"Happiness"

Happiness

Happiness isn't a feeling

we should wait for,

in fact,

shouldn't be a goal

nor a mood we slip on.

Not something to get right,

like a mathematical equation

nor something captured.

It's an awareness

of the gifts we have to give,

the pressing close -

a guarding even,

of our true character

yet proudly sharing it,

unapologetic of who we are.

by Margaret Bednar, February 2, 2014

I like to think one of my greatest accomplishments is raising happy children.  I have been fortunate to have a few mini get aways recently with them and I am struck time and again at their good nature, enthusiasm, and generosity.  Hanging with them makes ME a better person, as I do not naturally embody those characteristics exactly.

I have been introduced to Anais Nin (1903 - 1977) - She is known for her erotica, but from what I can understand through research, she did that for a desperate need of money.  I perused her quotes HERE and I find them fascinating.   She wrote diaries - "The Journals of Anais Nin" and I think her quotes might be taken from this.  My poem is loosely based upon my impressions after reading many of her quotes.

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Birthdays in February - Ayn Rand, Alic Walker, Anais Nin"  We were to focus on the idea of "Individualism".  

Another "Pigeon Pie"

Another "Pigeon Pie"

I lift my arms,
tilt my chin skyward,

as if to drape these fields
of blue afternoon shadows
about my shoulders -

open my palms,
fingertips outstretched

toward the kaleidoscope of trees
bursting with migration's song -
try to absorb their pulse.

Not to hoard,
but teach others

of nature's indispensability
"for the heart that gives,
gathers" -

but I fear
this slice of fulfillment

may soon become another pigeon pie
devoured by bulldozers, served up as the
"American Dream".  White picket fence, optional.

by Margaret Bednar, November 3, 2013  


This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Birthday in November - Marianne Moore"  She believed meter, or anything else that claims the exclusive title "poetry" is not as important as delight in language and precise, heartfelt expression in any form.  She believed it a poets artistic right to also tackle the sometimes ugly, uncomfortable or harsh realities of the human condition.  To read more about her, follow the above link.

I was unable to meet (nor did I really understand) the "line syllables" aspect of Ms. Moore's writing - I  read a number of her poems and couldn't see a pattern of such - but what do I know.

Our challenge was to find an idyllic setting that would become the backdrop for our "imaginary garden"  and produce a "real toad" into the piece.   It should raise a very realistic social issue.

I must tell you, I really struggled with this challenge.  Thanks, Kerry, for making me step out of my comfort zone as I don't usually write from this viewpoint.

The quote in my above poem "for the heart that gives, gathers" is from Marianne Moore.

NOTE:  The Passenger Pigeon once filled the skies, houses replaced habitats, and people killed the birds en masse, baked them in pigeon pies - and finally these birds became extinct.  

The last passenger pigeon, Martha, is mounted and preserved at the Smithsonian.  HERE is a link that will tell you a little about her story.

I stand guilty, as we moved our family to a rural development complete with tennis courts, clubhouse and pool.  Head one way, we are "in town", the other, we are driving winding roads amongst fields, horses, cows, hills.    New communities are starting up in these very areas we adore and we don't like it one bit…

IGWRT's A Birthday - "A Moment, Realized"

A Moment, Realized

Life is a series of moments, flickering quickly,
soon forgotten as I hurtle myself
toward each new sensory and you, often
with me, eagerly round each bend,

traverse each hill, two souls adventuring
into seconds, minutes, hours.  My youth
beats to the rhythm of your hooves,
your name caresses my lips each night

as I pray our connection lasts,
hope we learn to pause more often,
like this morning when you honored me

with your trust, your gentleness -
the moment I realized it is not I who offers up
the greater sacrifice, the greatest gift.

by Margaret Bednar, July 7, 2013

This if written for the "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's Birthdays in July - The Sonneteers". Two poets are featured.   Francesco Petrarch, a traditional sonnet with lots of rules.  I fashioned mine after Pablo Neruda whose translated poetry into English is absent of rhyme and iambic meter - the translators for whatever reason did not take the time.  What is left is the essence of the poem.   For more information, click on the link.

Well, lazy me, I jumped all over the no rhyme, no rhythm route and I apologize as this probably isn't really a sonnet...

Isn't Oberon adorable sleeping like this?  He is out all night as the days are so hot and often when we arrive he is napping in his stall (with fan on overhead).  My girls have cuddled with him quite a few times - we joke he is like a big dog - he loves the scratching and petting, even gives kisses.

IGWRT's Birthday in June - "Sweet Thang"

Fried Pickels, Hushpuppies, & She-Crab Soup - Hyman's Restaurant, Charleston, SC

Sweet Thang

I've never had a soft
nor flirtatious voice,
just a matter-of-fact,
tell-it-like-it-is
(I prefer to call it) honest
approach to life.

My manners aren't rude,
though that label's
been thrown at me
a time or two.

I'd love to think
"Darlin'", "Shuga", "Honey"
unnecessary bedazzlements
that need never tickle my tongue,

but moving South, I've learned:
to quench my thirst with sweet tea;
appreciate coleslaw in my barbecue;
praise hushpuppies and she-crab soup;
enjoy okra, pickles, tomatoes - fried.

Why not learn to bat my lashes,
hover a smile about my lips,
purr, "Well, bless your heart,
Sweetie"?

They say a Southern Belle
is a gentle soul.  I see her
as a damn fine actress.

by Margaret Bednar, June 2, 2013

This is my RANT for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's - A Birthday in June - Get Ready to Howl" celebrating birthday boy, Allen Ginsberg.  My rant is not political, but personal.  If I wasn't SO STUBBORN, I'd have made life a lot easier for myself and embraced a bit of southern charm.  Maybe a few more mint juleps and we will see...

How to Make a Traditional Southern Mint Julep Cocktail:

IGWRT's A Birthday "Time-Enriched"

art by Edward Lear (an excerpt from his Diary

Time-Enriched

Time enriched, our love,
a bit faded, never worn,
expectations forgiven,
plans long let go.

Our fingertips reach
for the other, instinctively,
embrace and enjoy
what is gifted today.

by Margaret Bednar, May 5, 2013

It is my 23rd Wedding Anniversary today.  Words will never express these amazing years and I feel truly blessed.  I believe our best years are ahead of us, as being a bit "time-enriched" we have finally learned a few of life's valuable lessons.

This is linked with Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "A Birthday in May - Edward Lear"

Also linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry #149.  

IGWRT's Shakespeare - "Lines of You"

Lines of You
by William Bednar

I wish that I could formulate the phrase
To find a foothold in your foreign trust
Or pick the perfect rhythm for my praise
To dance into your ear, 'ere we turn dust.
I must admit, I'm taken by your eyes
That seem to wander lonely on the air
And in their solitude sow my demise
And show 'tis false that games of love are fair.
But quite betrayed by silence on my part
My eye for you seems fated to be lost
In barren lines disguised well as art
That turn upon the air like timid frost.
   So maybe 'fore we find our bodies dead
   You'll learn of me in lines of you, you read.

The challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads is A Birthday in April - Shakespeare.  I knew where to go for today's post:  to my son's Facebook page and select from his many, many poems in Notes (of course, I love them all and had a hard time deciding).

My photo which I took at Middleton Place in Charleston, SC, goes well with my son's poem, I think.   The lines, solitude, a slight sense of loneliness (do you see the red head young lady on the bench in the distance?

I also linked this with dVerse Open Link Night #93, hosted tonight by Brian Miller who is also an amazing poet.