Page 13 of 14

“Stream Toward Unconsciousness” . . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

“Sometimes you see a man in a restaurant reading while eating — a very commn sight. He gives you the impression of being a very busy man, with no time even for eating.  You wonder whether he eats or reads. One may say that he does both. In fact, he does neither, he enjoys neither. He is strained and disturbed in mind and he does not enjoy what he does at the moment, does not live in the present moment, but unconsciously and foolsihly tries to escape from life.”  What the Buddha Taught, Walpola Rahula



These are the responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, In March, Flowering, November 21, which challenges our poets to dip their pens into stream of consciousness, a narrative style that gives the impression of the mind at work. I think Buddhists might be inclined to call this “monkey mind,” a mind that is restless, capricious, whimsical, confused, tortured, out-of-control. From a spiritual perspective, we want to still our minds, to be at peace. That’s why all our wisdom traditions encourage regular periods of prayer and meditation. In terms of writing though, I think giving in to the jumping monkey may work well.  If you find yourself blocked when you write, it’s likely that you are trying to write and edit at the same time. You’re like the man in the quotation above, really not writing or editing at all. That’s why some teachers give the advice to “just write.”  Write anything that comes to mind.  Why?  Because this takes you out of your edit mode and sets you free on the road to writing. Plenty of time to edit when your first draft it done.

I enjoyed the creative responses to this prompt.  Thanks to Paul Brookes, Irma Do, Jen Goldie and Sonja Benskin Mesher.  Thanks also to Irma and Jen for value added for me and other readers with their commentary. In addition to their words, I’ve included links to blogs or websites where available. I hope you’ll visit these poets and get to know their work better. It is likely you can catch up with others via Facebook.

Enjoy! … and do come out to play tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.


Clamped

Clamped in the upright station of the world
Drowned in the come uppance daylight
Hunkered half light knowingness
Hefts hollow along kerbside

Ferret the mammal heart of the world
Become harsh chandeliers
Become rude shoeless adjectives
verb your character into business

letteropen an alphabet of fire,
a draining board of desire
a kitchen cupboard of flesh
a knifeblock of words
unseating themselves

Griddle down lightning days
Heavying nights moisten to open
Forgiveness in a handshake of trees
a massage of fields amid the nursery
Of war

record visual media
stand to attention wall
mounted retreat into hill
stations of past lives
lived hands free
autobot rainbow of perception

Tinker, tinker with children’s toys
repair your own gored scars
fix bro
ken and Barbie cars without
wheels pieces
lost toothless jigsaw

© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombell Rainbow / Inspiration, History, Imagination)

The Hair

Grasp the hair of the snog
Paddle crevasses of the fog
Handle delights of worlds washbasin
Grapple sights of awful bootlacing.

Darken desperate ways wanton
Harken fenestrated days spoken
Loosen raids out into darkness
Gruesome braids entangle starkness.

Gargle the grimness of the day
Snaffle forgetfulness of yesterday
Hustle the heavenly toast buttered
Sisel roped fitness unfettered

Thimbleful of radiator love
Nimbleful of aviator dove
Hastle hungry heavy heads up
Castle chess players beds up

Delight in eyes of green and gold
Despite the sight of preen and mold
Alight the flight of mean and sold
A kite of might is lean and bold

Tucked behind the ear of a desk
rucked beyond the fear of a whelk
barrage ballooned beneficent bedlam
garaged consumed munificent headroom

Resistance is mobile
Subsistence is virile
Subsidence is active
Defiance is reactive

Pro plus days in delight
Ominous rays indelicate plight
Luminous phase conflagrate
Numinous ways profligate.

