Page 18 of 183

Posted on

Thank you and Apologies, News and Updates; the sacred teachers, a poem

“It’s easier to die than to move … at least for the Other Side you don’t need trunks.” Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

Thanks for your patience.  My apologies for not coming through with the February 5 Wednesday Writing Prompt. Challenging times. I am preparing the prompt for this coming Wednesday now, to insure that it is done.

Courtesy of Erda Estrmera, Unsplash

I’ve successfully moved out of the old tiny studio and into – though not settled (still unpacking!) – a lovely one-bedroom apartment adapted for handicapped access and aging in place and with plenty of room for all my medical equipment. It was a rough move that I could never have accomplished without the help and support of the CitySon Philosopher, my friends, and the management, office, and maintenance teams here at the Casa. I’ve had days without WiFi and days of physical pain, fatigue and oxygen hunger that have prohibited anything but getting through the minutes and hours.  I appear to be on the mend now though and my WiFi is working. I’m not sure I’ll be fully productive yet, but I’ll get some things done. Thanks for hanging in with me and for the many emails and Facebook messages expressing concern and wishing well. I haven’t been able to keep up with Facebook and email either, but I’ll get to both as I can.

Much appreciation to The BeZine Contributing Editor Michael Dickel (Meta/ Phor(e) / Play). Michael kept things going at the Zine while I have been offline and out-of-action. If you’ve been following, you know we’ve dedicated February to posts on illness and disability. Thanks also to Kella Hanna-Wayne, Zine team member, founder of the social justice site YOPP!, and partner in this month-long effort, and to all the contributors who helped to keep this event going with their essays and poetry.

The Zine is still open for submissions for February blog posts on illness and disability and for submissions to the next edition, the March 15 issue of The BeZine, themed Waging Peace. Submissions for Waging Peace close on March 10. Email bardogroup@gmail.com

Mbizo Chirasha

Our efforts on behalf of Mbizo Chirasha, Zimbabwean poet in exile, continue and hope for safe harbor thrives.  If you know anyone who would be able to host Mbizo in Germany or elsewhere, please connect with me by email thepoetbyday@gmail.com

out of the threads of your sacred languages
out of the spare sculpture of your homely wisdom
we formed clubs and built ironclad dictates
we spawned conspiracies of hate –
now we are goose barnacles clinging to the rotting flotsam of old boats,
we are weighted with the dust of fear and the mold of suspicion

though we bluster and grandstand our way through time,
the original purity of your intentions is still rooted in Eternity,
your guileless simplicity is stronger than the dogs of war,
it is the calm light at the center of our frenzied dark
it is the grace of rain after a drought,
the rivers of compassion that flow as tears

sometimes we hear your spirits whispering
in the mindful pleasure of our morning tea
in the rhythmic stirring of a pot of oatmeal
or in a fresh dawning after a tide has turned
and the wind of rectitude has cleared the air

© 2017, Jamie Dedes

Jamie Dedes. About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi

Your donation HERE helps to fund the ongoing mission of The Poet by Day in support of poets and writers, freedom of artistic expression, and human rights.

Poetry rocks the world!

FEEL THE BERN

For Peace, Sustainability, Social Justice

The Poet by Day officially endorses Bernie Sanders for President.

The New New Deal

Link HERE for Bernie’s schedule of events around the country.

“Democracy is not a spectator sport.” Bernie Sanders

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.”  Lucille Clifton

Posted on

At the Storm’s Edge (PaleWellPress 2020) by Frank McMahon launches today; poetry sampler

At the storm’s edge
always, never knowing if it will discharge
and overwhelm, or if it will relent,
recede as the season drags itself upstairs and round the cot …
At the Storms Edge, Frank McMahon

CHECKING IN

You’ve packed your bags and checked them in,
been processed through security,
bought some scotch at the duty-free,
then sit, a latte in your hand,
waiting for the final call to board.
When.

