Kindred Spirit

William Bednar-Carter (Cedric and both James Potters)
Harry Potter & the Cursed Child - Curran Theatre, San Francisco CA

Kindred Spirit

I remember a sad, young boy leaving all he loved behind, face pressed against the window, rearview
mirror framing his last glimpse of home.  My words of comfort and reassurance weren't enough for
a heart breaking, no matter my painting it an adventure.  The dog licked his nose, but it was the books
given him that absorbed him, welcomed him into another world where he could forget himself and
identify with another boy dealing with life's unexpected twists, turns, upsets, and triumphs.  I
never dreamed (fast forward 20 years) he'd be on stage living these characters, wand raised, 
empowering another generation of eager hearts and minds with the gift of imagination.  

by Margaret Bednar, December 20, 2019

A long-winded, rambling "poem" - more prose than poetry... but I'm calling it "Acrostic" and using artistic license and linking up with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Just One (Last) Word: Imagine"

With his blond hair dyed brown and a wand in his hand, my son is bringing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child to the West Coast - San Francisco's Curran Theatre.  Official Grand Opening was December 1, 2019.   HERE  William plays Cedric and both James Potters.

I remember he read the first three Harry Potter books within a week, sitting on our backyard hill with a view of Lake Michigan.  Petoskey became a dear home in our hearts, a move we never regretted and one where my kids made everlasting friends.  But that first week was hard, and Harry Potter and the gang became kindred spirits...

The Portrait

The Portrait

He strolls the shoreline,
pants rolled above ankles
as waves crash, seemingly cling,
momentarily comb October's beach smooth
before rapidly receding, repeating ,

footprints lasting as long
as the chords he strums.

Silhouetted against the sinking sun,
he's mysterious, a balladeer, a poet,
a young man beginning a journey -
seeking, offering his voice
as a gift to the sky

which is swooped, caught, and carried
to the clouds upon seagulls' wings.

I imagine him in New York's subway,
no blue, no fresh breeze,
playing these tunes, lyrics birthed -
hair escaping over furrowed brow,
leaning back, slouching, James Dean style,

offering a glimpse of a smirk, almost
allowing us in on his secrets.

Imagine him gazing at the moon
from small apartment window,
fighting sleep, dreaming of a lover's kiss,
wishing upon a star (straight on 'til morning),
penning his soul,

a moment leatherbound,
etched into forever.

Dreams fill him daily, I envy him that;
ponder when I misplaced my daring,
my castles in the air.  When did I forget
imagination isn't delusion?  His chin
tilts upward, his heart in his fingers

as they strum the chords.  I kick off my shoes,
roll up my pants, test the sand with my toe.

by Margaret Bednar, October 9, 2019

I invite you to listen to me read my poem:

This is linked with "Poets United - Midweek Motif - Everyday Living" and "dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Profiles and Portraits" and "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads -  Sanaa's Challenge - October - When Poets Dream, Lament, and Sing" - the song I chose to listen to and reflect upon was: Aerosmith - I Don't Want to Miss a Thing. 

My son, William Bednar "In Winter" a poem

My Son, William Bednar, Actor, Writer, Poet, Musician
His Band:  https://www.facebook.com/themessybeds/?fref=ts

"In Winter" 
by William Bednar 

The sweetest love

Is love that’s innocent,

And you have always known

The child in me

And loved these paws,

My soft, symphoric hands,

That love the miles

Of snowfall in your eyes.

Tomorrow will renew today

And herald in our holly-tide,

Will charm December, wake

The sleeping World into parity,

And revel with

The sudden solstice

Of our hearts.

In love, I learn the truth

Of the unlearned soul;

Each moment is a dance,

Each hour is mint

And cinnamon and snow,

Each kiss is fresh

When months are cold,

Each minute new

When days are short,

And when my love

Is worn by you.

"A Promise"

Scene from my son's play "Courting Wendy"

 A Promise
by William R. Bednar

I want your always
   And your nevers;
To hold afraid, to find
   Tomorrow in your hands.
My Darling, take my yesterdays,
   My brinks, my fulls,
My almosts,
   And my evers.
Live on the cusp of me,
   The changing country
Where I'm learning you
   Daily, the yearning
Where I grasp upon
   Your lily eyelids
And chart the freckled landscape
   Below your throat.
I want your far aways,
   Your nears, your future,
      And your present.
I want the softness
   Of your secrets
And the sureness
   Of your soul's endeavors.
Lean upon my childish heart
   And dance with my desire.
Bask in this brief eternity,
   Our bodies brimming fire, fire.
 

Scene from my son's play "Courting Wendy"

My son will be graduating from college in a couple of months with a BFA in drama (acting) and he will be moving to NYC.  He is a writer, a poet, a singer, an actor… and I wanted to share with you one of his latest poems.  I am trying to encourage him to look into publishing his poems…

This poem stands alone from his play "Courting Wendy" - it is not a part of that script.  I just thought it sweet as the young lady in the photo is his girlfriend and the poem is written for her.   In his play, my son played Peter Pan and his girlfriend, a grown up Wendy.  

Even though this is NOT my poem, I have from time to time shared his work here with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform."  The images are from my iPhone using the Waterlogue App.  

"Railroad Growlin' " song written and performed by my son, William Bednar

My Friday Flash 55 is at the bottom of this post

Song written and performed by my son, William Bednar, with introductory drum roll by my youngest son - guess what he received for Christmas?

I am linking this to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Open Link Monday.   My son is working on a song comprised of my poem "vanGogh Moon".  I really can't wait to share that here soon!

Lyrics to Railroad Growlin':
by William Bednar

I don't play the ukulele
But it's not hard to pretend
I bet you see right through me
And all my little white lies
I'm still waitin' for that train to come
I think I hear it just around the bend
Oh won't you stay for half an hour
Wait with me beneath the tracks
I'll teach yah chords that I learned to shape
by myself when I was cold
I'll walk you back beneath the stars
I coulda kissed yah but I missed it
I'm still thinkin' 'bout the railroad growlin'
My hearts howlin'
Every now and then
I get a lucky hand
So I'll see yah on a Wednesday
That day it couldn't come to soon
That other guy is nice
But I would tame the sky for you
Do you remember the railroad growlin'?
My heart howlin'
Every now and then
A little win will show its head
So I'll see yah on a Wednesday
I'm gonna make some time for you
I'll walk you back beneath the stars
I shoulda kissed yah, Now I miss yah
I'm still thinkin' 'bout the railroad
Thinkin' 'bout the railroad
I'd tame the sky for you
I'm still waiting for that train to come
At least I'm going to pretend
It's comin' 'round the bend.


The Songwriter
by Margaret Bednar

He's never without his little black book -
jotting down words, phrases.
Hums a tune as he walks,

shares with me

favorite lines of beloved old poets,
breaks them down so I can understand.

His energy is what amazes me -
like his hair, bounces, sways, flips
grasps life, careens forward -

melody, harmony, poetic passion,

eternally entwined.

This will be linked with Friday Flash 55 on Thursday after 8pm!

IGWRT's Open Link Monday "Tink"

Tink
by William Bednar

It's not every day you see a girl with butterfly wings
Just standing on the sidewalk.
It's funny how mundane things
Like ten dollar wings, street lamps, and kindergarten chalk
Can conjure such a pondrous fey,
Who waits by starlight for her Pan,
Hair undone, forgotten bangs, astray.
It's not every girl, reminds a boy inside the man.

Sharing a bit of my two oldest children's artistry with Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Open Link Monday"... my son's poetry, my daughters art (she did a few years ago).  I am so excited that my oldest son Will's (junior in college) play "Straight on 'till Morning" will be performed August 5th in Winston Salem, NC and Chelsea (freshman in college) will be portraying Tinkerbell.  