Allow broad canopies desperate energy
fall guarded heat intense jack knife
lilt motionless nervous oranges
permeate quietly rampant succumb
tremble under vernal wishes xeme your zest

© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombell Rainbow / Inspiration, History, Imagination)

Photographs of Delerium

Photographs of delerium deceive
Mimeographs of insects believe
Radiographs of horribilis dear
Craniographs of fabulous fear

Take the ladder of sight into home
Rake the matter of flight into loam
Brake on platters of plight into roam
Ache in tatters of light zone

Sunlight is finelight is wildlight
Lifetime is wildlife is darklife
Finelight is darktime is moonlife
Deadwild is lifelight is darktime

Seasons are ripe control artists
Autumn swells a tuber orchestra
Winter times a criminal cold watch
Spring flames a filigree wish
Summer fry

History schools disguise hinges gold
Works marks eyeteeth buys goodnews
In letters as big as you like miserable
wherever it goes at the time

History restores fire original grounds
Polished integrity shines shoes
in worn leather arette discerns all
beauty remarkable story in time

Tea towel the evidence of tears
In the fabric of a face distraught
at broken crockery of living
Dissolved in the birth of Why.

Run the tap of silence till it goes cold
Rip the shower map of patience
Undone by the bath of life
Crazy at the loss of switches

Hunt down a crisis of coffee jars
Find wonderful in a winos fears
Wind up a clock that one son
Happenstance often disappears

Hit critical button pop up dolled down whimsical forgot me not blues
Hard assed holy mother of knives
in cracked wisdom tooth news

Caustic delivery hides hints and tints
Highly organised finery total respect
Oranges juice out frets of guitars
Willingly dissect green bins

Finest disarmament heals horror filled theatres bloody cogs log timidity
Terrorise frigidity in a week of woe
a great deal more like number.

Dance time crunch time grey time
Flounce your skulls into bounce
Castles in a sky of cat bowls half eaten hidden menus of menace

Let bygones be sandwiches made for you in the neatest handwriting all over the willingness of your body of truth or dare trembles terror

So much is about where we are in our days of telling each other where we are not half suspecting they know already the half truth you give

May you dream on the edge of time with the wild things and happen upon sanity when a penny drops in the morning

© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombell Rainbow / Inspiration, History, Imagination)

Prolific Yorkshire Poet, 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.

The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Jamie Dedes

 


Stream Toward Unconsciousness

I am tired yet I can’t sleep

Thoughts of all the things I should have done today

That I didn’t

Thoughts of being in bed with you

yet writing and writing

the writing is getting in the way

but I have to get down these thoughts

still so many have escaped

I can’t write while I am driving

I can’t write while I am parenting

I can think of what to write but if I can’t get to the computer

if I can’t get to the pen and paper

The thought runs away

Probably the one that would have gone in that lit mag

in that e-mag

the one to win that accolade

It’s so fleeting the good words and phrases that come

In and out

I need to catch them

I need to hold them

I need to write them

I need to sleep

I need to pay attention to the children

and to you

and the laundry

Ugh I hate the laundry

and the dishes

I’m supposed to do these chores out of love for my family

But I don’t love the chores

It doesn’t mean I don’t love my family

I can show them love in other ways

by ignoring them so I can write words of love

To them for them of them

Or cooking

I love to cook

or snuggling

I love to snuggle

Or sleeping

Choosing writing over sleeping over you

But the deadline is tomorrow

There is no deadline for chores

or family or lovers

Or is there…

This stream of consciousness poem is the first I have ever written. I must admit it was a difficult write for me! I guess I usually edit my thoughts long before it reaches the paper – thinking about the words, phrases, rhythm before I even begin to type with my thumbs. Maybe because I do so much of my writing in little bits during the day on my phone, that I am loathe to edit once it’s already down. Can I blame technology for my writing style?

I wrote this piece around 2 am with a sick child who had kept me awake. I couldn’t go back to sleep since I was thinking about this prompt. I had tried a few other times to write something but kept getting interrupted or writing something that I knew wasn’t exactly stream of consciousness since I had already thought about what to write (I don’t cheat on these prompts!). It took an overtired brain to get to this un-filtered point! If I hadn’t fallen asleep, I wonder where else it might have led or if my words would have continued to perseverate….

©️ 2018, Irma Do (I Do Run, And a few other things too)

The True Artist

This is ecstasy,
This is love and lunacy,
This is the Artist.

