A Toad Chat with Annell and Vivian

Two poets from opposite ends of the pond engage in a chat. Annell- a professional artist, living in New Mexico, USA and Vivian- a dentist, resides in London, UK.

                                                                   Vivian and Zeus

Annell opened the floor by asking Vivian a few questions and the following dialogue ensued:

Annell:  Tell me every single thing about you in seven words.

Viv:        Shy, curious, fearless, hardy, adaptable, stoic, loyal

Annell: What year of your life, was the first birthday you remember?

Viv:       My fourth birthday…my parents were out and I was home alone with the nanny. Someone came by and dropped off a watch for my dad. I had great pleasure in taking it apart….much to my parents’ horror.

Annell: If you could begin your life again, what would you do differently?

Viv:      If I could, I would learn French and German. I’m language-daft, and have always yearned to learn - but, alas! Apart from that, I wouldn't change a thing.

Annell: Did you know either of your grandmothers and if you did, what were they like and how they influenced your life?

Viv:      I only have vague recollections of my maternal grandmother. I remember her to be soft-spoken. My paternal grand-mother was a ball of fire. She could single-handedly take on a nation…and win!  I like to think I’ve inherited something from both of them; the soft-spoken exterior calm layered over a fiery strong will.

Annell:What was your Mother like?  Do you see your Mother in yourself?

Viv:      My mum is 82 and still with us. She was a teacher and is quite a clever woman. She’s a guru on the social media front…even setting up Whatsapp groups for the grandkids and sharing on Facebook. She’s always on one internet course or another….and reads all the time. I hope I take after her- keeping a sharp mind - in my dotage. I actually see more of my late father in myself in terms of character, but I’ve taken after my mother in terms of loving to read.

Annell and Issa

And then it was Annell's turn to answer Vivian's questions:

Viv:       I know you’re a poet. I’m curious as to when you started writing poetry?

Annell: When my husband died, I was afraid to go out.  My sister told me to make a list, with instructions on how to get home.  It worked and I began to write, for example I would get worried about something, and I would remember to write it down, then I didn’t have to think about it then, I knew where I put it, and I could think about it later.  I think it was part of my grief, and I wrote and wrote, and haven’t stopped.  I find writing amazing.  Whose ideas are those?  Where do they come from?  Often I didn’t even know I thought that.  And after about 20 years of writing, I decided I had to embrace it as part of me.  I had to say I was a painter and I was a writer.  I write something almost every day.

Viv:       Amazing! And how much of an influence have your family had on who you are today?

Annell: That is hard to say.  I think I am becoming my own grandmother.  My mother was sweet and kind, I hope I am also.  My father was also kind, and funny.  Maybe I am too.  We were Irish and German.  And like you, I wish I had learned some other languages.

Your Mother in not much older than I.  I am 77, and can’t believe I have lived so long.  I don’t feel this old, I think I feel 20 years old.  This getting old, or maybe “older,” is new to me, and I think for each one of us,  it is a new adventure.  None of us really know how to be old, maybe being old is different than it used to be?

Viv: What would you say is your primary reason to face each new day

Annell: I love my life.  My work is an investigation, and every day is new.  Not nearly long enough.

Viv :     What qualities attract you to other people and what qualities put you off. 

Annell: I like interesting people.  People interested in the world.  I find boring people, boring.

Viv: Make sense to me! Now, if you were abducted by aliens and granted one last wish, what might that be?

Annell: Now that is the hardest question of all, if I could only have one, I would never be able to make a decision.  I would want more than one wish.  But with a wider vision, I would ask for peace for the world, that children would not have to suffer, nor their Moms or their Dads.  And in this idea of peace, Mr. Trump would go back to his private life, and allow the US, to make better decisions as they would affect the least of us.

We both feel we'd only just scratched the surface in this chat and will no doubt, carry on this conversation offline. We hope you enjoyed this as much as we did.

A Toad Chat with Kim & Kerry

Hello folks! Here we are:

Kerry

AND

Kim

bringing you our chat. 

What a perfect match up it was for us – both teachers, one from the northern and one from the southern hemispheres and both passionate about passing on a love of poetry and literature to the youth.
Kim kicked off the chat session:
Hi Kerry!

I've been thinking about the three questions I would like to ask you and I thought I'd start with some simple, obvious ones and we can perhaps work on them together, if that's OK with you.

          1. Why is poetry important to you?

          2. How are your poems conceived and born 
             (How does a poem begin; where and how do you write it)?

         3. How did you become possessed by the characters from The Tempest? 
            (The Tempest is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays.)

Such great questions to begin a conversation!

I responded with three of my own:

          1. I believe you are an educator, as am I. 
             Has your career as a teacher influenced your approach to writing poetry? 
             And/Or does being a poet influence the way you teach?

          2. Your poetry often puts me in mind of the English lyricists of the 
              Romantic era. 
              What is it about the bucolic lifestyle that inspires you?

          3. How important is it to have an audience for your poetry, 
              for example online? 

Kim was quick to respond:

Although I retired from high school teaching over four years ago, due to illness and overwork, I couldn’t stay away from education for long. I listen to children reading and am a governor at two local federated infant schools. I also volunteer at local libraries, leading Bounce and Rhyme sessions for parents, carers, babies and toddlers, running a Chatterbooks session for older children to explore and chat about books, including poetry, as well as spreading the word about and helping out in library events for children. I think my career as a teacher has made me more aware of poetic techniques and so has certainly influenced my approach to writing poetry. However, being a poet definitely influenced the way I taught, especially creative writing. I was the only teacher in the English department who encouraged pupils to write poetry and submitted their writing to competitions, magazines and anthologies. I also created and edited the school magazine, which was full of pupils’ writing.

The view from Kim's window

I grew up in London and spent my late teens and early adulthood in Cologne in Germany. It wasn’t until I moved to Ireland that I discovered the joys of the countryside, which has become so much a part of me since moving to Norfolk twenty six years ago. I can think of nothing more beautiful than watching a day unfold on a Norfolk beach, the Broads, on a walk down a lane or across a field. We have such a variety of birds up here, as well as flora and fauna. I was stunned the first time deer visited our garden and speechless when a doe gave birth under the quince tree! I think I only really experienced the seasons once I left the city, and there was no going back.

The Deer Under the Willow Tree

A swathe of freshly rain-washed green

with sunlight spangles in between,

against this backdrop I can see

a deer under the willow tree.

The creature has a languid gait

as if it’s waiting for its mate;

I only hope it can’t see me,

the deer under the willow tree.

Its eyes are pools of blackest jet

in which a diamond light is set;

a woodland child, its life is free,

the deer under the willow tree

Emerging from a clutch of weeds,

covered with bits of twig and seeds,

a newly born, a fawn I see,

underneath the willow tree.

 When I lived in Cologne, I tried a spot of performance poetry, which I found difficult as the response was immediate and I didn’t have time to process it. I gave up on that and stuck to submitting poems to newspapers and magazines, which took ages to give feedback or gave none at all. It wasn’t until I retired that I discovered the online poetry scene, which really appeals to me: not only do people respond in a respectfully critical way but they also interact with each other. I enjoy reading the different styles and the huge variety of prompts and challenges, which get the creative juices flowing. It’s not so much the audience as the feeling of being in it together and, of course, knowing which poems people respond to and which they don’t. 


Reading Kim’s questions and her insightful replies to my own really encouraged me to share my experiences:

I can relate to your experiences in the education system, both with the burnout and the inability to step away completely. I admire your interest in library work; getting children to read is one of the greatest challenges we are facing, especially with Generation Z! I am also the only English teacher in my school who takes the writing of poetry seriously, because it is not part of 'The Syllabus' and, therefore, doesn't count. To answer your first question, poetry is important to me because it is an art form which is falling out of fashion. I always tell my students that what an artist does with paint, a sculptor with stone, so a poet does with words, a far more difficult medium to elevate in the eyes of an audience. Yet poetry has humanity as its source: it may be all that stands between us and complete moral and intellectual decay. Please forgive me, if I that seems over-stated but I am passionate about the value of creative writing.

I have never been a city girl, although I grew up in the suburbs of Durban, South Africa. There were gardens to play in and miles of beaches to explore. Now I live in a small town in countryside of Northern KwaZulu-Natal, close to farmlands and the mountains, so I also appreciate the breathing space and slower pace of life.  You asked me how my poems are conceived and born. I always find this a difficult question to answer, as I tend to write on the spur of the moment, spend very little time on any one piece and seldom edit or rewrite. Sometimes, words start to line themselves up in my mind. When that happens I have to sit down quickly and jot them down, otherwise I forget what I was trying to say. If I have a particular theme or prompt in mind, I sit down with a word document in front of me and I visualize the poem in pictures. Then I describe what I see. I like the way images compliment poetry but I seldom use a picture to write from (unless specifically writing ekphrasis style poetry). If I use a picture when I post my poem, it will be one I found after the poem was written and then I prefer paintings to photographs.

 I began blogging nearly ten years ago, and I was really just creating an online archive of my pieces, working in a complete vacuum until Sherry Blue Sky found me and led me to Poets United. I was so excited about finding a thriving forum for poets to share their work, and in 2010, I became the Creative Manager of our own Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. My hope is that I have made my own contribution to keeping the online community alive because it is so important for writers to receive feedback and to be inspired by the work of others.

You asked me how I came to be possessed by the characters of The Tempest... This came about one year ago, when I was going through a very difficult time in my life, after my health took a turn for the worse and I suffered personal loss in my life. I went through a bout of depression, during which time I felt I had lost my poetic voice. As it happens, I was teaching The Tempest to my Grade 10 class, as I do each year, and I was stirred by dichotomy between Miranda's idealistic view of the world and Caliban's unrepentant anger towards the people and situation he found himself in. Here, I believed, I could explore some of the negativity I was going through, writing in Caliban's voice, and I could find balance by sometimes trying to see things through Miranda's eyes. It helped me to rediscover the brave new world and make peace with all that had happened to me in what remains the worst year of my life. In this regard, I would like to return to your first question, regarding the value of poetry. I believe that on a personal level, poetry can save a person's life, as can poets. I can list several poets I have come to know over the years of our journeying together, who literally kept me afloat, ensuring that I did not give up writing, and that I did not give up on my own life. 

Kim quickly noticed several similarities in our polar opposite worlds!

We are on opposite sides of the world and I can see similarities!
I agree with you that poets paint and sculpt with words; it is not at all over-stated and I think many teachers are passionate about creative writing but the powers that be won’t let us explore it in education.
It’s amazing that you grew up in Durban – a great uncle of mine spent a lot of time in Durban and I have a precious postcard he sent my grandmother before I was born. I love to find out about places I’ve never heard of and your town sounds wonderful.
Another thing we have in common is writing on the spur of the moment, not spending much a time on a poem and seldom editing or rewriting, although I’ve had to do that for submissions that have been accepted in anthologies. I also experience words forming in my mind and need to write them down before they disappear. I’ve even woken up with a fully formed poem or story in my head and leaped out of bed to get it down on paper – not once but several times!
I'm so pleased that Shakespeare saved your life, Kerry.

After this amazing chat, I felt again the sense of joy I get whenever I connect with a poet through this most remarkable space we are so fortunate to share.

In my twenties, I was lucky enough to travel to the UK, Europe and the US. It has now become a goal of mine to travel again. I would love the opportunity to meet some of my poet friends on these journeys.

As for spur of the moment, that is how I write. People often ask me where I get an idea, or what inspired me to write something, and I find it hard to explain a process with almost no structure or planning behind it. 

A gift from
@chelseabednardesign

Lately, I have branched out into what for me is the unknown territory of Instagram. I was inspired to venture into the realm of sharing 'notebook' poetry, which I write with an old-fashioned pen dipped into a bottle of ink, having been a long-time admirer of Magaly's posts. I have discovered a newfound joy in working with some of my older pieces, and writing in ink has forced me to slow down and take my time with a poem. The Instagram platform has renewed my joy in writing, coming at a time when I believed I had written my best and, maybe, final poem. So, for the present, I am still putting pen to paper, and calling myself a poet. 

Find me @skyloverpoetry

This was a conversation which could have gone on indefinitely, and we were both sorry to have to wrap it up, but the best thing about it is that we have more to talk about on another day.

Conversation with Susie & Margaret

I, Margaret Bednar, feel honored to be a toad here in this magnificent garden.  I bet I could sit down for a cup of coffee with any one of you & we'd get to talking so much our coffee would grow cold!  I know it is the case with Susie Clevenger as we certainly had so much fun.  I hope you enjoy it as much as we did.  I’m going to start brewing a new pot of coffee … does anyone take cream?

Susie, 

I remember reading you for the first time - it was the title of your blog that drew me in “Confessions of a Laundry Goddess”.  I thought to myself, this lady has a great sense of humor.  Yet, I noticed right away you have a dark side, one that holds nothing back.   Your “Woman Up” poem on your new blog “Blank Ink Howl” certainly is a banner of strength and wisdom.   I am a poet that draws from my experiences as a mother - and my poems are usually light and happy.  We often respond in opposite ways to poetic challenges and yet I am always thrilled and intrigued with your voice and artistry.  From your poetry, I conclude you had an abusive childhood in some way, also you were involved in a life-altering accident a few years ago, not to mention a daughter who has been facing a few life challenges of her own.  You seem like a ROCK.   All of these situations could shut a person down, but you seem to have risen and are stronger for it.  Would you say your poetic artistry has healed you, or at least been part of the healing process?  And how much does humor (your smiling face and wit tell me you must have a great appetite for laughter) play a part in your strength?  

Woman Up

A rusted padlock hangs

between my breast and ribs.

I lost the key a hundred

heartbreaks a go when

the tear swamp grew teeth

and tore a hole

in my starry eyes.

It wasn’t bitter that lost the key

or the clinging ribbons of lost love.

Reality stormed in like a bitch

who knows her truth and tore

the pink curtain from my daydreams.

She taught me to woman up, 

a few bruises on my spirit wouldn’t kill,

and building a wall around my heart

only makes me the prisoner.

The rusty open lock and I are friends.

When I struggle about letting

someone in, it reminds me

empty feeds too many ghosts.

Black Ink Howl

A song sings erased notes

until memory forgives

what it can no longer feel.

She sang of soldiers with open heart,

but damned the head who rattled a battle cry.

A stream of prophetic is never welcome

unless it is filtered through an approved tongue.

Not ready to make nice is a black ink howl

that can never be silenced while living in an open wound.

Margaret, 

Before I get to my answers I wanted you to know I am thinking about you and your family and speaking prayers as I watch Florence head your direction. 

I am definitely light and dark as a writer. Writing has been therapeutic in so many ways and a huge part of my healing. I was sexually abused by a family member from age five until age ten. It is a long, difficult story of secrets and suicide attempts, but oddly enough it was also where humor became part of my coping mechanism. With all I was hiding I was never a shy, quiet child. In fact I was the talkative, inquisitive comedian of the family. Even with my daughter’s recent illness when we didn’t know if she would survive heart failure, kidney failure, extreme weight loss, and on and on we would rattle the room with jokes. Laughter is healing. It helps to give our family a little more strength to stand up, hold up beneath the weight of unanswerable.

I started Black Ink Howl in 2017 because I wanted to have a place where I could express my dark side. As you stated, Confessions of a Laundry Goddess, is a quirky title. It comes from my self proclaimed goddess-hood when my oldest daughter came home from school with a drawing that was supposed to represent mommy’s career. Well, as you’ve probably guessed, I was doing laundry. I had been posting all my poetry on the blog since I began it in 2009, but in 2017 not everything I was writing seemed to fit there so I started another blog. Black Ink Howl actually came from the title of a poem I wrote about the Dixie Chicks song, Not Ready to Make Nice. There are times when you take a stand not everyone will like it. Not every poem I write is my experience even though I write it in first person. I am an observer and an empath so I see and feel emotions from those around me, all of it translates into poetry. I am a talker. It is easy for me to start and carry on conversations, but when I write poetry I tend to condense it all into just a few words.

Now my turn to ask you a few questions, Margaret. “Palm a poem as if fragile even if the words are bold. Let them sink into your skin as if moonlight, let them flow through your veins until they become ordinary - for only then will we know they nourished.”

I saw this on your Of Verse, Poesy & Odes - My Poetic Journey blog. It is such a beautiful statement and one that will stay with me for a long time. Your writing always lifts my spirit. It often feels like I’ve been immersed in a painting or photograph. Your work invites me to see, hear, and feel the images you so creatively brush stroke into words. How do your other art forms affect your writing? Do you approach writing as you would a canvas? Your poem “Languid” is such a beautiful expression of serenity, the power of summer to take you into dreams and wish to never see it leave.  There’s a strong feeling also of being connected to nature. I notice it appears often in your poetry. When did the nature poet in you begin?

Thank you, Susie.  

I live northwest in the mountains (near App State University) and we missed most Hurricane Florence other than a day or two of rain and some light flooding from mountain run-off. 

It always thrills me when I receive compliments for my writing - I’m always surprised and feel like “really?”.  I am a member of a local poetry group and we select a poem each month to read out loud.  Really, I think “perform” is a better word - voice inflection and subtle nuances of body language are a joy to see when others read and I’m trying to pick up on that.  The “Palm a Poem” is a response to an Imaginary Garden of Real Toads prompt - I “condensed a poem” by Pablo Neruda’s “Sweetness, always”  - retained the essence but breathed my own self into the meaning of his words.  This is an example of a poem I would NEVER have written if not for the inspiration our Garden gives.

I’ve been writing poetry for several years now.  My first poem was written in September of 2010.  I’ve often thought of deleting all my old poems - they are rough and so… well, just hard for me to read.  But I have kept them, as I pair them with photographs I’ve taken and well, it is a journey and one I treasure.  My daughter told me the other day that as a little girl I inspired her with my drawings and paintings.  (she is studying to be an actor but she keeps a sketchbook). I was shocked as I have a few sketch books and paintings and that I don’t have out on display.  I started my blog as a place to post my photographs - to learn composition and perspective and find settings that I had an emotional attachment to so I could then use them for inspiration (plagiarism is a no-no).  Instead of drawing from these images, I expressed myself with poetry.  And this from someone who had never read poetry in her life other than Robert Louis Stevenson.

I love metaphor, assonance, alliteration, personification, internal rhyme, and point of view (narration)… and what I call “story telling” non-fiction and fiction.  Meter and rhythm I do consider and try my best.  I accept the challenge of form poetry, but it isn’t something I gravitate towards.  I TRY to describe rather than to explicitly say something.  When I sketch, I try to narrow it down to the important lines and then build my drawing; when painting I am impressionistic - and often allow myself to create my own colors and not be limited to what I see.  I guess it’s more about feeling.  Some of my favorite poems I’ve written are not based on my actual experience.  They are completely fictional characters that I have massaged into existence.  Recently I wrote “The Fisherman” (which isn’t my favorite example, just the most recent one) and many commented thinking it was about me.  I LOVE to “step into” a painting or photograph and write a “story poem”.  (Is there a better name for this?)  I took a photo as I walked my favorite walking path around Bass Lake.  A young lady was fly fishing and an older gentleman was nearby beside a huge tree.  As I walked around the trail (a stop along the Blue Ridge Parkway) I was already creating this story-poem.

I also love to stir memories and resurrect days from my childhood…”Sisterhood of 1976”  This one I approached I suppose as an artist would with a sketch - I wrote down key words and then, like with watercolor, I allowed the paint (words) to spread out on the paper of their own free will.  I remember this particular poem flowed out from my “brush" as if it was just waiting for a bit of water.

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’m not sure why I write about nature, often fear I use it too much as a backdrop.  I just love being out of doors - as a child I was forced outside and traversed the 1970’s countryside basically from morning until sundown… upon bike or pony.  Such freedom.  Today I take many walks - not sure they qualify as exercise as I’m always stopping and taking photographs, looking for minute details, pondering poetry as I snap photos.  My family has learned to just walk ahead - I always catch up sooner or later. 

Margaret, I love this.  

It is always great to get into the mind of a creative person.You have so many avenues of artistic expression. I am an amateur photographer. It is hard to explain to someone that when I look at a leaf I also can hear its poetry. 

Susie,

The power of “Woman Up” takes my breath away and “Black Ink Howl” sends shivers through me.  I am curious, what are your favorite “top five” poems you have written?  

One of my favorites of yours is “A Kiss, A Charm”.  

A Kiss, A Charm

I’m part Irish. 

The drinking sid

e roared 

in on a stereotype with

my maternal grandfather. 

I never met the man,

just heard him filtered

through his bottle and fists.

There was plenty of family tree

son of a bitchin’ mixed with

a switch to keep me from

drinking my way out on that limb.

A kiss, a charm, I escaped the harm,

but hard headed took root. 

I’m fourth leaf, chance brushed lucky.

Blarney’s a gift, a jigger’s a rift.

I drank my share, but always with care

that I didn’t dive deeper than no.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

Thank you so much Margaret. 

The poem A Kiss, A Charm is a reflection on my Irish ancestry. I never met my maternal grandfather, but from everything I’ve been told I doubt I would have liked him much. He was an abusive alcoholic. I do seem to have inherited his propensity for stubbornness though. Goodness, my favorite top five poems is a tough one, but here are my favorites at the moment, Until the Hummingbird, Where Butterflies Pray, Another Needle Into the Unknown, , Welcome to My Birdcage, and Feral Ink ). 

I think a reader of these five poems would wonder about the diverse voices in them, but I think my muse delights in sending such mixed inspiration and tone. It makes me giggle to think of someone trying to maneuver through the maze of my thoughts or wonder how the moon showed up on my grocery list.

Until the Hummingbird speaks to the organized disorder of my writing space. My husband won’t even touch anything because he is afraid if it is neat I won’t be able to find a thing. 

Where Butterflies Pray speaks of my connection to nature as a sanctuary. The place I can go to renew and feed my spirit. 

Another Needle into the Unknown was inspired by a biopsy Dawn had in April of 2017. It is a poem expressing how we use humor to cope in the constant land of question marks we find ourselves in with Dawn’s health issues. 

Welcome to My Birdcage frankly is just a celebration of my crazy. 

Feral Ink was inspired by a word list and the photo I used of Marlene Dietrich. Her attitude in the photo brought out the words I used. She has the look of this is who I am. Frankly I love the line, “in her chorus of hims”.

Susie, 

I must go and purchase all of your poetry (chap?) books.  I know I have Dirt Roads which I highly recommend.  That is something I have been meaning to gift myself with - books from all of our Garden Toads - I believe they are listed somewhere on our blog site and can be purchased on Amazon?  (Kerry - maybe inform us in the comment section?)

I am also curious what poet you read when you settle down with a book?  When I started reading poetry, I went to the “classics”, the oldies, and I must confess I was hard pressed to enjoy (most of) them. 

Margaret,

I often read Sylvia Plath and Emily Dickinson, but currently I’m reading Nathan Brown’s book, Karma Crisis. He was the main speaker at a poetry retreat I attended in April and I became fascinated with his work. He is the son of a Baptist preacher and I am the wife of a former Baptist deacon. I so understand his skepticism and part of his life’s journey.

Susie,

Pinterest is an interesting site to find out more about a person.  I got lost in yours.  The beauty of jewelry, paintings, birdcages, porch swings, “abandoned”, rust fascination, quilts, antiques, cemetery, old homes…beauty of strings, shoe art, wineries! You have opened up new avenues for me to explore - you have so many boards!   Each one of these could be a stepping stone into poetry.  You have many sides and avenues of interest.  Of all your interests outside of poetry, what is your favorite?

Margaret,

Oh goodness, I do have a lot of Pinterest boards. There are so many things that fascinate me and there I can explore and build collections to return to for inspiration. Outside of poetry my second love is photography. I am strictly an amateur, but my love of lens and capture has a definite hold on me. I can get caught up in the intricacy of a flower petal, or the beautiful patina of a rusted nail. One of my favorite locations is old cemeteries. I have found the most amazing angel statuary on graves. Several have been life sized. It is a place where the past and present are joined by heavenly guardians who urge my spirit to embrace my history as well as consider the legacy I am creating as I walk through my own life.

Susie,

I just found (how can this be?) your “Susie’s Sentences” and I am so mesmerized by your post of July 27, 2018 “I Rose Where I Fell”.  I see you dabbled in short stories - 150 words - from photos.  What an interesting exercise and one that you are good at.  Would you ever consider writing a book or do you have trouble sticking with something that would require so much time.  I don’t think I have the capability of sustaining that kind of creativity - I only seem to be able to do it in short bursts.  

Margaret,

The poem came from my experience of over committing myself to do work that was often unappreciated and physically exhausting. For so many years I would never say no to whatever was asked of me and it became so detrimental to my emotional and physical health I had to basically relearn and allow myself without guilt to put myself first.

Actually I have given a lot of thought to writing a novel at some point or a mixture of short stories and poetry. In fact I’ve written a short story titled, Lady Scarlet, that is going through its first edit for a book anthology titled, It’s Not All Rockets and Ray Guns. My story is a paranormal mystery set in the fictional town of St. Belviu, Louisiana. It is my first attempt at a story of any length so I have no delusions I’m the next Stephen King, but it feels good to put my toes in the water. I have been blessed to be a remote member of a writer’s group called, Authors Round Table. The anthology is a collection of stories written by members of the group. Here’s a small sampling of my story. “No one really knows who she is. People call her Lady Scarlet because of the faded red dress she wears. It’s rumored pieces of it are found in the ferns just above the water line. Tom Wilson claims he has a cigar box full of satin scraps he’s collected over the years. The stingy old gator man won’t let anyone get a peek inside to see if he’s tellin’ the truth.”

Susie,

Seriously, I can’t wait to read Lady Scarlet and I think you are so lucky to be part of a thriving writer’s group.

Margaret,

You have a page titled, Simply Poetic Impressions, where you pair your photographs with poetry of those you admire. Your images and the poetry work so beautifully together. Does your photo draw you to the poetry or do you read a poem and it takes you to one of your photographs?

Susie,

I haven’t given my “Simply Poetic Impressions” as much attention as I’d like.  I am often crunched for time, with three children still at home and three others I love to visit when I can.  But the idea started when I read a poem of Pablo Neruda's and I remembered a photo I had taken and I thought “what fun” to share favorite poems and match them with photography.  I only have over 120,000 photos on my iCloud.  I also know that certain poems are copy written so I am always unsure of what I can put up without getting into trouble.  I have “saved" a number of poems I LOVE to Pinterest - but many of these poems' blogs have been deleted or “hidden” from public view (a few from our own Garden) and I had wanted to ask to pair those with some of my photos.  I still might contact each individual and ask if I can have permission to do so.  It’s a way of having (some unpublished) favorite poems (and inspiration) at my fingertips.  

Margaret,

I am fascinated by your varied expressions of art. On your page, Art Happens, you share a few of your paintings and drawings.  In my mind I see an art studio for painting, a library for writing, a wall (or walls) dedicated as a gallery for your photography. Do you have designated space/spaces for creating?

Susie,

I have created about five iBooks (Apple) with my photos and poems but a wall dedicated to or for my work - no.  I have my quilts on the beds and furniture, and one I will hang on the wall soon. I have a desk set up by two big book cases in my living room and I work from that desk on my huge (beloved) Apple desktop computer (I DO long for an iPad as I could take my poetry "to go”.)  I also have a desk in my bedroom set up for sewing.  Sometimes my dining room table becomes a workplace for my quilts and then I am happy to order food from restaurants.  We rent a very small house for our family of five and I have to be very neat and organized - which means putting things away and everything having its own place.  Relocating from a huge home with a designated “creative” space has been challenging. 

Margaret,

I see you have a blog titled, My Quilting Journey. Quilts are fascinating. Each one has a story in its pattern. Your poem, Heatwave, is captivating.  I love this visual “enjoy the ballet of grandmother's quilt as it lifts a corner, flutters gracefully as fever exhales”. I have never thought of a heatwave as beautiful, but your poem certainly puts me in that frame of mind. How long have you been quilting and who first taught you to quilt?

Heatwave

A fever oscillates across my skin

swigs stamina and strength from my bones,

yet offers no toast to acknowledge my hospitality.

I'm just "southern" enough

to graciously welcome unwanted guests,

find beauty in wilting leaves

bowing temporarily to a stronger force;

enjoy the ballet of grandmother's quilt

as it lifts a corner,

flutters gracefully as fever exhales;

imagine I'm a bartender

serving shots during happy hour,

carefully pour each living thing a drink -

temperance observed;

join the hens in a silent brooding,

thankful the border collie

rallies strength to scan for the devil;

look forward to the lick of night

when the visitor rests

and the yellow haze behind my eyelids

finally fades to black.

by Margaret Bednar

Susie, 

Thank you.  For me there is something very poetic about quilts. “Heatwave" is a poem I wrote from a video prompt.  I put away my old singer sewing machine about 20 years ago.  Two years ago I joined a local group of creative women who call themselves “The Stitching Sisters”.  We meet once a month for about three hours and knit and talk and share our projects.  I brought along my knitting at first, of which I have really progressed and am currently learning how to brioche knit.  Watching these women do their crafts, I was really drawn to the quilts.  I confess, I am now a hoarder and may be slightly obsessed with fabric.  I am making quilts for all my children and the first quilt I made I claimed as mine.  Sewing I can date back to 4-H and making skirts and such - my Mother helped guide me and probably had to finish a project or two.  I really was NOT inspired.  However, quilting is all together different.  The patterns, picking out the color combinations just fascinates me.  

I also adore a magazine “Quiltfolk”  It is pricey, but the magazine is touring every state at least once if not more and the history and stories inside are to die for.  I think one of their motives is “Discover the stories behind the stitches”.   It is published four times a year and I think the next magazine will cover part of Michigan - which is a state close to my heart.  This magazine has already inspired numerous quilt ideas I want to try. 

I still use my over 26 year old sewing machine but I have given my husband numerous hints that I am looking around for a replacement…  I think the first time I said that he thought I was referring to him!  

Susie,

I loved every one of your poems you mention above.  I find them to be a deep breath in of “letting go”, facing fears, acknowledging the darkness but turning yourself at the end of each day towards the light.  They speak of strength from family, from nature, from humor and toughness.  Embracing a bit of disorder, not knowing all the answers; these are things many try and control.  I find your voice refreshing and inspirational - the line in “Feral Ink” … from every mistake she claimed as freedom.  is SO cool and true.   

I was wondering how much you share with your family.  Most of mine do not read my poetry.  Do you share with your daughters and husband or is it primarily your own thing?

Margaret,

My poetry is there for all my family to read if they choose, but I doubt many of it read it. My husband has an aunt who is one of my biggest readers, and supporters. She doesn’t own a computer, but she has all three of the books I’ve written. She is always asking me when the next book will be out. I do have one poetry collection that is in the works. I co-wrote it with Ben Ditmars. The title is Splinters. I share my work with my daughters, but there is much of it they haven’t read. Charlie reads every poem I write, and often I read them to him. He is so supportive of my work.

