by 
“The worst thing you can do is censor yourself as the pencil hits the paper. You must not edit until you get it all on paper. I you can put everything down, stream-of-consciousness, you’ll do yourself a service.” Stephen Sondheim
an exercise in stream of consciousness
Redwood City, City Hall
In March, flowering
It’s so palpable, I can
pick it, I think, from
a break in the concrete,
like an intrusive dandelion
Pluck it, from the air,
like a feather
. . . . March!
It’s a good month here,
anything not in bloom is in bud
The Peninsula will strum a rainbow
with extra green on St. Patrick’s Day
The clover in Wendy’s front yard
is mutant, half the span of a hand
at the old place, the deer come down
in season, waiting for the apples
They owned that tree and
Their hunger is honest, don’t you know
a bit of Henry Miller there
They only eat on empty
Human take note!
I need a joke for the poetry reading ~
Did you hear the one about Descartes?
He walked into Milagros near City Center
The waiter asked if he wanted salsa
“I think not,” said Descartes
and promptly disappeared
How about the one on Dante?
[a Robert Pinsky fave]
Dante at the Dodge Poetry Festival:
“I have three poems to read.”
brilliant verse
[first self-deception of the day]
Paces to the rhythm of my steps,
[lost amid the scattered thoughts
and my craving for coffee]
Husband #1 – poor guy
would have rolled his eyes and said …
“Mind like a sieve!”
That might be why I left
Or did he leave me?
Can’t say I remember,
having abandoned marriage
and domestic suffocation
……..to breathe like this!
during early morning walks
in March, flowering
© 2013, Jamie Dedes
WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT
“As we take, in fact, a general view of the wonderful stream of our consciousness, what strikes us first is this different pace of its parts. Like a bird ‘s life, it seems to be made of an alternation of flights and perchings.” William James
As a writing technique stream of consciousness was named by May Sinclair – appropriated from William James’ idea – in her review of Dorothy Richardson’s Pointed Roofs in which the technique was used. It was brought to us, perhaps most infamously by that prodigal Irishman James Joyce, and by the French Marcel Proust, the American James Thurber and the English Virginia Woolf among others. Though more a novelist’s tool than a poet’s, one March I decided to experiment with stream-of-consciousness as I went digging for a poem on my morning walk. Now I pass the challenge to you.
Share your poem/s on theme in the comments section below or leave a link to it/them.
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, November 26 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.
ABOUT
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. I currently 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 Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman. My poetry was recently read by Northern California actor Richard Lingua for Poetry Woodshed, Belfast Community Radio. I was featured in a lengthy interview on the Creative Nexus Radio Show where I was dubbed “Poetry Champion.”
* The BeZine: Waging the Peace, An Interfaith Exploration featuring Fr. Daniel Sormani, Rev. Benjamin Meyers, and the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi among others
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton
Hello Jamie! Squeaking in under the wire again. This was a hard one to do for me. Hope the results are satisfactory! Thank you for a true challenge!
https://iidorun.wordpress.com/2018/11/26/stream-towards-unconsciousness-a-stream-of-consciousness-poem/
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THE TRUE ARTIST
This is ecstasy,
This is love and lunacy,
This is the Artist.
The true artist is everyman,
Is any man,
Has a child’s sensitivity,
And knowledge only age can bring.
Unfettered of his earthly ties,
Sings through the ages,
Touching hearts, Touching minds,
And,
Creating joy and sorrow,
In the lives
of those he meets…
-J.E.Goldie-
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Thankyou Jamie 🙂
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Hi Jamie:
My third response:
Photographs of delerium deceive
Mimeographs of insects believe
Radiographs of horribilis dear
Craniographs of fabulous fear
Take the ladder of sight into home
Rake the matter of flight into loam
Brake on platters of plight into roam
Ache in tatters of light zone
Sunlight is finelight is wildlight
Lifetime is wildlife is darklife
Finelight is darktime is moonlife
Deadwild is lifelight is darktime
Seasons are ripe control artists
Autumn swells a tuber orchestra
Winter times a criminal cold watch
Spring flames a filigree wish
Summer fry
History schools disguise hinges gold
Works marks eyeteeth buys goodnews
In letters as big as you like miserable
wherever it goes at the time
History restores fire original grounds
Polished integrity shines shoes
in worn leather arette discerns all
beauty remarkable story in time
Tea towel the evidence of tears
In the fabric of a face distraught
at broken crockery of living
Dissolved in the birth of Why.
