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“A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.”
Here we are at Tuesday again, the wonderful day when we share poems submitted by diverse writers in response the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, January is on the Wane, September 25, which asked our poets to write a poem inspired by one written by another poet. I think you’ll agree they’ve done beautifully and created a smart little collection here.
This worthy collection is courtesy of Paul Brookes, Anjum Wasim Dar, Irma Do, Sheila Jacob, and Sonja Benskin Mesher.
Enjoy! and do join us for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt, which will post tomorrow morning. All are welcome to come out and play, no matter the stage of our career: beginning, emerging, or pro.
Bartholomew Street
after Ian McMillian’s Tempest Avenue
Harry half way down collects wood
for his fire, leave it out front
Leave out anything metal Gypsies at top have sharp eyes,
Stan, two doors down
wants his radiator gone.
Dave next door holds ladder
while I look at roof tiles
and shares homemade ale after.
Our roofers knew man who murdered
a man
at bottom.
I thought someone murdered
at top but our lass swears
he was only badly beaten.
Old microwave I put in our entryway has gone.
Gypsies know a good thing.
Old gent Tommy three doors down
quiet when his wife died last Summer.
Put thumbs up when I cleared
his path of Snow last Winter.
Pear tree in back garden bagged
up by them all when ripe
as too much for our lass and me.
From Paul’s new eBook As Folk Over Yonder (Afterworld Books, 2019)
© 2019, Paul Brookes
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.
Prolific Yorkshire Poet, Paul Brookes
The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Jamie Dedes
More poems by Paul at Michael Dickel’s Meta/ Phore(e) /Play
O’ Beautiful Rose
after Jamie Dedes’ January Is On the Wane
O’ Beautiful Rose
O’ Dear Flower,
folded in invisible scents
tender covers softly protecting
the unknown,wrapped in curves
like hands,a praying pair
patiently serving in quietude.
O Dear Flower, resting
in a book, placed by love
making the page sacred to the touch,
words that rest,forever silent, till they meet
the eyes,of an unknown, bear the flaps and
caresses, of moving finger tips, as the covers flip,
O Dear Flower, you are a rose of many colors
budding, blooming, on bush and bowers
in sunshine rain or cool summer showers
spread on shrouds, taken to high towers
O’ Dear Flower’ how long can you stay
the fragrance radiate, the presence, comfort
the love share, If only you could, for ever be
and like the words on the page lay for me to see
Life is but a short sweet fragrant dream, the page
is turned, new words appear , new buds yearning to bloom
The Besieged People of Occupied Kashmir.
Chinar Leaves Have Withered
© 2019, Anjum Wasim Dar
Chinar leaves have withered
after Jamie Dedes’ The Doves Have Flown
chinar leaves have withered,
willows weeping, bend low with grief, still are the ripples in the Dal Lake, silent deserted citadels, not a tiptoe on the wooden floors- how many are alive inside, maybe none-
chinar leaves have withered
rustic orange clusters merging with green foliage, quivering with joy,sensing the cool caresses of approaching fall, but not this year,they descend one by one, remain soaked in blood of young and old,
chinar leaves have withered
who is blinded today? whose body draped in green and white, dumped in the ugly pit, ‘what is the cry ‘freedom ‘ for, freedom from death, to death’ ?locked in a living grave
chinar leaves have withered
silence of terror, on snow peaks frozen, empty streets filled with fear armed, prisoners
in perils of forced captivity, what horror humans can do with humans.
chinar leaves have withered
helpless am I in fetters, in action enchained , in emotions pained, I weep like the willows
in spiritual agony grieve , for mercy I pray , I die with each passing day…
as hope with each falling leaf, glissers.
© 2019, Anjum Wasim Dar
Anjum’s sites are:
- ArtWanted.com … artwork
- CER Professional Development
- Poetic Oceans poetry on WordPress
- Poetic Oceans poetry on Blogspot
- Anjum on Facebook
- Unsaid Words of Untold Stories…Prose writing
- ELT Work experience/educational service for the country
“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.” Anjum Wasim Dar
The Best Foreplay for Husbands
after the poem on pg. 71 of Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur
you wrap your fingers
around the sponge
scrubbing
until the sink is empty
this
is how you make
me change into my lace thong
you brush his teeth
and read his favorite bedtime story
twice
while making the voices of the characters
this
is how you make
me light the scented candles
you quiz her in spelling
and listen to how another girl stole her idea for her science project
you come up with a better science project idea
and promise to help her with it on the weekend
this
is how you make
me lie in bed
skin puckered
in love
in anticipation
thinking i am the luckiest woman in the world
© 2019, Irma Do
Irma’s site is: I Do Run, And I do a few other things too . . .
Those Washday Mondays
after Robert Hayden’s Those Winter Sundays
By the time I came downstairs
Dad’s shirts were washed
and pegged on the garden line.
Mum lifted the boiler lid.
Steam rose from a hissing cauldron
and she grabbed scalding sheets
with a pair of wooden tongs.
Her hands were red and damp
and sweat darkened her armpits
as she passed me my breakfast.
I closed the kitchen door and ate
in the front room but still heard
the mangle’s cranky wheel
and squeak of its rubber rollers.
Mum wouldn’t buy a spin dryer
even on monthly instalments.
I turned up the music on my radio
and finished my bacon sandwiches.
What did I know about scrimping
and denying; about the sacrifices
she’d made in love’s unsung name?
© 2019, Sheila Jacob
To purchase Sheila’s little gem of a volume, Through My Father’s Eyes (review, interview, and a sampling of poems HERE), contact Sheila directly at she1jac@yahoo.com
..neutered..
after Thomas Hardy’s Neutral Tones
oil pond mirrors the darkness the november
day. sun draws white against the grey
this leaf lays on earth
there is no god
not hungry nor otherwise
you look at me straight and ask the past
and briefly I say & say there is no god
you did not smile nor shout you are the deadest thing
dead down . no smiling despite birds gone by
on greasy wings .i remember your look
your face
drawn grey as the mourning dove
that remind
for me there is no god
© 2019, Sonja Benskin Mesher
Sonja’s sites are:
- sonja-benskin-mesher.net
- 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-benskin-mesher.co.uk
- Sonja’s daily blog (WordPress) is HERE.
Jamie Dedes. I’m a freelance writer, poet, content editor, and blogger. I also manage The BeZine and its associated activities and The Poet by Day jamiededes.com, an info hub for writers meant to encourage good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity. The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights. Email thepoetbyday@gmail.com for permissions, commissions, or assignments.
About / Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook
Recent and Upcoming in Digital Publications Poets Advocate for Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, How 100,000 Poets Are Fostering Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, YOPP! * The Damask Garden, In a Woman’s Voice, August 11, 2019 / This short story is dedicated to all refugees. That would be one in every 113 people. * Five poems, Spirit of Nature, Opa Anthology of Poetry, 2019 * From the Small Beginning, Entropy Magazine (Enclave, #Final Poems), July 2019 * Over His Morning Coffee, Front Porch Review, July 2019 * Three poems, Our Poetry Archive, September 2019
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 
Respected Jamie Ji Thank you once again, for an amazing writing opportunity. I really felt the creative spirit alive and engaging.best regards.
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My pleasure and thank You for participating.
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