The true artist is everyman,
Is any man,
Has a child’s sensitivity,
And knowledge only age can bring.
Unfettered of his earthly ties,
Sings through the ages,
Touching hearts, Touching minds,

And,

Creating joy and sorrow,
In the lives
of those he meets…

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie)

Dusk

Dusk comes earlier now!
ever pleasing,
“bird on the wing.”

The Sun was out
to play today!
I turned around
and she was gone…

Welcome Night…….

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie)

I Saw the Moon Tonight

I saw the Moon tonight!
It shone down like a beam
from heaven,
It made the stars more bright!

I’ll leave a sunshine path tomorrow,
That’s what I’ll do!
Wherever I go,
I’ll leave a little light,
enough for you to follow.

In celebration of the Moon Beam.

If you follow the light
You will see me there,
When you follow the light,
You will know I care.
………..Friendship………..

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie)

I had a marvelous Professor who stressed “Stream of Consciousness” as a method of writing. My first awakening to this was looking at a tree. Simply a tree. I hadn’t realized why I love images of trees until just now. He emphasized being in the moment, which is so fleeting. If the moment moves you to write. You MUST write!
“I saw the Moon tonight!
It shone down like a beam from heaven.
And made the stars more bright.”
Its the moments that most people miss in life. A poet cherishes those moments, and from what I’ve seen so far, all of the people who have graciously shared their moments with us have been “In the Moment”.

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie (Jen Goldie)

..you ask me to explain..

it is said i write abstract, in time to save

your feelings. you asked me to explain,

i did so lightly. the other said no one else

dare ask.

i tell you it is a full and complicated story

that may upset.

i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,

metaphor and symbol.

was loathe to read it for i may cry.

you wish a pretty picture yet i cannot

make it.

i thank you for asking, where others

do not read.

the writing circled

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

.the dying field.

dense night ; memorial

green underhedge ; hoar

frost ; rhythms of black

birds ; black

jack ; flap

jack

stream of conciousness

there is no rhyme

these recollections ; another time

eighteen hundred

eighteen hundred

too many dead

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

ABOUT

Testimonials

Disclosure

Facebook

Twitter

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. I currently run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded.  I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers. My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s PorchVita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation PressThe Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman. My poetry was recently read by Northern California actor Richard Lingua for Poetry Woodshed, Belfast Community Radio. I was featured in a lengthy interview on the Creative Nexus Radio Show where I was dubbed “Poetry Champion.”



 The BeZine: Waging the Peace, An Interfaith Exploration featuring Fr. Daniel Sormani, Rev. Benjamin Meyers, and the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi among others

“What if our religion was each other. If our practice was our life. If prayer, our words. What if the temple was the Earth. If forests were our church. If holy water–the rivers, lakes, and ocean. What if meditation was our relationships. If the teacher was life. If wisdom was self-knowledge. If love was the center of our being.” Ganga White, teacher and exponent of Yoga and founder of White Lotus, a Yoga center and retreat house in Santa Barbara, CA

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

“Licking Wounds Ain’t Penicillin” . . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Promp

“Austerity is theft, the greatest transfer of wealth from poor to the rich since the enclosures.” Fuad Alakbarov, Exodus

“Remember when nurses, carers, teachers and students crashed the stock market, wiped out banks, took billions in bonuses and paid no tax? No, me neither.”  Fuad Alakbarov, Exodus



A stellar response to the last Wednesday Writing prompt, Some Kind of Hell to Pay, November 7. Thank you to Gary W. Bowers, Irma Do, Jen E. Goldie, Sonja Benskin Mesher, and Anjum Wasim Dar for sharing their thoughts and talents. Special thanks to Irma and Anjum for including illustrations and to Irma for sharing further thoughts. Well done eveyone and welcome to Ursula Jacob with her aware and deeply felt poem.

In addition to their words, I’ve included links to blogs or websites where available. I hope you’ll visit these poets and get to know their work better. It is likely you can catch up with others via Facebook.

Enjoy! … and do come out to play tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.


Licking wounds ain’t penicillin, No
It ain’t dinner cause you feed me a line.
Don’t lower the bar, gift me keys to a car
I swear ya’ll tryin to keep a girl blind!

