Friday, January 25, 2019

Fashioning Poetry

Fashioning Poetry

I like fashion yet rarely wear it well,
hair bob's never sleek & silky knots
foreign to my fingers,

so I fashion words, stitch them
strapless, stretchy, beaded,
sometimes boho chic.

My favorite: embroidered,
quilted, comfortable,
even a bit lacy,

but that doesn't mean
I've banned racer-backs
or scoop-necked and sassy.

Treated a few to the "red carpet",
promenaded them, pivots and twirls,
before a live audience

to a round of applause;
french knotted scarf
compliments of my daughter.

by Margaret Bednar, January 25, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Bits of Inspiration - Poet Discovery"  Why do we write poetry?  I've written to this question before, so opted for something a bit fun and I hope this metaphor works...

I invite you to listen to me read "Fashioning Poetry"

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Song Sparrow

Song Sparrow

Last evening wild turkeys grazed
Baptist church's lower hill,
and early morn Eastern Screech Owl
feigned to be farmyard cock,
while roadside a blue-black Raven worked
rabbit’s carcass before spiraling skyward.

I walk lakes and streams, field & forest, five-mile loop
of seasonal Flycatchers, Yellowthroats,
Loons, Mergansers, and Grebe,
Kingfishers, Bluebirds, Catbirds as well.
Relish in the flash of rarity
caught from corner of my eye,

often camera too slow to catch anything
other than a vacant spot, have yet to spy Pileated...
settle for a Song Sparrow's trill
just outside my front door...
ponder why I overlooked this cheery greeter,
uplifting mountain's wintry, misty days;

why the need for pomp and circumstance,
when plain and simple will do?

by Margaret Bednar, January 19, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Mustn't be Fancy" in honor of Mary Oliver.  She has been a HUGE influence on me.  RIP, classy lady.  You will be missed, but your words will continue to keep us company. 

Monday, January 14, 2019



Bees absorb Autumn's sun,
astors drape field and valley
as storm clouds gather.

Cattle tagged and fattened,
idyllic days slumbering.  Numbered.
As are canopies of olive, lime, and jade.

Flip of calendar page.  Season's first frost.
Security and fate change
as quickly as that.

by Margaret Bednar, January 14, 2019

This is linked to "dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #71 - Change".  44 words incorporating the word "change".   This is an older poem (2014) that I have reworked. 

Here are some quotes on "change" that I really like:

“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” 
― George Bernard Shaw

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.” 
― Mother Teresa

“Fashion changes, but style endures.” 
― Coco Chanel

“One child, one teacher, one book, one pen can change the world.” 

“To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.” 
― Winston S. Churchill

“A bend in the road is not the end of the road…Unless you fail to make the turn.” 
― Helen Keller

“The changes we dread most may contain our salvation.” 
― Barbara Kingsolver, Small Wonder

“And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees
and changing leaves.” 
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

“If you want to change attitudes, start with a change in behavior.” 
― Katherine Hepburn

"I Believe"

I Believe

Allow me a bit of leeway
because childhood's impressionable,
capricious to a bit of whimsy, myth and
dream-like yarns that
endear us to something
far-fetched.  As a girl, I'd sit at
Grandpa's knee as
he transported me
into the past with stories.  One, he
just a young man, spied a
kind and beautiful young
lady whose dimpled smile
melted his heart.

Now she was no
ordinary lass, for she could
pick a weed and 'twould bloom
quince, iris, fragrant
rose; anything you desired.  As she
sang, he followed her,
traipsed valley and hill
until she said "Yes" to his hand.


Vase on Grandma's table
was splendidly filled with
exquisite flowers, dahlias, tulips, asters,
yellow lilies; beloved butterflies flocked her
zinnias porch-side.  Not a weed in sight.

And I believed.  Still do.

by Margaret Bednar, January 14, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday's Platform"  I wrote to an "ABC" poem challenge for my local poetry group, Third Tuesday Poets.   The alphabet is in order at the beginning of each line.  

