Ocracoke

Ocracoke

Protected by sand dunes and salt marsh 

does seem a fragile thing

and with gulf stream's warming breath 

not yet delivering this early morn

I should be leary; but I don't mind 

as I wrap fuzzy shawl of silk and wool 

about my shoulders.

My son's braver; hoodie and shoes scatter 

where he flings them

in his usual zig-zag, helter-skelter fashion. 

Seems I've traded salt and snow 

for finely blowing crystals,

almost imperceptible 

until lying upon cool, moist sand

I marvel at their quiet journey 

of slowly shifting this barrier island 

of little to no bedrock.

I call my son to share, 

but my voice is swallowed by wind and surf.  

He's scampered far ahead, 

poking at shell deposits, driftwood, 

forcing gulls to abandon lucrative breakfast sites 

and ride shifting winds further down-shore. 

I abandon myself to absorbing, watching, imagining 

rangy ponies that freely roamed this coastline; 

pirates that rested (and liquored) post-pillage,

shipwrecks - of lives lost, others saved;  

heroics retold for generations.   

Ponder last night's ghost-walk 

and for once, believe every word.

My son is back, cheeks flushed, hair damp.  Shivering.  

Surrender my wrap as he leans against me, 

shows me half a sand dollar.

Come noon we'll have pail and shovel in hand; 

for now we have in mind 

Flying Melon's smoked salmon and shrimp scramble.

By Margaret Bednar, March 23, 2016

This is linked with "Poets United Midweek Motif - Climate"  

The winter beach is officially over and spring pricing is well under way.  I love the discounted rates and truly love the solitude and beauty of what the ocean has to offer during it's "off season", winter.

"Prince of Darkness"

Prince of Darkness

December's night breeze
rustles the leaves, rumples
forest's underbelly

betraying sanctuary's silence.

A haloed bronze statue
shines upon bared branches,
hears the pious prayers

of deliverance;

with angelic wings swoops down,
unearths the devout. Yet even
the Prince of Darkness gives thanks

before devouring his evening meal.

by Margaret Bednar, December 3, 2013


This is linked with Poet's United "Verse First - The Owl".  

"Days of Grace"

Would you like to hear me read my poem?

Check this out on Chirbit

Days of Grace

I wish these days of grace to linger -

linger in my soul content, yet ablaze.

Ablaze with dying in order to nourish -

nourish to live again.  Each Autumn I walk,

walk these wooded trails, pause -

pause to photograph and gaze in wonder.

Wondering all the while if I will bow -

bow as graciously as nature when it's my time.

Time, a gift we seem to squander -

squander away when we have it and long,

long for it when it silently winds down - tick,

tick, tick.  Perhaps we over-think, when we should -

should just breath in and out, think how to,

to give of ourselves, daily.  Die to self,

selflessly give each day in order to live -

live one day outside of time, ablaze with grace.

by Margaret Bednar, October 13, 2013

This is written for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads "Sunday Challenge - Loop Poetry".  The last word of the line must wrap around and begin the next.  I did not take up the challenge of a rhyme scheme.  

I am also linking this up with "I Heart Macro week 22" 

and Poets United: Poetry Pantry #171.  

"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

Poets United - Poetry Pantry #166 "He Kissed Me"

He Kissed Me

He kissed me

and I forgot 

we were different

as night and day.

He wasn't "safe",

wasn't "perfect".

His future?

An enthusiastic dream.

I could have gone on and on

about his faults,

but those baby blues

left me speechless

and then he kissed me.

Well, perfect and safe

never made me feel

like that.

by Margaret Bednar, originally published November 21, 2011

linked with Poets United - Poetry Pantry #166.  This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago - photo is of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward - of course my poem is not about them :)

Kim Klassen's Friday Finds & Poetry Pantry #153 - "A Healing"

A Healing

Enchantment comes my way
as I walk the garden path,
a kind of whimsy, flushed pink,
extends an invitation

to slide, to spiral, and spin
into a world of purity.

A realm as fragile as raindrops,
where one tiptoes a luscious trail,
imagination still exists,
indulgence is embraced.

It isn't hard to fantasize
while admiring Calla Lilly's grace.

by Margaret Bednar, June 8, 2013

How would you describe the world of your favorite flower?

This is for "Kim Klassen Cafe's - Friday Finds" Kim's website says "Where texture, type & photos unite" and boy, does it ever.  I can't wait for next year when I have some time to take an on-line course again - she is organized and a wonderful teacher.

I had been bummed today as I hadn't "found that "daily" sensational photo.  I walked into the house after taking the photos below and noticed the raindrops on the tip of the Calla Lily and raced back outside.  I'm thrilled that I got such a great shot with my iPhone!!  (my battery was dead on my Canon)

Also linked with Poetry Pantry #153 - a very nice, supportive community for poets, AND
Shine the Divine's I Heart Macro Week #4 where Laura asks us to slow down and see the mini-miracles of nature.  