I have seen poverty
Handed down
Heirlooms

Abuse and affliction
But I tell you, little sister,
We must start a fire

Burn it down
Oppression
In the guise of assistance

Oh, I am talking revolution

Handed down
Inner fire, explosive impact
Knowledge of your worth

© 2018, Ursula Jacobs 

URSULA JACOBS has taught journaling for healing in shelters and jails.  When not busking as a cellist and providing resources to the indigent, Ursula, her husband, and cat Tilly, call the Piney Woods of Texas their home. She is an emerging poet that has been published by The BeZine and is working on a chapbook of poetry.

 

 


in order

in order for us to afford you
a chunk of you must go to war
a chunk will return
with some chunks gone and yearn
for the nonhellish sweettimes of yore

thus we make and deploy stocks of ordnance
and our colonels and sergeants show spine
for their new marching orders
defending the borders
and plumping that fine bottom line.

© 2018, Gary W. Bowers (One With Clay, Image and Text)


Once Slice of Bread

Uncle, why only one slice of white bread?

Something is happening, what is it I dread?

Oh dear, don’t worry, it will all be just fine.

Just do as you’re told and toe the line.

But Uncle I see others have food on their plate.

And yours, above all, looks deliciously great.

Look, I need more sustenance than you.

Do you realize all the work that I do?

Now go to bed and do as you’re told.

Nothing will come from you being bold.

Uncle, what do those letters say?

I need to read if I am to stay.

Who says you’re staying, impertinent imp!

School is expensive, we just have to scrimp.

But Uncle I am working hard, too.

I pay for my clothes and give my extra to you.

Of course you do, that’s the only way.

How else can we live if you don’t slave away?

Now go to bed. That is not a choice.

I’m starting to get really annoyed at your voice.

Uncle, it just doesn’t seem fair.

I put in my time. You know that I care.

But it seems that I am the only one

These austerity measures will make me undone

Well, if that happens, it’s your own fault!

You’re not strong enough, clearly not worth your salt.

It’s because of you that we need these measures today

Always wanting to help others who have lost their way.

But Uncle, that was the right thing to do!

Shouldn’t we share with those who have few?

We have so much, but you’re saying we don’t.

Yet you still seem to be able to buy all you want.

Those are things that are my due.

I deserve more things than you.

Look at me! Why can’t you agree?

All you want are things for free.

And that’s why these cuts are your burden to bear.

Being in the middle, you should be aware.

Now go to bed, let these issues unfold.

Just be glad only a few things need sold.

Oh Uncle, why did you sell your soul?

For personal wealth, was that your goal?

I came to you with stars in my eyes.

I thought you were strong and honest and wise.

Together, we could have done so well!

But now I fear we will both go to hell.

Uncle Sam you ask so much of me.

I have so much less, yet you ask for more austerity.

What about healthcare, a decent wage and fair representation?

Or respect for my genders or religious affiliation?

On my back, you’ve created this fantasy,

And now you still just want to grab my pussy?

I’ve had enough. I won’t go to bed.

I deserve much more than one slice of bread.

This was a difficult poem to write for Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday prompt of “austerity measures”. She writes “The phrase “austerity measure” isn’t used as much now as it was when I wrote this poem, but that injustice by other name or unnamed is still an injustice and it’s one that is happening all over the world.”

I had never heard that term before reading Jamie’s poem. I had always associated austerity with something that saints did, something positive, like sacrificing or doing without for the greater good. The term “austerity measures” is actually a financial term to denote an action by government to decrease its debt by increasing taxes while cutting spending on wages and programs (usually for the poor). So it’s something government imposes on its populace with those who are most in need, shouldering the burden of these measures. I will add that the financial definition does note that the tax cuts should be for the wealthy, however, I have a “feeling” that those cuts would depend on who is in government.

Families also implement austerity measures. I know my family did – growing up and being immigrants here, however, I know my parents took the brunt of those measures and did without, so that us children would not need to know that we were financially struggling. Of course, as kids, we still knew that other people had more than we did, but it wasn’t a hardship, just what our family did to live within our means.

