blues
the helpless, hopeless, remorse-filled blues
when you’ve seen the doctor and she’s seen you
when Time runs out and Eternity beckons
blues
the darkest hues with shivering slivers of
pewter muting to gray, muting to black,
muting to light fractures in a surface
permeable and permissible, heavenly Light
or, so “they” tell me …
But lost in that Universe of Light
will “I’ still be?
will “you” still be?
answer me that
What is the character of this Light?
Matter or myth?
Ah then…
after all, pondering on
I find I really don’t care
I’ll poem my blues and poem my light
until all that’s left of me is
what I leave behind…
and you?
Will you leave your unwritten
blue poem hanging in the air to be
sensed by the few who can?
Or, will you, like slaves of old,
paint yourself blue and boiling tears
dance round the fire’s edge and rebirth
your broken blue soul into wholeness?
This poem is written out of being diagnosed some eighteen years ago with a fatal condition. Still kicking! Nothing untoward is pending … except, of course, for the fact of a world gone mad and who knows what’s next with that …
Apologies to all for any confusion. I put up a different writing prompt a few minutes ago and immediately took it down when I realized I’d offered it as prompt once before. Some of you may have seen it and, of course, I can’t delete it from email subscriptions.
© 2017, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved
WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT
As a poet/artist/human being, what do you hope to leave behind? What message for those who follow? Tell us and leave your work or a link to it in the comments section below. All work shared on theme by Monday evening 8:30 pm PST will be published here next Tuesday. If it is your first time responding to a Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a photo and short bio to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com. They’ll be used by way of introduction to readers and other poets . . . and me. 🙂 All are welcome to participate in this prompt: novice, emerging or pro poet. Wednesday Writing Prompt is about exercising the writing muscle, sharing our work and getting to know other poets, perhaps some who are new to you.
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My first response Jamie :
#Lost My Blues #
Kakali Das Ghosh
Blues ,my measly blues pursued me
Emerging from the bottom of that grave gorge
Surging from the waves of that deep ocean
Sprouting from the storm of that black forest
Blues ,those insistent blues
never waved to me a song ,a farewell song
And followed me unto rocky mountains and flowing rivulets
Chased me to red plateaus
and dusty desserts
Halted I -where golden beams reflected from a broken mirror
Where a phoenix arose from its ashes
Where pearly rains oozed from a misty cloud
And where a scarlet dandelion peeped from a rocky chest
And by my astonishment
I lost my blues ……….
Footsteps of my measly blues —-
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More or less on time this week! Nice prompt! Best Wishes, Jamie!
there’s one way
and another way
and a third way
of doing things; but it’s useful
to think of doing things
‘otherwise’ as the Master said in line with
what (gazing at the bridge of his nose)
his grandmother told him:
viz ‘in life never do as others do;
either do nothing—
just go to school—or do something
nobody else does’
when she promptly died…
this my children
and my children’s children
is what I would have you
take inside your uttermost being:
never go along with the herd;
never copy others; let your uprush
of learning be your very own
never dependent on others
*
Note: The Master = GIGurdjieff
(from my ‘The Recovery of Wonder’ 2013)
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Dear Jamie just finished some thoughts on Light and Blues…here is the link..https://anjuwriter.blogspot.com/2018/01/for-poet-by-day-jamie-dedes-ms-wearys.html?spref=fb
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Thank you..also posted the poem on wordpress..poetic oceans
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Dear Jamie I have added a few more lines to this poem on Light’
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Here’s my response to your prompt, Jamie, thanks for the challenge.
Rites of passage
To you,earth,I leave my ashes.
To you,sky,my unfinished dreams.
To you, ocean, blown kisses.
And to you, wide world,
the very best of me
warm and alive.
Two daughters, one son,
already entrusted
when I birthed them years
ago into your light,
heard their first startled cries
on a March morning,
an August night, in May’s
early hours; watched
the midwife lift each
perfect body still plaited
to mine, gift-wrapped
and glistening with my blood.
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Jamie, the world is mad, although it has been mad before. Eighteen years is a long time. May you have another eighteen if you so wish.
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Thank you, Michael, and wishing you the best as well.
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. we too shall die .
we have a memory or two. the world goes dark, we teach and learn, wait for light to appear
it is the way of things, while there are birds. while you read, you will not understand all words, that is the way of things.
it is natural, it is what they do, they live in the wild. . we have no power, they, no disgust that reels and kicks. yet while small birds live, they too will die. like us.
drift. in air, in words. symbols of poetry, cut and pasted. literally. naturally .
everyday tiny things sing.
when some small birds have failed and gone others sound just the same.
touched by the small things, softly, we drew
together
sbm
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Thank you Jamie.
: side parting :
looking for a legacy
i find nothing / no words
no comfortable leavings
parting on the wrong side
can be painful
some hide secrets
i do not
we hope you will feel good
about pins
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Lovely poem even if confused a bit with your prompt Jamie. Please see my response at https://reneejustturtleflight.com/2018/01/25/silver-threads-of-nature. Hope you are well.
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Will check. It’s about legacy, Renee. What is the legacy you want to leave.
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I did write it about what I want to leave. It is not anything material but I believe fits the prompt. Thank You.
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Lovely poem, Jamie, and I’m very glad to know the poem relates to 18 years ago – you’ve done so much in those years and will do more!
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Myra, 🙏 thank you.
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Hi Jamie,
Amazing prompt:
Corpse Watcher
He tells me he watches corpses
and looks forward to mine.
Its the stillness, and sometimes
If you’re lucky the movement.
Only chemical but shocks.
I like the shocks.
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Hi Jamie,
My third response:
Sunblaze
Sunblaze drinks thee pint as it were after doing thee a favour, stop thee brain box from wondering
an thy art beholden to it for doing so. Then mizzle sets on tummeling down, drizzles like it were making gourmet dish of the day with attractive swirls.
And ice cold thinks you owes it a living, serrates your bones like a decent knife sharp butcher
Who knows which cut hurts most and where to prolong the wound so it slowly bleeds out a sunset.
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Hi Jamie,
My second response:
Suddenly The
Sky opened and closed
Earth darkened and glowered.
Ocean frittered and wittered.
Air garnered and hoary.
Child across the earth.
Teenagers stretch clouds.
Adults narrow seascape.
Aged pinpoint gust.
Travellers are still.
Homely explore vastness.
Refugees carry home.
Ghosts are solid once more.
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Hi Jamie,
My first response is this:
The Book
When born he opened
The Book Of Everything
that had all the questions.
It was too much so he skimmed
chapters that didn’t seem relevant
until much much later in the book.
Later in life he closed
The book of nothing
That had all the answers
because it was too much effort,
to find his glasses put somewhere safe.
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ah that gorgeous poem in a blue blues! thank you, Yamie!
blue
and not to eternity the predefined will happen accidently
but to a cry
unheard and clear and the sermon that will BE
to shelter the torn off grains in the summer
the sunspots priest in the reflections
of the water
in blue
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Oh, bogpan, thank you for such a fine poem. Love it. Thanks also for your kind comments. 🙂 Have a lovely day. Glad you were able to come out and play.
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Aw thank you! I am very grateful for your comment!
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