Your partner, family, friend exclaim:
The flight’s delayed. How long?
Who knows? Then all the screens go blank.
People mill and swirl, bark down mobile phones,
hover for announcements.
You let it all wash round and wait for news.
There will be news, so just sit still.

Sit still. Sounds evaporate, eyes
evade the strident lights. Deeper
you drift as if drowsing on a beach
or by a pool. Some time, who knows when,

you feel the gentle pressure of a hand.
There is no noise, all screens are blank.
All travellers have gone. Save one.
Vaguely, someone’s face.

AT THE STORM’S EDGE

At the storm’s edge
always, never knowing if it will discharge
and overwhelm, or if it will relent,
recede as the season drags itself upstairs and round the cot.
Or the days may reverse to that moment sundered
between joy and shock, the seconds scattered
across the antiseptic floor, silence drowning
the other’s cry.

………….Light aches on the newborn’s face
in the muffled house. A ghost demands
its feed, forever probing at the teat
with blue, waxed lips, growing thin on dreams.
At the storm’s edge there is always a prayer.

The ghost is clothed, in a shoe-box laid,
carried away, an exit to be registered.

© 2020, Frank McMahon

Frank’s poems are shared here with his permission.

FRANK McMAHON is a well-regarded poet in our community, a frequent contributor to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt among other activities. I am awaiting a copy of his collection for review, meanwhile his publisher has announced the launch of Frank’s At the Storm’s Edge, a debut collection.

Frank McMahon’s poems of love and fury revel in a keen sense of the natural world and a stark understanding of humanity’s fragile place in the broad sweep of history. Acutely observed and laced with arresting imagery, his writing is full of “music arcing back to a vanishing world”, in which the personal and the political are wound delicately together and sing out from the page in potent harmony. Never sentimental nor didactic, McMahon is a poet who thinks deeply and respects his readers; a poet who tells the truth but tells it slant.

At the Storm’s Edge is available through Amazon US HERE and Amazon UK HERE.

FRANK McMAHON was born and raised in Birkenhead, Merseyside. After graduating he began his career in Social Work/Welfare as a practitioner and manager, working for three Local Authorities, British Red Cross and ActionforChildren. He also served for nine years as a school governor. His last full-time post was to set up and manage a SureStart Children’s Centre. “There is nothing like working with and for young children. They constantly teach you to look at the world with fresh eyes and be open to new experiences.” Frank is married with two children and six grandchildren. When not writing (plays, a novel, short stories and poems) he enjoys walking, (The Cotswolds are his new playground); his allotment (save for the weeds), golf, chess, travel, music, and counts himself fortunate to have some wonderful friendships. He is a member of Somewhere Else Writers Group in Cirencester, whom he thanks for their patience in reading and critiquing his work. As part of that group, he works with Corinium Radio on programmes and plays. 

Jamie Dedes. About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi

Your donation HERE helps to fund the ongoing mission of The Poet by Day in support of poets and writers, freedom of artistic expression, and human rights.

Poetry rocks the world!

FEEL THE BERN

For Peace, Sustainability, Social Justice

The Poet by Day officially endorses Bernie Sanders for President.

The New New Deal

Link HERE for Bernie’s schedule of events around the country.

“Democracy is not a spectator sport.” Bernie Sanders

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.”  Lucille Clifton

Posted on

Gone the Winter Gods, a poem; the next Wednesday Writing Prompt will be on February 5

Photograph courtesy of Johannes Plenio, Unsplash

“As we get older, it matters less where you are and more who you’re with.”  Crystal Woods et al, Write like no one is reading (a collection of life quotes by independent writers)

The gods of winter arrive windy, whooshing
and cackling to chastise autumn’s ripe reds,
casting nights darker than indigo, spinning
a whorl of days, steel-blue and hoary
. . . . . . Like life sometimes
Rest is welcome after the frenzy of canning,
freezing fruit for deep-dish pies and the days
pass like the color of joy with shocks of silver
……….Not unlike my hair
One blink, gone the winter gods for those of spring
and my seventieth year
…………I’ll be here

© 2018, Jamie Dedes

I’m in the middle of moving, so I’ve put off the next writing prompt to Wednesday, February 5. All are welcome to come out in play: beginning, emerging, and pro poets. It’s all about exercising that writing muscle and meeting other poets.

Jamie Dedes. About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi

Your donation HERE helps to fund the ongoing mission of The Poet by Day in support of poets and writers, freedom of artistic expression, and human rights.

Poetry rocks the world!

FEEL THE BERN

For Peace, Sustainability, Social Justice

The Poet by Day officially endorses Bernie Sanders for President.

The New New Deal

Link HERE for Bernie’s schedule of events around the country.

“Democracy is not a spectator sport.” Bernie Sanders

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.”  Lucille Clifton

Posted on

“A Piece of the Sacred Planet”. . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

Lightening storm in Africa (Monrovia, Liberia), courtesy of Bethany Laird, Upsplash

“At the heart of globalization is a new kind of intolerance in the West towards other cultures, traditions and values, less brutal than in the era of colonialism, but more comprehensive and totalitarian.” Martin Jacques, British journalist, editor, academic, political commentator and author

Zimbabwean poet activist, Mbizo Chirasha, hosted this prompt on January 22, which called our attention to neocolonialism or the use in place of direct imperialism of capitalism, globalization, and cultural imperialism for the suppression of human rights by First World actors in Third World* arenas: Africa, Asia, Latin America. Admittedly this was a difficult challenge, especially for those who don’t live in a Third World country or if Third World issues aren’t something closely followed. Hence, we didn’t consistently make the target but we do have a thoughtful pointed collection to share today that emphasizes issues of poverty, violence, inequality, land-grab, and human rights abuses. This is gifted to us by Anjum Wasim Dar, Irma Do, Taman Tracy Moncur, and Pali Raj. Much appreciation to these writers for rising to the occasion with intelligence, courage, and passion.

* I recognize that some might say “Developing Countries” would be the more appropriate terminology, However, I would suggest that where destabilizing by First World countries is the order of the day, “developing” is difficult, if not impossible.

Because I am working on moving to another apartment, I won’t be posting a writing prompt tomorrow. The next Wednesday Writing Prompt will publish on February 5.

A Piece of The Sacred Planet

A piece of sacred soil
whose land is it ,
why so many claim it ?
land of purple saffron gold,
land of golden apples bold,
land bought again and again
land controlled, land sold,

conquered, ruled taken by force
maharajas, badshah, rulers
for what crime natives told to
abandon ship’ can land ever sink?
who is to think?

August is a cruel month
leaves wither as souls fly,
the only flowers are on
warm cloth embroidered with
blood, cries muffled, eyes dry,

beauty reflected in aquatic surfaces
camouflaged evil toads in inner deeps,
land of pure peace, poets and dreams
land of silence, in sounds of screams’
world has forgotten to cry,

law is a uniform,rule is a gun,
power is the force under the sun
all bodies are war,blood spills are fun
and we children too were on the run
we hand no toys no food nor bun
then all fell, one by one-

a crime a time a right unknown
a helpless innocence grown
the king can do no wrong
people can never be strong
pansies died in the flower beds
governors live in far away towns
all is owned all belongs to the crown.

I see the soldiers they look like me
their garb is like mine, how then
are they my enemy?
I am not to think I am not to speak
why I had to leave my land
why I laugh and cry, sit and stand
I wish I could understand…
I wish I could Understand…

© 2020, Anjum Wasim Dar

In Freedom

In freedom there is fear
When a close and dear
one, is no more,

In freedom there is blood
When all you made in life
Is washed away in flood;

In freedom there is sacrifice
When all you claim and own
Is taken away without a price;

In freedom there is liberty
For many just a statue
fights, no rights, nor equality;

In freedom there are letters
promises and false hopes
soon you are in iron fetters;

In freedom I was born
I never saw my land
I long for its beauty,
like dewdrops in the morn;

In freedom there is a gift
treasure not and you find
it floating by and adrift;

In freedom there is ease
calm and harmony, hold
it strong for eternal peace.

