"Between the Covers"

Between the Covers

Back in the day, summers meant adventure
not only astride pony and bike
but eyes and fingers waltzing pages,

arm-chairing sweltering afternoons
intoxicated with an artist's sleight of hand,
an author's conjuring

and just like that I'd Mary Poppins into each book,
not in lady-like fashion, feet first,
but cannon-ball style,

discipling into Aslan's world,
cow-girling Wyoming's Green Grasses,
sonneting a White Way of Delight

honeycombed within worlds
where characters became friends,
their words sandwiched within me,

nibbled on all these years,
nourishing, thrilling, sharing with my children
cocooned in a hammock come summer.

by Margaret Bednar, April 30, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Final in Verbs - Imagined by Brudberg" a challenge to turn nouns into verbs.

and NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)... I competed 29 - missed one day.

The books referred to in this poem are:

Narnia series
Green Grass of Wyoming series
Anne of Green Gables series

I invite you to listen to me read this poem (I have to re-record this as I made a few changes):

"April Sunset" or "Pink Moon"

April Sunset or "Pink Moon "

Bare branches present

soft fuscia -n- lavender sky,

yellow sphere still tethered to mountain peeks,

and phlox, moss pink tickling the ground
masquerading as dainty -n- delicate;

will survive tonight's frosty breeze better than we

who gather sweaters close to chests and linger,

admire slanted face smirking, 

dangling like a Christmas ornament.

Lean back and wait for her to break away
for one last fling above barren mountain range;
soon to be stored away come season’s end.

by Margaret Bednar, April 29, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday: This is (Almost the End)

and NaPoWriMo 2-18 (30 poems in 30 days)

My husband and I drove up into the Blue Ridge Mountains and had a "picnic" dinner but it was too chilly to eat it outside so we ate in the car. The first night of the Full Pink Moon is supposed to have a frost and I think this bit of folklore or Native American observation will occur!   This image is from my iPhone camera (as most of the photos on my blog are)  Many people were taking photos of the moon tonight.


I invite you to listen to me read this poem:

"The Ultimate Weapon"

image from google 

The Ultimate Weapon

It's the chipping away, a brightness turning grey,
a youthful smile slowly fading away.
Once sparkling eyes sliding sideways,
tears, betrayal, dismay;

a future once bright, now turning grey.

Looking closely its hard to say
why, but closed doorways
convey a secret downplayed,
words spoken harshly, a mainstay
of vitriol, of hate, a parent's entree
of degradation.  A child's eyes turning grey.

by Margaret Bednar, April 26, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fashion Me Your Words - Fold Poem"  We were to consider "Destructive Weapons" as a theme and verbal abuse instantly came to my mind...

The photo alone breaks my heart...

also with NaPoWriMo 2018


I invite you to listen to me read my poem:  

"Here We Go Again..."

Here We Go Again...

The Sound of Music lifts one's spirits
sells out community theatre seats

as does Oklahoma;

actors resign themselves,
wish for avant-garde, a tiny bit Bohemian,

even mildly revolutionary

but humming patrons
singing along with familiar wins the day.

Next season promises Grease.

by Margaret Bednar, April 26, 2018


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Day 27 - Let's Join the Children"

and with NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

Having a little fun as these theatre classics have their place and I do enjoy them, but they are over done in the sense that most community theatre's and high schools do them over and over again.  I NEVER need to see another production of Wizard of Oz again.  Grease is fun and always will be for me, but it is probably overdone in high schools :)

I invite you to listen to me read my poem:

"Keepsakes"

Keepsakes

I'm not a hoarder, don't like clutter,
yet with any virtue,
there seems an occasional hidden vice...

or bending of the rules;

for how can I throw away photos
with cream puff cheeks and button noses,

tiny jean jackets and petite ruffled dresses,

bears with names: Grandpa, Button, and Pow,

VHS tapes of rehearsals, vacations,
hours of family fun...

artistic masterpieces rendered in crayon?

How many I Luv u, Mom's is one allowed?

by Margaret Bednar, April 26, 2018

I invite you to listen to me read this poem: 


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A list with a twist - Imagined by Isadora Gurye"

also linked with NaPoMoWri 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

Back in the day a musical like this would have contributed to my pile of VHS tapes and probably over 300 photos printed out!   Thank goodness for You Tube and Digital!