"Reflections on the Sea" by William Bednar

Reflections on the Sea
by William Bednar

I love you like I love the inland sea,
In all your many moods and temperatures.
In silence, as in storms, the sea is free.
And you, with ocean eyes, have such allure
That leads a sailor on to certain death
In Winter waters, blanketed in ice.
You've bought my beating breast with heated breath,
And having known your lips, I've paid the price.
But as the Summer waters love the Sun,
So too, your eyes at rest are kind and warm,
And find my heart-strings, let them loose, undone,
And in these gentle waters, lose their form.
     So if you ever wonder what I see
     When looking in your eyes, I see the sea.

I have been swamped this past week and have not had a chance to write any new poetry, so I offer you another poem written by my son who is now almost a Junior in college!   I have paired it with a photo I took of a Lake Michigan sunset.

This is linked with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Open Link Monday.

"Chasing Shadows" by William Bednar

Chasing Shadows
by William Bednar

Have you ever loved a heart that's lost?
Or travelled to a land that never was?
Perhaps your shadow smiled at you once,
And you weren't confused because
You hadn't stopped believing
Adventure's there for you to find.
But as you grew you met the world
and daydreams slowly 'scaped your mind.

You soon forgot to see the stars as equals.
but in your memory hides a rhyme
You never really lost,
Though it gathered dust with time.
So if you really look when troubled,
You'll find that you've been chasing shadows
Of people you have since forgot,
Though they reside inside the hallows
Of your lonely, child's heart
And run along your aging spine.
If you ever spot one, ask
"Is this shadow yours, or mine?"


I have been very busy this past few days and will continue to be over the next, so I am highlighting a few of the many poems my twenty year old son has written over the past years.  He has always been and always will be a poet.  I remember having him read and recite his first poem in kindergarten (I home-schooled then) and he took to it like a fish to water.  I am compiling his poems and some of my photography for a personal book on my Mac and will be sharing a few of them here now and again.

IGWRT's - Goodby/Hello "At the Top of my Twentieth Year, by William Bednar

At the Top of my Twentieth Year
by William Bednar

With a trim and a slick
And a tie with a clip,
I imagine my boyhood is gone.
With my father's straight razor,
A new navy blazer,
I guess that it's time to move on.

No more sleeping all day
'Neath a tree in the wood,
Though the forest remembers my name.
With my black polished shoes
And a note from the blues
I am off to find fortune and fame.

On this third of November
Remember, remember
The top of my twentieth year.
It's an air changing season
With plenty of reason
To stand up and conquer your fear.

And the forest remembers
Her old childhood members
E'en when they are searching for fame.
With a new navy blazer,
My father's straight razor,
I'm off to make fortune my name.

This is linked to the challenge for Imaginary Garden with Real Toad's "Hello/Goodbye".  I think this says goodbye and hello quite wonderfully and leaves this mom with a tear in her eye.

I have been swamped with the kids end of school activities/trips/shows (etc) and will be posting a few of my sons poetry over the next few weeks if I can find some that fit to specific challenges :)  This one I thought worked quite well.  

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. 

"Becoming" by William Bednar

Becoming

We are made for the becoming of things,

To catch the current underneath our wings,

While riding on the lazy winds we find,

To let the gusts and gyres, toward heaven, wind.

Our eyes were crafted so to watch the skies,

Our ears to hear the stories of the wise,

Our lips were granted so to kiss the check

Of they that take the time to hear us speak,

Our arms to carry children in their sleep,

Our hands to trace the hearts of those that weep,

Our hearts to swim amidst a drunken dance,

Our feet to walk a road that's paved with chance,

Our bodies shaped to love the easy Sun,

And drink the Moon's sweet rays, and be undone.

by William Bednar

I hope you enjoyed the beauty of my son's words.  He goes off for a walk, and comes back with this...  I wish my walks were as productive :) 

I've added my photography, but so many images could have been used here... I don't feel I've done his words justice.  

I have linked this with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Open Link Monday .