“Colorful demonstrations and weekend marches are vital but alone are not powerful enough to stop wars. Wars will be stopped only when soldiers refuse to fight, when workers refuse to load weapons onto ships and aircraft, when people boycott the economic outposts of Empire that are strung across the globe. ”
― Arundhati Roy, Public Power in the Age of Empire
The last Wednesday Writing Prompt, May 16, Baruch, The Baker, was about genocide, unfortunately as prevalent in these modern times as any other in history. The count is 24 currently, including – and ironically – Gaza. Here are the sometimes intuitive, sometimes angry, always well-considered works of poets with a strong sense of social justice and injustice. A collection for serious thought.
Thanks to intrepid and talented poets: Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brookes, Frank McMahan, Sonja Benskin Mesher and Marta Pombo Sallés. Bravo! And thank you to Sonja and Marta for sharing their illustrative art.
Please join us tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt. All are encouraged: beginner, emerging or pro. It’s about community, sharing, getting to know poets who may be new to you. Each poet’s site (if they have one) is linked below to facilitate visits. If they don’t have a site, chances are you can connect with them on Facebook or Twitter.
child rulebook
all conquerors
learned all they needed
from the child rulebook.
of course, it being
a CHILD’s rulebook,
some rules contradict others.
“i was here first”
will fall before
“my army can beat up your army.”
“i’m gonna tell on you”
derives from
“you will get it if mom finds out”
but is so often outmatched
by “now look what you made me do”
which is a corollary of
“it’s all your fault.”
the Standard Oil Company,
a conqueror from its inception,
practiced
“kick their ass/get their gas”
long before those words
we’re found on t-shirts.
in 1979
after a puppet government
set up by the US
was deposed,
and hostages were taken
at the American embassy,
Mickey Mouse
appeared on a T-shirt
flipping a bird and saying,
“Hey, Iran!”
now our roost is presided over
seemingly by a turgid towhead
with the impulse control
of an otter
and a sense of entitlement
derived from a lifetime
of always getting
all the toys
he wants.
dark forces pull his strings.
the human population
of Citizens United
is zero,
as is
its regard
for humanity.
removes unsightly
grease and dirt of people
who spoil your landscape.
Cleans as it polishes, replaces
their awful smell with fresh fragrances.
their profane beliefs with fresh air.
their noisy children with heavenly quiet.
our history with revised pages.
Preserves our pure culture.
They are an infection to be eradicated.
Their unmarked graves forgotten.
Ethnic cleanser for a cleaner society.
Buy into this great product.
Popularly known as genocide.
Find the glass window set in the cobbles
outside Humboldt’s University. You’ll
need to angle your view and wait until
the light reveals the whiteness of the empty
shelves,a void in Europe’s heart.
Judischen, entartate. This is where
they began the burning of the books,
flames and sparks, yellow like stars,lighting the way
to ghettos, wagons, lines of wire, ashes, bones.
Ghosts gather, tug at your sleeve politely,
plead that you read the Book of the Dead.
Its opening page lies at your feet. Descend
to lamentation’s rainbow.
Shoes, pointing in all directions
as if they could not decide which
way to go. Ahead the river,
wide and fast, its shore empty of
boats.And people.The shoes, fissured,
soiled, heels broken; children’s clogs.As
they stood in their final sunlight:
prayers? Huddles of comfort? Piss and
shit leaking onto ancient leather.
Hurled backwards, no funeral flowers
save the smoke curling from the guns,
downwards, where the Duna receives
them, cold, reddening as it flows,
mere dross and cargo. A flask of
spirits opened, a cigarette
lit, safety catches on, the world
more Judenfrei.
Shoes, now again
pointing in all directions.
Spring anticipation in the air
Orange reddened sun
Gets ready to hide its rays
Behind the lowest of all mountains
Mirroring itself on the lake.
Vanity at its highest level.
Yet the picture turns out different
In a mixture of yellow and blue
Of greed and sadness a faithful clue.
“You’re so vain,
You probably think
This march is about
You…”
Reads the banner
At the Women’s March
January 21, 2017.
Millions came together
Across the globe
To raise their voices
Against your choices
Mr. Trump.
Your misogyny,
Racism,
Xenophobia,
Your greed and your lies
Are most unwelcome
Because it is your vanity
That makes you lie.
Where’s the first media-built man
That promised jobs for the working-class
To make America First and great again
When all you bring is constant pain
Erasing truths and liberties from earth.
The second man’s now on the surface,
Two sides of the same coin,
And the reddened sun sets down
While Vanity School runs high
For Marine Le Pen, Geert Wilders,
Frauke Petry, Beppe Grillo…
And the like.
Even Spain’s Rajoy’s a little Trump,
Profound ignorant and clown,
Who drains the fund backing pensions
With an air smell of corruption.
Won’t you grant us, Catalans,
Once for all that referendum
Any democratic state would offer
To a stateless people to decide:
The right to self-determination.
No, instead, you’re blurring powers
Just exactly as Donald Trump
Judicializing politics and sending
The very democrats to court
For organizing a participatory process
In Catalonia, November 9, 2014.
Vanity School expands its limits
And buys a handful Orwell’s 1984
While the sea has just began to weep:
Mare Nostrum, Mare Mortum,
In 2016 almost 5.000 people
Drowned and died
From 2000 till now 30.000 dead!
With Barcelona’s pro-refugee rally,
The largest in Europe and perhaps
In the entire world till now,
We will surely not have enough
To eradicate our human misery.
The red sun has just hidden
Behind the lowest mountain
And as darkness unfolds
The picture changes colors:
Grayish blues carrying their shadows
On a rippled lake obscured
Where birds and ducks move
Swiftly countercurrent.
I was sitting on a meadow one day
A book in my hands, how long I can’t say.
Three hens came close to me and showed no fear
I was most surprised as they came so near.
Was it my presence, so benevolent,
What made them approach me so confident?
They just trusted me and I did the same,
Collective confidence was here the game.
Animals, humans, need it in our lives,
To trust others instead of carrying knives.
Another day, walking in the city
I sensed there was no aggressivity.
On a street, a gay couple holding hands
Perhaps Barcelona now understands.
One person was black and the other white,
They were no longer a most dreadful sight.
Collective confidence was there again
Let’s hope this new tolerance will remain.
In Germany the principle of trust
Seems to be essential, it is a must.
I walk along one of its widest streets
It’s a frequent place where everyone meets.
Then I see a bookcase on a corner
It is public and with books, I wonder.
Books placed in the middle of a street
How pleasant it is to read so sweet
No one thinks to set them on fire
People read for pure desire.
Books travel, they come and go
The shelves have something to show.
No shelf becomes ever empty
For books there are always plenty.
Again collective confidence
Makes possible such a tendence.
Yet confidence remains shadowed
Too much the Germans have swallowed.
As Martí Anglada (1) once said
Their excessive confidence led
To the horrors of the genocide
Did they all ignore what was inside?
Heidegger was controversial
Did he think it was so special?
The Nazi regime would be the best tool
To reform university, how fool!
Essen celebrated Love Parade
Look at all the mess some people made
Beer bottles rolling on the floor
Of that crowded train, I want no more.
On railtracks drunken people walking
The train driver gave us a warning.
Nothing happened, yet soon after
There was more than one disaster:
The Duisburg tunnel, the Germanwings flight
Excess of confidence, a loss of sight.
Then came the Volkswagen case, a new shame,
Where again just too much trust is to blame.
Which country in the world, never mind
Each place carries such cases behind.
If the excess of confidence is no good,
Will we ever learn to act the way we should?
Martí Anglada is a Catalan journalist and the author of the book La via alemanya (The German Way), Brau 2014.
AFTER HAPPY HOUR was founded in 2013 and is curated by The Hour After Happy Hour Writing Workshop. Publication is online and issues include poetry, flash fiction, short fiction, creative nonfiction, and visual art. Details HERE.
ARTEMISpoetry, the bi-annual journal (May and November) of the Second Light Network, published under their Second Light Publications imprint, has an open call for submissions for the November 2018 issue for poems by women of any age. Poems should be typed or, if written, then very neatly. Each poem should commence on a new page, headed “Submission for ARTEMISpoetry”. Please send two copies. Do include your name with each poem and include your name and full contact details in your submission. Long poems are considered. Submit up to four poems to a maximum of 200 lines in all. DEADLINES: Poetry by 31st August 2018, know by 31st October 2018; Artwork by 14th September 2018, know by 31st October 2018; Members’ News & Readers’ Letters by 14th September 2018. Further details HERE.
CROSSWINDS POETRY JOURNAL‘s reading period runs from July 1 through November 30. Reading fee. Details HERE.
THE COSSACK REVIEW “accepts electronic submissions of new work all year. We respond within 60 days, usually much sooner. Work submitted will be considered for upcoming print and online issues.” The review includes fiction, nonfiction, translation and poetry (3-6 poems in a single submission.) Details HERE.
PERSEPHONE’S DAUGHTERS is a literary magazine dedicated to empowering women who have experienced abuse and degradation. The magazine is published quarterly online and includes poems and blackout poetry, prose, essays, and artwork. Details HERE.Submissions for Issue 5 are open through May 25th.
THE SOUTHHAMPTON REVIEW a publication of Stony Brook Southhampton (graduate arts campus, MFA program in New York), is open for reading from August 15 – October 15. This publication features fiction, poetry, nonfiction, plays and screenplays, and art (fine art, photography, cartoons, illustration). Submission fee. Details HERE.
3 ELEMENTS REVIEW is an online zine publishing poetry, fiction and nonfiction quarterly. The current submission period is themed: Bus Stop, Stained Glass, Canopy. Deadline for submissions: July 31, 2018, for the fall issue, #20. Submission guidelines HERE.
TRANSMUNDANE PRESS publishes both ebook and print. “At a minimum, books should be 35,000 words in length, although we prefer 60-80,000 words; however, longer works are also considered. Do note that shorter works are considered for anthologies and works less than 50,000 words will be published in e-book format only.” Further detail HERE.
WILDNESS REVIEW “is an online literary journal that seeks to promote contemporary fiction, poetry and non-fiction that evokes the unknown. Founded in 2015, each thoughtfully compiled issue strives to unearth the works of both established and up-and-coming writers.” This review works on a rolling submissions basis. Poetry (under 80 lines) and prose (under 2,500 words). Details HERE.
WORDRUNNER eCHAPBOOKs include fiction, memoir and poetry (no long poems). Details HERE.
The BeZine
Call for submission for the September issue.
THE BeZINE, Be Inspired, Be Creative, Be Peace, Be. Submissions for the September issue – themed Sustainability – close on August 10 at 11:59 p.m. PDT .
Please send text in the body of the email not as an attachment. Send photographs or illustrations as attachments. No google docs or Dropbox or other such. No rich text. Send submissions to bardogroup@gmail.com.
Publication is September 15th. Poetry, essays, fiction and creative nonfiction, art and photography, music (videos or essays), and whatever lends itself to online presentation is welcome for consideration.
No demographic restrictions.
Please read at least one issue and the Intro/Mission Statement and Submission Guidelines. We DO NOT publish anything that promotes hate, divisiveness or violence or that is scornful or in any way dismissive of “other” peoples.
September 2018 issue, Deadline August 10th, Theme: Human Rights/Social Justice
December 2018 issue, Deadline November 10th, Theme: A Life of the Spirit
The BeZine is an entirely volunteer effort, a mission. It is not a paying market but neither does it charge submission or subscription fees.
Previously published work may be submitted IF you hold the copyright. Submissions from beginning and emerging artists as well as pro are encouraged and we have a special interest in getting more submissions of short stores, feature articles, music videos and art for consideration.
CONTESTS
Opportunity Knocks
Crosswinds Annual Poetry Contest opens on July 1, 2018 and ends on December 31. Submission fee with 10% going to a community food bank. Cash Award. The Poet Laureat of Rhode Island, Tina Cane, will judge. Details HERE.
Photography
The 16th Annual Smithsonian.com Photo Contest is open through November 30, 2018. Details HERE.
The 2018 National Geographic Travel Photographer of the Year Contest is open through May 31, 2018. Details HERE.
KUDOS TO
Hélène Cardona for her recording of her poem Embers from Life in Suspension included in the CD Gargoyle, Richard Wilber
The fine-spirited social justice poet, Reuben Woolley (I Am Not a Silent Poet), who was a poet runner-up for the Saboteur Award 2018.
Belle Kenyon who was also a poet runner-up for the Saboteur Award 2018 for her mental health poetry, Please Hear What I Am Not Saying.
And to all the winners of the Saboteur Awards 2018:
Best Anthology: #MeToo: A Women’s Poetry Anthology; Best Collaborative Work: Inheritance by Ruth Stacey and Katy Wareham Morris; Best Reviewer: Jade Cuttle; Most Innovative Publisher: 404 Ink; Best Spoken Word Show: This is Not a Safe Space by Jackie Hagan; Best Regular Spoken Word Night: Verbose (Manchester); Best Poetry Pamphlet: Rice & Rain by Romalyn Ante; Best Novella: How to Make a Window Snake by Charmaine Wilkerson; Best Wildcard: Yours Faithfully, Edna Wellthorpe; Best Magazine: Into the Void; Best Short Story Collection: Hings by Chris McQueer; Best Spoken Word Performer: Shruti Chauhan
SABOTEUR AWARDS WINNER
BEST ANTHOLOGY
#ME TOO, A Women’s Poetry Anthology
Kudos to all the brave-hearted poets featured in this collection and to Deborah Alma, Emergency Poet. Deborah conceived the idea of collecting “#METOO” poems and she is the editor of the anthology. Sheila Jacob – often a contributor to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt – is one of the poets featured in this collection. Deborah has written the intro to the subsection on abuse for the upcoming June 15th issue of “The BeZine,” where you will also read samples of poems from the book and learn about how this collection came to be.