This was my Emma's senior year's high school performance (last weekend) and she was Cinderella and my freshman daughter, Elise (blond) was a step-sister.

In my own little corner


Don't forget the Prince!

 Step Sisters Lament

"Susan"

Cathy & Patsy paper doll clothes framed on my wall

Susan

There's a photo
rests upon Mother's bureau;
girl with blond hair, straight bangs,
fair of skin.

Used to think she was me.

But how could that be
as she was older
and I didn't recognize
the plaid, button-down shirt?

Sat for hours one afternoon,
sorted through hidden boxes stacked;
found hand-drawn, paper-doll clothes
labeled Cathy & Patsy: ski boots,
poodle skirts, evening gowns,
polka dot pajama's ...
thanks to someone imaginative.

Wondered at Mother's tears
on afternoons I played
 Judy Garland's Trolley Song,
Meet Me in St. Louis,
Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
over and over again...
Asked why the record skipped,
who played it before me?

_________

My favorite number is nine
after a little girl who dreamed of

being a year older,
an artist,
swinging in the park,
feeding the ducks,

but eight is all she had
and blue eyes & a smile
within a silver frame
that reminds me of me.

by Margaret Bednar, April 24, 2018


This poem has been reworked a number of times, and thanks to this challenge, I believe this is my best effort so far (added quite a bit and deleted a stanza or two)

I really don't look like anyone in my family - my sisters being darker and having different facial features - but Susan's features looked like me.

This is linked with "dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics: Body Image"

and NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)  

"The (college) Performers"

My son is in the white pants (it is his voice that begins the song (and continues throughout) and the falsetto at 1:30.  This was six years ago at college.  (click and it will enlarge) He is an actor/singer/writer living in Brooklyn, NY.

The (college) Performers

Heaven and Hell,
operatic or rock n roll;

it's the blend I suppose we're drawn to,
a bit of rebel versus saint,

humor and fear,
blended falsetto and cello.

Excitement
on a hot summer's night,

exploding stars
beneath North Carolina’s sky,

together, center stage one last time.

by Margaret Bednar, April 24, 2018

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform".  I have an exercise where I will listen to music and just ... write down my feelings, thoughts, impressions during the song and fiddle with it for no more than five minutes afterwards.  They don't always make sense, but this one I did to a recording my son performed in six years ago - "The Black Parade" by American band "My Chemical Romance".  This is a rock opera centering around "The Patient" and his passage out of life and the memories he has of his life.

also linked with NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)  I've successfully completed 22 poems in 23 days so far.

I am in the process of getting my photos and video clips of my two daughters in their high school's production of Cinderella (my oldest was Cinderella, my other daughter a step sister) and it has a whole different feel than "The Black Parade" :)  I hope to share this year's musical with you soon.

"A Price to Pay"

A Price to Pay

Is not madness
a mere departure of expected
where neurosis is merely abnormal,
inhibition abandonment of convention?

When does creative, curious, incautious
cross the path of sacred and spiritual,
become unusual and extreme,
cross the line of genius to insane?

When do accolades end,
derision begin;

what price does vision claim?

by Margaret Bednar, April 23, 2018


8 artists who suffered mental illness
10 female artists who were institutionalized 
10 poets who were completely mad


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Imagined by Kerry - An Antic Disposition"

also linked with NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days).  I have been successful writing a poem a day so far - except for yesterday where I partially completed one and have yet to edit it.  So two will be posted today.  It isn't easy!

The above video is of the artwork of a French artist Seraphine.  She was admitted into an asylum after WWII.  Her story if you google it is fascinating and there is a movie about her as well.  

"Oberon"

Our baby Oberon.   His Registered name is Buck,
his "barn" name was originally Murphy

Oberon

Don't let innocent eyes and wobbly knees fool you,
for long sooty lashes and hesitant step belie a trickster,
though young this fairy's portrait may be.  Born Murphy,

this warrior now thick of chest and round of rump,
can arch a studly neck, lift tail arabesque,
race off as if tracked by Cat Sith
leaving us at pasture gate.  (which we forgive)

More oft he teases, this King of Fairies, our Oberon,
nuzzles one's neck with whiskery kiss,
greets with low-throated nicker,
pricks ears forward and blinks a wink.

