by 
if only i knew
what the artist knows
about the great perfection
in imperfection
i would sip grace slowly
at the ragged edges of the creek
kiss the pitted
face of the moon
befriend the sea
though it can be a danger
embrace the thunder of a waterfall
as if its strains were a symphony
prostrate myself atop the rank dregs on the forest floor,
worshiping them as compost for fertile seeds
and the breeding ground for a million small lives
if i knew what the artist knows,
then i wouldn’t be afraid to die,
to leave everyone
i would be sure that some part of me
would remain present
and that one day you would join me
as the wind howling on its journey
or the bright moment of a flowering desert
if i knew what the artist knows,
i would surely respond soul and body
to the echo of the Ineffable in rough earthy things
i would not fear decay or work left undone
i would travel like the river through its rugged, irregular channels
comfortable with this life; imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete
© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Photo credit ~ from Pictures section of OpenHistory under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.o Unported license
WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT
“In traditional Japanese aesthetics, Wabi-Sabi is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete.” . . . Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and appreciation of the ingenuous integrity of natural objects and processes.” Wikipedia MORE
This week’s prompt is to write a poem or poems that view the world, especially the natural world, from a Wabi Sabi perspective:
- please submit your poem/s by pasting them into the comments section and not by sharing a link
- please submit poems only, no photos, illustrations, essays, stories, or other prose
PLEASE NOTE:
Poems submitted through email or Facebook will not be published.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, November 18 by 8 pm Pacific Time. If you are unsure when that would be in your time zone, check The Time Zone Converter.
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.
You are welcome – encouraged – to share your poems in a language other than English but please accompany it with a translation into English.
Note: If Wabi Sabi is new to you and captures your imagination and interest as it did mine, I recommend Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers by Leonard Koren. There’s also a charming children’s picture book, Wabi Sabi, written by Mark Reibstein and illustrated by Ed Young.
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 / Medium
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
Wabi-Sabi is new for me. Have tried to reflect on the philosophy.
The results are not satisfactory but sharing the conclusion
A Perceptive Romance
crimson gold,shaded cool sunset
so deeply loved,fills empty souls
what hate prevails in daylight-
A perceptive romance
beloved sheep with precious wool
sheered to the skin, undressed
sacrificed goaded roasted
bleating is no music
water mirror like, ivory silver
smiled at, caressed , hated in
stagnant filthy swamps
its loss, mourned.
love the creative spirit in non
creativity, like lotus in muddy pond
tree valued green or brown-
body and soul, split in bond
embrace all,cool or hot
all here will be soon, gone
circle will come full circle
imperfection, – the mortal round
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wobbly sobby
on the potter’s wheel is an opportunity
to fail. the future potter rarely raises a cylinder
the first time, nor times two through ten.
getting good at wheel-throwing takes a
determination shared by marathoners
and golfers and ballroom dancers. meanwhile,
the future potter uses his wire tool
to cut heap after heap of wobbly, wet clay
from the wheelhead or the batt. when at last
a cylinder is up, there are almost always
many things wrong with it.
here is a still-future potter
and his new creation. it slumps
slightly. it wobbles
when the wheel is brought up
to trimming speed. the hat
drawn by dr. seuss for his cat
has a similar shape.
the still-future potter doesn’t care. he sobs,
but not out loud, for joy. he will never
feel as though raising a cylinder
is out of his reach. that it took
so many times, and wobbles, and sobs,
only reinforces the bedrock
of his foundation
of his becoming.
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Here’s my poem, Jamie.
Dewdrop
Every life is an intake of breath
in the corridors of humanity
The spirit of the past
unfolds within
A stirring that
churns the present
Every moment is splendid
with the awareness
that like a drop of dew
I can only be certain
I am here now
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. skin imperfect.
some of you is gone, halfed,
precious skin.
the dress
hanging black
is photographed
as if you have no memory.
may be
more soothing,
than remembering.
touch the surface.
water.
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For a long long time
I couldn’t figure it out
Who I am?
I went to school
Asked a teacher
She said, ‘I’ll talk to your father’.
I was a kid. A little kid.
I had to learn
How to kiss?
I returned to the book
Flipped about twenty pages
I kinda need help
For a long long time
I couldn’t figure it out
Who I am?
I went to a bar
Asked the bartender
He said, ‘I’ll make you cocktail’
I had a peg. A little peg.
I had to learn
How to introduce myself?
I took a sip.
Spoke a few English words.
Genius. Lover. Coward. Drinker.
I’m kinda happy whoever I am.
I was drunk.
For a long long time
I couldn’t figure it out
Who I am?
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Thank you Jamie x
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:: mole hillls & broken plates ::
we discussed the hardness of the ground,
it is still quite cold. yet we found that moles
make soft places for planting.
dig up buried crocks for saving.
old photographs spur us on, to
care and treasure, to sweep and clean.
so wash and mend your broken plates
my friends, become a gentler way,
make a pleasant day.
look for mole hills, and old photographs.
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Days and days
Philip Larkin told us Days
bring the priest and doctor
running over the fields.
On this rainy day I’m pressed
into the Day’s four walls, the cold
seeping into my bones. Restless
I’m too aware the Day doesn’t fit me;
it’s like an oversized overcoat.
My brother texts me and I reply,
Winter isn’t my favourite time,
Ditto, he replies. Afterwards
I resist thinking of summer sun
and wish I could wear each day
like a well-tailored suit.
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Wonderful. Accepting death…..living life fully, authentically ……coming from the same root.
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Reblogged this on The Light Behind the Story and commented:
A wonderful poem by Jamie Dedes…
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How sweet your are to do this, Alethea. Thank you.
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Love this ❤
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Thank you!
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imperfection is beauty
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You got it! 🙂 Hope today is treating you well,Beth.
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Thanks and you too
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Thank you, Jamie and Saania.
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Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.
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Thank you, Paul! 🙂
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Nature’s music
Morning dew like jewels on spring green grass
crystals shimmering in the glow of a dawn sunrise,
drip, drip of tiny of raindrops, a soft chord
Or drizzle from heaven brushing soft on my eyelids
mist, layers of mist over rivers that flow ever so gently
Silver spray, sea foam caressing my ankle on the shore
Rippling, the swash, the crest white returning to the blue
trees swaying fiercely as autumn winds denude them
Music of orphaned leaves lying uncared for like
carpets of gold, brown and red over grey pavements
Scrunching sounds under foot, like a beat to
the hailstones falling on the roof tiles. Cold
frost and ice a chilling serape of winter hibernation
snow-sprinkled homes with a soft light in the window
nature’s notes, musical score, a beautiful symphony.
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