Alone

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Alone

Archeology resurrected our past:
pottery, tiles, occasional broach,
and bone.

Afraid we will be hard-pressed
for artifacts; if there is a we.
Didn't know silence had a ringing sound,
low and monotonous.

It isn't light, isn't dark; a filtered grey,
perhaps.  White dishes faintly glow
against colorless room; blue skies,
red wine, bird song surely existed

as did leisurely horseback rides
upon mountain ridge,
zinnias plucked from garden beds,
puppy fur against my face.

How I long to play tea with my girls,
mold clay with my son, listen to my oldest
recite poetry.  Feel my husband's hand
in mine.

This fallout shelter was designed for safety.
For us.  Shelved are a few adventure books,
mystery, one romance.  A "complete" Shakespeare.
No Bible as we'd read it cover to cover;
last chapter our least favorite...

Stored food, comforting quilts folded,
supplies stacked for six months; longer now
as I'm the only one.  But not for long.

Whisper "The grace of the Lord Jesus
be with all.  Amen." as I unlock the deadbolt.
Step out.  Embrace Revelation.

by Margaret Bednar, September 17, 2019

This Apocalyptic poem is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Gimme (Fallout) Shelter"

*  The last line of the last book of the Bible is the one quoted above.

If Only

Drawing by Margaret Bednar

If Only

Judgment day decided to wait
whole world smiled, hearts reeled
as her river needn't be crossed in '68,

rather, sung about.  Swanee River,
2000, crooned within Carnegie Hall
and I seated in front row shared her 78th year

celebrating her happy wasn't found
in a bottle of pills, but in her voice,
triumphant and smooth.  Her joy went to our heads

and we gave it right back as she sang songs
from her heart to ours and we held on tightly
through all three curtain calls.

by Margaret Bednar, July 6, 2019

Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - This is the End?"  Marching orders were to create a poem that rewrites an ending that let you down... Give us the ending you would have wanted.

From My Bed

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From My Bed

I can pour my own drink,
read, alone, a book in bed,
or watch T.V. 'til four a.m.

but also enjoy our pillow talks,
when you fall asleep listening to me
and I lay awake as you snore

prefer not one over the other,
but relish I have both.

by Margaret Bednar, April 11, 2019

Honestly, our whole marriage has been like this as he works nights at times - and I must admit (he who thinks it's almost a "sin" to eat in bed and I think it a luxury) well, maybe it is why we've been married almost 30 years...

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Song Prompt News from Your Bed".  Pick a line from the song and use it in a poem.  I used the line "I can pour my own drink".

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.

"The Omen"

The Omen

They say crosses will save you.
And the Bible.  Yet Revelation hands us
chapter 13, 666, the Anti-Christ

and Hollywood Gregory Peck
whom I've faithfully followed
through courtroom, Rome, the Old West.

Convinced me to face my fears, trust
he could save the day against graveyards,
lightening storms, Rottweilers,

and The One who revels in obscurity.

1976 usually means "dated", yet I'm transfixed,
frozen in front of TV screen each year
know now cast & crew whispered of mishaps, of curses -

and develop paranoia, fear as I watch this flick
knowing devil's breeding ground
is being nurtured, yet hold blessed crucifix (tightly),

tell myself Gregory Peck's always worth watching.

by Margaret Bednar, July 27, 2018

linked with "The Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Out of Standard: Fear into farce"  Write about a personal and unfounded fear and put a comedic twist on it. (tried to with the last line :)

I am not one to watch horror flicks - have NEVER watched Rosemary's Baby or The Exorcist... I watched original Friday the 13  when it came out, but that's more stupid than scary.

43:30 Watch the tape there for a truly horrifying "real or imagined" curse after the movie was made... John Richardson designed the beheading scene in the movie - this "accident" happened to him in Holland.

"Elusive"

Azalia shrub

Elusive

"I believe in everything until it's disproved."  John Lennon

Perhaps I will assign more faith to Midsummer's Eve,
but morning's sun has enticed me.  My shoulders are warm
as J. M. Barrie's placed upon the grass, spine prostrate,
unusual for me as I'm a bookmark girl, but I'm distracted
by the play of light dancing upon Azalea blossoms.