(and as if under an ancient spell, we fall for it
every single time)

by Margaret Bednar, April 20, 2018

Oberon

Cat sith - said to resemble large black cat with white spot on chest.  Legend has it that the spectral cat haunts the Scottish Highlands.  A few Irish folklore mention it too.  Some say it wasn't a fairy, but a witch that could transform into a cat nine times.

Murphy - Irish meaning is sea warrior/ battler

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Imagined by Brendan MacOdrum - Mythical Creatures"  I am not well versed in this subject matter and he did give me a bit of an out with "put your beloved pet in a folktale, or walk a mile in an animal's paws.   It is not a tale - but I liken him to a fairy (Shakespeare's character, Oberon, and after which I named him) and tried to weave a couple Irish or Scottish mythological creatures into this poem.

also participating with NaPoWriMo 2018.

I am also swamped this weekend with my two high school girls being in the musical Cinderella - My senior daughter is Cinderella and my freshman daughter is a step-sister.  I have little time to write these past few days, so that is another reason for my bending the rules a bit (hope you don't mind Brendan)  I will read and comment after I return from the evening shows!  

"Say the Name, Ocracoke"

Ocracoke Harbor: Silver Lake

Say the Name, Ocracoke

I say the name, Ocracoke,
let it click at the back of my tongue,
glide gently past my lips,
almost puckering if for a kiss
as it leaves me and my mountain top home

winging eastward toward Pamlico Sound
with its batik sky,
dissolving its vowels and syllables
into aqua, turquoise or teal
as it slips into Silver Lake.

Will soon eagerly lean against ferry rail,
say the name, Ocracoke,
salt spray and sun's warm slant
welcoming me as we squeeze
through The Ditch

into beckoning days charmingly simple:
coffee slowly sipped Down Creek,
hammock naps at Springer's Point
and if we are really lucky,
perhaps a pirate's wail adrift a foggy morn
over Teach's Hole.

by Margaret Bednar, April 20, 2018


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Wordy Thursday (Fri) with Wild Woman - Say the Names of the Places you Love" a tribute to Canadian poet Al Purdy and perhaps his most famous poem "Say the Names".

and NaPoWriMo 2018.

"The Omen"

The Omen

Seasons are but chapters, some penned wistfully,
others vibrantly alive with desire.

Today I marvel at the lifting fog
slowly illuminating earnest stemmed crocus
and snowdrops sprouting fragile yet resilient
from frost-kissed earth;

an omen to gather strength for the future,
leave harsh edge of my tongue
behind, allow my script to be scrolled
with a gentle slant, willing to bend but not break.

by Margaret Bednar, April 19, 2018


This is linked with "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed with Sanaa Rizvi" - I used the words omen, wistful, crocus, edge.

Also linked with NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

A Diva's Exit (or lack thereof) A Haibun poem

I believe "deceitful" is a bit harsh, prone to believe she's "full of herself" with her frosty farthingale draping my mountainside.  Belle's of the ball rarely want an affair to end, continue cavorting upon the dance floor desiring all eyes upon them.  I enjoyed following her buttermilk skies and mare's tails waltzing across peaks and valleys, smiled as her bare dew-kissed limbs escorted me trailside, welcomed her cool greeting grazing my cheeks each morn.

Yet, appreciation has its limits and mine's been met.  An elegant exit is as important as a grand entry and she has flubbed hers, returned for a third encore absent applause.  A diva's temper tantrum is never pretty and she's outdone herself.  I gently try to prop up a virginal bent beauty, ruby flush yet to fade.  Gaze around as other's have followed suit; no match for the wrath of last season's debutante whose flirtatious winks and beguiling smiles have finally grown old.  My infatuation a thing of the past.

