“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ― Mary Oliver
What would you like to see more of here in 2019?
poetry
calls for submissions and other poetry/writing news and updates
how to features
poems and poets
reviews
or, you name it …
What are the current features you most enjoy and/or find helpful?
Sunday Announcements / general poetry/writing news and updates
Wednesday Writing Prompt
Tuesday collection of poems in response to the Wednesday prompt
Thank you for taking the time to help out. I’ve also put a rating feature above all blog posts so that you can “vote” using that as well. You will have to click on the post titles for that to come up.
Jamie
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
The last Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, to write about farms and farming (Conjuring Farmhouses), December 12, is covered quite broadly here with responses from Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brookes, Irma Do, Jen E. Goldie, Shiela Jacob, Frank McMahan, Mike Stone, and Anjum Wasim Dar. These will provoke some thought and much pleasure, spiked as they are with memoir, questions, humor, and insight. Enjoy!
Wednesday Writing Prompt will return on January 16, 2019.
three cow salute
walking to my high school meant walking past three cows
just as 61st avenue came to its
senses and straightened up
south of bethany home road
and what was then
a bobwire fence held back these bored cows
who stood and chewed or didn’t
and slowly turned
their
heads
in
unison
as
you
passed
they were the stolid
they were the stupefied
the stunned
the milkbaggy trio
the watchers of boys and girls
they needed a date with a frisky bull
or maybe they needed nothing
but daily relief from udder strain
grass
and me tweaking their monotony
into near monotony
couldn’t tell you
don’t know why those bored
and boring cows still lease space
in a pasture in my head
just know
the smell of horseshit does nothing for me
but
the smell of cowshit
has more than once filled
my stupid stolid eyes
with nostalgic tears
droplets of blood from the tail
of last October’s sacrificed horse,
ashes of the stillborn calves,
the shells of beans.
We are sprinkled with water,
wash our hands
in spring-water,
drink milk mixed with must.
Towards evening after shepherds
fed their flocks,
laurel-branches
are used as brooms
to clean their stables,
water sprinkled through them,
then stables adorned
with laurel-boughs.
Shepherds burn sulphur,
rosemary, fir-wood, and incense,
usher the smoke through the stables
and the flocks to purify them.
cakes, millet, milk,
and other food
is offered.
Hay and straw bonfires lit
cymbals and flutes play
as sheep and shepherds
are run three times
through the fire.
At an open air feast
we sit or lay
on turf benches
and sup a lot.
who plough
who prepare the earth
who plough with a wide furrow to bring water from the river
who plant seeds
who trace the first ploughing, reploughing as first did not work
who harrow
who dg
who weed
who reap
who carry the grain
who store the grain
who share the grain
who share their good fortune with us, the dead
FYI: 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 blue sky smelled of manure. Even the allure of coffee and raw milk, homemade bread with rhubarb jam and omelets plucked from their mother just that morning couldn’t overcome the scent that distinctly said, “You’re on a working farm.”
The distinct sound of a tractor pulled up to the farmhouse door. The farmer offered us a hay ride around the farm and explained the difference between hay and straw, silo versus barn. The farmer named each machine and it’s purpose, but not the animals.
That night, I briefly wondered if the chicken that gave her life for our pot pie dinner also sacrificed her progeny for our breakfast. And if the rooster that would wake us in the morning, knew what happened to his family.
Plastic and foam trays
Deception and protection
Farmers eat the truth
Yes, that’s me on a tractor – picture courtesy of one of my sorority sisters who posted some “throwback pictures” of a reunion we had a bed and breakfast in the Pennsylvania countryside a few years after we graduated college. I don’t think the tractor was actually moving for the picture, but it was a first for this city girl!
Coincidentally, Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday Writing prompt requested: This week share poem/s out of your own nostalgia, experience, impressions, gratitude, concerns, or convictions about farms, farming, or farm policy. Despite now living in “farm country”, I still don’t know about farming although I do appreciate the numerous farmers markets in our area.
One thing I do know: I am very appreciative of the men and women who work on farms because I know I don’t have the constitution or inclination to grow things or kill things to eat. Maybe because living in cities, I was never exposed to that reality and thus my aversion to being close to the true source of what I/we eat. Food came in a package and didn’t have faces. Maybe if more people were aware of the reality of farming, there would be less food waste and a better understanding of the need to conserve and protect the environment/nature and animals as finite resources. But what do I know…I’m just a city girl…
When Dad barked
You hopped to it,
Let’s go! In the car!