I don't look directly, but slyly through lowered lashes
for something elusive.  I've followed the "rules" -
have come quietly, barefoot, sought out "untouched";
found it in fallen blooms I'm convinced are secret pathways.

Only the ever present breeze treads for now,
seemingly have missed them again,
perhaps should have studied that butterfly more closely.
Will have to wait and cultivate a secret garden, add a few gnomes;

take note to plant little jester-hatted Columbines,
Shakespeare's drooping-belled Cowslips, and Forget-Me-Nots
for they fashion clothes from petals such as these. Rescue my book,
satisfy myself with a glimpse of them in a world two stars to the right.

Margaret Bednar, April 9, 2018


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Waiting for".  The challenge is to write about waiting for something, but do not say what "it" is.

Also for NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month (30 Poems in 30 Days.

My oldest daughter when she was small created magical gardens and nooks for fairies, left them letters and treats.  She truly believed - and probably still does.

Note:  J. M. Barrie wrote "Peter Pan" and penned the famous line "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning"

The College Boy(s)

The College Boy(s)

The timbre of his voice

makes waiting in line a rare pleasure -

wonder if he's a vocal major.

Notice he's always kind with the elderly.  

Handsome, not too clean cut,

locks almost girlish (or at least

that's what my husband would say),

his tall lanky youthful frame

promises a lean manly grace someday.

Always gently places vegetables

and fruit in my bag, careful not to bruise -

and I imagine his apartment neat and tidy -

an attribute not to be overlooked in a young man.

Confess I brought my daughter along today

careful not to comment or point his way

(a mistake I made with a young man

who works at the gym - swiftly and effectively 

banished to her "obituary column" 

also known as "Mom's failed attempts").

Hid my smile, making sure my eyebrow

remained in place as she commented

"He's cute".

Maybe this one will survive.

by Margaret Bednar, February 1, 2018

No photo today ... Can't even imagine my girls' reaction if I were to take this young man's photo ... They think I have embarrassed them in the past... this would put them over the edge.   :)  We live in a college town and there are a LOT of eligible young men working part time jobs... 

Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Eulogy for a stranger"  I LOOSLY followed the rules - instead of an outright eulogy I incorporated the idea of one (or sorts) into my poem...    I tried working it according to the rules but it wasn't working.

"The Tide"

The Tide

The first toe dip's a gentle ballet,

a fine pirouette followed with a splash

and a warm breeze's fine welcome.

Unreliable her moods 

for she's just as likely to rock and roll a tempest surge 

that heaves us toward shore, laughing, 

occasional saltwater snorted through our nose.

I don't dare belly dance - the bikini and public

display of my midriff a memory from the distant past - 

but do enjoy a bit of a (secret) salsa as I extend an arm

and gracefully leap, (leg beneath the water outstretched,

back bent) over incoming waves.

Can't decide if I prefer sunrise's gentle melody

as my feet waltz to surf's soft rhythm 

while shore birds enjoy tonga lines along low tide's foam

or sunset's encore of captured color or soothing gray,

demolished sandcastles, and disappearing footprints 

seemingly tap dancing their way out to sea.

by Margaret Bednar, August 18, 2017

linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Bits of Inspiration - Keep Dancing"

"Teach's Hole"

Teach's Hole - from the vantage point of Springer's Point - Ocracoke Island, NC

Teach's Hole

Live oaks hunched and bent

for centuries have pointed the way,

loblolly, beach, and maple offer swaths of shade

as perspiration tickles paths down my spine

and the humid breeze lifts a curl,

for even straight hair bends in this tucked away place

where, if one believes or listens closely enough,

a pirate's wail or song may be heard

within the deep folds of a foggy morn.

Easily imagine a bottle of rum in hand;

initial heat searing a path from throat,

to chest, to stomach.  Close my eyes,

hear the digging and hiding of the treasure chest -

for we all know it's here, somewhere...

Find myself silhouetted beneath a stunted, stilted canopy, 

divest myself of its protection, enter realm of sea and sky,

sink my toes into shifting warm sand,

witness windswept trees, roots exposed,

lounging drunkenly upon dune grass and shore;

they obviously know where the kill-devil's hidden.

Wonder which are native to Teach's Hole

and which were cast ashore upon a hurricane's whim. 

Beach glass glints blue-green but I walk by

as I spy a hermit crab at ocean's edge,

play peekaboo for a while; a gambler's luck not mine

as he darts inside at each sneaky turn of my wrist.

Return him to salty spray and settle

beside beach grass and sea oats, wax myrtle and holly,

watch pelicans and seagulls swoop and glide

above (and below) ocean's rolling surface.

Marvel how little some things change; find comfort

knowing swarthy pirates, shipwrecked ponies,

and sundry floral & fauna have anchored themselves

upon this slip of shoreline with their own triumphs

and tragedies - some widely written of,

others left to the ghosts of imagination

and as the sun settles, awash with a glorious template

of which I'd accuse a painter of exaggerated artistic liberty,

I bend my ear, eavesdrop, and embrace evening's breath

as she whispers a few secrets and stories of her own.

by Margaret Bednar, August 14, 2017

* The chiefe fudling they make in the Island (i.e. Barbados) is Rumbullion alias Kill-Devill, and the is made of suggar can distilled, a hott, hellish and terrible liquor. ("A briefe Description of the Island of Barbados" 1651)

Ocracoke Island HERE

This is linked (belatedly as I was on vacation on Ocracoke) with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - writing unseen"

Also linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"

"Driftwood"

"All's Fair..."

"All's Fair..."

"Horseradish" Grandmother would mutter
beneath her breath and I knew she was ruffled.
"That's Queer", which embarrassed me no end,
was another expletive.

Vinegar reminds me of her.  One tablespoon,
milk became buttermilk, a dash more
cleaned the kettle, crystal, and oven.
Did wonders with laundry, mirrors, floors.
Come summer a preventive for swimmer's ear;
I hated the "tickle".

Slyly coaxing teaspoons of mineral oil
proved futile:  my stubbornness my savior.

* * *

Smile to myself, carefully wasabi peas rinsed,
with vinegar no less, fiber and protein
a healthy "snack"; hide the Cheese Puff's
my kids (and their father) prefer.
Set a tall glass of water before them.

Complain I'm trying to kill them.

"Horseradish" I mutter beneath my breath.
Launch into a trip down memory lane:
plowing my way through drifts of snow
to catch the school bus (I did),
summer mornings spent weeding mother's
two acre vegetable garden (truth),
and the dreaded daily dose of mineral oil.

Swear I hear Grandmother say,
"That's Queer" ... allow the memory
of her raised eyebrow make me feel
a little guilty.

by Margaret Bednar, May 11, 2017


This was a hard challenge.  I was to combine an odd phrase "self care wasabi peas" with the photograph above.  I highlighted the words in the poem - you can see I took a bit of "artistic liberty" - it's the only way I could make this work...

This is linked with "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Photo Finish"  These really are memories of my Grandmother.  I don't serve wasabi peas BUT I am joined to a CSA and the vegetables are often the bane of my families existence - and my joy!   I have found a number of ways to prepare the vegetables that they are willing to eat (and put those darn cheese puffs away).

"The Escape"

"Imagine a Photo of the most handsome 17 year old boy in the world"

The Escape

School girl eyes

once pledged life long adoration,
whitewashed him perfect;

forgave sideways glances
toward popular girls -

after all his eyes caressed my shoulder first
as I sat between him and them.

He learned my name come May;
I lived joy all summer  -

the way it rolled off his tongue, the way
he leaned towards me.  Smiled.  The way
I imagined a sexy wink...

Thank God high school ends.
Sometimes, somehow a girl wises up.

The rest isn't poetic;

epic heartache, pillow drenching tears,
the almost purging of him from my brain.

Celebrate to this day
I was never mouse to his cat.

by Margaret Bednar, November 6, 2015

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Remember, Remember"

"The Unicorn"

The Unicorn

Lore, Legend, Isaiah, and Job
reference freedom fierce
of strength and speed -

even the national animal
of Scotland's the unicorn,
emblazoned on many a coat of arms.

