"Winter Storm"

Winter Storm

I'm always fooled by the camellias' January budding
softly opening to the first slant of spilled sunshine
from winter's grey and beige sky -
excitedly plan spring and summer vacations
only to find the heavens not so easily diverted.

Begrudge the silence before the fury -
raise an eyebrow as a dove perches
upon my adirondack chair as if a peace offering;

wisely embrace these next few hours of solitude.

by Margaret Bednar, February 18, 2015

This is for "Poetry Jam - Loneliness/Solitude".   I remember when we first moved south and my Camellia bush bloomed the end of December.  Wonderfully pink buds!  I thought spring was around the corner - and I still get fooled a bit each year.  Winter still has a hand or two to play… negative ONE (degrees) tomorrow night!   However, blessings did arrive this week as school has been cancelled for four days and even though it isn't exactly quiet, we have lounged around and read books and stayed cocooned, for the most part, in our house.  It's been quite nice.

"A Courtship, of Sorts"

A Brown Thrasher

A Courtship, of Sorts

I enjoy sparrows, towhees,
titmice, finches, and wrens.

Of course, cardinal's red
and Jay's blue do impress;

yet wait for cinnamon garbed bird
to fly in low and land;

flash yellow eyes,
bare speckled breast.

Watch woodland's edge;
rewarded at last

as curved bill and slim, long tail feathers
grace suet dish.

Lured, but silent; anticipate a morning
he'll serenade with elaborate song.

Margaret Bednar, February 11, 2015

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform" and for "Poetry Jam - Silence".

About a month ago I added suet to my bird feeder to attract woodpeckers.  I have been successful.  I was really surprised when this Brown Thrasher showed up - apparently they have a taste for it too.  The bird guidebook says they hop along a woodland's edge like the Blue Jays, but I have never noticed them in my backyard as they obviously blend in.  Their song is magnificent - and I really hope to be serenaded with it soon.

"Burgeoning"

George Robertson 1856 - Oil on Canvas

Burgeoning 

As a child, I'd dip my toes
in slow moving rocky waters
the Suak and Fox called Sinnisippi

believed if I closed my eyes
I'd feel history clear through my fingertips…

recall Black Hawk's towering profile
overlooking his beloved rugged hills,
the birdsong…

touched my hand to the old oaks;
wondered if he'd leaned against these very trees
that dip and sway at river's edge…

remember sitting amongst clover
and alfalfa, sun upon my shoulders,
immersed in various thoughts

forgetting about chores I'd been sent out to do.
Labeled "lazy".  Like to think it was the birthing of a poet.

by Margaret Bednar, February 7, 2015 

The challenge over at "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads- Your Poetic Eye: Kumulipo" (imagined by Ella) is to share the embryonic state of a poem we write AND add the richness of the state in which we were born.  My state is "Illinois".   I also twisted the challenge a bit and used the idea of how my poetic views might have originated way back when I was a child and had little confidence in myself - dreaming to become an author  (dreamed I would write the sequel to "Gone with the Wind) never believing I was good at anything (still struggle with this)

I do remember going to see Chief Black Hawk and was quite caught up reading about him.  I also grew up on a 10 acre "farmette" in which the Rock River flows directly below the banks of our field and tree line.  My parents still live there - and I haven't visited that spot in over 25 years.  I will have to walk over the field and down the rather steep bank, and cross a seldom used railroad track.   Of course, I'll bring my camera.   The Rock River is a tributary of the Mississippi River.

I am also linking with a very nice and kind poetry challenge site "Poetry Jam" - Journey is the topic for topic for today.

and linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform" .

"Sisterhood of 1976"

Me far right in light blue jacket

Sisterhood of 1976

"Growing apart doesn't change the fact
that for a long time we grew side by side;
our roots will always be tangled.  I'm glad of that."
-Ally Condie, "Matched" 

The only thing that disturbed
unending summer days
was Father's whistle come dusk.

Betwixt cereal spoon
rattling in the empty dish
and his sharp twill,

we urchins ran wild,
or as wild as we could imagine.
I remember getting lost

in cornfields, kicking pebbles
into the quarry, heads a bit dizzy
from the sheer drop.

Slyly pocketing change from places
off limits - gorging on forbidden
amounts of candy.  Experimenting

with matches, watching leaves,
twigs go up in smoke,
found cigarette butts, resurrected.

Running barefoot, forging trails,
putting ears to railroad tracks,
listening.  Counting time by the sun.

Each night we'd wash off
the day's adventures, secure
in our sisterhood of secrets.

I look back at our freedom, our rascality -
compare it to today's overprotected kids
and wonder which is better.

Margaret Bednar, May 20, 2014


I had a great time growing up… we weren't exactly well behaved all the time - but not the worst of miscreants either.   I know that we were not supervised like the children of today and my parents had no idea of all the things we did.   There was an interesting article (long, but really thought provoking) about how children were raised "back in the day" and how they are raised today.  It is "The Overprotected Kid" - click HERE to read it.

I was too late to join Poetry Jam's "Friends" challenge.  But go take a look at the efforts of other poets on this theme.

Also linked with "dVerse - Poetics - It's Qutoable" 

"I Listened"

I Listened

I cannot tell you what tomorrow holds

nor what yesterday means just yet,

but I know last evening I listened

as summer's last songbird splashed

its lyrics against a tangerine sky, 

its sentinel voice bowing

to river's restless murmurings

of numbered sun-drenched days.

I smiled as stubborn oak, fully ablaze,

stood defiant, prepared to hang on 'till spring

despite wind's gorging appetite

while more prudent creatures scampered

and burrowed beneath falling, spiraling

canopy, snuggling spring's promise

and I adjusted my jacket, pulled out 

my mittens, and saw my breath 

beneath beaver moon's filtered light.

Margaret Bednar, November 6, 2013

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed with Ed Pilolla" and "Poety Jam - What do you Know for Sure"  

I believe this year's "beaver moon" will happen around November 15th - but it worked for the poem, so go with it :)

Photography is courtesy of my friend "J.B."  (thank you!)

"Behold"

Behold

Lonely is often beholden to the blight 

of winter's questionable grace,

yet sheltered beneath fall's golden light,

I realize love just drifts, where words of love 

once crooned beside summer's redolent roses

is replayed.  I tuck them away, 

linger beneath a cranberry canopy, alone, 

look past winter and behold a new spring.

by Margaret Bednar, October 3, 2013

This is linked to "Poetry Jam - Backwards".  We are to find a poem and write it backwards, not word for word, but line for line.  I did change it up a bit, but I think stayed true to the intent for the most part.  This poem was originally written in November of 2012 in the form below:

Alone

Beneath a cranberry canopy
I linger, replay words of love
once crooned beneath spring's canopy
of roses; love in full bloom.  Love
has drifted, this canopy shelters
only me.  Yet I find I'm not lonely
beneath fall's golden light, this shelter
where I embrace alone, beholden lonely
to the blight of winter's questionable grace.

by Margaret Bednar, 11-18-2012

"Afternoon Bouquet"

Not yet October - and still pretty green.  But we are READY! :)

Afternoon Bouquet

It doesn't take much,
just a flick of an ear

imagine he's dreaming
of scampering the trails -
so I rouse him,
find ourselves treading

a sea of scarlet, red-russet,
and ochre,
chasing whirling
free-falling helicopters,

kicking a few rolling hickory nuts
not yet squirreled away,
collecting unsolicited
hitchhiking cockleburs,

enjoying October's
afternoon bouquet.

by Margaret Bednar, September 25, 2013

This is linked with "Poets United - We are Interconnected" where we are challenged to write a poem of "one thing leads to another",

and for "Poetry Jam - October",

as well as "Friday Flash 55 

Poets United - Verse First & Poetry Jam - Lost & Friday Flash55 "Listen"

Photo by M. Bednar "of Harborview, of a memory Sunset..."

(cursor down for the Friday Flash 55 version)

This is written for the challenge at Poets United "Verse First - Places You Love".  A poem based upon "Say the Names" by Canadian poet, Al Purdy.  Our marching orders were to consider the places we love, lived, visited and write about them.   Thought I'd explain it a bit before you read it.

Listen

-- say the names, say the names
and don't forget to listen
as notes tickle gently at first,

bellows press, unpress

as Old River rocks gently a rhythm

tree-lined, of hoof beats, laughter,

where endless time dips her toe, carefree -
octave slides upward

and Songbird vibrates along your spine

a tender old tune of beginnings,

of vulnerability never shed -

continues, lovingly hums

Fieldstone where kisses, 

womanly, motherly,

make you strong, prepare you -

for the whistle and sway of

Harborview, a rhythm
seized, loathe to let go
of days Sunset, forever home -
scale slides upwards, outwards

embraces Summerfield
a tempo change 

of letting go, acceptance -

where old melodies meet new  

and love listens, encourages:
             
                    --  say the names.


by Margaret Bednar, September 12, 2013

Also linked with Poetry Jam - Lost - We were given the option to write about things lost or things not to lose. I changed the word to "forget" which I think is fairly close to the same meaning...?