A graceful exit requires elegant bows - tulips take center stage.

by Margaret Bednar, April 18, 2018

I reworked the haiku.  This is not the original one posted. I write them in a single line reminiscent of the Japanese style. 

farthingale:  also known as hoops.  It originated as a modest-sized mechanism for holding long skirts away from one's legs, to stay cooler and keep from tripping.

mares tails & buttermilk skies - various cloud formations/descriptions

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Write Here. Write Now" (Scribble it)

with "dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday - Chijitsu - Lingering Day"

and NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)


As most of us know, many are still awaiting for spring to arrive or at least be given a chance to "dance".   We had an icy rain here with a touch of snow mid April ... that's crazy. 

"By Design"

Kandinsky, Riding Couple, 1906

By Design  

Romance is easy to paint,
a debonair bow, flourish of flowers,
dimples either side a besotted smile,
deep blue dappled river, twinkling starlit sky,
and a city with golden spires.

Doesn't hurt to have a prince
and maiden fair upon his lap
atop a stately steed, arms entwined, chins tilted,
lips eager for first kiss.

Reality's composition is a bit more confusing
where gestures, curtsies and flirtations alone
don't charm (at least not anymore)
where life's been stirred with complications -

love's canvas a bit more complex.

by Margaret Bednar, April 14, 2018

Kandinsky, Composition VI, 1913

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"  The optional extra for today was to write to a 20th century artist, Wassily Kandinsky.

Also linked with NaPoWriMo 2018.

Kandinsky: Master of the Mystic Arts is an interesting peak into the mind of the artist.  B

"Frank P."

Frank P.

His dark hair would slide across his forehead
as he concentrated on bankrupting me,
my get out of jail card long gone
and half a board away from collecting $200.
Wouldn't survive past Pacific Avenue
let alone Boardwalk unless I got lucky
and landed on Chance.

The little dog was cute; about all I had
going for me...  Well, if I'm honest,
I had his smile, his dark eyes,
and two hours of Saturday afternoons.

He'd claim to be the winner,
but I say we tied.

by Margaret Bednar, April 12, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - It's all Fun & Games"

and also NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)


Dedicated to those Saturdays and my first real crush - Frank P.

"Alias"

Alias

"So long a song will run that people learn it" Francois Villon, The Ballad of the Proverbs 

It's true, I write poetry because I can't sing or dance.
Not that I didn't try.  Many an LP was scratched
as I fought for breath control and vibrato,
many a thigh bruised as I bumped into table corners;

Mother in the kitchen, encouraging,
can only imagine how often she grimaced.

I'm not tone deaf, realize I'll never harmonize
let alone sing the melody other than alone in my car.
Not exactly a wallflower, but a few glasses of wine
and I've gained a bit of dance floor bravado.

I've birthed six children, all melodious and coordinated,
all have embraced the creative life
either as actor or artist.

Heard my youngest say with enthusiasm the other day
his mother was a poet.  In private, let it roll off my tongue.

I like the sound of it.

Margaret Bednar, April 15, 2018

The phrase "I write poetry because I can't sing or dance" was lifted from a poem written by Walt Wojtanik from the blog "Through the Eyes of a Poet's Heart".

The Villon quote makes me laugh because it really does not ring true for me... to this day songs I've heard all my life I don't have memorized... so even if I had the talent to be on stage, it would be a disaster :)  The Ballad of the Proverbs, Francois Villon

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Serendipity and a Poet"

and linked with  NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days) 

"Allure"

Allure

Wayward curls, starched bow ties,
Crisp suits, casual shoes,
Waltzes and the bunny hop.

They say opposites attract... I say
it was simply your smile.

by Margaret Bednar, April 14, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Eres Tu" Watch the video and go.  No guidelines.  My kind of poetry :)

also linked with NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

"The Altar"

The Altar

Within Grandma's holy sanctum resided an altar
before which I was in awe, would stand tip toe in worship
adoring the lines of her ornate hand held ivory mirror
and silver hair brush; hands not folded in prayer
but covering my lips as my eyes traveled to the holy grail.

Sometimes she would humor me, open it,
musical notes tumbling out and I'd laugh,
imagine I'd ceased to exist amongst the living
and miraculously been transported to an angelic realm,

convinced the silver birds with amber eyes
and gem studded feathers would defy the laws of nature,
turn into flesh and bone; tiny creatures
that would fit into my pocket.

