spiral galaxy in Constellation, Coma Berenices, 60 million light years from Earth
spiral galaxy in Constellation, Coma Berenices, 60 million light years from Earth

each lively soul
worlds contained
a galaxy of one
our gases, our dust
our gravitational pull
our weak wills
our strong compulsions
our stark shadowlands
our gaudy stars
dancing toward infinity

originally published in the June 2014 issue of The BeZine

© 2014, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photograph, Nasa/Hubble Team, public domain


Describe in poem each lively soul’s dance toward infinity.  If you feel comfortable, leave your work or a link to it below in the comments section. (Please do not send your work or links to me by email or through Facebook message.) All poems in response to this theme will be published here next Tuesday.  All are welcome no matter the status of your career: beginning, emerging or pro.  You have until 8:30 pm PST, Monday, January 22.  Thank you!



  1. Bit late! But this came to me this morning!


    once such night black

    was a chance to gather strength
    for the coming day; to invade
    the stars in order to appropriate
    their pinprick energy;
    now its curious restless oblivion
    is merely a rehearsal for the long sleep
    that’s to come – the living out
    of trillions of years
    with nothing to think about

    it tosses & turns and sometimes
    dreams of swimming again amongst
    those stars so often gleaming
    through the apple trees of youth

    come spring and I suppose
    I will contrive to fling the curtains
    wide once more to greet the sun
    for the beginning of time once more
    but now I hardly dare to wake
    into this familiar night black


    The collection of poems from last week is outstandingly good!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. ‘Do you fear the fire’
    (for my mother, 1940-1997)

    Walking through the woods
    my mother spoke of fire–
    of course I had noticed it
    a lack of green, and the scent
    of the foray of pitiless flames
    in a matter of months
    and the ashes beneath our feet

    Was it a dream? Perhaps–
    upon opening my eyes
    seeing her feet, immaculate
    walking amongst the flames
    in a frantic dance for life–
    and afterward, the renovation–
    her attempt to cover it up
    with a smile and a flower

    Overjoyed to see something
    colorful and blooming
    my jaw went slack, while the flower fell
    from where she had taped it
    to the scorched vine, fooling me
    with the comfort of red petals
    amongst the endless black.
    ‘But black is your color.’

    Black had been the color
    of cool and calm, during a time
    when I could not settle myself–
    tailor-made for me, the crisp lines
    of white cotton over black silk
    were enough to blur the vision
    of soot smudges
    on her cheek and forehead

    I had not been there for her.
    I wanted to stay.

    And, bending to grab at the rose
    I moved too quickly
    a thorn piercing my finger–
    ‘You have blood on your
    shirt”, she said
    ‘you have work still to be done–
    wake up.’

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Sonnet of State Secrets

    As I told the State the other day, I rarely
    dance but when I do I dance some Latin
    sort of thing, like a salsa, in which one seems
    never to stop moving, which makes it more difficult to pin
    me down. My hips sometimes get tired so I have
    to stop; two days later I ache but I am that much
    closer to the goal, the infinite, the end-that-is-not-
    the-end. The State is very goal-oriented,
    hence the two questions that must be asked
    of everyone with only four possible answers.
    I almost always want to invent my own
    responses but there you have it: no other
    possibilities. Frustration ensues. Occasionally
    I have thoughts of threats, murder, assassination.
    The solution is to look up, to contemplate clouds, or stars
    that look like lively souls in their dance to infinity.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. “Old lady dancing”

    (Pamela Ireland Duffy 21.01.2018)

    Not much music
    at the end of the line
    in this half-world
    of might-have-beens
    and time run out
    but still she dances
    on iridescent water
    oil spillage not dreams
    but still she dreams
    of other universes
    other lives
    of endless possibilities
    where words change worlds
    and her grandchildrens’ laughter
    is real
    and she is dancing in her sleep
    daring to dream
    of somewhere
    where the music
    never stops.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Wonderful poem and prompt Jamie. Here is my response. Be Well.

    Angels Infinite

    A symbiotic relationship in
    a universe stretching infinite
    where stars are like angels
    their wings as chariots
    taking flight becoming
    a safe harbor for the soul
    now desolate with grief
    now hungry for peace
    now joyous in its’ vision
    however brief that it too
    will be immersed
    in that infinity

    © January 2018 Renee Espriu

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Intriguing prompt Jamie. Here’s my first response:

    On A Road (Part One)

    a wick young lad meets Devil.
    Wise with old tales

    he goads Devil.
    “Before I do owt for you

    I want tha soul.” Devil gobsmacked
    replies “I have no soul

    of my own. Only souls of others.”
    “Then gi me those.” answers

    lad and I’ll do whatever tha hankers for .”
    Devil hands him a mobile.