AND can I do it in 55 words for the G-Man's Friday Flash 55?  You tell me --

Photo by M. Bednar "Let go, accept"...

Listen (in 55)

Say the names
as notes

tickle "Old River",
rock gently a rhythm tree-lined,
hoofbeats, laughter -

vibrate "Songbird"
along your spine, tender old tune
of vulnerability and new beginnings -

hum "Fieldstone",
where womanly, motherly kisses
make you strong -

whistle "Harborview",
memories Sunset,
a forever home -

slide, embrace "Summerfield",
let go, accept.
Love listens -

     -- say the names.

by Margaret  Bednar, September 12, 2013

Poetry Jam & Friday Flash 55 "The Sound of Silence"

The Sound of Silence

Have you ever touched
the sound of silence,
stood in its embrace,

marveled that its stillness
is often vibrant, fragrant,
even intoxicating?

A gift often unexpected,
thrilling, stunning
if we pause to listen?

I asked my five year old
if he had ever touched silence.
"Of course.  It's a prayer
to and from my heart."

by Margaret Bednar, August 15, 2013

This is for Poetry Jam "The Sound of Silence" and Friday Flash 55.   The photos are from a few of my walks over the past few days.

Poetry Jam & dVerse "No Escape"

No Escape

A blanketed moon
and veiled stars
offer not
a comforter of dark -
no respite upon
woodland's floor
as the devil's descent
unerringly pinpoints
where the hunted hide.

by Margaret Bednar, August 10, 2013

This is linked with Poetry Jam "When the lights go out" and dVerse Open Link Night - the place to be on Tuesday nights.

Poetry Jam - It's All About Flowers "Guidance"

Guidance

Faith I found
by the ol' bog garden
wrapped in a lavender gown.
A show-stopper she
draped across trail's path,
nature's fleur-de-lis, displayed.

Sword-like guards
warned "Just admire",
so I sat and listened
to secrets softly shared
of truth-filled beauty,
promises of love,
and spirituals gently sung.

Wisdom comes in many forms
and grateful I'll always be
to have happened upon
this rainbow's drop
beside still waters
of the ol' garden bog.

by Margaret Bednar, June 15, 2013

This is linked to "Poetry Jam - It's All About Flowers"

I researched quite a bit about these spring flowers and I learned that the Iris was named for the Greek goddess of the rainbow.  Iris was the messenger of the god's and rode the rainbow to and from the Earth in her multi-colored robes.

The iris stands for many things: honesty, devotion, sophistication, sensitivity, loyalty, a bit of passion... and all the other things I mentioned in my poem.  The iris is the state flower of Tennessee.

The fleur-de-lis is a stylized iris which has been used for centuries as a symbol for royalty and is a symbol of France and appears on many coat of arms. 

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

Poetry Jam & Friday Flash 55 "The Usual"

The Usual

A bursting bouquet
of Van Gogh
graces my kitchen counter,

sentimental card
handwritten,
elaborately careful, neat.

Lasting love
ink stained upon
ivory parchment

beside bottle of bubbly
and small box;
promise of something expensive

to celebrate
my silence, my blind eye,
for the usual way

I forgive indiscretions.
I've grown accustomed
to indifference.

by Margaret Bednar, March 28, 2013

This is for Poetry Jam - The usual/unusual AND for Friday Flash 55 (a story in 55 words no more, no less)  I must emphasize THIS poem is not based on ME!!!  I in no way would EVER become complacent or indifferent to such behavior!  :)  And it's Easter and everything is sunny and green here and I have no idea where this came from... ha ha.  But it was fun.

Poetry Jam & Friday Flash 55 "Carved Reflections"

"Corseted Woman"

Carved Reflections

Forested secrets,
fragile floral bouquets,
sprout once again to life.

A woman tightly corseted,
glances over her shoulder
forever a witness

to impassioned moments
of Jake & Jess, Laura, Tommy,
Daniel's love for Lindsay.

Carved reflections
of yesteryear, dates, initials,
billboarded love, pledged.

A lover's path I stroll,
wonder if "Please Love Me"
is still searching.

by Margaret Bednar, March 21, 2013

This poem is linked with Poetry Jam - Reflections and Friday Flash 55 (linked up after 8 pm tonight)

Poetry Jam "The Dogwood"

The Dogwood

A vixen's arm extends,
invites me to dance,

scent intoxicates.
Too long, I hesitate,

unparalleled beauty
accepted by another.

