A Beautiful Place for Mortal Beings, a poem

look at those trees, will you, look!
sun bursting into dazzling columns
and eucalyptus dripping its stringy
bark, drizzling its medicinal scent

dragonflies stretch stenciled wings
zephyr mambos with wild grasses
sunshine camps out on shoulders
the damp salty air curls our hair

we tumble into the sea’s embrace
to find that this is salvation and
the mountain expanse a cathedral
the ocean’s roar is its Te Deum

for mortal beings: a beautiful place,
voluptuous and wanton and willing
to be caressed, like Life, held close
never understanding the mysteries

our existence, the sea-held mountain,
we love them in our frailty, we grasp
these gifts until we can’t, until
letting go is just as it should be

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reservedPhoto – a Monterey Cypress (Pebble Beach, CA, USA) courtesy of rickpawl’s photostream  Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

Once Upon a Time When They Were Old, a poem …. and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

Have you noticed I’m beautiful now,
beautiful in ways I never was in untried youth.
On fire now with the violet fire of soul speak,
treading weightlessly with a brighter spirit.

Clear crystal flashes through my being, a
shooting star in a cobalt sky, a heart swept
of fool’s gold, of the heavy and the gross.

I dance in a whisper of indigo dreams,
like a sparrow feather swirling through
Eternity, a sorceress spelling joy with Light.

Have you noticed I’m beautiful now,
beautiful in the way of all young women in
that once-upon-a-time when they were old.

“I have been searching
 Old Woman
and I find her 
my Self…”
Daughters of Copper Woman, Ann Cameron

©  2017, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photograph courtesy of Andreas Bohnenstengel under CC BY-SA 3.0 de


Create portrait of your own inner Old Wo/Man. If you feel comfortable doing so, leave your piece or a link to it in the comments section below. Work on theme shared here will be posted next Tuesday for the pleasure of others. All are welcome to come out and play no matter the status of your writing career – beginner, emerging or pro.  This is about sharing and getting to know more poets and writers. You have until Monday evening, October 16, to respond.


This event (below) was streamed live last night from New York. If you missed it, the video is still up for viewing at PEN.org Livestream.

ABOUT: The Artists at Risk Connection launched yesterday in tandem with a public discussion in New York featuring one of the world’s most prominent threatened artists, Ai Weiwei. Ai, who was in conversation with author and PEN America President Andrew Solomon, was detained in China without charge for 81 days during 2011 and later denied his passport to travel.


“Stories of Hope” …. and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

Such beautiful and uplifting responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, l’chaim, October 4, 2017. Together, these are a small gift of antidote to news reports. Grab a cup of tea. Take a breath. Read. Ponder. Smile! These are as Paul Brookes says, “happy poems.”

Thanks to Paul, Lady Nimue, Renee Espiru, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Colin Blundell and Kakali Das Gosh for coming out to play.

Please join us for tomorrow’s Wednesday Writing Prompt, always theme – not form – based. You are welcome no matter the stage of your career – beginner, emerging, professional. It’s all about getting to know other poets and having your say.

Stories of Hope

The world thrives on stories of hope,

Little cracked,but surviving homes;

I live each moment in awe

From when life picked me first

So out of line, yet so full of want;

You are home to me,my world,

The only constant reminder,

My prayers and wishes answered;

No matter what changes around,

Am blessed;love can be found

If you raise a toast for the gifts

That equally to strangers, you receive to give.

© 2017, Lady Nimue, Prats Corner: Pages of my mind: collecting words, experiences and memories …

Lady Nimue is new to our pages but has been blogging and posting her poems and other works for years. She says in her “I, Me, Myself” – “I love to experiment in reading, watching and listening to all that suggested to Me by close friends and trusted sources; and then i maintain a record here of my reactions and impressions – what i hear myself say in my head and heart about all the living and non !

“Hope you find something of your liking too !! And  if you don’t let me know about that too ..”

