No Account of Trifles, a poem . . . and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

“Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her.”
William Wordsworth 



Steal what you will, my friends,
of small things.
Dē minimīs nōn cūrat lēx.
The law takes no account of trifles,
though the recommended thefts
are not trifles to me.

In the heat of summer, I have stollen
the scent of roses for my skin
and the tantalizing aroma of
night-blooming jasmine.
It wafts through the house,
settling gently in my lungs.

In winter snowflakes appeal.
Steal dozens to line the drawers of
your memories, to keep them fresh.
Lazy motes of yellow moon-dust
are recommended. Let them
color your dreams with light,
your awakening with hope.

In stealth gather butterflies and bees into
rhapsodies. Loot the world’s dragonflies to
stitch beauty and cadence into your poetry.
Steal from your children too. Their hugs
are nontoxic, tonic for heart health.
The theft of your mother’s laugh
will sooth you mind, rest assured.
In flight, pluck away the cloud fluff
that hangs above the mountains below.
Cloud fluff is best for nightgowns, sexy
and sheer and lined with spun silver.
Yes! Have at it, my friends …

Steal what you will
of small things.
Dē minimīs nōn cūrat lēx.
The law takes no account of trifles,
though the recommended thefts
are not trifles to me

©  2013, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

 What among natures gifts do you cherish, the free gifts of life that marketers don’t sully and that are ours for the taking. Tells us what, why, how and when in your own poem/s.

Share your poem/s on theme or a link to it/them in the comments section below.

All poems on theme will be published next Tuesday. Please do NOT email your poem to me or leave it on Facebook. If you do it’s likely I’ll miss it or not see it in time.

IF this is your first time joining us for The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a brief bio and photo to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com to introduce yourself to the community … and to me :-). These will be partnered with your poem/s on first publication.

PLEASE send the bio ONLY if you are with us on this for the first time AND only if you have posted a poem (or a link to one of yours) on theme in the comments section below.  

Deadline:  Monday, September 3 by midnight Pacific time.

Anyone may take part Wednesday Writing Prompt, no matter the status of your career: novice, emerging or pro.  It’s about exercising the poetic muscle, showcasing your work, and getting to know other poets who might be new to you. This is a discerning nonjudgemental place to connect.


ABOUT

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. Currently I run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded.  I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers.

My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s PorchVita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation PressThe Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.

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20 thoughts on “No Account of Trifles, a poem . . . and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

  1. Fourth response:

    Let Me Pass Through

    city walls
    that bind all your threads together,

    walk through this wood,
    let your cityself take same walk, see
    buildings as lone trees,
    homeless hostel
    is an oak, butchers
    a willow that bends
    down over the stream
    where jammed traffic swims.

    A dead bird breathes
    animated by flies
    is a man in the corner who sings
    the blues to passers.

    That fall of a leaf
    tickertape homecoming parade.

    Your pavement footfall
    echoes in my forest.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Third response:

    When World Is

    1.

    an eye
    you look into white surf clouds
    roll over blue gust
    white surf clouds roll over blue
    gusted bright reed brands rise.

    2.

    Leaves fall to their end
    cold darkens every step
    naked limbs outstretch
    untidy trees slough leaf clothes
    so others forced to clean mess.
     
    3.

    Squirrels skitter up,
    hold bounty for a nibble
    stop, look and listen
    as sky looks at itself holds
    mirror up close for blemish

    Liked by 1 person

  3. My second response:

    A Little Girl

    Places her found autumn oak leaf
    In all its yellow and red on my conveyor belt.

    I consider my potential responses:

    Sorry love you can’t buy that here.

    Sorry love it has no barcode, so won’t go through.

    That’s a free gift from nature, love.

    At the finish I advise

    Sorry you can’t put that through, love

    and she removes the leaf from the belt.

    At the finish it is all child’s play
    in the adult buy and sell.

    From my collection “Please Take Change”, forthcoming from cyberwit.net.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. seasonal disorder

    profoundly subtle cricket silence
    that is not really
    silence might not even
    be only crickets but
    powerful trigger of nightmares
    deeply delicate evolution of leaves
    first red maples edging
    marshes eventually stunning yellow
    of tall singular poplars
    keenly subdued morning light
    reaching resistantly sleepy eyes
    intensely indistinct chill spice
    of damp morning air

    Liked by 2 people

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