Saturday, January 12, 2019



Hallowed's not easily found

find it sometimes at sunset,
golden halo sinking,

before stations of the cross,
carved emotions supplicating,

listening to hollowed bass, bowed
and vibrato'd with skilled fingers.

The purest form of beauty,
 love and desire, 

and I bask in its temporary shroud.

by Margaret Bednar, January 12, 2019

linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Just One Word - Hollow". 

Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Pre-School Masterpiece

Pre-School Masterpiece

Strokes of gold upon Amethyst,
brush held firm, cream puff cheeks
inches from canvas, eyes intent,
her five little dashes, an inch long,
boldly slashed along the edge;

perhaps not a Monet
but my heart is captured.

My hand signals, bid escalates,
after all, priceless her marks
embedded in glistening paint.

by Margaret Bednar, January 8, 2018

I can honestly say, I put the fear of God into my husband that night at the fund-raiser for the pre-school.  I was NOT going to be outbid.

This painting has been hanging in my living room for 14 years.  I've had many people think this is a painting from an accomplished artist - I love telling them it is from my youngest daughter's pre-school class of eight children.  I have photos of them painting it.

My daughter is the one in the pink shirt, sitting down.

This is linked with "dVerse Poetics - Come Hang with Me"

Monday, January 7, 2019

Haibun - "January"


Wolf Moon slowly releases her silver spell, spills into this morning's cradle of whispering golden light, my mind unspooling last year’s worries, replacing them with crisp, clean pages of fresh slanted scrawl.  Glance through window at the birch whose lacey corsets are frayed and parchment thin.  January's warmth settles upon their delicate arms, skywardly raised.  Imagine them moonlit, slender spirits coming undone, slipping outside their bark, disrobing, draping remnants upon crisp, cool breeze.

A Carolina wren lands upon a branch, nervously looks around, leery of red-tails and kestrels.  Offers a tweet.  It isn't a full chorus of finches, mocking, or bluebirds, but I appreciate his offering.  My pen scratches surface of paper, words slowly yawning, stretching as I try them out.  I want to learn calligraphy this year, perfect my quilting, join a birding group, explore waterfalls that grace this Blue Ridge, take up ballroom dancing...

From the corner of my eye, another flutter.  It's a tufted titmouse offering a melodious "peter, peter, peter".  I'm glad feeder is filled, snow has melted, sun is shining.  But around the corner, a draping of winter-white looms, which I'll ignore; today's for raising one's face toward the sun.  For rejuvenation.

Wolf Moon's silver spell
releases forest spirits,
unspools last year's fears

This is linked with "dVerse - Haibun Monday - January

Also linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform". 


Moth-Woman Luke Eidenschink
Used with Permission
Luke Ink Art


She is nectar, honeysuckle, and balm,
a night fairy drawn toward light
carefully treads forest path,

hips swaying, skin aglow;
he a moth to the flame, hypnotized
as desire beckons beneath Wolf Moon

awaiting his howl.

by Margaret Bednar, January 7, 2019

linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Art Flash"  

Thursday, January 3, 2019



New year, new resolutions, new plans,
marvel how everything falls into place,

obviously God's voice,
only to be reprimanded come January 2nd;

evangelical moment of certainty fades
into pensive cloud of Catholic guilt.

I know better to pray for things desired;
taught to ask for acceptance

for I've a way of tossing practical aside,
grasp for (im)possible a bit too often.

My eyes see poems in clouds,
not dishes in the sink.

Husband wonders what this means,
and I laugh and say,

"Today is like the carnations you buy,
steadfast and long-lasting (roses droop too soon)".

He looks slightly confused, assure him
(myself unclear if metaphor works)
"It means life’s good, a year of no surprises."

Or so I think this is what morning's tea leaves
revealed.   I'll let you know.

by Margaret Bednar, January 3, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get listed January edition"  Marching orders are to use 3 from the word list ... I think I used 11.