So don't be afraid to dream
the impossible.  Never doubt
the strength of your tears.

by Margaret Bednar, July 2, 2014.

This is for the always challenging "Imaginary Garden of RealToads - Out of Standard" hosted by Isadora Gruye.  Today the challenge is to visit "The Amazing and Interesting Fact Generator" and take a fact and build a poem around it.

The fact I "drew" was "even the national animal of Scotland is the unicorn".

The King James Bible uses the word "unicorn" (explanation HERE) and unicorn tears (and blood) are said to be healing.

"Drift"

Drift

I watch silky pink ballerinas
play drifting games.
Most pirouette downward,
bed themselves thickly.

A few rebels drift far away,
seemingly bobbing, gyrating
to rock-n-roll lyrics -

until the breeze
they are drifting upon drifts away,
tempo changes once again

and they slow dance
to the ground, make way
for summer green.

by Margaret Bednar, April 23, 2014

This difficult challenge is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Invoking the Goog" We had to type a word into google and use the words in the order they appeared (but they could be separated).   My word was drift:

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. 

"Snow and Coffee"

Snow and Coffee

Coffee, hot chocolate,
white mocha latte - warm up.
Matter of days we'll be throwing a frisbee.

This week?  Snow!
Bonfire, sledding, people wave -
spontaneous community,

quality conversation
with a neighbor.
Snow continues to fall,

kids towing sleds,
throwing snowballs,
eating snowballs. Fun.

by Margaret Bednar, February 13, 2014

This is an Erasure poem written for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard".  Of course, Isadora Gruye always has a twist - use a current local news source.

Well, winter seems to be the "big news" today so I went with it.  Nowhere to go, except the neighborhood for the next few days.  I personally love it!  As long as it is for a few days because I moved south for Adirondack chairs and sweet tea!

The article is from our local newspaper "News & Review", original article by Jeri Rowe.

"Six"

Six

Daily I resist the constant need
to press into your cream puff cheeks,
nose breathing in your still sweet morning breath;

resist the need to smooth your Dennis-the-Menace cowlick
as you wait for the school bus;

or trace a finger along your sweetly exposed neck
in the library while you read "Dick and Jane".

I know this urge dissipates well before middle school
(I say this as my fifth grader gives me the raised
"Don't even try it!" eyebrow).

My heart soared yesterday as entering the classroom,
you yelled "Mommy!", wrapped me with a huge hug.

Six is still so dear, yet I know the day
will soon come upon finishing "Runaway Bunny"
you won't need Joey Kangaroo under the covers with you,
won't ask for an "Eskimo kiss".

I've been through this five times before.
It never gets any easier.

by Margaret Bednar, December 5, 2013

The video below of the little boy's voice and the mother's commentary cracked me up.  I have read this very same book to all six of my children…

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Eskimo" - our marching directions? To use the word Eskimo without mentioning snow or any adjective thereof.

I may change "Eskimo kiss" to "butterfly kisses" at a later date as that is what we do, but for now, I claim "artistic license".

Oh, and don't think I don't kiss and squeeze my youngest as often as I can get away with (I just try to do it a bit more at home than at school or in public - although, he doesn't complain about it … yet).

"Future Sailors"

Future Sailors

Future sailors
'tis ev'ry little boy's fancy

sweeping -n- soaring
amongst celestial clouds
captaining a schooner
ferried upon ferocious
dragon wings,
boy and beast, both
strapping -n- strong
together facing
fantastical feats
of fantasy straight from
folklore -n- fairytales

but courage
for now 'tis spied
b'side gentle riverbed
or winking night light.

by Margaret Bednar, September 26, 2013

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard.  

IGWRT's - Out of Standard "Transformed"

Transformed

Lonely, sad, misunderstood,
I stand, silhouetted,
waiting for a glimpse
of your face.

Often I'm wrapped within
wooly shawl, sometimes
shoulders bared
to summer's soft breeze.

