“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish, Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.” Herman Melville, Moby Dick
Two bibliophiles walk into a bar and talk books, sharing favorite opening sentences? “Call me Ishmael,” one says, referring to the celebrated opening line of Moby Dick. The two begin to speculate, “What if Ishmael had a phone number?” … and now Ishmael does.
774.325.0503
This post includes several absolutely delightful videos by way of experiencing Call Me Ishmael. If you are reading this from an email subscription, you’ll likely have to link through to the site to view them. Each is under two minutes.
CALL ME ISHMAEL is a website founded by Stephanie Kent and Logan Smalley in 2014 subsequent to their conversation. It presents messages people leave in voicemail for Ishmael. The messages left are about favorite books: the beauty and pleasure enjoyed, the inspiration gained, the way lives changed, or how reading the book led to some special and unexpected experience.
There are more than a thousand stories and every type of book represented – poetry, nonfiction, books for children, youth and adults, and both literary and genre fiction.
In the past “Ishmael” transcribed a message with founder faves, featured each week and shared on the website and through social media platforms. Under “Galley Calls” visitors could listen to recordings of calls and vote on whether Ishmael should edit, transcribe and feature the voicemail message.
More recently I noted there haven’t been new videos in a while and I contacted Stephanie and Logan. Here’s the response:
Hi Jamie, We are still active, but focusing more on our Call Me Ishmael Phone program than posting calls. Planning to kickstart the videos in the next few months, though, so check back in soon … Thanks!
This is a fun site. I love listening to the videos. I suspect you might as well. Check in periodically for the promised new videos … and maybe call in yourself. There’s also a volunteer opportunity (1-2 hours a week) to help with “Galley Calls” and other projects.
Here’s are sample videos ~
.
This is one young woman’s experience with an old favorite of mine, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the book that started so many young women on our path as writers.
This one on the Harry Potter series is from Nathan, “the boy who lived.” Grab a tissue.
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the 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 Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal,The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.
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“The only truly secure system is the one that’s powered off ….” Gene Spafford [Spaf], American professor of computer science at Purdue University and a computer security expert.
Sunday Announcements will return next week and Tuesday’s post (responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt) may go up late. I seem to have two computer viruses – “search any manager” and “Apple wants to make changes” – and unable to remove them myself, I’m shutting down the computer and taking it to an expert. Back soon …
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the 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 Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal,The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.
“It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.” Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
Her last will and testament …
in lieu of flowers
……….please impeach
for crimes against humanity:
the no-gooders
the spin-meisters
the war-mongers
the raw-dealers
the grand-standers
the self-aggrandizing
the stallers, stalkers
and sycophants
the vampires and panderers
Thank you!
Your good sense is much appreciated by the family of the deceased and the billions of worthy people who survive her.
Let us know in poem or poems what you’d like to leave as legacy or what you’d like at your funeral in lieu of flowers?
Share your poem/s on theme or a link to it/them in the comments section below.
All poems on theme are published on the following 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 are 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, October 29 by 8 p.m. Pacific.
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 non-judgemental place to connect.
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the 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 Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal,The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
“What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And people flock around the poet and say: ‘Sing again soon’ – that is, ‘May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.” Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or: A Fragment of Life
Kudos and thanks to Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brookes, Bhaga d’Auroville, Irma Do, Deb y Felio (Debbie Felio), Sonja Benskin Mesher, and Anjum Wasim Dar.
I’ve included links to blogs or websites where available. I hope you’ll visit these poets and get to know their work better. It is likely you can catch up with others via Facebook.
Enjoy! … and do come out to play tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.
need’ll
in the dead man’s car a needle
on the dead man’s face foamed saliva
and an easy smile.
the total count of needles in the car
was sixty-Two.
squirrel-stashed here and there
in his guesthouse abode
were many more. one of his
saltshakers
contained in unsalt. his spare teeth
were in a falsebottomed container.
his pain and
his holes of loss
of fellow wretches and
a wife had
at last
evaporated
Hijab covered she arrives
at my till with her two young girls
What us that smell? She exclaims
Hashish, I answer.
Her small kids hold close to her dress.
There should be a law.
Especially with kids around.
They shouldn’t have to suffer this.
The aroma of the previous male customer
still hangs around after she’s left.
From a forthcoming collection “Please Take Change,” Cyberwit.net, 2018
FOR THOSE WHO MIGHT NOT BE AWARE: Paul Brookes, a stalwart participant in The Poet by Day Wednesday Writing Prompt, is running an ongoing series on poets, Wombwell Rainbow Interviews. Connect with Paul if you’d like to be considered for an interview. Visit him, enjoy the interviews, get introduced to some poets who may be new to you, and learn a few things.
The Old Town Hall is a pub
where a pint sups half full or half empty,
pedestrians intent upon their daily task
Pied wagtails twerk and pass by
green unicorns, the canal and mines
frozen in metal on a gate into a side street,
Air is made of warm Potters pie pastry,
Hashish cracks doors of perception.
Old gypsy nags snort past betting shops.
The day assembled of colour coded bones
so it stands upright and invites a spy
of its wears, whyfores and whatevers
And wagtail dodge and weave between feet.
Substance abuse?… I do not know
Of that myself – and this, although
I was born somehow right in time
For being a Hippie #metoo:
I loved ‘Hair’ (yes, I keep singing
Still ‘Let the Sun shine in’…),
I did study at La Sorbonne
And later lived ‘May 68’
When students and the young workforce
Did fraternize and reinvent
The French society, for a while.
