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A Name Painted in Blue, a poem by U.K. poet Tony Frisby


I appreciate the sentiment of the intro and poem and they are shared here with Tony’s permission. How nice to learn in the process of acquiring consent to publish that Tony has several self-published collections and a ninety-four page epic poem, Me, ME and Not Me, was published by Waterloo Press, 2014. / J.D.

How to find the right balance in a poem? How to deal poetically with the worst that mankind can inflict on itself yet at the same time avoid the accusation of voyeurism? And yet the worst must be told…

And so with the latest news that yet another boat-load of refugees from Africa has floundered in the Mediterranean I’ve revisited a poem in which I blame the innocent sea for a piece of wreckage… but, but, but …… what I’m really trying to say is that some part of me understands completely that screaming figure in Munch’s great work of art. Tony

A Name Painted in Blue

Gathering wood is easy after a storm.
Bits and pieces always litter the tide-line
and sometimes an enormous plank
or a stout tree stump will swell the heap

’til theres enough for a bonfire.
But now and then you’ll find something
that makes you shudder: a splintered oar,
a piece of decking, maybe a strip of ship’s timber

with a name painted in blue.
It’s at times like these you might hear the waves
chuckle to one another, or the wind
snickering amongst the rock-pools.

© 2018, poem, illustration and portrait (below), Tony Frisby, All rights reserved


Tony Frisby

TONY FRISBY was born in Ireland and lives now in England. Tony began writing poetry as a hobby in 2000. Soon afterwards, he started reading his work in public. By 2010, Tony had self-published five volumes of poetry all of which were voted ‘Book of the Week’ by The Brighton Argus. In 2014, his ninety-four page epic poem Me, ME and Not Me, was published by Waterloo Press. His latest collection That Blue Pause was published in 2017. He is working on three further collections. Tony’s Amazon UK page and Amazon US page.


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I Never Saw Another Butterfly, a poem written by the child, Pavel Freidman (short bio included), before he was murdered at Theresienstadt Concentration Camp


Regular Sunday Announcements are in process and will post later today, but yesterday was International Holocaust Rememberence Day. I share the poem of a child imprisoned and murdered at Theresienstadt Concentration Camp. We remember it with the hope that there will never be another genocide and that children of every race, country and creed will be allowed to fulfill their promise, to grow up, to grow old and to die in God’s time. Even as we do, there are genocides currently happening around the world, ten of which are full-blown. Ironically, “prominent scholars of the international law crime of genocide and human rights authorities take the position that Israel’s policies toward the Palestinian people could constitute a form of genocide.” Details HEREMay all sentient beings find peace.


I Never Saw Another Butterfly

by Pavel Freidman

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.

Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing

against a white stone. . . .

Such, such a yellow

Is carried lightly ‘way up high.

It went away I’m sure because it wished to

kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,

Penned up inside this ghetto.

But I have found what I love here.

The dandelions call to me

And the white chestnut branches in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one.

Butterflies don’t live in here,

in the ghetto.


Butterfly-cover-largePavel Friedman was born in Prague on January 7, 1921. He was deported to Theresienstadt Concentration Camp on April 26, 1942 and later to Auschwitz, where he died on September 29, 1944.  The poem was found when Theresienstadt was liberated in February 1945.

Pevel’s poem is included in and lends its name to the title of a collection of poems and artwork by the children and youth of Theresiesnstadt* and published by Hana Volavková and Jiří Weil in 1959.

I Never Saw Another Butterfly: Children’s Drawings and Poems from the Terezin Concentration Camp, 1942-1944

* Theresienstadt was the German name for Terezín, a Czech fortress. “After the Munich Agreement in September 1938 and following the occupation of the Czech lands in March 1939, with the existing prisons gradually filled up as a result of the Nazi terror, the Prague Gestapo Police prison was set up in the Small Fortress  in 1940. The first inmates arrived on June 14, 1940. By the end of the war 32,000 prisoners of whom 5,000 were women passed through the Small Fortress. These were primarily Czechs, later other nationals, for instance citizens of the former Soviet Union, Poles, Germans and Yugoslavs. Most of the prisoners were arrested for various acts of resistance to the Nazi regime, they were later sent to the extermination camps like Mauthausen in many cases; it was also destiny of family members and supporters of the Reinhard Heydrich assassins. The Jewish Ghetto was created in 1941.” Wikipedia


A response worth sharing from bogpan (a.k.a. Bozhidar Pangelov – (bogpan – блог за авторска поезия) “Great pain for my heart. The Bulgarian people have saved 50,000 of their Jewish citizens. But not all. Never more genocide!”

Amen to that.

Jordan

Written by: Bozhidar Pangelov © 2018, All rights reserved

It flows, the river flows
and spills…
I won’t, I won’t
enter,
girl,
with hair of sea.
I won’t
enter,
girl,
with a face of moons.
Today the green people
enter there
and raise
their hands
heavy.
My heart is
carved into
sand.
Sand.

Bury it.


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no regrets after all, a poem

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i remember …
walking to your gray-stone house
on the crust of snow in March, when the
air was still and soft, reminiscent of pearl,
it was a night of smoked glass that felt like a dream ~
it might have been

the whispers of love…
the sweetest of songs, sung into the ether
while your warm spirit hung on bare trees,
a rose bud expecting summer
awakening to find itself chilled
at dawn in midwinter

the rhythm …
of my heart sundered our paths
i set you free, i followed my joy
down a  yellow brick road, looking back
sometimes, but no regrets after all for the
hills and valleys of my solitary adventure

© 2018, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Photo courtesy of MorgueFile

Ms. Weary’s Blues, a poem … and your Wednesday Writing Prompt


blues

the helpless, hopeless, remorse-filled blues
when you’ve seen the doctor and she’s seen you
when Time runs out and Eternity beckons

blues

the darkest hues with shivering slivers of
pewter muting to gray, muting to black,
muting to light fractures in a surface
permeable and permissible, heavenly Light

or, so “they” tell me …

But lost in that Universe of Light
will “I’ still be?
will “you” still be?
answer me that

What is the character of this Light?
Matter or myth?

Ah then…
after all, pondering on
I find I really don’t care
I’ll poem my blues and poem my light
until all that’s left of me is
what I leave behind…

and you?

Will you leave your unwritten
blue poem hanging in the air to be
sensed by the few who can?
Or, will you, like slaves of old,
paint yourself blue and boiling tears
dance round the fire’s edge and rebirth
your broken blue soul into wholeness?

This poem is written out of being diagnosed some eighteen years ago with a fatal condition. Still kicking!  Nothing untoward is pending … except, of course, for the fact of a world gone mad and who knows what’s next with that …

Apologies to all for any confusion. I put up a different writing prompt a few minutes ago and immediately took it down when I realized I’d offered it as prompt once before. Some of you may have seen it and, of course, I can’t delete it from email subscriptions.

© 2017, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved


WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

As a poet/artist/human being, what do you hope to leave behind? What message for those who follow?  Tell us and leave your work or a link to it in the comments section below.  All work shared on theme by Monday evening 8:30 pm PST will be published here next Tuesday.  If it is your first time responding to a Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a photo and short bio to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com. They’ll be used by way of introduction to readers and other poets . . . and me. 🙂  All are welcome to participate in this prompt: novice, emerging or pro poet.  Wednesday Writing Prompt is about exercising the writing muscle, sharing our work and getting to know other poets, perhaps some who are new to you.


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