Winter Solstice

Night, a lightning.   Shovel hitting the frosty
ground. Splintering crystals into thousand mirrors.  

My eyes squint,
heavy laced with ice

searching for color  

above the walkway

laden of diamond drops-

No, No!
I am a prey 
caught in frozen web-

        

The moon crackles.  Crescent above skeletal   
trees.   Scattering faint its nebulous light.  

My hands are so cold   

motionless, dead leaves

Push, push

back the black tides

engulfing, surging

my lungs  

the guilty weight is an illusion

Breathe, breathe

The sun crows. Wearing pink & peach shades.
My eyes mist that I made it through long long night.

~0~0~0~0~  ~0~0~0~0~

And finally, our dVerse Anthology is available !   Enjoy the journey of more than 100 poets at Amazon, North America or Amazon, Europe.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   We are going for a break at the poetry pub for 2 weeks.   

Wishing you all Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays !!!!  ~0~0~0~0~

by the Riverwood

we walk towards 
       thrum of ancient trees 

 untouched by city's hard  
       hands, thick shrubs drape

over barks & stumps-
       leaves shimmer in rustling light- 

bikers & runners scatter 
       stones & while lovers sway 

as purple wildflowers 
      do in summer  heat - hungry 

for a raindrop -  fingers weave    
      slow ripple, slower heartbeat       

we should be bird-watching 
      & scanning for wayward deer  

but we watch the river
      yawn instead, then recline

on its back, catching sun
      with its mouth, like a fish


Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub - Thanks for the visit ~





Kindly check out our poems at The dVerse Anthology:  Voices of Contemporary World Poetry   ~

Edited by Frank Watson, he has included some of my poems ~ Here is one, originally written for Form for All:  Ghazal Sonnet form ~    
Better than I am

At the bake sale

Amaretto Apple Muffins

Gloria of Canela's Kitchen

apple and blueberry pies, 

cookies, fruit cups and rum cakes

-          fresh and warm  -

greeted our cheeks,

tempting us to part with dollars

hard-earned in the city graying with unemployed

and homeless sleeping in park benches at night.

ears buzzed from protests of teachers, 

we bit into sweet concoctions:

chocolates, walnuts, topped with strawberries.

on foam plates, we mulled failings and promises,   

-          broken and cold -

then washed it down with steaming coffee. 

  

smiling ladies in power suits hovered near

sharp-eyed professionals in another day but today :

runners, activists in this charity bake sale.

quickly  dollars filled the bottle labeled : 

-          Daily Bread Food Bank   -

                  

Update:  I am pleased to announce that this poem is included in the second Issue of Nain Rouge, January 2013 

Posted for OpenLinkNight of D'verse Poets Pub - I wrote this post during autumn after participating in our company's fund raising events.  I have come to appreciate that behind the business suits and urbane clothes are men and women with compassion.  Giving and sharing is not just for one season but the whole year.  

This is also one of my poems I submitted for Nain Rouge's 2013 first quarter's publication.  I got word from the editor last week that they will use at least one of my poems.   My thanks for the support and encouragement of Brian Miller.   

this rainy day

                                                                        M. Bednar



i  hang blue plates 
on wooden twines: shiny, unbroken
unlike me 

~0~0~

grief came in a small jug
empty of spice, but on my neck
heavy stone   

~0~0~

rain washed  
morning in salmon and teal,  
but for coffee mug, stained of you



Update:   I am pleased to announce that this poem has been selected for Emerge Literary Journal - Fall 2013 Issue.

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   Sunday's Challenge
and Haiku Heights:   Gloss

Urban Dreams

                                                                 Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton


he dreams 
of cornfields and hay strewn farm 
of table laden of fresh milk and bread
of simple life beneath the lavender sky

he sees
the city choked in dust and twisted steel
the street filled with foreign made goods 
the night complicated by debts and politics

he paints
heartland drawn from honest work
soil that his ancestors toiled and spilled blood  
countryside so his children may find their future, 


rooted in this land  


Posted for The Mag:   Thomas Hart BentonMore about the painter here.

I am proud to have this poem published in Nain Rogue, September 2012 (page 21).  Thanks to D'verse Poets Community for the support.