He loved the country.
One day, he said,
I’m moving to some
Small town,
Somewhere,
Someday.
Got my love of trees,
Wide expanses
And the smell of grass
From him
I guess.
Let’s go pick strawberries.
Get some fresh picked apples,
Some corn, if it’s ready,
Right from the field.
He always took the
Side roads
On our way to
Where he wanted
To be.
I marvel,
Now,
Where he was
Coming from,
Some secret desire,
Some past life,
Taking him home….
A tithed farm had flourished
since Queen Victoria’s reign.
Then the council needed acres
of land, built a housing estate
in the 1930’s for families like
us who couldn’t afford to buy.
Small, airy houses with an inside
toilet and coal shed, no running
hot water but spacious gardens
front and back.We made our home
here in the ’50’s and I walked past
apple trees to my first school.
Elderly neighbours recalled
the redbrick farmhouse, told
how they were sent there
as children and exchanged
a few pence for pats of golden
butter and hay-warmed eggs.
They felt the land’s closeness
despite shops and post office
and bus routes to the city centre.
Road names were echoes.
Farmcote Swancote
Old Farm Glebe Farm
And during the War,they dug
over their long back gardens.
Potatoes and turnips grew again.
Carrots were shaken free of soil,
peeled, grated and added to cake
mix instead of rationed sugar.
Hefting water out of the river to
feed the newly-planted.Long years since I
had to do the same on Uncle’s farm:enamel
white bucket hung from a windlass,sweet
water drawn from deep. I could lift but half
a pailful then. Brothers, neighbour’s girls,
rudimentary washes after endless
play; earth closet in the yard, potatoes,
their skins slowly curling in the cauldron
on the hearth.Somewhere a clock. Bored one day,
I stood beside the well and bawled for help.
Dad came running and rough chastisement
was love’s affirmation.
Brief check before I
swooshed down the hay bales in the barn, guiltless
until the straws in my hair betrayed me.
The years have added muscle, as I bend
and dip and lift from the grateful water,
remembering my boyhood’s guilty smile.
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 dark cloud squats heavily on the horizon
Undecided whether to drift slowly
Over our dusty fields with its fat bladder
Full of drought quenching rains
Or to drift up the coast a ways
To quench the thirst of our enemy’s fields.
O Lord, I know it makes no difference
In the grand scheme of things,
But I can’t help the fact
It would make all the difference in the world
To me.
The dead don’t envy the living
Any more than the living envy the dead.
Who’s to say what’s the best state
For matter to be in
In the long run?
I would think the best,
For one above ground,
Is to make the most of what you are
And, for those below,
To make the least.
Farm and village
soul and spirit
a nation’s harvest giver,
agri-armor of defense ,
lived in one,never,
but loved one where
Grand Dad lived
near the Jhelum River
A place, Sarai Alamgir
with tilled fields
lush green yields,
lands fulfilling needs
wells run by cattle
in circles, bound
pulling out water
round and round
and we so freely….
running in the fields
touching the trees
shouting and singing
with the breeze
But
When land is threatened by famine ,when food is scarce
by waywardness and sins,
when fuel is short
and dry are the streams
the farmer with his horse
and plough
is back in the fields-
the backbone of the people
he is following his dreams
or so it seems-
going back in time
working coping hoping
amidst blasts and screams’
Farmer Farmer get some coal
if you want your crop
and reach your goal
Farmer farmer get your horse
for salvation of the loss
Farmer Farmer get your plough
Let us work and fulfill our vow’
کسان اور گاوؑں
روح رواں زندگی
زرہ بکتر زراع و دفاع
رہنا فارم پہ کبھی نا ھوا
دادا کے گھر سے پیار ھوا
سراےؑ عالم گیر جھلم دریا
گاوؑں تھا پیارا سا
لھلھاتے کھیت و باغ
ھر سو سبزا سبزا ھوا
کوؑیں سے جوتے بیل
کھیت میں پانی ڈالے
ڈبے پے ڈبا ٓاتا جاؑے
اور ھم کھلے میدان میں
بھاگتے دوڑتے ھنستے
درختوں کہ چھوتے رہتے
مگر جب
زمین خطرے میں پڑھنے لگے
قحت و قلت ھو جاےؑ زیادہ
ایندھن کم اور ندیاں خشک
پھر کساں اپنا سامان لیکر
کھیت میں واپس جاتا ھے
گھوڑا جوت کہ ہل چلاتا ھے
اپنی قوم کی فکر ھے لاحک
اپنے خواب ادھورے پا کر
محنت کرنے لگتا ھے
بم دھماکے اور چیخوں میں
بھایو ٓاو آوؑ کوؑلہ نیکالو
اپنا اپنا کھیت اپنا ہل بچاوؑ
صلیب کو دیکھو مسجد جاوؑ
اپنا وعدہ پورا، خوب نبھاوؑ
شاید نجات مل جاےؑ شاید بخشے جاوؑ
“Let us all strive for peace on Earth for all. Let us make a better world. Write to make peace prevail.” Anjum Wasim Dar, Pakistani poet, writer, artist, educator, and parent.