Money has so many different meanings for different people. Our attitudes towards money, saving/spending are shaped by our upbringing and experiences. I wonder if austerity measures would be less of an injustice if it wasn’t imposed, if we all agreed to tighten our belts a little for the good of all. Whether a family, a company or a country – could there be compassion in financial matters?

©️ 2018, Irma Do (I Do Run, And I Do a Few Other Things Too)


The Bottomless Well

The rush of racing society,
The red, bloody riots,
The protesting children,
And teetering wars,
On an eternal
Merry-Go-Round.

On the stretching streets,
Lonely, curious, needy,
Men, Women and Babies,
The need for survival.
See the inquiring eyes
Plucked out.

Oh Run! Grasping
the veil of ignorance,
The hurt is stinging,
and
Stomachs are Pits of Hell!
Hide Society’s shame,
In Histories
bottomless well…

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie

Time Will Tell

You say you don’t
want war,
Yet happenstance
could take you there,
Like a whispered phrase
passed from one to another,
becomes a monster in the end.
Time will tell if perchance
we fall again
into another hell……..
With fear to guide them
instead of Peace….

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie

The Answer I Fear

Who are you
that seeks supremacy
by discarding your soul,
and condemning
men, women and children
in aid of your success.
Is it your fear?
Your fear of threat,
That leads you to chance?
And your sons and daughters
to starvation and death?
The Answer I fear is YES………..

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie


. no comfort .

squirm with fear and emotion, at what is written.

freeze at the next sentence, it has nothing to

do with you.

laugh yet is it with nervousness?

these are new remarks, a new way to learn.

a group of friends here, it is the new laws

that cause discomfort.

the type of coffee is reduced,

all in lower case.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

..irony..

oddly rhymes with posterity

austerity

the irony

how can they make such rigid stuff
from soft wools

take the thing then
harden it.

they say it will last a lifetime

hold its own

tradition

in the cold frozen

the code will not work,

nor will the counting with interruptions

austerity rhymes

with irony

not posterity

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher


Alas! Lost Is the Identity

Urdu and English

 

 افسوس  کسے  رہی  پہچان‪barmecide supper‬‏ کیلئے تصویری نتیجہ

جہاں سے بے خطر  آتش نمرود  میں کود پڑے عشق 
افسوس کیسے  رہی  پہچان  اس  عقل ے لبے  بام  کی

نقش  کییے چھوٹے سے پردے  پر سبھی ،دل سے
نہیں ،کیمرے  سے کی عزت اس عزت افزا  مقام کی

جب رشوت  سے ہی  ہر کام پورا  ہو جانے  لگے تو
آرام ہی کر لو  کیا ضرورت  ہے  سچے  کام  کی

الله کا وعدہ رزق  و روزی  زندگی و موت  سبھی
پھر بے حساب  خواہش  کیوں کی  رزق  حرام  کی

بے مقصد  تعلیم سے  کہیں  بہتر  خدمت  خلق کرنا ہے
خوش رہو  سادگی  اپناؤ  بد نامی نہ کرو نیک گمنام   کی

بےحسی  ظلم  و تکبر  لالچ و فریب  کا  راج  ہے
غربت میں اموات  طفلے کثیر امیری میں فکربس طعام کی 

امن  امن اور بس امن چاہے  دنیا  میں جنگ و جدل نہین
کیوں  انسانیت کے دلوں  کو  دکھی کرے خبر قتل عام کیی

سنجیدگی  سادگی خود انکاری  کا راستہ اپناؤ اور چلے  چلو 
کسی سے نہ انصافی  نہ ہو ،کرتے رہو  فکر اپنے انجام کی 

  مسلو نہ کوئی گلاب  نہ روندو پیروں تلے اک کیڑا بھی
یہ  نازک سی  جانیں  تمہارے لیے جہنم نہ بن جایں کہیں 

اک حسین  دھوکہ  ہے  یہ ساری  کائنات  انجم جاگتے رہو
پنجرہ  ے  خاکی  میں  دعا  ے خیر  ہوتی رهے،گردشے ایام کی 

unflinchingly  faith plunged in Nimrod’s fire, alas
no one remembers the fringe of discerning wisdom

all  sacred images captured on the mini screen,not
from the heart, but from the camera clicked  respect

when bribery gets all work done , why not rest
and relax , is there a need for  truthful honest work ?

