'Tis the Season

'Tis the Season

As a Northerner, I call it a southern chill,
days dip below thirty-two degrees,
an inch or so of snow (if lucky) gone in three days.
Songbirds flit and flutter 'round ol' birdhouse,
a bit more furry in their flurry,
posturing reminiscent of the O. K. Corral

 - - gaze unwavering --

slightly narrowed as I scan from balcony
for Russian dancer, towhead,
performing before Nutcracker and Clara,
flourishes of gem-colored fabrics
reminding me of songbirds and him
a Black Capped Chickadee, so charming, so dapper.

by Margaret Bednar, December 9, 2018



This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms: Puente" (Three stanzas.  1st and 3rd have equal number of lines.  Middle is a "bridge" of one line  (serves as a last line for first stanza, first line for third stanza.)

Adieu

Adieu

Every spring I anticipate the songbirds,

thrilled to glimpse first flashes of jeweled color,
sip mint tea, wait for lyrics to filter in through screens flung wide

to embrace new life, joy, and warmth of the sun.
Today I'm forlorn as the last one wings southward,
storm windows securely shut as my coffee grows cold.

by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2018

Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms - Cherita"

Grandma's Cranberry Bread

Grandma's Cranberry Bread

Maybe it's the saturated color, teasing me.

Glistening berries, rounded and full,
a dash of orange peel, walnuts, cup of sugar.

Grandma folding them into flour mixture.
Aroma of the baking, the cooling, the waiting my undoing;
this reminiscence, this childhood refuge, an elixir I miss.

by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2018

As a kid I really didn't like cranberries.  I hated them served at Thanksgiving and Christmas (I love them now) but I loved my Grandma's Cranberry Bread (probably all the sugar she put in the recipe).  Anyway, I saw this huge supply of cranberries at the grocery store and I was almost transported back to the warm and welcoming kitchen of my Grandma's ... I ached for it!

It's sad, but I don't have her recipe, but I am going to try the one below.

http://foodieunderground.com/high-nutritionlow-bullshit-grandmas-cranberry-bread/

Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms - Cherita"

Full Circle

Full Circle

Guiding hand, grasped.  Comfort of father for son:
first footsteps, training wheels, cross country meets recorded -
boisterous voice encouraging from infancy to young man.

Vibrant sunsets shared over Lake Michigan. Taps enjoyed by men
who served; at attention stood father and son -
hand over hearts, remembering loved ones. Recorded

VHS tapes, family gatherings, dated clothes: corduroys
and plaid, bellbottoms, short shorts... yet smiles remain the same. Man
before him, bent and frail, leaning against his son.

Son, greyed, memories recorded, movies not of Hollywood
but of life as he holds frail hand that showed him how to be a man.

by Margaret Bednar, October 2018

I am behind in visiting and commenting on everyone's poems ... I plan on spending my Sunday morning catching up.  I've missed the Garden and my friends here.    Tonight I'm taking two of my children to see "A Star is Born".  Theatre popcorn and good acting and music... Just can't wait..

HEY - fixed my "commenting problem".  I switched browser server from Safari to Chrome... seems to be working now.    

For "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Messy Little Forms - Tritina"  A pattern of (ten lines) with three tercets and a final line featuring repeating, non-rhyming line-end words, like this:

1-2-3
3-1-2
2-3-1
The final line contains all 3 words as 1-2-3

Creative license has been evoked as the last "stanza" is supposed be one line  - the triton is supposed to be 10 lines.  Mine is 11.   I also changed "man" to "men" in the second stanza. AND a  VERY liberal abuse of the rules is.... "corduroys" is close "recorded"..   (cord)   It is a slippery slope when one starts to break the rules...

This seems "rigid" to me as most form poetry does when I write it.  But I consider this a first draft - gathering thoughts and I will visit this again very soon as this is what is going on right now and always on my mind. My son wrote very moving music and lyrics for a song about his grandfather...  I will share it once he records it on YouTube.

Earnest

Image found on Pinterest HERE

 Earnest

Heavenward is skyward, as a child

I'd search past clouds, past stars at night

and moon's consecrated light.

In my room, St. Michael

fiery Seraphim

fighting for souls

sword steady

whispered

prayers,

some

heartfelt,

while others,

words mispronounced,

some out of order;

youthful fervor, devout -

billowing curtains, white wings

fluttering, soothing.  Window screen

my confessional, eyes seeking God.

by Margaret Bednar, September 10, 2018

This is for (submitted rather late) "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads-Fussy Little Forms - Nonet".

My Man

My Man

Looking back, he really was romantic 

strong arms laden,

uncomplaining, toting (my) beach essentials,

and I, brazen

did follow, admiring view from behind,

a fair maiden

quite taken with her man; today more so -

sweetly wadin’

through sand and surf, his burden heavier,

yet unshaken

for he’s quite blessed with six children and wife.

By Margaret Bednar, August 12, 2018

Linked with “Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Fussy Little Forms - Cavatina”.  10 syllable line followed by a rhyming 4 syllable line repeated at least 3 times, ending with a 10 syllable line. 

We are on our annual family vacation on the Outer Banks of NC - Ocracoke. We DO help haul our “day camp” to the beach - but John seems to still handle the bulk of the stuff - we were pondering the possibility of a charcoal grill... can you believe he said “No”?!  Ha ha. 

"Tandem"

Sun
entwines
mountain breeze,
hitches a ride
galloping tandem, lifting mane and tail.

by Margaret Bednar, June 9, 2018


linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms - Tetractys".  A line count of 20 syllables (1, 2, 3, 4, 10)

Tanaga poem

Northwinds nip the mountain side
shrouding pines as if a bride,
silent and seemingly shy
this virgin veil, glorified.

by Margaret Bednar, March 12, 2018

We live in the North Carolina mountains (along the Blue Ridge Parkway) and see very little snow.  If it snows, it's usually less than 3 inches and lasts for only a few days.  It's always fresh and beautiful.  We don't get the "dirty" lingering snow of the northern states.  I hope this is the last week of snow fall as the bushes and trees are starting to bud.

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms - Tanaga".  It is close to a haiku and tanka.  It has a rhyme scheme.  The key to the tanaga is it is a witty poem, emotionally charged heavy on metaphor, sometimes begging a question that demands an answer.

I tried for metaphor as it's hard enough for me to rhyme.  "Begging a question" was beyond me. 

"The Journey"

The Song Writer

The Journey

The lyrics don't yet exist
as melody and harmony
have yet to tryst

a sip of beer, of burgundy,
a cafe vibe;
inspiration's urgency

awakens the inner scribe
and a word, a chord
begins to describe

a poet's horde
of passion and pain
stored

within, explored,
often with tears, adored.

by Margaret Bednar, February 11, 2018

I love my poetic group "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads".  I am always challenged and I can't say my efforts are equally good, but it IS the exercise of stretching poetic muscles that inspires me.   This is for "Fussy Little Forms - Terza Rima"  When it comes to rhyme and "form" I tend to think my poetry gets a little cheesy.  But this was fun - anyone can join the fun ... Click on the link and give it a try :)