guy/gal... if not, my hat's off to you.

Click on the above link to find poets who have done a far better job with this challenge than my quick attempt.  

Thursday, February 11, 2016

"A Woman's Touch"

A Woman's Touch

So much depends
upon paint color.

Spiced Butternut, Honey Bird,
Sundance...  Hmm, I know: Concord Ivory.

At the end of each day,
when you stroll toward home,

I'll frame myself
behind white lace curtains,

wave.  Kiss you just inside
our Raspberry Truffle door

lead you by the hand
to our back porch swing

hanging between Windham Cream pillars.
Ask you about your day.

At night, black shutters
will frame the Tiffany night light.


Now Dear, do you have any thoughts
as to paint color?

by Margaret Bednar, February 11, 2016

I Invite you to Listen:

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fireblossom Friday - The Red Wheelbarrow"  We had to begin our poem with "So much depends upon" - the famous poem written by William Carlos Williams.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016


A Crocus


Beneath bare branched poplars and beech
a pendulous beauty blooms early this year.

Loblolly pines filter a frolicking light
that tickles and teases winter's garden;
tries coaxing a crocuses' fate to quickly blossom and fade -

make way for buttery daffodils, bursting catkins,
and bountiful Spring.  But I'm in no hurry
as snowdrop's milky white still delights.

By Margaret Bednar, February 9, 2016

You are invited to listen:

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Flash 55 Plus (use a foreign word) - mine is "Komorebi" which is Japanese for "sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees".

Also linking with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform.