margaretbednar365.blogspot.com (Of Verse, Poesy & Odes) is for poetic challenges and poems that may still be unfinished. Poems have been "nurtured, weeded, and snipped" from that blog, uprooted and transplanted to Drops of Black Ink; poems I consider "in full bloom" Poems can be searched for by subject by selecting and perusing "Categories" below. MOST POSTS ARE ACCOMPANIED BY A SOUND CLOUD AUDIO OF ME READING MY POEM.
The college boys considered it a roadside treasure, excitedly hauled the orphan home, lugged it up worn steps and placed it (for the next three years) none too gently on the slant-floored, over-sized stoop mostly out of reach of rain, snow, sleet, and hail.
If not an antique, it was certainly "aged"; not a worthy investment with one leg missing, but nothing a cinder block couldn't cure. It's suede-like fabric boasted a distant connection to fashion, but one had to squint to notice.
But free was a different story and the boys felt they'd rescued it from its beggared fate, and many an evening and starry night were spent playing cards, laughing, and attempting to woo a girl or two.
Napoleon Street was not as grand as its namesake nor did neighbors complain of the addition as they had similar settees gracing similar porches.
Mid-day one might find clothes-lines sagging with undergarments; I particularly was charmed by the occasional quilt drying in a shaded oasis, as if sunlight might damage faded and worn.
Come evening, hellos and goodbyes emanated from beneath these covered respites, glasses raised, even the teetotalers joined in, swigged down refreshing toasts on hot summer days.
Must confess I was never tempted to rest upon the golden "velvet" couch, but was sad, upon graduation, when I watched it hauled off to another college porch, boys insisting its presence was a "legacy" to be upheld.