A gift I'd offer up to God someday while at Mass
as I knew such veneration should be reserved
for Jesus alone.

by Margaret Bednar, April 12, 2018

I adore brooches and search for them in antique stores.  I rarely buy them, but they do make me happy to this day.

This is linked to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Poetry as Metaphor" We were to select 13 words from a quote by Diane Setterfield from "The Thirteenth Tale"

and NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

My 13 words:  laughter (laugh), flesh, bones (bone), living, ceases (cease), exist, humor, happily, alter (altar), amber, laws, nature, miracle (miraculously)

"Lake Leanna"

Lake Leanna 

It qualified more as a mud puddle than a lake,
but we kids didn't notice or care
that sand was hauled in each year and ended at the water line.

Squishy mud greeted our toes the moment we stepped in,
quickly swam to the floating dock which wobbled back and forth
with every single neighborhood kid upon it,

perhaps doing a better job at babysitting than Mrs. Phillips
basking not only in the sun but the latest Harlequin Romance
or the gossiping mothers smoking and sipping "soft drinks"
rearranging their bathing suit straps to avoid tan lines;

shook our heads as some boys strained their eyeballs
hoping for a peek of Mrs. Blue's ample bosom.

At least they came, some moms packed a few soft drinks
in a styrofoam cooler, waved goodbye from the front door;
some provided sunblock, more often baby oil.

One day feared I'd sink beneath greenish brown depths
as there was no room upon the floating "nanny",
was sure no-one would ever notice my disappearance.

I believe that's the day I truly learned to float upon my back,
but not after a few near-death experiences.

Spent many a summer evening digging through the sand
searching for stained red cigarette butts,
hesitantly inhaling & coughing as we hid creekside below the dam.

Spied our teenage crush wooing a girl upon the beach,
giggled at the corny things he said, but in the end
he got his kiss and we all swooned.

Summer seemed to last forever in those days, but the years since
have certainly flown.  I revisited Lake Leanna a while ago,
surprised to see a sign "Swim at your own risk".  Had to laugh
as we always had, just no-one warned us.

by Margaret Bednar, April 12, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Day 12 - Costa Rica photos".

and also NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days)

For my Mom's sake, I need to clarify she never would have smoked, drank, or gossiped.  I was always a guest of my friends - we lived on 10 acres across the street from the subdivision - my mom gardened and took care of the horses, chickens and various other animals we owned.  My mom assumed we were being properly supervised.

* Mrs. Blue and Mrs. Phillisp are a made up name in order to protect the true identity of the real-life moms.

This all took place in the late 1970's - I was in grade school and enjoyed a wonderfully free-roaming childhood. 

Grandma's Living Room

Grandma loved her African Violets

Grandma's Living Room

Grandma had a davenport with doilies on armrests and an angora throw
(which I loved to pet as it was so silky) and an ornately carved rocking chair that creaked.
A round cobalt blue Chinese jar fascinated me, glaze so shiny... yet knew not to touch.

Center stage, or so it seemed, resided an African Violet on a small walnut side table;
filtered summer sun, full in winter, curtains adjusted accordingly.

A tiny entryway with stairs that immediately transported one to the treasure-laden attic
or a turn to the left towards a small kitchen with oval chrome table and red vinyl chairs.

In the evening, we'd sit porch side, watch neighbors stroll along sidewalk;
if a Saturday night, Lawrence Welk entertained on her small black & white T.V.

Close to my heart I hold this long-ago room, remember dinner on T.V. trays,
library books quietly read, laughter of family gathered, Lulu's & Olive's tongue twisters

and the security I always felt within Grandma's living room.

by Margaret Bednar, April 11, 2018

My grandmother had a lot of funny words (or so I thought) ... called her couch a davenport.  Her refrigerator an ice box, the basement a cellar.    Gay meant funny as in laughter.


This is linked to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Micro-Poetry - Long-Ago Rooms" no more than 12 lines with a nod to the phrase "long-ago rooms" from the poem When You Come by Maya Angelou.

and also NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month (30 Poems in 30 Days)

" Island Tour"

Morris Island,SC

Island Tour

A pair of dolphins arch the water beside our boat
as cord grass gently waves and wax myrtle, yaupon,
and red cedar hail from afar.

Low tide invites us ashore; tour guide shares
civil war era ink jar, union button,
and pieces of old Indian pottery found inland a bit.
Gives my son a shark tooth.

Morris Island lighthouse stands proud and tall
yet dark, stranded off shore
as many an island's known to be fickle,
shifting and moving as they see fit.

We find a perfect sand dollar, but I'm awed
by skeletal remains of a diamond back terrapin
and seabirds partially covered as if gently put to rest,
yet imagine violence was involved -

of which these sands are not foreign,
for back in 1863 Fort Wagner proudly stood,
repulsed two union attacks.  I almost hear them,
imagine the soldier whose eagle embossed button I earlier held..

The wind lifts our sweaters, sun is setting,
realize it's time for wind and water
to rearrange this sandy surface once again,
wash her clean come high tide, depositing
or exposing new treasures for tomorrow's guests.

Motor back to marina where herring gulls
and egrets perch upon pillars eyeing fisherman
as they pull up dockside and we alight,
having enjoyed our trip through low country's waterways.

by Margaret Bednar's April 9m 2018

Diamond Back Terrapin skeleton

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"

Morris Island (next to Folley Beach) is practically a stone's throw away from Fort Sumter (in Charleston Harbor) where the Civil War began.  Fort Wagner resided on Morris Island and the movie Glory is about a Civil War Battle that took place at the fort and Morris Island.

https://www.loc.gov/resource/gvhs01.vhs00055/  I think this link will show you a map of Charleston Harbor - Ft. Wagner on the left, Ft. Sumter dead center with Charleston at the top.  Fort Moultrie is (right) on the island we vacationed on - Sullivan's and Isle of Palm.

and also NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month (30 Poems in 30 Days)

"Elusive"

Azalia shrub

Elusive

"I believe in everything until it's disproved."  John Lennon

Perhaps I will assign more faith to Midsummer's Eve,
but morning's sun has enticed me.  My shoulders are warm
as J. M. Barrie's placed upon the grass, spine prostrate,
unusual for me as I'm a bookmark girl, but I'm distracted
by the play of light dancing upon Azalea blossoms.

I don't look directly, but slyly through lowered lashes
for something elusive.  I've followed the "rules" -
have come quietly, barefoot, sought out "untouched";
found it in fallen blooms I'm convinced are secret pathways.

Only the ever present breeze treads for now,
seemingly have missed them again,
perhaps should have studied that butterfly more closely.
Will have to wait and cultivate a secret garden, add a few gnomes;

take note to plant little jester-hatted Columbines,
Shakespeare's drooping-belled Cowslips, and Forget-Me-Nots
for they fashion clothes from petals such as these. Rescue my book,
satisfy myself with a glimpse of them in a world two stars to the right.

Margaret Bednar, April 9, 2018


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Waiting for".  The challenge is to write about waiting for something, but do not say what "it" is.

Also for NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month (30 Poems in 30 Days.

My oldest daughter when she was small created magical gardens and nooks for fairies, left them letters and treats.  She truly believed - and probably still does.

Note:  J. M. Barrie wrote "Peter Pan" and penned the famous line "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning"

"Motherland"

A detail (lid & bottom) of a sweetgrass basket

Motherland

Amid marsh and meadow
vanilla scented Sweet Grass grows
beside biblical Bulrush and Palm
while Long Leaf Pine drop needles
and slave descendants perpetuate
homeland's link of hope and salvation;

baskets coiled by artisans - Motherland's
low-country baskets of yesteryear's plantations.

by Margaret Bednar, April 8, 2018

Enslaved Africans fashioned these baskets for work on the plantations, finding the same plants in the low-country that grew in Africa thus reinforcing their faith in God's eventual salvation.  Bulrush was originally used, but has been replaced with the softer, finer sweetgrass and long leaf pine has been added for contrast and palmetto has replaced split oak as binders.  Today they are highly valued (and expensive) collectable baskets made by today's artists - having learned the ways from their family members, many starting the craft as a young child at their grandmother's knees.

I fell in love with a $1,200 basket.  I ended up buying a very (very) small basket for $49.  I'm a quilter, and I understand the hours that go into a piece like this.  I wouldn't think of selling a queen size home-made quilt for less than $1,000 and even with that my time and materials would not really be fully rewarded. Obviously, I won't be selling any quilts but I lovingly make them for my home and children.

HERE are some beautiful examples of these sweet grass baskets.

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Poems in April - A L'Arora" an eight lined stanza with a rhyming scheme of a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f  .

Also for NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month  (30 Poems in 30 Days). 

"Impersonation"

Adolph de Meyer (1927)
Advertisement for Elizabeth Arden Cosmetics
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Impersonation

Every southern girl knows sea-wind and sea-spray
can age a girl if she's not careful,
admit I'm prone to imitate star-shaped pennywort
and trumpeted morning glory anchoring themselves beachside
venerating the sun.

Often seek salve for heated skin mid-afternoon,
consider sweet gum, black tupelo, oak;
find comfort beneath alabaster ornamentals and waxy leaves
flaunting my best Scarlet O'Hara

but tan lines and freckles are dead give-aways
despite wide-brimmed straw hat and magnolia's shade
not to mention my southern drawl's non-existent,
blue eyes aren't cat green,

and honeyed tongue is absent from my DNA.

by Margaret Bednar, April 7, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Camera Flash"  This was one of two portraits offered for the challenge.  Also linked with NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month  (30 Poems in 30 Days).

I'm a transplanted northern girl doing my best here in the south.   

"Sister of my Heart"

A Lotus Shoe (a 3" foot) About Chinese Foot Binding

"In every message she spoke of birds, of flight, of the world away.  Even back then, she flew against what was presented to her.  I wanted to cling to her wings and soar, no matter how intimidated I was."  "Lisa See - Snow Flower and the Secret Fan"

Sister of my Heart

We will rise above
foul and disfigured
flourish
as modesty and virtue
are enshrined
in embroidery and silk.

Our husbands
will palm our feet,
perhaps kneel
not caring to know our heart.

We will spin, weave,
and sew for them,
be obedient, bare sons,
be yin to their yang.

____

Will close my eyes,
remember giggling
into the night
as we imagined
childish arms as wings
soaring securely together

into a world away.

by Margaret Bednar, March 20, 2018

A detail from a quilt I own

an interesting post on foot binding HERE

I watched the movie "Snowflower and the Secret Fan" and liked it.  It is slow moving but beautiful (my husband thanked me a thousand times for not making him watch it).  It was so depressing researching this - it is so disheartening to learn foot binding lasted a thousand years.  Watching the movie and seeing the little girl getting her feet bound was very difficult for me.  Many women and children had infection and sometimes gangrene set in - the feet  hurt off and on for their entire lives and they could never walk far.  If you have the stomach, google and view the images of the feet - the Chinese husbands never saw the bare feet supposedly - they were always wrapped in 10 feet of binding, often had a foul smell, and they unwound them once a week (or was it month?) and usually bathed their feet with the bindings on (I think I read that).  Anyway, my mind hasn't left this subject for the past 24 hours ...

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Wordy Friday With Wild Woman - Speaking in the Voice of Another"  & NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month  (30 Poems in 30 Days).

I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.

"Wisteria"

Wisteria

Pendulous violet vines drape themselves
along Southern Baptist’s whitewashed walls,
whisper of romance and ardor
most Catholics might feel a need to confess.

Smile as I consider them sinfully heavy with fragrance
rivaling only the elderly matrons and widows
stepping across Sunday's threshold -

yet Easter is for renewal,
for scampering past steadfast glares of disapproval,
allowing spring to enter one's heart.

by Margaret Bednar, April 6, 2018

This is linked with "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Take the Weather With You" & NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month  (30 Poems in 30 Days). 

Now that I reread my poem I think I wrote more for “Take the Season/Holiday with you” - so sorry if I got off the mark again with following instructions !  

I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.