God has promised food and  sustenance, life and death
then why do human beings desire  forbidden wealth ?

serving humanity is better than  aimless education
be joyful in simplicity  disrepute not unknown ones

apathy  cruelty pride greed deception reign supreme
in poverty children perish, in richness nothing but food

peace peace and peace should prevail,not war and strife
why the hearts of humanity be hurt by mass killing of life

follow the path of solemnity self denial and simplicity
no injustice for any soul,  just beware the consequences

do not crush an insect nor pluck a beautiful scented rose
in beauty and minuteness hell may visit unseen, asking for pay’

enlightened be anjum, counter delusive Barmecide’s feasts
with constant spiritual prayers for safety from the unforeseen

© 2018, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)


ABOUT

Testimonials
Disclosure
Facebook
Twitter

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. I currently run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded.  I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers. My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s PorchVita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation PressThe Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman. My poetry was recently read by Northern California actor Richard Lingua for Poetry Woodshed, Belfast Community Radio. I was featured in a lengthy interview on the Creative Nexus Radio Show where I was dubbed “Poetry Champion.”

* The BeZine: Waging the Peace, An Interfaith Exploration featuring Fr. Daniel Sormani, Rev. Benjamin Meyers, and the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi among others

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

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“Veil Required” … and other poems in response to last week’s Wednesday Writing Prompt


“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.” E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly


These responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, the bride wore yellow, October 31, 2018 give us a peek into perspectives, ideals, joys, challenges, complexities, and disappointments in weddings, marriage and relationships. Well done and much thanks to Billy Antonio, Gary W. Bowers, Irma Do, Deb y Felio (Debbie Felio), Jen E. Goldie, Sonja Benskin Mesher, and Anjum Wasim Dar.  Special thanks to Irma and Anjum for including artwork.  Bravo!

In addition to their words, I’ve included links to blogs or websites where available. I hope you’ll visit these poets and get to know their work better. It is likely you can catch up with others via Facebook.

Enjoy! … and do come out to play tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.


aged wine…
the couple renew
their vows

© 2018, Billy Antonio
Laoac, Pangasinan, Philippines


veil required

the groom-to-be
would just not be
dissuaded:
he had to have
a bride who had
a veil.

and thus and sewn
a veil was grown;
it shaded
his beauty’s face
her Wordless Grace
so pale.

all words were said.
she raised her head
he lifted
the nylon net
revealing
radiant
joy.
their loops arrived,
and, uncontrived
and gifted,
that mellow Kiss–
that This–
was Girl
and
Boy.

© 2018, Gary W. Bowers (One With Clay, Image and Text)


Marriage Bound – A Cascade Poem

We signed this paper

We are legally bound

The hard work begins

We climbed the steps and waited in line

On our lunch hour

We signed this paper

That night we fought

You slept on the couch

We are legally bound

Morning came

You made me coffee

The hard work begins

Another cascade poem about a relationship, this one responding to Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday prompt to write about weddings or marriage. She states, “As with all human institutions and traditions, weddings and marriages can be very mixed things.”

I wholeheartedly agree with this. Weddings are often fraught with family drama – it’s like all major holiday dinners with two entire families who are staying in one small house all rolled into one day.

After the wedding, marriage itself is a mixed bag of highs and lows. Some couples do call it quits when the lows seem too much but for other couples, those marriage vows, that piece of paper, is permanently binding. Barring any type of abuse, these couples put in the hard work to maintain their commitment.

Relationships are mentally, emotionally and physically demanding. Sometimes love is enough to get us through. Sometimes we need a little more – from our partner, family, friends, from ourselves. But in the end, we all still hope to say, “It was worth it.”