Run the tap of silence till it goes cold
Rip the shower map of patience
Undone by the bath of life
Crazy at the loss of switches
Hunt down a crisis of coffee jars
Find wonderful in a winos fears
Wind up a clock that one son
Happenstance often disappears
Hit critical button pop up dolled down whimsical forgot me not blues
Hard assed holy mother of knives
in cracked wisdom tooth news
Caustic delivery hides hints and tints
Highly organised finery total respect
Oranges juice out frets of guitars
Willingly dissect green bins
Finest disarmament heals horror filled theatres bloody cogs log timidity
Terrorise frigidity in a week of woe
a great deal more like number.
Dance time crunch time grey time
Flounce your skulls into bounce
Castles in a sky of cat bowls half eaten hidden menus of menace
Let bygones be sandwiches made for you in the neatest handwriting all over the willingness of your body of truth or dare trembles terror
So much is about where we are in our days of telling each other where we are not half suspecting they know already the half truth you give
May you dream on the edge of time with the wild things and happen upon sanity when a penny drops in the morning
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Hi Jamie,
My second response:
The Hair
Grasp the hair of the snog
Paddle crevasses of the fog
Handle delights of worlds washbasin
Grapple sights of awful bootlacing.
Darken desperate ways wanton
Harken fenestrated days spoken
Loosen raids out into darkness
Gruesome braids entangle starkness.
Gargle the grimness of the day
Snaffle forgetfulness of yesterday
Hustle the heavenly toast buttered
Sisel roped fitness unfettered
Thimbleful of radiator love
Nimbleful of aviator dove
Hastle hungry heavy heads up
Castle chess players beds up
Delight in eyes of green and gold
Despite the sight of preen and mold
Alight the flight of mean and sold
A kite of might is lean and bold
Tucked behind the ear of a desk
rucked beyond the fear of a whelk
barrage ballooned beneficent bedlam
garaged consumed munificent headroom
Resistance is mobile
Subsistence is virile
Subsidence is active
Defiance is reactive
Pro plus days in delight
Ominous rays indelicate plight
Luminous phase conflagrate
Numinous ways profligate.
Allow broad canopies desperate energy
fall guarded heat intense jack knife
lilt motionless nervous oranges
permeate quietly rampant succumb
tremble under vernal wishes xeme your zest
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👍
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Hi Jamie:
I call them “Riffing”. Here’s my first response:
Clamped
Clamped in the upright station of the world
Drowned in the come uppance daylight
Hunkered half light knowingness
Hefts hollow along kerbside
Ferret the mammal heart of the world
Become harsh chandeliers
Become rude shoeless adjectives
verb your character into business
letteropen an alphabet of fire,
a draining board of desire
a kitchen cupboard of flesh
a knifeblock of words
unseating themselves
Griddle down lightning days
Heavying nights moisten to open
Forgiveness in a handshake of trees
a massage of fields amid the nursery
Of war
record visual media
stand to attention wall
mounted retreat into hill
stations of past lives
lived hands free
autobot rainbow of perception
Tinker, tinker with children’s toys
repair your own gored scars
fix bro
ken and Barbie cars without
wheels pieces
lost toothless jigsaw
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Dusk
Dusk comes earlier now!
ever pleasing,
“bird on the wing.”
The Sun was out
to play today!
I turned around
and she was gone…
Welcome Night…….
Jen G
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I saw the Moon tonight!
It shone down like a beam
from heaven,
It made the stars more bright!
I’ll leave a sunshine path tomorrow,
That’s what I’ll do!
Wherever I go,
I’ll leave a little light,
enough for you to follow.
In celebration of the Moon Beam.
If you follow the light
You will see me there,
When you follow the light,
You will know I care.
………..Friendship………..
Jen G
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I had a marvelous Professor who stressed “Stream of Consciousness” as a method of writing. My first awakening to this was looking at a tree. Simply a tree. I hadn’t realized why I love images of trees until just now. He emphasized being in the moment, which is so fleeting. If the moment moves you to write. You MUST write!
“I saw the Moon tonight!
It shone down like a beam from heaven.
And made the stars more bright.”
Its the moments that most people miss in life. A poet cherishes those moments, and from what I’ve seen so far, all of the people who have graciously shared their moments with us have been “In the Moment”. Thankyou Jamie for yet another challenge.
Jen G
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..you ask me to explain..
it is said i write abstract, in time to save
your feelings. you asked me to explain,
i did so lightly. the other said no one else
dare ask.
i tell you it is a full and complicated story
that may upset.
i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,
metaphor and symbol.
was loathe to read it for i may cry.
you wish a pretty picture yet i cannot
make it.
i thank you for asking, where others
do not read.
the writing circled
sbm.
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.the dying field.
dense night ; memorial
green underhedge ; hoar
frost ; rhythms of black
birds ; black
jack ; flap
jack
stream of conciousness
there is no rhyme
these recollections ; another time
eighteen hundred
eighteen hundred
too many dead
.
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Thank you Jamie
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