Poetry Pantry #152 "The Greatest Gift"

The Greatest Gift

Gentleness is
a gift far greater
than strength,

like filtered sun,
seeps bone deep,
settles the heart

and peace is born.

by Margaret Bednar, June 3, 2013

This is for Poetry Pantry #152.   Also linked with Imaginary Garden with  Real Toad's Open Link Monday.

IGWRT's - Destinations and Dialogue & Poet's United -Colored "SouthernCharm"

Southern Charm

The afternoon's heat has shackled me, 

sweat pools in places secretive

and I close my eyes, sit upon a scrolled bench, 

tidal breeze welcome, 

imagine a time when women dressed in layers.

Unfazed, a haughty dandy emerges from the brush, 

struts a bedazzled rainbow, 

makes my dishevelment more apparent.

"Show-off," I mutter.  He blinks, struts his crest.

I wilt, deflated, lean back,

watch sultriness ride the Ashley's blackwater current,

meander her way past the live oaks -

enjoy an age-old flirtation as fingers tickle the surface,

whose emerged roots in turn she caresses with silky coolness.

I raise my chin, invite her to touch me lovingly as well.

It's a courtship:  the days simmering lassitude woos 

evening's refreshing breath,

begs with open arms all the current can give.

Tomorrow all will be forgotten

as a hasty retreat is made toward the grand city 

and bigger horizons, but for now, all is content.  

Almost.

The peacock's train fans out, plumage iridescent.

"You win."  I stroll back the way I came. 

With such ornamentation, I dare not compete.

by Margaret Bednar, April 11, 2013

I'm also linking this poem with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Artistic Interpretations - Beauty". (April 24, 2017)  I am the host and my "rules" were a new poem or greatly re-worked - this is neither - but I beg forgiveness.  My 90 year old father had a mild stroke and it has kept me a bit distracted.  He is improving each day and this is great - but I was unable to write a new poem for this prompt.

---

This is written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads "Destinations and Dialogues".  The assignment is to:  write a narrative about a place that is special, evil, nostalgic, beautiful, chaotic...whatever you want and try to nail the feeling that it gives you when you are there and confronted with its realness. This can be poetry, prose, technical writing...lol, I don't care.  And to "sandwich it between a bit of narrative".  

I have described sitting along the banks of the Ashely River which flows in to Charleston SC every morning and flows back towards Middleton Plantation every evening.  

DO YOURSELF A FAVOR, CLICK ON THE LINK of Middleton Plantation... if not just for the header which showcases two "take your breath away" images!  The link to Charleston has a lovely video.  The Lowcountry is truly spectacular.  You will see why it has stolen my heart.

I have also linked this with Poets United "Colored".  What is more colorful than a peacock?  

Poet's United & Friday Flash 55 "The Grand Old Hat"

My Great Aunt, 1905

FRIDAY FLASH 55 VERSION AT BOTTOM OF  PAGE!!

                       The

           Good

‘Ol

Edwardian Days

When swirling skirts gracefully 

Swept the floor, ankles carefully hidden.

Puffed up like a proud pigeon and resembled

   An instrument measuring time.

Oh, how to show

Individuality? Dare

We suggest such a

Thing?  A prim and

Proper young

Lady

Must wear her hat squarely

Upon her head; no silly feather, please!

But, if one had a desire for a bit of frivolity, well a trip

To the Hat Maker might just do the trick.  A feather added and tilted

To one        side, a splendid ornate hat to promenade.  A       multitude 

Of other       frivolous items could grace the crown:  A poppy,      a plume,

How         about a large cabbage rose?  A bit overwhelming?          Well,

 That was         the very idea!  To have fun, live a little, after all,             it was

 Just                           a hat.  The only thing exposed                          was 

Hair!                        Sometimes splurged, and added a                     bird?

Well,                                 Not a whole bird,                                   nor 

Even                                             a                                           whole
Wing.                                       For                                      many
Years,                             Twenty                           in fact, 

The               Audabon Society            fought

To outlaw such animal cruelty!  

Even hat pins were subject to the law!

Why, they could only extend so far - dangerous

Weapons they.  Known for poking, scraping and stabbing!

Regulations on how far they could protrude without hat-pin

Protectors. Some were banned from public transportation, in fact.

So, no whole birds, but how about bunches of cherries, blackberries

Or ribbon rosettes?  Hats made to whirl, flow and dip; some swathed in

Tulle.  Some glorious hats mysteriously rested upon the hair, thanks to 

The secret of “wadded” hair saved from thy very own brush to make the 

Grand pompadour!   Possibly a bit of mystery might be desired; was that

Even allowed?   It could be arranged with a bit of cobweb trim hanging

Over the face.  Social gatherings were not complete without one’s hat,

In fact it was part of proper etiquette.   Quite disgraceful to be seen

Without!  Even the little widow could not step out... all in black, of

Course.  No feather for that would be too gay but the veil was ok.

