"Grandma"

Reposting this poem I wrote a few years back.  It is a fictional poem, one I wrote after driving through Tennessee in December - this homestead "spoke" to me.

Grandma

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”  -Maya Angelou

Like grandma’s shawl, the old, worn farmhouse 

tucked into Appalachia's hills always gave me comfort, 

even when spring rains flooded the stream bed, 

more than once licked it’s wet, swollen tongue along the rear porch. 

Black snakes and such slithered from beneath 

seeking higher ground; even the goats and mules

grazed their way up pasture hills.  Frightened me near to death

but Grandma always said, “Have faith” and I swear

if the waters didn’t recede.  Secretly I likened her to Moses,

as at her word, miracles seemed to happen. 

The one Christmas I stayed with Grandma, 

she collected pine boughs, wove them together, 

draped long looping swags across the warped wooden house,
hummed a mix of hymns as she lit single candles 

in each window.  

Beneath thousands of twinkling stars, 
we stood on the winding, dirt road that ribboned past her farmstead

and admired the holiest of nights, Grandma’s threadbare shawl 

securely wrapped about us both.

by Margaret Bednar, December 28

This is written for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again".  I selected "A Gift of Wisdom from Maya Angelou"   

Also linked with "Poets United - Pantry of Poetry and Prose #8" on December 15, 2019

"Queen Bee"

Coneflower & Honeybee

Queen Bee

From tears of Ra
the bee descends, of sun, of royalty.

As a child, I'd run in fear of the sting,

unaware nectar its sole pursuit -
Cupid learned "Beware love's sting!"

Yet life absorbs such piques, does it not?

Spend many an evening walking husband's perennial gardens 

camera poised, patiently wait for droning honeybee; 

stories of imminent demise foreshadowed -

thrilled when sometimes (only) one shows up...

Does this mean Greek goddesses are nearly forgotten,

the Hindu God of peace is dying, Ra's wisdom silenced?   

This symbol of motherhood and fertility
has walked with me hand in hand; no longer run I from the sting,
but embrace sacrifices, savor long days,
taste sweet nectar of childish arms about my neck; sticky fingers and all.
And occasionally at end of day, raise my glass to the Queen Bee;

realize I'm not just a worker bee.

by Margaret Bednar, July 23, 2016

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Transforming with Nature's Wonders" & "Play it Again, Toads".  I was late in playing, so this is my contribution to an obviously very recent "archived" challenge .

When my husband and I first started dating, somehow I gained the title "Queen Bee".   One of my favorite gifts is a necklace of a honeybee.

You are invited to listen: https://soundcloud.com/margaretbednar/audio-recording-on-saturday

"The Path"

The Path

I long for moments of awe -
where time seeps into crack and crevice,

where allegro's finger
slows its vibrato,

where powdery blooms of Solomon's seal
weigh heavily upon August's vine,

where God's signet ring
dangles beside the forest path I tread.

by Margaret Bednar, September 26, 2015

This plant which looks similar to a blue berry is actually poisonous however has been used for medicinal purposes dating back a very long time.  It is referred to as Solomon's Seal and was given this name due to its appearance at the cross section of its stem where it attaches to the underground root structure.  The legend of King Solomon's Seal is shared by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.  The Doctrine of Signatures is a theory that plants were "signed" by God to indicate their intended use by man.    I at first thought it was a choke berry - but the leaves were markedly different.


This is linked with "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Let's Go Back to School" where I was inspired by the poem "Rome" written by Waseen Asmal:

an excerpt from the poem "Rome":  (for the full version, click on the name above).

Time has seeped into
the cracks and crevices of
the once mighty Rome
breaking it's walls
and leaving it crumbling in the dust.

and also linked with the Garden's prompt "Play it Again, Toads".   I chose the archived challenge "A Word with Laurie - allegro"  where I not only had to use the word "allegro" but had to keep the poem to 8 lines AND write it within a minute's time.  I took a minute and a half (sorry) but it took me quite a while to research this little poem.  It took me forever to find out what this plant was - the choke berry leaves are a bit serrated - so I looked for about 45 minutes until I finally found the correct leaf shape.

