Thursday, June 16, 2011

Magpie Tales #69, "A Legacy"

Photo Courtesy of Magpie Tales - Tess Kincaid


A Legacy

“Sally sells seashells by the seashore
She sells seashells on the seashell shore”
Olive and Lulu, born in 1882 and 1887.
As a youngster I couldn’t get enough
of their master storytelling and
tongue twisters.  At their feet I sat, listening;
“The seashells she sells are seashore shells,
Of that I’m sure.”
laughing and enjoying their frivolity.
Innocent fun, two uniquely educated
woman, inspiring a generation to live
life to it’s fullest.  To embrace the mind.
“She sells seashells by the seashore.”
A fascinating mixture of ladylike manners
and snappy, intensely focussed minds.
Worlds of imagination lurked behind 
Lulu’s laughing eyes and dancing voice.
She hopes she will sell all her seashells soon.
Olive a bit more demure, laughter a bit softer
was not outshone by any means.
Sweetly she matched her younger sister’s wit;
both master storytellers, they.
If neither he sells seashells
Nor she sells seashells
Life cloaked them with eternal youth
as their legacy is one of uplifting hearts. 
To this day when I hear “Sally’s Seashore”
tongue-twister of letter “S”,
Who shall sell seashells
Shall seashells be sold?
Olive Ruth & Lulu Belle Beckington live on.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens, 4-9-11

* * * * *

These two woman never married and devoted their lives to education and teaching.  They bought a house and lived together, teaching in the state of Oklahoma.  (If a woman got married "back in the day", they had to give up their career.)  They were my grandfather's cousins. As I recall, the tongue twisters were NO problem for them!

I have also submitted this to "Magpie Tales" #69.  I wrote this back in April, but since my summer has been so busy that I barely have time to sit and eat (which isn't a bad thing), I will "cheat" a bit and use this one.   

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Poetry Jam - "Temptation & Forgiveness"

Photo Courtesy of Poetry Jam
Temptation and Forgiveness

A trickle of sweat defies
the rapidly moving paper fan
imprinted with the Savior's face.
My red tongue licks the salt
from my upper lip, almost
giving away my secret.  His eyes
remind me of my transgression,
but I cannot resist temptation.
I pop another sinfully sour
red explosion into my mouth,
careful not to swallow the pit.
The perfumed shade and the
stickiness of the imperfect
ones upon the ground
make me think, for a moment,
that I am in heaven.  I stop
fanning and look into His eyes
and ask forgiveness.  He understands.
I hope my grandmother will, too.

by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, June 14, 2011

One of my earliest memories is of my grandmother's cherry trees and our family picking cherries in the summer.   My mom canned and I'm sure my love for cherry pie began with that tree...

This is for the "Poetry Jam".  Click and check out the other participating poets.  I also submitted this for One Stop Poetry's "One Shot Wednesday #50".  I was the 115th entry!  I guess it is the place to be on Wednesdays!  :)