    “This phone contains all my souls.”
    “There is a woman who
    would have your tongue. I ask
    you visit her and take hers.”

    “God didn’t sleep with me.
    He chose that cow Mary.”
    Devil put you on to me,
    Young un’ tell you I need
    Your tongue and you need
    To take mine.

    “I offer you hunger,
    wrinkles, short life
    and disease, and me
    as an ugly bitch.
    on Saturdays when
    I look like a model
    and you have eternal life,
    youth and health.
    Manage your expectations.”

    Young chuff replied
    “To me you’re beautiful
    for six days. Only a monster
    on Saturdays when you’re a serpent
    from waist down. Accept this mobile.
    It contains all Devil’s souls.”

    And young man returned
    To Devil with her stories
    “Accept the Sibyl’s tongue.”
    He said and Devil scowled
    at this young buck’s cleverness.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Thanks Jamie


    layered in air

    we dance with glass

    small souls with small lives


    to the challenges

    she says you know we do not gets what we want

    we gets what we get


    ours has been much easier than so many others

    *listen to the radio

    they threw them all on the fire


    Liked by 4 people

  8. “A Poem about Nothing”
    (Raanana, October 24, 2015)

    This is a poem about nothing
    How it happened that
    Today nothing happened.
    I didn’t turn on the radio
    Well maybe I did for a moment or two
    But then I turned it off again
    Before something happened.
    I slipped on some jeans and
    Took Daisy for a walk
    She still had a slight limp
    From the night before
    And I said a silent prayer
    To the One who Barks at Infinity
    That she’s not getting old on me
    Remembering her shivering
    First time I held her to my heart.
    Then I thought about Dad
    For no good reason on this earth
    When I’d laid him gently down into the ground
    How all the prayers we say
    Were meant to send him on his way
    But all I wanted was to call him back
    Some prayers will never pass my lips.

    Liked by 3 people

  9. “Saint Yellow’s Gate Revisited”
    (Raanana, March 24, 2017)

    Through light Saint Yellow’s gate I’ve fled
    Leaves long fallen, trees long dead
    To come full circle as she said
    No meaning, only clues instead.

    Clues pointing to eternity
    Open graves to see through pity
    Stilted men walk through the city
    The death of rationality.

    What say you now of dreams my friend?
    Succubi make love pretend
    Climax waking in the end
    Nothing left to comprehend.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. “Walking to the Moon”
    (Raanana, September 1, 2012)

    Sometimes you have to walk a poem
    To see the shadows of it go in front of you
    And then behind you,
    A funny kind of locomotion
    Walking crablike, orthogonally.
    It’s been so long since I’ve written,
    You must have thought I’d forgotten,
    If you thought about me at all.
    No, I hadn’t. Couldn’t. Ever.
    These were the dimensions of your loveliness,
    The smell of sunlight on a field of wheat in your hair,
    The cool touch of my rough hand on your soft thigh,
    The vibrations of your voice as your meaning danced across it,
    But the publicity of your smile
    For all around you to see,
    Not just for me,
    Meant the sunlight soft vibrations of you
    Might as well be like walking to the moon.

    Liked by 2 people

  11. “When a Poet”
    (Raanana, June 30, 2017)

    When a poet wakes up in the morn
    He puts his pants on
    One leg then another,
    And when he buys his milk and wants to pay
    He stands in line between
    The woman with her screaming kids
    And the foreign workers,
    But when the poet looks up at clouds
    Or the night-time constellations,
    Orion’s scabbard or Cassiopeia’s tilted throne,
    He sees encyclopedias never writ nor read
    By the likes of you or me,
    And when he loves,
    It’s Trojan Paris
    Who’s faced ten thousand ships
    And went to war for naught but one.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I loved your prompt, Jamie! Here are a few poems that might be pertinent.

    “Life’s Cold Eye”
    (Raanana, January 7, 2016)

    Hello Orion my old friend
    I’ve come to battle you again
    Though your sword is in its scabbard
    You hold above my head the tides of time
    And bury me under the horizons of eternity
    But I’ll defeat you with love’s clarion call
    And life’s cold eye on death.

    Liked by 2 people

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