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) will be 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 Sunday commitments, this post will often go up late in the day.
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.
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.
“Computers are mixed blessings,” she says while gritting her teeth.🤨
Sigh! 🤷♀️Am doing this on my cell, but can’t seem to manage the length and complexity of Sunday Announcements using my iPhone, though I’m tickled with myself for managing the photos. 👏👍👌
“After all ….tomorrow’s another day” … maybe a good day to think about new equipment. 🤔 Now that would be fun.
Thanks for hanging with me.
Jamie
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
Your heart is smarter, my Baruch,
then your head,
which is smart indeed –
and your hands and gnarly fingers
are smarter still.
They fashion bread from
cream-colored flours,
silky to the touch.
Kneading the dough
patiently, patiently
letting it rise
while I sleep – safe, in my bed.
Up at six a.m. we walk sleepily
down a lavender-gray street,
an apricot sun peeking at us
and, rising higher in the sky,
it seemingly follows us to you.
Cheer-filled arrival with greetings
and smiles from dear Baruch and
warm sugar smells, yeasty scents
and the sight of golden loaves,
some voluptuous rounds and
others, sturdy rectangulars.
You have baked cinnamon rolls,
a child’s delight, pies and
sticky buns too…and cookies!
“We’ll take a French bread” my Mom says
pointing to a crispy brown baguette.
“And a raisin bread.”
She adds …
“We’ll need that sliced.”
I watch your hands flit gracefully
like butterflies in a green valley
stopping here and then there
to pull fragrant loaves from display
and slicing them, neatly packaging,
then reaching down over the counter
you hand me a little bag of rugelach.
As I look up, reaching for your gift
I stop breathing, arrested by
a wisp of blue on your forearm.
I am studious, a reader, dear Baruch,
I know what that tattoo means …
Looking down, with a whisper I choke
“Thank you, Baruch!”
swallowing that lump of sadness,
trying not to show my tears. What right have I to tears?
But then you, dear Baruch, come
bounding round the counter
with warm hugs and soft tissues,
as though I was the one hurt.
From that day forever more,
I saw you only in long sleeves.
At lunchtime, I demanded –
“Mom, tell me about Baruch.”
And she does.
I am pensive over our meal,
canned marinara and slices of
of your baguette.
Dear Baruch, with each salty bite
I eat your tears and
the blood of your daughter.
Nights she stares at me from that
sepia photo by your register.
Baruch, did she, like me, assume
a grown-up life
of school and jobs,
marriage and children? And you! You must have assumed
the tender comfort of
her love in your old age.
Do you hold the vision of her
young and happy in your
brave, kindly old heart?
Does your ear still play back
her childish laughter,
the sound of her voice
begging for a story?
Do your warm brown eyes still hold
her smile in remembrance?
When you see little girls like me,
does your anguish grow?
Dear Baruch, our dear Baruch –
how will you set your child free
from that faraway land and
cold, unmarked mass grave?
“The first time it was reported that our friends were being butchered there was a cry of horror. Then a hundred were butchered. But when a thousand were butchered and there was no end to the butchery, a blanket of silence spread.
When evil-doing comes like falling rain, nobody calls out ‘stop!’
“When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer.”
― Bertolt Brecht, Selected Poems
Some folks say they don’t believe there was a Jewish Holocaust and some young people are unaware that it happened. Some folks say “never again,” but there are 24 or more genocides, including Gaza, that are happening even as I write this post, even as you read it. Some Americans fail to recognize or don’t want to acknowledge that this country was partly built on a foundation of death. Even the Bible is weighted with stories of genocide.
Tell us about your own pain, perceptions and perhaps resolutions born of this knowledge. Write of your awakening to this reality as a child, your adult perceptions or, perhaps depending on where you live, your first-hand experience.
All poetry shared by you will be posted here next Tuesday. The deadline is Monday evening, May 22 at 8 pm PDT. If you share a poem for the first time, please send a brief bio and photo to thepoetbyday@gmail.com. These will be used to introduce new participants to readers. Thank you!
Chief Settle (public domain photograph)
“My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain…There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory.” Chief Seattle, The Chief Seattle’s Speech
“Poetry is an act of peace.” Pablo Neruda
Hélène Cardona for her recording of her poem Embers from Life in Suspension included in the CD Gargoyle, Richard Wilber
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.
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 