Aspirations

House with trees & clothes line - Walter Silver Photographs

 Aspirations 

Dreams stifle behind closed shutters,
is why I slide wide the sash come eve,
let Milky Way sail in as crickets, katydids,
and great barred owl celebrate midnight
with mockingbird, come spring, serenading his ballad.

Bobcat's yowl and fox's scream used to scare
until I adopted them as my own, more expressive
than Steinway's ivory keys.

Saturday morn, linen is clothes-pinned,
corners curl upon breeze, sigh beneath sun's swelter,
shadowed side-porch's respite declined;

find myself downhill, grass-stained, "unlady-like",
eyes still bedazzled with stars,
imagine not knight in shining armor,
but myself, gallant lady upon white steed,
giving voice for new century.

by Margaret Bednar, April 28, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Poems in April - Photographic Images Reimagined".  I think I may have incorporated all three creative devises into my poem - ekphrastic, narrative and impression of sentiment from the photos... as I wasn't sure how to label it.  Either way, it was fun and I used more than one image - even more than I posted here.  Go to the prompt and try it for yourself.

Inez Milholland - Suffrage Parade 

Milky Way ...  Thomas Ciszewski

Chelsea, NYC

Chelsea, NYC

It's burrowed between Hell's Kitchen and Hudson Yards,
Midtown, Flatiron and West Village;

find myself settling above the river, Liberty's arm raised
in the distance, admiring High Line's greenway,
a resurrection from grit and grime
of the once bustling West Side Line.

Today the old track sidles beside blue star and chokeberry,
flowering quince and dogtooth violets,
with dainty white blooms of the serviceberry tree
sprouting mid-track.  Come June, red berries will pop,
ripen into shades of dark wine as canopies of leaves
offer shade to dog and man.

I've a book tucked beneath my arm, a camera,
find a bench, sit a spell, look forward
to meeting my love this evening
beneath the magnolia trees of Chelsea.

Yesterday toured Madison Square,
delighted myself with ethnic food
and Flea Market finds, meandered Chelsea's Pier,
took note of Carousel at 62, luxury cruises,
theatres, local breweries...

reach into canvas bag from morning's
Farmer's Market, nibble buttery croissant,
enjoy sun's breeze upon my shoulders
before I don straw-brimmed hat,
idle this day away until I greet my man
beneath twinkling borough lights
and birds twittering "goodnight".

by Margaret Bednar, April 14, 2019

the old tracks...

Rooftops from the Sky Line

Overlooking the Hudson River

Look closely - that is Ms. Liberty herself

123rf

I'm hosting and I think I broke my own rule ... "don't take us on a nature walk, take us on a walk through an urban area - a big city, small town..."  Ha, well... the High Line IS in NYC...

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - The Streets of Brooklyn" (or whatever urban city walk one would like to take us on).  I am hosting this challenge and I went with Chelsea, NYC, one of my favorite (as of yet) places in NYC.

Also linked with "NaPoWriMo" - National Poetry Month, a celebration of poetry which takes place each April, was introduced in 1996 and is organized by the Academy of American Poets as a way to increase awareness and appreciation of poetry in the United States.

"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:

"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. 

"Cheer Up, Moon"

"Cheer Up, Moon"

The sun smiles
and all is fine,
flowers grow
and vines do twine,
bloom with color,
radiant and bright.

Yet moon is sad.
All's not fair
as shadows grow
beneath his care.
Yet, one night shines
with all his might

each month a dream!
Midsummer nights
bring forth water sprites,
Autumn; harvest lights.
Each season, each moon,
a special sign.

So cheer up, Moon,
lift that chin,
sliver a smile,
or beam full on.
Await we, your nightly gift
of neatly keeping time.

by Margaret Bednar, April 12, 2014

This is for my challenge over at "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Child's Verse"

For the month of April, I am participating in NaPoWriMo2014 or National Poetry Writing Month.  The website is HERE.

In celebration of this year's challenge, I will be giving away a free book of my poetry.  If you are interested in participating in this drawing, please click the red logo at the top of my side bar and leave your name and a means to reach (blog, email, etc) you in the comment section.

PLEASE INDICATE YOU WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN THE DRAWING OR I WILL ASSUME YOU ARE JUST COMMENTING.  THANKS.