“.end games.” . . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt
“So I don’t think I’ll make Poet Laureate,
but I swear I’m not twisted and bitter,
If finely-wrought talents
don’t weigh in the balance,
I can always write haiku on Twitter.”
Rosy Cole, The Twain: Poems of Earth and Ether
A bit behind here due to recuperating from an unexpected and rather protracted hospital stay (thanks in part to California wild fires), but here we are at last: These moving and deeply felt poems are in response to the last Wednesday Writing prompt, the flautist wears a shaman’s headress (on the chaos in the world, the configurations of cruelty), November 14. Thank you to Kakali Das Ghosh, Jen E. Goldie, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Marta Pombo Sallés, and Anjum Wasim Dar for sharing their thoughts and talents, including photographs.
In addition to their words, 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 later today for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt. All are welcome including beginning and emerging poets. Poems in languages other than English are welcome as long as they are accompanied by a translation into English.
Your blue eyes
So deep but surged
I wished to swim
and be merged
I longed to play with you
But they called me shameless
Withered all my flowers were
Their clutches -my obsess
I longed for wings
I desired for a blue sky
They tied my dreams
and bade goodbye
Why I’m so confined
Should I now be blind
Why do they blame me
I just tried a Freedom to find
© 2018, Kakali Das Ghosh
“The price of order is dictatorship.
The price of democracy is chaos”. Jamie Dedes
To this I have to say:
There is a shadow
in my light,
That wants to
take away the joy,
and sense of security,
That I have had
© 2018, Jen E. Goldie
I was a 50’s child. We were fairly sheltered no doubt,
because of the hardships our elders went through before us.
I was lucky, pampered and did not do without. But as I grew up
and the 60’s and 70’s crept in, I heard Chants like “MAKE LOVE
NOT WAR”. Although I was not perceivably effected by this, or
knowingly effected, I must have been. I wrote prolifically as I
grew to be aware of the world around me.
-DID I SAY IT WAS SWEET-
In all reality the fight is never the reward,
If reward there be.
They take the good times when they find them,
They step on those who could intentionally
They never enjoy the good times but for themselves.
They would take the bread from your plate;
They would see you starved and boiled for oil
when they needed light. They never want to give.
The loss they suffer is their humanity
And sense of joy.
They are Dark People with shining faces.
They would challenge your integrity to win a fight.
Fortunately, they do not live around every corner.
If they did, God help us all.
The war would have begun and ended Mankind,
© 2018, Jen E. Goldie
women of everywhere help each other talk clearly and predict the state of the sea
women of dolgellau are strong define them selves
a wonder you are not worried sitting there quite nicely watching politics again you are not shaking you were last week
one hundred years
some of us have changed our thinking to suit our life
© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher
it is raining today
quite hard .
we are dry, safe ,
lucky in our lot, to be born
i have heard the news today.
it is so bad.
there will be gusts of 35 miles
an hour moving north.
© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher
some days my world is small here, so….
.. today across the lane..
he is splitting logs & sawing
in the sun
they will go at the back where the wind
kenny says they take years to dry
he knows his stuff
i broke the mower & have two
strimmers that work
cut the paths
tenderly leaving the flowers to grow
we try not to go out here bank holiday
so a rest indoors now
ARTURO MARQUEZ – DANZÓN Nº 2; GUSTAVO DUDAMEL
in blue writing
it is important
© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher
- 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.)
- Sonja on Twitter
- Sonja’s daily blog (WordPress) is HERE.
A Raindrop In Your Desert
I am a dew drop in your desert
You are a pearl in my ocean
In this groaning world
It’s either dust or turbulent waters.
You’d die of thirst
I’d wish to die in a raging flood
But long ago the flood found me
By deceit I was swept away
By this neoliberal world.
Unveiling its darkness
Three bullets besiege our souls:
Stole our precious time
Reload, two more rounds
I miss that I don’t read anymore
I’m subserviant to those who make the time
For personal growth, artistic reflection on self
Still as rocks we cannot be
Chipped away or burned to ashes
Awaiting Einaudi’s Divenire?
What will we become?
As Queen Bohemian’s Rapsody
Carries me by the headphones away
Part of me sees hope in surrender to the mundane
The other part of me only defeat
Amid the storm and its crashing waves
Each layer is a bullet fired
Against their system.
Layers of art and poetry lines
Our little raindrops in the desert.
I am a raindrop in your desert.
But unfortunately I cannot provide
All the rain a friend like you would need.
No rainy day friend.
If I could just make it rain
As it did yesterday in my town
After so many months of silence
I felt its sound and cadence
The humid touch on my skin.
This would be the rain
For a no rainy day friend.
Yet I am still a raindrop in your desert.
Dyed my hair red passion today
As I would just dye the wide ocean
And red would be the love we all need
Where three things must always be:
Your willpower, your talent and
The third, the most difficult
Of all the things to achieve, is
Someone’s willingness, as you say
A world that mentors that love.
Marta wrote this poem in collaboration with Donald Standeford. She recommends his blog.
© 2018 Marta Pombo Sallés (Moments)
Cruelty, Thy Name Is Blood
when we were the young children
we knew by which enemy for what
cause reason or division of landwe lost hundreds and hundreds then
we got the land for faith and peace
we knew the flag and leadership
but down the line,lost was the grip
slashing loyalty leaving faith behind
everything further divided destroyed
killers shooters n enemies employedlife became money and money life
race to be rich in struggle and strife
a freedom attained became enchained
freedom protests in free country life-strangest demand with song n dance
once again we know the enemy for sure
but a nation dead, not alive anymore–when beauty salons and fashion grow
destructive decline of civilizations show
O people where did you lose the way?
is faith weak, have we gone astray?For whom the warm blood flows now?
gold of hemlock have we drunk
growing greed broken kin ships
how deep have we, in Lethe sunk?
what does it mean in a world, free?
are we free, then still ask, to be free ?
why palestinian people every day die,
blinded with pellets are the kashmiris ?
but death is rampant brutal and rude
we have forgotten Aad and Samood
death will visit again,who knows
to separate lives, leave bodies in pain
O For Whom,the blood so young flows ?
helpless I feel but write I must
wake up faith, let us be just
rise repent, follow the true path
before as dust, we all return,to dust.
کس نے زخم لگاءے وار کیے وطن کو کاٹ دیا بانٹ دیا ،
امن و ایمان کی خاطر ، ہم اپنے جھنڈے کو سمجھتے تھے ،
مگر افسوس ، کیا ہوا ؟ وقت کا دریا طوفانی رہا ،
کہیں شیطانی زہن جاگا وفاداری دفناتے ہوے ء
کیا دنیا آزاد ہے اور پھر بھی آزادی کی طلب گار ہے ؟
کیوں کشمیر جل رہا ہے ؟
کیوں ظلم ہو رہا ہے ؟ اور رک نہیں رہا ہے .؟
کیا انساں کا کھیل بن چحکا ہے ؟
بے قصور مسکراہٹ سرد ہو رہی ہے
اب کس کے لیے خون بہ رہا ہے ؟
جاگو جاگو ایماں والو سمجھ بوجھ اور عقل والو
اس سے پہلے کہ خاک سے بنے
کیوں انساں بنا اک خون پیتا قتل کرتا ظالم خونخوار جانور
دنیا کی تباہی جنگ و جدل چور بزاری کا حسین پیکر
کیا مالک نے ایسا ہی سوچا اس پیاری دنیا کا منظر ؟
© 2018, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)