Someone commented my blog's "verification" is giving them trouble.  I checked my status and I have it turned off - there should be NO verification code to type in.  Please let me know if this is showing up if you post a comment.  Thanks.  

"This Poem"

This Poem

This poem is priceless.
This poem is a solicitation.
This poem is a blessing.

This poem is a slowly rising sun
peeking from behind grey-blue clouds,
a splash of ocean spray upon clammy, heated skin,
a pelican skimming rolling waves searching for sustenance.
This poem is priceless.

This poem is a hand upon the small of your back,
empathetic and concerned,
a motivated salesman with sexy brown eyes,
a compass pointing the opposite direction.
This poem is a solicitation.

This poem is a lavender scented invitation,
a lovers' hand playfully tugging,
a silent prayer, joyful tears, a hammock
sagging with the weight of two.
This poem is a blessing.

This poem celebrates simplicity.
This poem is an offer you should not refuse.
This poem is a ticket to happiness.

By Margaret Bednar, July 25, 2015

This poem is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again Toads #19" I selected the archived challenge hosted by Hannah "Boomerang Metaphors" (a poetic form created by Hannah)

The above image is one I took of my daughter early morning this past week at Hilton Head - the only one who made it up to join me for a most gorgeous sunrise.  

"Chai Tea"

Chai Tea

Nudity and passion seem improper
however delicately painted upon a teacup.

I hide a smile as Grandmother places linen upon slender lap,
gently nibbles upon a scone, her Wedgwood rose demure upon its saucer;

unaware I follow curve and line of a lily white back,
observe lips pressed beneath a lovers's ribs,
imagine ocean's tide lapping passion's embrace,

burn my tongue on spiced Chai.  Insist on seconds.
Grandmother praises me for being a lady.  I assure her I'm a quick study.

by Margaret Bednar, March 23, 2015 


This is for "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads!"  I selected the archived challenge:  "Poem sketching"  I may have bent the rules a bit for this one, but I wrote a long list of words evoked by the above image.  I tried to pick four that were quite different and this is what I got.  The four words were:   teacup, passion, grandmother, painted

Henna my Heart

Henna my Heart

Titian tipped, flaxen wings
soar, dip, delicately tickle sky's blue -

Innocence sinks low in tall swaying grass,
mother fox freezes, sniffs the wind -

Crows cantankerously cry
as jarring black eyes demand withdrawal -

so I henna my heart with their essence
and follow the lake path home.

by Margaret Bednar, February 21, 2015

Artwork by W. T. Benda

Linked previously for the challenge below, but now "re-listing" it for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations - Art with Toril".

for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again #14"  I choose "Fireblossom Friday: Rhyme Royal & W. T. Benda".  (archived from February 2014)  I selected the option to write a free verse poem to the artwork of W.T. Benda.

"Red Sky"

"The Lovers' Boat" Albert Pinkham Ryder 1881

Beneath a fading red sky you taught me to blush,
made poetry come alive.

I returned the favor.  Sent you home
with my sighs in your pocket.

by Margaret Bednar.


This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again #13"  The archived challenge I chose was Mama Zen's Words Count - Twitter poetry - 140 characters or less.

My poem is exactly 140 (with no title).  The image is one I took at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington D.C.  I do not remember if "The Lovers' Boat" is really this red - I may have had my flash on which is unusual of me - but either way, I used it as inspiration for my poem.

"Pink Moon"

Pink Moon

Mountain phlox have sprouted
once again drape forest edge & meadow
stem, petal, and leaf
absorb the full moon,
moss pink.

April nights find me longing
to release gossamer silk,
balloon into night's sky,
ride a jet stream,
celebrate Spring's arrival.

They say desire
ebbs and wains once fulfilled;  question
whether Time exists without change.

All I know is come Blackberry winter
I still thrill when woodlands
yawn, stretch, & bloom.

by Margaret Bednar, November 22, 2014

This is for the "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again Toads #10".  I chose to accept Kenia's Metaphysical Question challenge.  I attempted to work in "Can there be time without change?" (science is SO not my strong point - so I had a hard time grasping even the simplest question let alone rising to a poetic challenge!)