By nature I'm impatient,
driven, jealous
of everything, everyone,

but you gentle me.
A pendant about my neck
shimmers your likeness
a yin to my yang -

and I'm transformed.

by Margaret Bednar, August 21, 2013

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Out of Standard" Blue Moon Special - the twist:  the poem must NOT contain any concepts of night or sky (or night sky) and replacing with adjectives will be CHEATING and will incur a heavy fine.

Moonstone & Emerald Necklace HERE.

Also for Friday Flash 55 , and dVerse "Getting Tight (in here)

IGWRT"s Out of Standard - Film School Drop Out "Searching"

Searching

What is golden under a sky, grey?  What is valuable
in a city, lavish?  Where to find a gem, flawless?

From beneath tombstones bedecked with plastic red bouquets,
he rises, devil's leprechaun staggering, searching

for eyes dark with empty perfection, for a prize
he can drag below the dirt to serve a soul, degenerate.

by Margaret Bednar, June 13, 2013


This is linked and created specifically for Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's - Out of Standard - Film School Drop Out Edition.  The Challenge:  Watch the clip and write a poem inspired by it.

So, before you think I have lost my mind... WATCH THE CLIP!   (and try it yourself!)

This also happens to be 55 words if you include the title!  So, I am happily linking this up with Friday Flash 55 (a story in 55 words, no more, no less).  

IGWRT's Out of Standard "Ann"e"

Ann"e"

Matthew's quiet life suddenly changed
with the "White Way of Delight",
took but one carriage ride
to learn it's never too late
to open one's days to
a small girl's chatter,
a Lake of Shining Waters,
and a silent letter "e".
Never too late for an old man's
humble heart to cherish, protect, and enjoy.

by Margaret Bednar, April 25, 2013

This is linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Out of Standard - Cliff Notes" challenge.  Take a favorite story and condense it into a poem no longer than ten lines.  Click on the link for further details and to see other poems.

Also linking with Friday Flash 55 after 8pm tonight.

I have always loved Anne of Green Gables and particularly the character of Matthew Cuthbert.   If you have never read this story, you are missing out.

The above video shows real scenery from Canada and a few shots from the movie.  The movie is THE best book to film adaptation I have ever seen.

Poetry Jam "Fictional Point of View" "Mamma's Song" A nod to "Porgy &Bess"

Summertime by Porgy & Bess Cast

Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and mamma standing by

The following is a challenge for "Poetry Jam"-  Fictional Point of View.  My POV (character) is the infant being held in her Mamma's arms.

If you have never listened to this song, do yourself a favor and click on the above you tube video.   If you like it, try and find the movie Porgy & Bess or listen to the entire Broadway Cast Recording.  HERE is the newest Broadway Cast Recording with Audra McDonald, Norm Lewis and David Alan Grier.

If you are interested in a really good Study Guide for "The Gershwin's Porgy and Bess" Click HERE

My photo below is "Rainbow Row" originally named "Cabbage Row" as it was a place that had sunk to a slum and used by negroes as a vending place of vegetables in the 1920's.  This is the location that DuBose Heyward based his novel "Porgy".  "Catfish Row" is the novel's fictitious location in Charleston, South Carolina.  (It is NO longer a slum - it is very pricey real estate and a popular tourist attraction.)

Mamma's Song

Promises softly sung
upon summertime's breeze
were broken
as Misfortune raged.

Murder, love, betrayal, rich,
old, young, poor, a melting pot.
She don't play favorites.

For once all was equal
South an' North of Broad
for those who dallied
beyond the shore,

the day my Daddy, "rich"
and Mamma, good lookin'
swept under with the Sea Gull.

Decayed, battered,
Catfish Row may have been,
but the arms that held
orphaned me,
were mighty strong in Hope.

Pride of Charleston's
poor blacks workin' hard
1920's immortalized,
an American opera, no less.

Today I walk by
colorful archways
of East Bay, hear
Mamma's voice,
Daddy's laughter
upon the wind,

whisper back,
"I spread my wings,
Mamma, took to the sky,
achieved your dream
of a better life."

by Margaret Bednar, April 19, 2013

I also linked this with Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Out of Standard: Climate Free Friday"  The tough challenge of using the word "melt" without referring to heat, cold, fire or ice.  I squeezed it in and think it might read better, perhaps, without the "melted" line.  ;P