January 1, 2018, 6:12 a.m.

The bad news. Predictable. Never-ending.
The good news buried under sensation

,,,,,,they mentioned that man again.

Too late for miracles.

[Did someone prescient write that between the two world wars?]

Yet the new year burst into bloom,
full of mettle and vision and a
singular aspiration …

– be the peace
– be the peace
– be the peace

“Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.” Thomas à Kempis,The Imitation of Christ

© 2018, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes


What is on your mind and in your heart as you start the new year? Tell us in a poem or poems and leave your work or a link to it in the comments section below.

All poetry on theme will be published here on Tuesday next. You have until Monday, January 8 at 8:30 p.m. PST to respond.  All are welcome to come out and play no matter the status of your career: beginning, emerging or pro. Thank you!



  1. Hello Jamie, I have decided to write something for this prompt. Hope you are well.

    Dreams of Flight

    Closing my eyes dream like synapses
    coalesce images of youthful fears
    tainted by mountain high and
    valley lows of emotions

    feathered wings in flight I fancied
    releasing me from my humble dawning
    with the smell of lemons and lilacs
    growing against a backdrop of cement
    tainted with the odors of asphalt

    on the other side of town peppered
    with factory workers, shop owners
    life ached for gleaming upscale as
    housewives tended children crying
    dutiful lives of status quo

    but only dreams took me flying
    into the darkness of night
    smelling of sweet honeysuckle
    scaling walls of rising freedom

    as now all dreams of tender youth
    have left me I no longer fear
    nor struggle from whence I came
    for the spring of my soul
    bubbles forth a peace within

    © January 2018 Renee Espriu

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Everyone Counting

    a lost year

    just gone by
    just gone

    oh hell

    one argues as much there
    lost as hope wants to bubble
    up ahead uncreated

    — built-in grace period up
    until thawing

    the real bear the lost was —
    is in hibernation

    the carryover is pure genius

    the straddling
    the picture
    sitting on the fence

    absence of go-go dancers

    ten weeks in the grand
    scheme of things
    there is no good answer
    to the question

    while the northern
    axis observes
    this tilt

    can we
    respect metaphorical roots
    as much as continue to use them as

    everyone counting

    Miguel Escobar


    1. Wonderful, Miguel, and lovely to have you with us. Since this is your first time participating in Wednesday Writing Prompt, I’d like to introduce you to readers along with your poem on Tuesday. If you would send a short bio and, if you are comfortable, a photograph to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com, that would be great.


  3. Hi Jamie, this is my very first response to a Wednesday Prompt, hope it’s suitable.

    As the old year ends

    Days and nights
    bring silver moons
    and tangerine sunlight
    melting snow
    from the mountains;

    tell of a rose bush
    bearing crumpled flowers
    and branches scarred
    by summers long gone,
    summers to come.


    1. Lovely! Wonderful to have you with us, Sheila. Since this is your first time participating in Wednesday Writing Prompt, you will be introduced on Tuesday along with your poem. I’ll need a short bio and, if you feel comfortable, a photo. Please send them to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com. Thank you!


  4. I hadn’t read the quote by Thomas a Kempis before. Thank you for the introduction. It speaks to an experience I had over the holidays.
    Your poem is shouting many, many things. Let’s hope the word ‘Peace’ is heard the loudest.
    I hadn’t written too much poetry in 2017. Perhaps,s this year a may pop over a bit more.
    Hope you enjoy …. Happy New Year 2018
    Isadora 😎

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Happy New Year!

    Too late for miracles

    Little miracles happen every night in life.
    That’s what the old blind man told me, leaning against the rugged bench in the park. And at this point, a ladybug shone in front of my eyes. He saw – he smiled at me – it was the mother of the seven-color arc.
    He smiled again
    went over the rainbow.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. New Year

    The cold.
    Pushes through each
    thin crack by frigid wind
    I greet the two degree temperature
    happily. It’s climbing! Housebound,
    I walk the stairs between the woodpile
    and couch, hot water bottle ready.
    I aim the heater to the back of the cabinet,
    so it warms the pipes on the outside wall.
    I cut my compost into small pieces,
    lay them on the snow to feed the hungry
    driven to my front door in the full moon’s light.
    The radio on is on for company, against
    the all day quiet. I hear about North Korea first,
    then President Trump’s bigger button. Is this his
    New Year’s address? I remember us all
    crouching beneath our desks at school drills,
    head tucked in, dog tag on, when I was a kid.
    Was that the Bay of Pigs? Maybe there is some
    hope, if we now send cruise ships to Havana.
    Maybe one day NorthKorea will welcome cruise ships, too.

    elaine reardon

    Liked by 2 people

      1. welcome and Thank you Jamie..my new year resolution is moving towards writing more and better poetry..may the Lord help and guide me amen.I have a wordpress poetry blog I will share my poem on it too and send the link soon.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Will is fuel

    Impulse is potential.
    Emotion without mind is violence.
    The mind without heart is sterile.
    The unfiltered will is scattered.
    The untethered will is impotent.

    Harmony is passion and reason,
    refined and anchored, to perfect,
    that conscience may be as leaven
    in Humanity, to honour and express
    the Beauty of the cosmic sum.

    The heart beats. The mind’s job is to justify its rhythm to the soul. https://julijuxtaposed.wordpress.com/2018/01/02/will-is-fuel/

    Happy New Year, Jamie x

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Hi Jamie,

    Here’s my third response:

    Buy More (From “Queue At World’s End)

    food than we need.
    Never want to join again

    these endless queues.
    The end of the world

    is due so we’ve got to make sure
    we have enough

    of everything for two days
    when the shops are closed.

    Two days closed is an economic sanction,
    an act of war we rush to counter

    with extra rations, things we would not
    normally buy. Just in case a battle

    breaks out and we are bunkered
    in our homes. Eat and be merry.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Hi Jamie,
    Here’s my second response:

    We Must Avoid

    doors that open too smoothly,
    scissors that open too well,
    doors slam in your face,
    scissors cut you to strips.

    Words that come too easily,
    stories that come ready made,
    success handed on a plate,
    accolades sent too soon

    poetry that slips off the tongue,
    without hard work and sweat,
    words that bother the reader,
    with too much work to do,

    poetry without music and rhythm,
    complicated images and phrases,
    not asking if it’s boring,
    not being entertaining enough.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Happy New Year, Jamie. Here’s my first response:

    Old Year

    Celebrate the going of the new year
    and the arrival of the old year.

    At midnight on Old Year’s eve
    sing of how it all ends,

    make decisions to keep old habits
    And not pander to new ones

    that have outstayed their welcome.
    Newness gives you wrinkles.

    Stay with youthful decrepitude.
    The fresh has lost its taste.

    Welcome the old with fireworks.
    Reold the world

    Liked by 2 people

  11. Than you Jamie. Happy New Year.

    My response

    ::the year::

    gently go forward, then gently back
    recreating past deeds and misdemenours
    you thought forgotten.

    gently go forward knowing we are mostly
    all the same, with motes not spoken of,
    except disorder.

    gently it passed behind you, seen
    clearly while looking for god.

    gently gather winter leaves to keep
    in paper bags. these are the golden
    days .

    my friend.


    Liked by 2 people

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