© 2020, Anjum Wasim Dar

Anjum-ji’s sites are:

“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

“Do You Want Fries With That?”

Your wild red hair,
Pale skin and
Painted lips belied
Your power.
Despite Scientists showing
The Traditional Ways were better,
Our greased guts and
A-salt-Ed hearts craved the
Colonial Menu
Of broken McPromises and
Big McLies.
Our health for Your wealth.
Not funny Clown.

© 2020, Irma Do

Irma’ site is: I Do Run, And I do a few other things too …

Poverty Rocks Hard
The ratta tat tat of guns in the night…a fight…a fight to the death…in search of illusive respect. The convictions of the streets supersede all cognition…all rationality…all logic…it’s dog eat dog, tit for tat, disrespect me I’ll disrespect you right back. No space or place for politeness…kindness portrays weakness… that’s just the way it is. What’s there to do but live hard in the face of endless denial; laugh hard during the constant struggle; party hard to revitalize and make dry bones come to life.

Poverty rocks hard!

The music blasts…feet dance fast…hearts beat as blood rushes through the veins transporting surreal images of feigned happiness…another puff…that’s the stuff to die for…another puff…calms nerves…another puff supports muscles that inadvertently crave in evolving waves of dependency…another puff to the point of no return to any pretense of normalcy.

Poverty rocks hard!

The high is fleeting looking down into the neck of an empty bottle, ranting…raving…fixating on who took the last of the elixir…the fixer. Rage that has been smothered by day to day survival spies out a rival…a beef erupts spewing volcanic emotions and repressed anger into the atmosphere mushrooming into a toxic waste laced with venom… a gun is fired that eradicates all semblance of euphony and implodes into a rubble of broken dreams as a stream of blood oozes from the collapsed corpse.

Poverty rocks hard!

Sirens wail in the night. Violence devours innocence…sorrow then masticates the essence of life and regurgitates hopelessness. Shame becomes ingrained into the psyche…anger lashes out slapping kindness into a condition of degeneration… masochism becomes entrapped in isolation …love and fury become enmeshed in confusion crippling empathy impeding the expansion and the maturation of the human spirit.

Poverty rocks hard!

© 2020, Tamam Tracy Moncur

Diary of an Inner City Teacher is a probe into the reality of teaching in our inner city school systems as seen from the front line. Over two decades in the trenches, educator Tamam Tracy Moncur exposes through her personal journal the plights, the highlights, the sadness, and the joys she has experienced as a teacher. Come to understand why the United States Department of Education and the various state departments of education must realize the teaching of academics cannot be divorced from the social issues that confront the students. Let s be innovative together and design new millennium schools that address the educational needs of the inner city students before it s too late! Our children s very existence is at stake! Laugh, cry, and become informed as you embrace the accounts of an inner city teacher.

Poverty, Hunger, and Sanitation
Oh, I throw myself upon
Violence, Terrorism
Once where was war
Now tearing our nations apart
May be, thus, they are taking control
(May be it’s neocolonism) but
What has happened to the whole world?
Poverty, Hunger, and Sanitation
Oh, I throw myself upon

© 2020, Pali Raj

Jamie Dedes. About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi

Your donation HERE helps to fund the ongoing mission of The Poet by Day in support of poets and writers, freedom of artistic expression, and human rights.

Poetry rocks the world!

FEEL THE BERN

For Peace, Sustainability, Social Justice

The Poet by Day officially endorses Bernie Sanders for President.

The New New Deal

Link HERE for Bernie’s schedule of events around the country.

“Democracy is not a spectator sport.” Bernie Sanders

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.”  Lucille Clifton