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
– William Wordsworth, excerpt from “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.”
Please note: This is the last Sunday Announcements for 2018. This weekly feature will return on Sunday, January 13, 2019.
CALLS FOR SUBMISSIONS
Opportunity Knocks
ADELAIDE INDEPENDENT MONTHLY LITERARY MAGAZINE publishes fiction, poetry, nonfiction, translation, book reviews, interviews, art and photography. Open for submissions year-round. No reading fee. No payment. Details HERE.
ARTEMISpoetry, is the bi-annual journal (May and November) of the Second Light Network, published under their Second Light Publications imprint. Calls are open for the 2019 issues. Demographic restrictions. Details HERE.
BOYDS MILLS PRESS, CALKINS CREAK, and WORDSONG book publishers will open on February 1, 2019 for submissions of books for children and youth. WordSong is dedicated to poetry books. Details HERE.
HIGHLIGHTS™ MAGAZINE, a general-interest magazine for children ages 6-12 years publishes stories, articles, puzzles and fun activities. No submission fees. Payment. Details HERE.
FIRST LINE is open for submissions to its 2019 editions. This publication gives a “first line” to be used by contributors as a jumping-off point for stories or poems. In celebrating its 20 year history, you are allowed to pick a first line from other issues. Payment: Cash and a copy. Details HERE.
THREE ROOMS PRESS has an open call for submissions through December 31 for Maintenant 13 Dada Journal. The theme is A.I. Artificial Ignorance.
“If you think Artificial Intelligence will mark the end of humanity then think again.
“Look at the world around you. Where is the intelligence? Where? Lying is the norm. Incompetence is rampant. Information is soiled with whatever spin is footing the bill.
“Time to concentrate on exposing the ignorance. Lay it right out there for the whole world to see.
THE OXFORD AMERICAN “is a nonprofit, quarterly literary magazine dedicated to featuring the best in Southern writing while documenting the complexity and vitality of the American South.” Poetry submissions are closed at this time, but the editors “are eager to feature a writer whose fiction has not yet been published in a print publication with a circulation over 5,000 copies. Stories under 10,000 words will be considered, and the selected writer will be paid $1000. The Summer issue will be on newsstands starting June 2019.” Details HERE.
RIVER STYX is open for submissions of poetry and prose from both established and emerging writers. Details HERE.
SHE LOVES MAGAZINE.COM is “a global community of women–a Sisterhood–who want to know and experience freedom, justice and transformation, for ourselves and others.” This online zine is a monthly and accepts submissions for consideration on the 15th of every month for publication the following month. Themes for 2019 are listed. Details HERE.
RIVER STYX is accepting entrees for its 2019 Microfiction Contest through December 31, 2018. Max of 500 words. Entry fee, which may include subscription. Cash award: $1,500 first prize. Details HERE.
RIVER STYX INTERNATIONAL POETRY CONTEST opens for submissions January 1, 2019 – May 31, 2019. Entry fee, which may include subscription. Cash award: $1,500 first prize. Details HERE.
Reminder:
THE OVERTON POETRY PRIZE of the School o the Arts, English and Drama, Loughborough University is open for submissions through 20 December 2018. Details HERE.
REMINDER:
The Poet by Day
WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT
Response deadline is Monday, December 17, at 8 p.m. Pacific. Poems on theme are published on this site on Tuesday, the December 18. Details HERE.
The Poet by Day always available online with poems, poets and writers, news and information.
The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, online every week (except for vacation) and all are invited to take part no matter the stage of career or status. Poems related to the challenge of the week (always theme based not form based) are published here on the following Tuesday.
The Poet by Day, Sunday Announcements. Every week (except for vacation) opportunity knocks for poets and writers. Due to other weekend commitments, this post will often go up late.