I could then, as many others,
Have fallen into drug abuse,
Yet my soul kept me far from it
And never did I even try.
Cigarettes? I didn’t like them
And soon stopped wasting my money
Into packets my friends emptied
Before I remembered to smoke!
Alcohol? I’ll take a few drops
Of old rum drowned in cane syrup
And call that my own ‘Planteur Punch’…
More than that I wouldn’t enjoy,
So never got drunk, by God’s Grace!
My own addiction is much worse
For yes, I am in constant need
And require my fix all the time…
But far from destroying any
Of what I truly am, instead
It is making my whole being
Grow back ever more consciously
– And ever more blissfully too –
Into my deeper, truer Self,
My eternal and divine Self:
Right while being in this body
(And with all my dear body-cells
Taking their own share of the Bliss),
Addicted to Divine Delight
As to our natural birthright,
I make it my daily diet
And my more and more constant high
Except that I don’t get blissed out,
But rather blissed in, I would say!
It doesn’t require anything
External to my own being:
We’re all born with that potential
And can activate it at will.
Only, this is what we must choose
If this is what we want to have.
It is what we all truly crave
But most of us are never told
And hear only of outer drugs
When the Real Thing is in us,
Right in our own core, or also
Right around us, all around us,
Everything is bathing in it!…
The supply isn’t a problem
For the supply is infinite,
And yes, totally free to boot!!!
So here is my smiling advice
For true happiness as a vice:
Turn to this Divine Addiction
To Use Without Moderation,
Your sun then will shine from within
And make our world happier too!…
That’s what we all come here to do.
“While smoking may not seem as terrible as opioid addiction (it’s not illegal, it’s still somewhat socially accepted), it is still an activity that takes you away from your relationships, obligations and hurts your health. In fact, I think any activity – even ones that start off as healthy, like running – can become an unhealthy addiction.
“In this way, addiction has probably touched more lives that people might care to admit. Think of binge drinking in college or the even the use of smart phones – activities that people use as “coping skills” but, in reality, take people away from having real relationships and can cause serious mental and physical health problems. The mental and emotional components of addiction, as well as the physical aspects, has lasting effects, not only for the individual, but also for all the people in that person’s life.
“In my professional and in personal lives, I am keenly aware of “addictive thinking” and “addictive behavior”. Tragically, I had a friend who died from alcoholism that she hid very well from us for many years. There is still so much stigma around addiction but we can’t be quiet about it any more. People are dying and we can’t just “wordlessly watch and wait”.
it is a fine line we walk,
gently avoiding peptides,
only just a theory,
yet used independently,
alongside honest work,
for mending.
the film continues,
some of the old cast, new actors oblige,
ideas on lack of addictive ways.
simple days without receptors.
singing under breath, counting, unpacking boxes,
this is the lead. hints are posted, and may you believe them graciously.
for many times will you be tested.
there were subtitles, out of focus,
we could not read the other language.
the film continues…. peptides.
Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA paintings (This is her Facebook page, so you can connect with her there as well as view photographs of her colorful paintings.)
The gentle Anjum Wasim Dar reminds us by implication how much we have in common as human beings/the one human race and how poetry and other arts cross boarders and console our hearts. / J.D.
c Anjum Wasim Dar
Dearest Friend just read your message to come out to play..surely I will ..it’s way past midnight here [Pakistan] and my thoughts and pen keep me company..spent some time watching Zorba’s dance ..these days I am rewriting , compiling in neat writing my Urdu poems…am surprised at what I have expressed …there was a time I loved ghazals* specially those which were on the theme of ‘drinking and forgetting the hardships of life’ drinking away the loneliness sadness and helplessness’ maybe with kids away and parents no more one feels as such..poetry and writing helped me move on in life..but sadly few people understand this …this part of the sub continent have seen many poets writers and ghazal poems singers…when you ask me to write in Urdu I feel so honored and feel overwhelmed and can feel the magnetic force of your call’ my Urdu poetry is by my side and I find a couplet which I dedicate to you …
ان کے خیال میں جو ساتھ دیتا ہنے دھواں میرا ، وو کہتے ہیں کہ برا ہنے اسے چھوڑ دوں
when your thoughts make me sad this smoke consoles me comforts me, you say it’s bad, leave it give it up…
If you are reading this post from an email subscription, you’ll likely have to link through to the site to watch the video above.
Mirza Asadullah Khan Baig Ghalib is considered the greatest and most influential poet of Urdu and Farsi ghazals / Public domain illustration
* “The ghazal ( Punjabi: ਗ਼ਜ਼ਲ, Urdu: غزَل , Hindi: ग़ज़ल, Persian: غزل, Pashto: غزل, Bengali: গজল) is a form of amatory poem or ode, originating in Arabic poetry. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain.
A ghazal commonly consists of between five and fifteen couplets, which are independent, but are linked – abstractly, in their theme; and more strictly in their poetic form. The structural requirements of the ghazal are similar in stringency to those of the Petrarchan sonnet. In style and content, due to its highly allusive nature, the ghazal has proved capable of an extraordinary variety of expression around its central themes of love and separation.
“The ghazal is one of the most widespread and popular poetic forms, especially across the Middle East and South Asia. Readings or musical renditions of Ghazals are well attended in these countries, even by the laity. In a similar manner to Haiku, the Ghazal is gaining popularity among western poetry readers.” Wikipedia
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the 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 Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal,The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 