Shallowness excused
as I watch her youthful form

waltz upon the breeze,
pink taffeta gown afloat

as dandy Warbler sings
and woos with charm, with grace,

eyes her dance card,
the next honor reserved

for a handsome chap
dressed in fashionable red.

by Margaret Bednar, March 18, 2013

"HERE" is a nice photo of a cardinal in a blossoming pink dogwood tree (I think it's a dogwood?) This is for "Poetry Jam - Poetry of Dance".  Truly, nature dances... doesn't it?  

Poetry Jam "Kyanite"

Kyanite

My cat's eye
blinks silver and blue

flashes sapphire
in the light

polished luster
wards off evil

they say.  All I know
is this striped gem,

cold and smooth,
reminds me of you.

by Margaret Bednar, February 26, 2013

Linked with Poetry Jam "Your Stripes, My Stripes".  HERE is a beautiful pendant made from Kyanite.  Not a cat's eye, thought.  For that beautiful cut click HERE.

The above photo I took while touring a museum in the Appalachian Mountains. - although I really don't think that is where this inexpensive gem is found...  

Poetry Jam & Friday Flash 55 "Mustang"

Mustang

My loyal and true heart
is a cowboy's desire,

but his soothing words
and gentle hands

make promises
I know he won't keep.

I'm not so easily swayed
as are the ladies,

for my eyes will always yearn
for what he can't give me.

Perhaps that's my appeal;
we both long for the same thing.

by Margaret Bednar, January 30, 2013

This is for Poetry Jam "The Beast in You" and Friday Flash 55.

After linking with Friday Flash 55 tonight, I will be taking a short break from my computer as we are putting our house on the market for sale and I need to focus on that process.  This is our second attempt as last season it did not sell.  See you all next week!

Poetry Jam "The Guardian"

The Guardian

She guards her brother
with ancient eyes,

selfless in her quest
she'd break all the rules
to keep him safe.

'Tis a woman's heart
that beats so young

within her breast,
a warrior queen,
steadfast and oh, so true.

By Margaret Bednar, January 24, 2013

 This is for "Poetry Jam - Breaking the rules".  I tried going into more detail, but it seemed to ruin the sweetness of it.

Poetry Jam "A December Night's Walk" Friday Flash 55 "Beloved"

The Friday Flash 55 version is at the bottom - It is always so hard to edit one's words...

which do YOU like better?

A December Night's Walk

I step out
into the cimmerian night,
utter a protest against the chill,

walk dogs one last time
before turning in, glad
Christmas's rush is over,

listen to the pond's silence,
pause as I feel very small,
pupils wide,

as pinpoints
of luminous light
reflect symbolic vision;

a tree of paradise,
a tree of hope, needles
pointing heavenward

and a stag
thirsting for water
like my soul yearns for Christ.

My breath expels,
a tear escapes,
and I thank the starless sky

for her beauteous gift
of making one so small
feel so simply and happily loved.

by Margaret Bednar, December 27, 2012

This is linked with Poetry Jam - "Ho Ho Holidays"


and below, a shorter, 55 word version, linked with Friday Flash 55.


Beloved

I embrace
a cimmerian night,

feel alone
beneath starless sky,

listen to the pond's
chilly silence,

pause, pupils wide,
as pinpoints of luminous light

reflect a tree of hope,
needles pointing heavenward

and a stag thirsting for water
like I yearn for Christ;

breath expels,
a tear escapes

and I, so small,
feel simply loved.

by Margaret Bednar, December 27, 2012

Poetry Jam & IGWRT's "Atlantis"

drawing by Bailey Powell

doll by Bailey Powell

Atlantis

Ancient paintings 

and seafaring Greeks
sighted strange creatures 

upon sun dappled rocks.

Medieval manuscripts, 

even Columbus and Hudson, 

told tales banished now to myth

of pale speckled bellies, 

dark blue backs, glowing,

and tails of polished sea glass.

Where now, these creatures

who swam with dolphins

and sang with humpbacks

of the pacific northwest?

Perhaps their kingdom's a city
lost to us, a place we call "myth";

a god's mountain palace

carved for his love,

surrounded by gates,

towers, bridges and moats,

a place the Pillars of Hercules

watched silently slip

into a realm unknown,

followed by every mermaid

and merman pledging allegiance 

to Poseidon and Amphitrite.

Atlantis!  A new civilization

cradled deep inside the Mystic Sea
safe from their predator; mankind.

by Margaret Bednar, 11-27-2012

doll by Bailey Powell

This is for Poetry Jam "make believe"and Imaginary Garden With Real Toad's Sunday Challenge "dolls".  The dolls (this being one of many) have been created by talented high school visual art students.

I watched a video from Animal Planet on mermaids "The Body Found" which is rather interesting and fun. Also, here is an image and information on the Pillars of Hercules.