THE BeZINE, Be Inspired, Be Creative, Be Peace, Be – always online HERE.
Beguine Again, daily inspiration and spiritual practice – always online HERE. Beguine Again is the sister site to The BeZine.
YOUR SUNDAY ANNOUNCEMENTS may be emailed to thepoetbyday@gmail.com. Please do so at least a week in advance.
If you would like me to consider reviewing your book, chapbook, magazine or film, here are some general guidelines:
send PDF to jamiededes@gmail.com (Note: I have a backlog of six or seven months, so at this writing I suggest you wait until June 2018 to forward anything.Thank you!)
nothing that foments hate or misunderstanding
nothing violent or encouraging of violence
English only, though Spanish is okay if accompanied by translation
your book or other product should be easy for readers to find through your site or other venues.
TO CONTACT ME WITH ANNOUNCEMENTS AND OTHER INFORMATION FOR THE POET BY DAY: thepoetbyday@gmail.com
TO CONTACT ME REGARDING SUBMISSIONS FOR THE BeZINE: bardogroup@gmail.com
PLEASE do not mix the communications between the two emails.
Often information is just that–information– and not necessarily recommendation. I haven’t worked with all the publications or other organizations featured in my regular Sunday Announcements or other announcements shared on this site. Awards and contests are often (generally) a means to generate income, publicity and marketing mailing lists for the host organizations, some of which are more reputable than others. I rarely attend events anymore. Caveat Emptor: Please be sure to verify information for yourself before submitting work, buying products, paying fees or attending events et al.
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 byNorthern 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.”
“What if our religion was each other. If our practice was our life. If prayer, our words. What if the temple was the Earth. If forests were our church. If holy water–the rivers, lakes, and ocean. What if meditation was our relationships. If the teacher was life. If wisdom was self-knowledge. If love was the center of our being.” Ganga White, teacher and exponent of Yoga and founder of White Lotus, a Yoga center and retreat house in Santa Barbara, CA
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
Nobel Peace Prize winner Malala Yousafzai condemned the attack, saying in a statement: “I am heartbroken by this senseless and cold-blooded act of terror in Peshawar that is unfolding before us”. Her father, Ziauddin Yousafzai said his “heart is bleeding” and his family is “traumatized” over the Peshawar Army Public School massacre.
Sunday Announcements are in the works and will post later today, but our Pakistani friends remind us of the December 16, 2014 terrorist attack on Peshawar Army School where 149 people including 132 schoolchildren ranging between eight and eighteen years of age were murdered. This attack is the world’s fourth deadliest school massacre. It is called by many “The Pakistani 9/11.” The massacre birthed more violence and death and Pakistan lifted its moratorium on capital punishment. Anjum ji has written an impassioned poem to commemorate the day and its trauma. / J.D.
Wake Up Faith Wake Up,
Its time for prayer
Oh let me sleep a little more
I’m exhausted and a little sore
I played till late
to get a high score
Wake Up Life Wake Up
you have a purpose
work and serve work and pray
honest n faithful you must stay
O let me enjoy
Do not annoy’
Wake Up Rich Wake Up
Its time to pay
Spend Spend for The Giver
riches will become a river
O why why should I?
I have much, yet to buy..
Wake Up Books Wake Up
Its time to study
Read read read all the best
read n write,never let it rest
This is the Good
This is The best
Wake Up Human Wake Up
Its time to go
you have been lazy n slow
enemy is winning on the go
killing is not the way
give love, tolerance show.
Wake Up Child Wake Up
Its time for school
Wake Up, rise and shine
But what a waste and wild
Child killed for a killed child.
Nothing is mine, Nothing thine
Wake Up, Repent, Wake Up Peace’
Sleep Hatred Sleep!
“POETRY PEACE and REFORM Go Together -Let Us All Strive for PEACE on EARTH for ALL -Let Us Make a Better World -WRITE To Make PEACE PREVAIL.”
c Anjum Wasim Dar from her Pencil Perceptions collection (originally published in The BeZine, December 2018 issue)
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 byNorthern 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.”
“What if our religion was each other. If our practice was our life. If prayer, our words. What if the temple was the Earth. If forests were our church. If holy water–the rivers, lakes, and ocean. What if meditation was our relationships. If the teacher was life. If wisdom was self-knowledge. If love was the center of our being.” Ganga White, teacher and exponent of Yoga and founder of White Lotus, a Yoga center and retreat house in Santa Barbara, CA
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 