Oh yes,  the good  Ol’ Edwardian Days!  Most likely styles to never 

Be seen again. Glimpsed by some of us still alive as we watched

Our grandmothers step out.   Those wonderfully grand ladies who knew 

How to dress in style, held on to their "vogue" until the very end. White 

Gloves, snap purse dangling at the elbow, and perhaps, the hats a

Bit smaller, but there non-the-less.  Ornate glasses framed many of 

Their smiling faces, pearls circling their necks.  Still buttoned up with 

Proper skirt line maintained; although a few inches shorter.  How “modern”

They must have felt.  So here’s a nod to the grand ladies of old, who wore

Those hats with such style and grace.  How were they able to carry off

Such hats as these? Looking at the photos, their eyes might offer a clue.   

The                    Women's
Suffra                     gette's
Atti                        tude?

 In Courage                 And Honor.     

by Margaret Bednar

My Grandmother

I remember going through the hat boxes in my grandmother's attic.  They were piled atop one another and these "ancient" hats were packed amongst newspaper.  How I wish I had these hats today!

Linked with Poet's United "Verse First - Women"

And below is an old fashioned hat and head created with 55 words :) for the G-Man's challenge "Friday Flash 55" a story in 55 words no more no less.  See what you get when limited to 55 words?  Not even half a woman :)

                        The

            Good 

Ol'

Edwardian days

grand hats worn squarely

upon a proper lady's head, no silly feather,

please; but if one did desire a bit of youthful frivolity

a poppy, a plume, a large cabbage 

rose could be  added

to whirl, flow, dip, a bit

of intrigue, hat tipped

pinned carefully

with style &

grace

Poet's United - Wonder Wednesday "Detour"

Detour

I'm not on that bridge
the one I'm driving under;

where does it lead,
what is there to see?

I follow the paved
double yellow dutifully,

wondering if the other
meanders through a scenic route

of farms, trails, historic homes,
perhaps a few grand mountain views;

decide to cutback, detour,
look down upon where I have been,

full of excitement for what lies ahead
as my children lament,

"Here she goes again!"

by Margaret Bednar, 11-28-2012

This is for Poet's United - Wonder Wednesday #11 Bridge.

Further proof we should wander off the planned path now and again ...

Poets United "Think Tank Thursday" and Friday Flash 55 "Glorious Promise"

Glorious Promise

With crimson and gold, pretentious October
flaunts a tapestry gloriously ablaze
with audacious, arrogant maturity,

dismissing once again, stealthy November
eager to bleed and devour
strength, beauty, and pride.

Into mother's bosom she'll seep,
cold, wet, fading, decaying,
perspicacity her only comfort.

Alone, humbled, she'll absorb
life's restoring light, rejoicing
as Easter's promise unfolds.


by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, revised 9-6-12.

This is for Poets United "Think Tank Thursday "113" Signs of Autumn & for Friday Flash 55.  It is my sixth poem I ever wrote but I have greatly reworked it here.  The original is HERE written almost two years ago 12-01-10.  

Poets United - Vice Versa "Welcome, September" #13

Welcome, September

So long, dearest August,
with no despair we walk away
once again

welcome with open arms
the month of sapphires
and Forget-me-nots;

yet promise to plant a kiss
on your bloomin' check
come next year

and hope
you will not object
to our temporal fickleness.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, August 28, 2012

This is for Poets United "Vice Versa #13".  The opposite words Object/Welcome & Despair/Hope.

Poets United -Vice Versa #12 "Found My Day Happy"

Olive Hue Designs for d'Verse "Out the Sketchbook" original poem 12/17/2011
revised 8/21/2012

Found My Day Happy

A ratty red dress
makes everything right,
wraps about me
like a mother's embrace.

With my pretty red dress
I don't feel alone.

Some buy their days happy,
carry enormous umbrellas,
yet fail to keep
discord at bay.

Triumphant arms I raise,
downpour, thanked.

Joy and harmony, mine,
beauty, faded and old
from an alley box,
dented and dirty.

My treasure found
at the end of the rainbow.


by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, poem revised (original title: Silver Lining) 8-21-2012

This is for Poets United Vice Verse #12 - This weeks words are: Harmony/Discord & Triumph/Fail  (I used triumphant: hope that is OK) 

Poet's United - Vice Versa #11 "Proof"

M.Bednar iPhone photography

Proof

Of roses red she prattled and praised,
school girl giddy, unique proof
he loved her.

Glad my ordinary man's
dishpan hands did more
than reach for his wallet.

Although...
I'll never condemn a man
who does both!

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, August 16, 2012


This is for  Poets United "Vice Versa".  Write a poem or prose using all four words:  unique/ordinary & condemn/praise.

Poets United #108 "Petoskey, Michigan"

My four year old son walking with his grandparents

Would you like to hear me read my poem?


Check this out on Chirbit

Petoskey, Michigan

True North is a moral compass
quivering towards integrity,
compassion, responsibility, forgiveness,

but it is also a place truly north
to which we gravitate each summer,
walk hand in hand with those we love,

where concerns are washed away,
our mind's pathways swept clean
by sky, wind, earth, and sea,

where Northern Lights can be seen,
wished upon.  Where splendor ignites within
and our inner selves find authenticity.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, August 2, 2012

My daughter with one of her best friends

This is for Poets United #108 - Theme compass.

My daughter walking the shoreline of Lake Michigan