The Pink Moon is not really pink - it references the appearance of the first spring flowers - wild ground phlox which is often pink.  It is also known as the Sprouting Grass Moon, Egg Moon, Fish Moon, and the Paschal Full Moon.  

"Another Autumn - Mountain Farm, 1890"

Another Autumn - Mountain Farm, 1890

  With protective shoulders, stained complexion
Humpback Mountain sweetly chirps, trills, rustles, and woos;
  Serenade so tranquil, I forget
          she's also
     a tempest possessed
of blustering, tumultuous song.  I listen
as sun-drenched basil waltzes, balmy breeze conducts.
     Observe stoic thyme
          still standing
  sentimental over yesteryear

  faintly blooming tints of simplicity.
Sacrificial herbs hanging upside down dying,
  drying in upper loft, children's beds,
          clapboard walls
     thin split shingles squint,
almost glare as I, judge and jury, heavily
question slits of sky blue, beautiful today, but
     bold January
        isn't known
  as a gracious, understanding host.

  Hand hewn, these old logs still standing, recall
voices raised in melodies I cannot quite hear.
  hands of tobacco, wool, apples, milk,
          eggs, walnuts
       chestnuts, clucking hens,
razorback pigs.  Minds of great ingenuity,
of necessity.  And I try hard to listen
     while grey squirrel wastes
          little time
  pondering a mountain people's past.

by Margaret Bednar, October 27, 2014

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads".  I chose to give a slight nod to  Dylan Thomas.  HERE.

I used the structure of "Poem in October" - paid close attention to his line count, but I do not even suggest I come close to his AWESOME inventiveness with image and emotion.  I also HAD to punctuate and just couldn't begin every line with a capital letter.  I'm sure it has to do with being unable to "flow" as beautifully as Dylan Thomas - for that is what his poetry seems to me - to just flow.  Do yourself a favor and google him if you have never read him.

Humpback Rocks Mountain Farm is a preserved part of Virginia's history along the Blue Ridge Parkway (Appalachian Mountains).

"Shades"

Shades

Silver Lake whispers seduction
beneath summer's cloudless sky,

shades of green, yellow, blue
dapple warmth behind closed eyes.

Seagulls cry, pelicans glide,
blond haired boy strums shades

of cool 'cross my skin.
Rope hammock swings to and fro

   shades of light
        shades of blue
              shades of cool

and I'll be damned
if I ever move a muscle again.

by Margaret Bednar, September 28, 2014



My son playing his ukelele and performing a song he wrote while we vacationed on Ocracoke Island this past summer.

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads"  I chose to attempt Isadora Gruye's "Out of Standard - Invoking the Goog" - use the Google search box, type in a word, and use in the order listed - but they can be broken up with other words.  My word:  shades

"Invincible"

Invincible

Ocean's tide
faithfully recedes,
sand ebbs beneath my feet -

arms raise, palms flat,
press sun kissed waves
to horizon's edge

undecided if I can -
even want -
to save this world.

Mere slip of a girl am I,
full of laughter, dreams,
bedtime stories

of heroes, heroines,
wicked slain,
riches shared with the poor.

What will happen
if I lower my hands -
will floods surge forth?

Will I ride seahorses
in deep's blue depths,
seaweed entwined in my hair?

Become a mermaid
unable to sing her siren song
as all mankind is dead?

Far easier
to deny inheritable burdens,
let struggle slip away

but youth believes
mazes solvable, impossible attainable -
in arms forever strong.

by Margaret Bednar, August 24, 2014

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads!" I chose the archived challenge "Jorge Luis Borges - become lost in the maze of language, magic, and endless possibilities".

