in time displaced, a poem … and your Wednesday Writing Prompt


No illusions, no illusions, no lies, no softened truths,
no tears, no bargains, though sun shines and birds sing,
Winter is here, I know.

Spring danced like wild flowers in the wind,
held dew and promise and wore the colors of her heart like jewels.
She hadn’t heard the word defeat and didn’t feel hate or anger.
Spring liked to play and romp and sing and
hung her question on a tree to ripen – Why?

Summer took herself seriously,
was wide-eyed with longing, sizzling in the sun.
She wore a red dress and the champagne happiness of husband and child.
She had reckless courage because Summer is young and youth is bold,
a silver bell that rings and rings and never stops.
Too much is not enough and still that tremulous – Why?

Autumn gently smiled, like Da Vinci’s lady, and danced old dances,
reminisced Begin the Beguine, stepping lightly on dry leaves.
Autumn was lined with gold and muted silks, remembered her manners,
nodded wisely, spoke sagaciously, and was a might too profound.
Haughty and just so very sure that she knew – Why?

Winter is a season content to see herself in time displaced,
knows though fleshy bonds and boundaries dissolve, Life
like heart has its reasons that reason doesn’t know  . . .
Sanguine and serene, it’s just a habit now, that old question – Why?

© 2017, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day and Coffee, Tea and Poetry)


To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck that which is planted . . .

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8


Wednesday Writing Prompt

Tell us in prose or poem and in terms of the seasons where you used to be in life and where you are now.   If you are comfortable to do so, leave your work in the comments section below.  If the work is too long, leave a link to it. All work shared will be published here next Tuesday.

© 2017, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved


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11 thoughts on “in time displaced, a poem … and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

    1. Thanks, Renee. I was just going to email you to see if you were in for this round. Thanks for your note and new address. No worries about anything. I never thought there was something work. Hope this finds you well. Blessings!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Four Haiku

    Spring

    anguish of sunlight
    when the people you wait for
    don’t turn up on time

    Summer

    the train stops nowhere
    under clear blue morning skies
    in total silence

    Autumn

    yesterdays’ bonfire
    drifts into my dreams
    – woodpigeon dawn

    Winter

    plane leaf & puddle
    at the grey end of the year
    puddle & plane leaf

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ciao Jamie,

    Here is my response:

    Static Cycles

    Summer is my favorite
    I can’t wait for Fall
    Something ’bout Winter magic
    Spring is best of all

    Summer is my favorite
    I can’t wait for Fall
    Something ’bout Winter magic
    Spring is best of all

    Summer is my favorite
    I can’t wait for Fall
    Something ’bout Winter magic
    Spring is best of all

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hi Jamie,

    This is my response:

    Born Old

    coddled in wool blanket drifts
    Sun sears baby eyes through bright windows,
    hospital paths cleared tall walls
    of snow either side. I howled

    a gust down shop aisles, on street
    to the dentists. Crowds frowned.
    Summer bike rides in country lanes
    Spring divorced winter.

    Summer was another dialect. Coarser,
    to play was to laik, sweets were spice.
    Wide games in a silver wood, ventured
    into cold huts. Fun with sausages and custard.

    Hull hunkered in Christian winter, relieved by Summer gamelan and hope for a vocation
    to last manual work and taking the pillock.
    It didn’t. Winter of closing pits.

    Bristol summered in performance
    Classes on interview technique, teach
    Teenagers how to think into a job.
    beyond unemployment benefit office screens

    Spout words over dripped lager louts,
    Back in summered day buzz of words clapped,
    then winter cancered into debt
    and prodigal return. No fatted calf

    only steroid fatted bald mam and chores
    in garden until I met my future wife
    for a bet in breaks between admin.
    Summered teach adults write and history.

    A winter that lasted twelve years headset
    yoked ears bent to abuse from wronged
    Customers and peddled official lines.
    Summer came with an unwanted death,

    A years enjoyment of travel and delight.
    Summer comes in to autumn with cash gone.
    Life a priority. Bills must be paid. Work
    only part time, buzz when I help customers.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Thanks Jamie.

    Here is one response.

    . for seasons .

    frozen, the code will not work, nor will the counting with interruptions, all things moved about. there is a discount, on top the discount, so a discussion ensued on buttons.

    now there is an understanding. the season of it all fits, the picture is made the pieces are in place. left on the tray, photographed for all to see.

    talked in numbers and rhythms. a train passed, gulls flew the heat haze. on return, no one spoke.

    i have written of them before, now in sign and symbol, i regard, that ‘again’ brings a sense of permanence, that familiarity does not always mean contempt , yet continuity.

    spring comes round, and we keep the litte things, again.

    sbm,

    Liked by 2 people

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