The Monarch

The Monarch

Molten gold, mango, and amber dance, dip, and catch filtered light of afternoon's departing storm.  A miniature Van Gogh outlined with black ink splashes grey sky like Vincent's irises saturate the dirt.  The hawk first stole my breath, soared low, shadowed amongst evergreens, snatched something from a branch and hurtled swiftly downward to consume its prey.  I'm startled, torn between majesty of the previous moment and violence of the next.  And now, seconds later its as if I'm being presented with a peace offering; watch as Monarch dissolves into a dot, continuing its journey along Mountain's rim.

stormy skies belie
the promise of a fresh breeze
and sun's swift return.

by Margaret Bednar, October 2, 2019

This is linked with "dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday: Insect"

and "Poets United - Poets Pantry#496"

The Performers

The Performers

Butterflies dance sun-drenched drunk
amongst Marigolds, Lavender, and Violets,
ignore puppies in clown-like pursuit.

Kitty's tail twitches as she regally sits
upon windowsill, a ringmistress of sorts
watches performers spin, tumble and soar...

green eyes plotting a Houdini-style escape.

by Margaret Bednar, June 16, 2019

linked with "The Sunday Muse #60" and The Sunday - the Wednesday Muse #12 - Sevenling Poem".
and "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"

Photo for Sunday Muse #60

I invite you to listen to me read my poem:

"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.