“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
‘Pooh!’ he whispered.
‘Yes, Piglet?’
‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”
A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

Dear Ernie,

I sensed Friday that Time had released you into Eternity,
like a flower releases its perfume to the wind.
Confirmation came this morning.
You’d left, the kindly message said,
at 6:15 a.m,
like a responsible worker off to a new job.
You couldn’t come to the phone, so I sent
a card last Monday …
… to say goodbye.
To say, Ernie ~
You are our Bodhisattva. We’ll never forget.
We’ll never forget:
You walked into our embrace ruffled and teary
and you grew into a saintly calm.
You reminded me of the Summer of Love
with your long hair, your gray beard and mustache.
I had to blur my focus to see you clearly,
to see the ancient sage, the grandpa Bodhisattva,
the motorcycle Buddha,
the wise, funny, accepting not resigned, friend.

In metta,


© 2019, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Photo courtesy of Fran Hogan, Public Domain Photographs.net


Write a poem about a friend or about friendship.

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 first Tuesday following the current Wednesday Writing Prompt. (Please no oddly laid-out poems.)

 No poems submitted through email or Facebook will be published. 

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, May 6 by 8 pm Pacific Standard Time.

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.

You are welcome – encouraged – to share your poems in a language other than English but please accompany it with a translation into English.



    1. So veery sad. (For some reason, I can’t like or comment on your site today. Probably not your issue. Probably something with the way my tech advisor set mine up. I’ll have to look into this.)

      Liked by 1 person

  1. This is a simple poem I wrote many years
    ago for a true friend I’d known for over 30
    years. She has passed now. But I still benefit
    from her strength and passing wisdom and
    I will never forget her.

    For Karen:

    You’re bright!
    And lovely!
    And beautiful!
    I will always
    Hold that gift
    In my heart.
    The warmth
    And joy
    Your friendship
    Has offered
    Will stay with

    As I said…a simple poem.
    But straight from my heart.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Hi Jamie,

    Here’s my third response:

    What’s So

    special about me
    after my mates are gone?

    Nobody to talk to.
    They left before I could say goodbye.

    They bleed and I don’t.
    No reason. I went to their leaving.

    I can’t hug them.
    They are so cold

    Wish I could have left.
    At the same time.

    Wish I could be as cold.
    No reason.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Hi Jamie,

    Here’s my fourth response:

    I Always Lose

    contact with everybody
    so find out how they’re invaluable.

    Taught at school to make promises
    that can’t be kept can’t keep. As is fashion

    Lost contact with school mates.
    Taught memory makes you responsible

    for their anniversaries, forgot
    to pay the provider. No internet.

    Taught to lose books cos they dont
    tell you owt. Libraries are records

    of folk losing stuff. What I want
    to read that for. Enough on forgetting

    my own, our lasses and I swear some
    kids are saying am theirn. All in air.

    Liked by 1 person


    For Bryan Southwell
    You were the King, upbraided in rehearsal
    for taking too long to die. “They’ll all miss
    the last bus home if you don’t speed this up!”
    Even now, your fury reverberates.

    Ah, my gracious friend, so many miles walked
    upon the links, everything elegant,
    even your bon mots in the midst of our
    vulgar chaffing. The Schubert Impromptus

    as we drove those Norfolk byways, the sun
    flecking the chestnut leaves. The Canterbury
    Tales in Melton, shared hours of bawdiness
    and helpless laughter. You could have graced those boards
    making love to the Wife of Bath and who knows else.

    Admissions and discharges, blow
    after vicious blow, cries of pain filling
    the ward, nothing imagined for effect.

    In the end, death could not come soon enough.
    You slipped away, into the wings, denying
    us all one final curtain call. You were
    ready, not us, no, palms uplifted, empty.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. .memoire.
    he says it is the word.

    they will remember.

    i will remember them all,
    tidy, kind, white table cloths,
    napkins, the favourite

    i will remember you,
    work out your age
    every year. the wind blows.

    all beautiful faces. the friends.


    Liked by 5 people

  6. Thanks Jamie.


    we are friends .

    we are friends , we met in the lane.

    the words sound like poetry, the quiet
    voice sounds shouting in this silence.

    it can make windows and opportunities,
    space to accompany the music.

    travel far and in between, play the right notes,
    write notes, and then maybe, all will come

    clear. or not.

    i need that stop.



    Liked by 2 people

  7. Hi Jamie,

    Here’s my second response:

    My Strangers

    are friends who haven’t been estranged yet.

    All my mates are strangers.
    I keep them at a distance.

    Chat to them in third person.
    Internet on my mobile tells me

    when I’ve to give them best wishes
    for a special occasion like anniversaries.

    They inspire closeness and loyalty.
    I can trust them.

    They know me.
    What I eat, sup.

    laugh at.
    Strangers are more intimate than friends.

    From my collection “A World Where”, Nixes Mate Press, 2017

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Hi Jamie,

    Here’s my first response:

    On Female Friends

    Both tote cans of lager,
    all in black leggings

    get the weekly shop in.
    One says to the other who

    Packs the shop “I’ll stand
    on his face. Tell him.

    I’ll stamp on his face.”
    The next couple,

    “Mam, you buy the weirdest.
    What’s suet for the birds? Fat balls?”

    “It’s your dad’s dinner, pet”
    They both laugh.

    From my last collection “Please Take Change”, Cyberwit.net, 2018

    Liked by 2 people

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