"A Southern Song"

A Southern Song

I share the night

with scurrying Ghost Crabs

and Chuck-Will’s Widows

swooping beachside dunes.

Stay just out of reach

of Tide’s rise and fall, 

yet follow with glee 

her chasing of spring’s moon

as my footprints,

temporary musical notes 

born of shifting sands,

explore shore & shoals 

beneath a waning gibbous.

Tonight I sing a southern song,

this northern girl

so easily charmed with day’s

salt marsh mudflats & flooded grasses

filled with mockingbirds, egrets, & herons.

I’m a bit fickle, 

seemingly fall in love so easily,

swoon like an inexperienced schoolgirl

when a young beau nibbles her ear.

Yet this is how I feel 

as I tilt my chin skyward,

close my eyes, embrace the poem

that flirts before me, not blushing,

but anticipating the thrill of discovery. 

by Margaret Bednar, April 4, 2018


This is my daughter beachside, sunset. 

This is linked with “Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Transformtions”. I really did try and follow the rules but I guess I kept derailing and this is the result.  It’s not that I have so many “selves” - I write poetry more about what I see and how it makes me feel.  Im not that “complex”. A northern country girl, a bit shy yet most people would never guess that  ...  anyway.  This is a hard prompt and I did try - yet I look forward to reading what others do with this when I get back from vacation.  I’m sure you all will excel!

I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.

Signs of a Southern Spring

Signs of a Southern Spring

Might it be a redbird's first morning song
flung to drift above forest floor & newborn fawn

or perhaps prayer-like, hovers silently,
glides swanlike, glistening righteously?

Is it evident in wisteria's pea-like blooms,
in ocean's rippled, sun-kissed dunes

& bulrush's faded plumes ripe for harvesting, residing
on island's open grasslands, creekside?

Lovers embrace it, fisherman tilt hats "good morn",
as heron glides across its full Pink Moon.

by Margaret Bednar, April 3, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform" and NaPoWriMo 2018 (30 poems in 30 days).

I also am linking really late to the previous "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Sunday Mini-Challenge - The Heroic Couplet"  I took artistic liberty with the rhyming (used near rhymes at times) and the meter isn't iambic pentameter throughout.

We were to write about a favorite poet or one of their works.  I chose Mary Oliver and her book "Felicity".  It is a gorgeous read and I drew on the essence of a few of her poems throughout the entire book.

I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.

The Sand Dollar

The Sand Dollar

I hold a wounded Christ,
or so legend says,
within this fragile sand dollar -
five punctures - hands, feet, side

no blood or gore to disturb me
but a gentle reminder
of his sacrifice

and a lovely lily with central star
recalls His resurrection
and the shepherds who traversed so far.

Upon a beach this treasure found,
slightly damaged, a reminder
he also carries me.

by Margaret Bednar, April 2, 2018


This is for NaPaWriMo2018 - (30 poems in 30 days)


I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.

"I Toast Today"

I Toast Today

I toast today with Parrot Bay Coconut rum and Bailey's Irish Cream,
Banana & Pina Colada riding smoothly upon my tongue
while palm trees sway, due not to over-indulgence
but Atlantic's coastal breeze bending fronds back and forth
in rhythm with rip tide's beat upon the beach

reading Carlos Ruiz Zafron's version of the wind; shadows, intrigue,
ill-fated infatuation, death.  Sip and read beneath sun's caress,
exposed flesh fast becoming delicate pink, convince myself
I won't regret it as I quietly sink into this Adirondack chair as time

simply disappears.

by Margaret Bednar, April 1, 2018

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - April One/One Love - write with a chaotic cacophony of words!" - the beginning of National Poetry Month".  Write a poem a day for the month of April.

Cacophony means "explosive consonants: B D K P T G and sometimes C CH Q X.  

The Shadow of the Wind, a novel I am reading by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.  He writes like a poet ...

I will be on spring break for the first few days of April and will schedule my poems in advance - I am unable to figure out how (if I even can) visit and comment on my phone's "BlogTouchPro" app ...
I can post but Mr. Linky does not show up.   

So I thank you all for visiting me and commenting and I promise I will visit and comment when I return.  

A joyous Easter to all those who celebrate.