Susie,

I grew up Catholic and I think it finds its way into my poems at times mostly in a positive light.  I”d like to think my adult view is not so simple as my belief as a child - but I think we can all say that.   Do you find your Baptist past reflective in your poetic voice or are your beliefs now quite divergent - and if so are they appreciative of the foundation or cyclical because of it.  

Margaret,

I wasn’t raised in the church. My early spiritual leanings were rooted in nature. I didn’t become active in a church until I joined a Southern Baptist Church in the late 1970’s. My beliefs are quite different than what they once were. I am an observer, a listener, an empath; so much of what I write comes from that. My poetry that has more of a spiritual feel is a reflection of my connection to nature. I have a prayer space in my bedroom in front of a window that looks out on a small wooded area behind my home.

OK, Susie, 

Now for a “fantasy” question.  If you could live anywhere in the world, not having to worry about cost or a making a living (pretend a long lost Uncle left you an endless fortune (sigh) … where would you and your family live?

Margaret,

Oh, I have mulled that question over and over. I think if I had endless money to find that place in the world it would require travel. First, I would travel to Mexico to see where the Monarch butterflies migrate to live out the winter.  I would love to spend time among them, to connect with wings and the power of home that spurs the insect to take a trip that is the equivalent to a human space flight that would take them on a journey of 2/3’rds the distance to the moon. From there it might be the English countryside, or Ireland, or Roman ruins where history still vibrates, and well, so many places. I think when I was finally so exhausted I had to stop it would be where I felt most at peace, probably in a small house with trees at my back door, open fields at my front door, and acres where wild things could roam.

I have two questions left for you.

You have six beautiful children who all are gifted in various art forms. Was art expression something you introduced to them or was it a natural reflection of your own art expression? 

What suggestions could you give to parents and grandparents who value the importance of art, but don’t know where to begin?

Susie,

For medical reasons (nothing serious) I homeschooled my son kindergarten through 3rd grade.  My daughter was two years behind him and she joined in as well.  I taught them according to their interests - meaning William loved to act everything out and reciting (poetry of all things) came naturally to him.  Low and behold he is an actor today and a wonderful poet and writer.  We are holding our breath as he might be on Broadway soon… an actor’s life is always about securing the next job and we don’t want to jinx anything so I won’t say anything more (as of now)!  Chelsea always wanted to draw and did not take to reading (or math) right away.  I allowed her to color in the pages and draw while I read to her … and guess what she is today - an artist!  

I think spending SO much time creatively with my children for three years started artistic pathways for all of us.  We went to museums, historic places, lots of mini-vacations and we would see sights and then do homework in the evenings.  We spent a lot of time learning history in chronological order.  They created their own journals, drawing pictures, maps, creating stories - all bound in our own huge hand-made books.  Truly fun.  Fourth grade on up they were in public school, but the impressions, I believe, had been set.  And as nature has it, my other four children whom I did not homeschool, seemed to follow in their older siblings footsteps (we also enrolled them in an artistic based charter school).

Margaret,

What suggestions could you give to parents and grandparents who value the importance of art, but don’t know where to begin?

So, Susie, 

I had 5 children, ten years and under for a short period of time.  I had to find something that I could drop them all off AND be free, if possible.  That was community theatre for us.  They all embraced it and made great friends.  I never meant for all of them to somehow make it their careers.  My thought process was they would be interacting with people of various ages and one learns to memorize lines and become comfortable in front of an audience.  Lawyers need to be good actors (right?), and sales people need to be able to sell a product, and business people give presentations… so theatre, I believed would be a healthy thing.  

My advice, for what it’s worth, is to embrace family mini-vacations or day trips to museums, plays, festivals, musicals (dear to our hearts) and read books about the arts (all avenues) and don’t forget documentaries, etc when they are young.  Sing Broadway musicals in the car and then GO to a touring show - even if it is one every few years - they are costly but what a memory.   

I remember going to a very nice museum in Indianapolis when my children were quite small - and I joked and told the kids we were so important we had an escort when in actuality I think we made them a little nervous as my kids’ noses were quite close to some of the paintings (they didn’t touch… I was right on them, but I can see why the museum was concerned!

Margaret, it was such a joy to chat with you. I wish we could have been in the same room sharing a cup of coffee, but I feel this garden of poets is the next best thing. As toads we come from different states, different countries, different lives, yet find a deep bond through our love of poetry. Thank you so much for taking time to sit down with Margaret and I. We are truly blessed.