We welcome Lady Nimue to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt.

there was a time

when one bottle of wine
seemed as if it was going to last forever;
the one I’m thinking of (purchased
one dinnertime in summer at 7/6d)
occupied a space in my life
a mile high and spanned the gap
all the way to Tibet; as you drank a glass
that dinnertime it seemed to refill itself
from the dregs of love

when one kiss would last
as long as the Rachmaninov cello sonata
whenever you put the record
on the turntable and let the needle fall –
obliterated in the so well-known cadences
which I could have been whistling
had my lips not been squashed against hers

when a bicycle ride would construct a day
down to the sea and back
across the long valley and over the downs –
magic ride often repeated –
I fill it from these dregs of memory

© 2017, Colin Blundell (Colin Blundell, All and Everything)

From a forthcoming book of poems by Colin Blundell

NOTE: 7/6d old money in 1964 = what would be 36p now
= after inflation in 2017 £6.80 = US$ 8.80

.the year.

gently go forward, then gently back
recreating past deeds and misdemenours
you thought forgotten.

gently go forward knowing we are mostly
all the same, with motes not spoken of,
except disorder.

gently it passed behind you, seen
clearly while looking for god.

gently gather winter leaves to keep
in paper bags. these are the golden
days .

my friend.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher  (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

..earth & heaven..

I have been away, this is the first day back.

not floods, yet death, and roofs flying, to produce home less ness.

I understand nothing of your situation, yet I know some stuff, and mostly i can only listen.

I guess we have to help ourselves. I met some good people away.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

Every New Beginning

To every newborn baby born
to those that overcome
to family diverse and all

for every new sunrise bright
for every moonlit night

the seasons that bring change
mother nature nurturing growth

as seen in fields of flowers
kaleidoscope colors
in seeding fields & in
fields laid fallow

to harvesting and being thankful
for the celebration of life
& living

within each beginning
lies peace

© 2017, Renee Espriu (Renee Just Turtle Flight and Inspiration, Imagination & Creativity with Wings, Haibun, AR, Haiku & Haiga)

#An appeal to endure #

A dark tunnel
A murky avenue
A lunatic   storm
Puzzled looks
Embarrassed scenes
Pixilated hearts
A giggling child
A lotus pond
A blooming daffodil
Vanished agony
Annihilated pain
An appeal to endure …

© 2017, Kakali Das Ghosh

A Little Girl

places an autumn oak leaf
in all its yellow and red on my conveyor belt.

I consider my potential responses:

Sorry love you can’t buy that here.

Sorry love it has no barcode, so won’t go through.

That’s a free gift from nature, love.

At the finish I advise

Sorry you can’t put that through, love

and she removes the leaf from the belt.

At the finish it is all child’s play
in the adult buy and sell.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

A Grandkid’s Hug


You’re such a klutz!
as I pull out my wallet
and silver coin falls out

I hold your warm hand
after all these years
and something passes
something does not fall


Magic a grandkids hug
Round the middle
Softens sharp nails
Smooths frayed edges

Unaware hug anyway
any how whatever any why
all hammering
all awkward shaving down.

Gone in an instant.
Grandkids hugs should be
ever prescribed

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

In A Hush

of winter
from bare limbs silhouetted

against a grey sky
a sudden voice
from tiny lungs

your full heart lifts
as if the tree had blossomed

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

A Breathless

small boy in an angry bird t shirt,
mock flight jacket,
Hawaiian shorts and trainers
bursts into the shop shouting

I’ve got fifty pee.”

I reply that we close at eight,
so he has an hour.

“Just ran all way here.
What can I buy? he asks
mouth open before a wall of sweets.

I show him in one corner trays full
of small chocolate eggs at 49p.
“Yes. Yes one of these.”

His delight makes me smile.

© 2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)


from the wind-whipped edges of the Earth, a poem

tawny moon, an evening grace,
a calm, drapes itself on the dwindling day,
mystic mountains, pristine, high above
an earthy base, the wizard Merlin’s realm
with memories of a green and primal past …
…….of rootedness
…………..essential things

and Peace!
a lively Peace …

visits on the briny spray, delights
at the meeting of land and sea
at rhythms of ocean against the shore
as waves drift in and out, fling and toss
stop, start, begin again and then again
splashing, salt of a mother’s tears

moonlight wanes,
a liminal hour

and Peace!
capricious Peace …

see the moon incised, a holograph
from the wind-whipped edges of the Earth,
read reports of valour and cowardice
…….the blight of insanity
…………..the naked lives
jarring, the morning dispatch
tragedies, under the heel of depravity

. . .fist, knife, gun

………..psychopaths, forever with us

people fleeing the lacerations of their plight
Oh! the crushing horror of their fright

“In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain.” Aberjhani, The River of Winged Dreams

© 2017, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved