Saturday, February 6, 2021

Pocketed (junk journal poems)


Pocketed (junk journal poems)

Thankfully, it's easy for me to pocket melancholy,
tuck it away,  hidden behind trinkets
of memories and favorite things happily enjoyed

like butterfly wings riding the mountain breeze
and flannel shirts wrapped and comforted - 
a faded well-worn red a particular favorite,
the color of an old barn, my favorite lipstick,
Polaroid image of roses on Grandmother's front porch.

I have a treasured memory of Father, 
hands holding a pencil, fingers sure,
sketching, shading, captivating. Yet,
he never found approval in mine.

He taught young boys softball, 
but a weekend spent with me, coaching,
my determination focused, so eager...
was never repeated.

Mother read the stories at night.  I absorbed
every word.  Father called her away,
his voice never added to the wonder and delight.

It was the way things were. I didn't question it much.
Yesteryear's childhood full of freedom and joy,
yet how much richer if Father had truly mentored
like my husband does with ours?  

The adoration a blessed thing 
I'll never tuck away; freely offer red kisses 
upon his cheek for proof.  

By Margaret Bednar, February 6, 2021

This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #55 - What you Resist, You Become".   This is also inspired by a page in my "Junk Journal Poems".  

I have been organizing and cleaning lately (that's why I've been gone for these past few weeks as I had said I wanted to be back in the swing of things writing with my fellow poets and their wonderful prompts ... I am having a hysterectomy in less than three weeks and want everything in order. 


Kim M. Russell said...

I thought I hadn’t seen you on the poetry trail, Margaret, and I’m glad to see you are still writing. I had hysterectomy about fifteen years ago and I remember wanting to get the house straight before I went in. I love the idea of pocketing melancholy or tucking it away in a drawer, and the stream of consciousness and memories it took you on.

scotthastiepoet said...

This is a lovely and tender tale of life, beautifully and lyrically told, Margaret. I especially liked the notion of 'Pocketing melancholy' That is very nice indeed...

Old Egg said...

Years later after being brought up we tend to look back on our parents and their attitudes. My wife and I did this when we first had our own children and told each other of quirky ways of our parents...determined never to be like them!

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

All the best for the op!

Sorry that was your experience of fathering. I was so lucky that mine did all those things you wanted. I'm still grateful. And yet he disappointed me very badly in other ways as I got older.

colleen said...

A touching acknowledgment that plays like a counterpart to the poem I shared today. Thank you.

Magaly Guerrero said...

Spilling uncomfortable memories into poetry seems like a fantastic--and very therapeutic--idea. Also, the results look lovely.

Have fun organizing. And I hope the surgery goes smooth and that the recovery is gentle.

Lori said...

My sister and I seem to have very different recollections of our father. For her she says his gaze was cold and judgemental whereas I always felt it was warm and loving. While we grew up in the exact same households are perceptions are totally different. Good luck with the surgery. I can understand the need to want to get everything into ship shape order.

Brother Ollie said...

This is a most authentic meditation.

I appreciate your kind words on my piece.

indybev said...

It was an era when men and women had definite roles---men as breadwinners, women as nurturers, and the roles didn't seem to mingle did they? I adored my father, but I can't imagine him reading me a story at bedtime!!

indybev said...

Forgot to say it's good to meet another junk journaler, and also good luck with the surgery!

Rommy said...

I'm glad things are changing for the better, and more men understand that bonding with their children is a gift.

Jim said...

There can be a very special father daughter relationship, ours, two daughters years apart remember things I have forgotten.
Glad to hear of your clean out, i also need. I really haven't been able to use my office since we moved here five years ago. But it does keep a lot of stuff we don't use either. This winter is fleeting and I still can't work at the table, let alone my desk.
You are now on my ailing and doctoring Blogger prayer list. I too am scheduled for a procedure, right eye cataract removal this Thursday. Then the left eye for the 25th. Oh yes, good news, a second COVID-19 vaccine shot Tuesday. Mrs. Jim is for Saturday, she is a bit younger than I am.
Glad to see you writing, I like your title. A series coming?

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

What a wonderful set of images here--the sense of pocketing your sadness is such a powerful image--just a lovely write

rallentanda said...

Sad...but in those days men were the breadwinners and nothing much else was required from them. Prayers for your operation. You'll be fine... up and running about in no time.

Helen said...

Somehow I missed this poem so glad I returned ~~~ when we write from a place deep inside, as you have ~~ it resonates for those lucky enough to read it. Will be sending healing energy your way.