Borges wrote "The Garden of Forking Paths" with can be read HERE.   My poem is nothing like his writing - but this is what I spent an hour on (a lot of erasing) so I will put my effort forth…

"Escape"

Escape

"Inexperience can be overcome, ignorance can be enlightened, 

but prejudice will destroy you."  Mercedes Lackey, "The Black Gryphon"

I shouldn't have looked back
upon the inlet, solemn church,
historic homes of contaminated,
over-ripe minds

smug in their righteousness.

Even after three-hundred years
Witchduck creek still bleeds,
still feeds this little town.
The only difference is they'd prefer

a sorceress to the "likes' of me.

by Margaret Bednar, May 24, 2014

This is linked to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads".  I am resurrecting "Fireblossom Friday - Loss".

This is a poem pondering how people seem to always hate what is different, or more to the point, what they don't understand.  Our prejudices may have changed, but that evil vice is still alive and well.

This painting by my daughter reminds me of many historic towns in Virginia.   In the 1700's, Virginia Beach area farmers found themselves in the midst of various unfortunate events - cotton fields were wastelands and the cows had dried up.  Not to mention an excessive amount of men were being unfaithful.

Grace Sherwood's familiarity with herbs and her pretty looks were a bad combination and they deduced she must be a "witch".  She was sentenced to a "ducking".   Her thumbs were tied to her big toes and she was ducked into the Lynnhaven River on July 10, 1706.  Grace Sherwood freed herself from her ties and swam to shore in an effort to save her life.  The town concluded an innocent person would have sunk and died.    Grace Sherwood was found guilty and spent several years in jail.  When she was released, she lived out her days with her three sons on Pungo farm.  She died at the age of 80 in 1740.

"Bliss"

Bliss

One of life's simple pleasures
is the smell of butterflies and clover,
of sunshine after spring showers -

of capturing the day with a clothespin
and wrapping oneself up with it for the night.

by Margaret Bednar, April 27, 2014

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again #4".  I chose the "Artistic Interpretations - Maria Wulf's Visual Poetry" challenge posted on November 1, 2013.

 My mother hangs everything on the clothes line and this smell always transports me back to my childhood.  I used to be horribly embarrassed as a teenager -  I had not a few high school friends snicker at my teeny tiny bras…

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. 

"Home"

"it's better to look at the sky than live there.  Such an empty place; so vague.  

Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear."  
Holly from "Breakfast at Tiffany's - Truman Capote

Unbounded, immeasurable is the sky
where I whisper secrets, fling dreams,
have done so ever since I was a little girl

who, with far-reaching loneliness
looked to the clouds for comfort,
at times for assumption.

When will I learn to trust boundless love,
accept you won't rumble discontent,
criticize; realize there is no need
to hold my breath or hide?

Here, by your side is a home
that will never be empty, a love
that will never threaten nor disappear.

by Margaret Bednar, March 23, 2014

This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Play it Again, Toads #3".  I selected the archived challenge "The Story' - select a quote from "Breakfast at Tiffany's and write a poem in any form or style which explore the thoughts which arise.

When I was a young girl and teenager I adored the old movies and loved to read - often outside beneath the clouds with my beloved cat. Over two years ago I wrote a poem "A Summer's Breeze".  I was quite shy and well, I had low self-esteem for one reason or another.  I remember often holding my breath - if I was scared, embarrassed, shy…  I truly have buried my insecurities, but at times "she" does reappear - funny how we resurrect our past at times…

"Pink Ribboned Sky"

Pink Ribboned Sky,

Fluttering upon shoreline, your silvered reflection
shows true beauty.  Unaware of admirers,

you embrace all, choose no favorites.
Leave us poised silent, eyes tear away
only after you dip, sway, bat a silky last wink.

Collectively sigh as gray overtakes pier;
sand and seagrass blend into black.  Our hearts
pledge "We'll be back".  Each season, we are.

Faithfully,
the Vacationers

by Margaret Bednar, January 27, 2014

This is for my prompt for the past weekend over at "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads".   Also linked with IGWRT's Open Link Monday as I just got back from the North Carolina Outer Banks (where this image was taken!)

This is a prompt offered by Kerry O'Connor from December, 2014 HERE where we were challenged to write a poem in letter format.