©️ 2018, poem, commentary and photograph,  Irma Do (I Do Run)


At Sea

He’d be my anchor
to hold me steady
He’d be my rudder
when I was ready
to be steered
and grasped
for journey’s maps

it sounded safer
to have such care
for when in life
I had been scared
of life, of me
looking past
the shorelines vast

but years stretched
the anchor weighed
life down and rudder
circled / stayed
in place, close in
to that land
of crystal sand

the winds were strong
to fuel the past
I cut the rope
on sail at last
no longer held
by ancient dreams
new horizons gleam

I can never know
what would have been
or even now will be
but let it in
my own accord
a path ahead
explore unled

Night is coming
undenied
and I am crossed
to the other side
through opened door
my skiff and me
unmoored and free.

© 2018, Deb y Felio


TANDEM: A word that only lovers
understand.
MARRIAGE: A state where tandem
should be true.
DESIRE: A thing that marriage
should but will.
Would that tandem were the way,
And put marriages at bay,
Let Lovers have their say……….

© 2018, Jen E. Goldie


..cypher spoken clear..

passed over by accident, the
thing occurred naturally,
without clerics. without beatitude.

given by friendship, yet
piety slowly eroded.

they come now with learning,
holding large words, a different language.

the charm now gone,
perhaps they did not need it any more.

once again, it is said, that,
they speak latin. made
the word bleed.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

.once in france.

he sat on the step in the heat, I, sickly dozed under the damson tree. lizards flicked. while in the village below this hill music played. a wedding.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

..spoon..

it is an ancient place,
oswald’s tree, the floor
bends, polished wood.

there was a wedding yesterday,
all kilted, the groom ate pie,
wore proper shoes with segs.

she showed me a cabinet, a spoon,
hand forged, old, beaten for sale.

i was travelling, a pretty
place, not good enough for some.

the bottle is crooked,

we left it
so.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher


I Locked My Heart and Let the Key Drift in the River

Urdu and English

وقت  جو گزر گیا  اک  خواب  سا  لگتا ہے
اب یہ  سوچتی ہوں  کہ  حقیقت  کیا  ہے
جب ہر  کام   میں  الله  پر  بھروسہ  کر  لیں
تو پھر  فکر و  پریشانی  کی ضرورت  کیا  ہے
کتنا  جھوٹ  بھرا ہے  آج کے انسانوں میں
سچ  کہاں ہے  اور  صداقت  کیا  ہے
ہر ایک  کو فکر  ہے بس اپنی ذات کی
ہمدردی  کہاں  ہے  انسانیت   کیا  ہے
دکھ درد  سے  بھری  ہے  یہ  دنیا سری
بیکاری  بیماری  کی  یہ  حالت کیا  ہے
اپنے  بھی  پراے  بن  جاتے  ہیں  جب
چاہیں  تو  اپنا لیں  پھر  چاہت  کیا ہے
بکتی  ہیں  بازاروں  می  علم  کی سندیں
محنت  و  لگن  و  ذہانت   پھر  کیا  ہے
دھڑکتے  دل  پے تالا  ہے چابی  دریا میں
گر  چاہت  گناه  ہے  تو پیار و محبت کیا ہے

Time that is past,seems like a dream
now I think about what certitude is

when for everything we trust the Almighty
then for worry and stress, no need is

how full of deception is humanity today
where faith righteousness and truth is

individuality narcissism reigns supreme
then where empathy compassion pity is

the world is replete with pain and grief
what nauseating malady, disease this is

knowledge is sold, in markets hot,openly
what then dedicated effort and vision is

I locked my heart and threw the key adrift
if desire is a sin then what love n affection is

© 2018, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)
Green and Yellow Weddings, Color or Collar

متعلقہ تصویر                                                 10931594_10153064832645747_809812903100677600_o (1)A Wedding in gold in green and yellow, green soft and yellow bold 
A Time to become the wanted and the unwanted, to feel hot and cold,
Be the, Special One, of the rare species, definitely, surely be in a color
and maybe sooner before you can  say cock robin, be in a collar’.

I  must apologize  for my distraction by nature ,
but being born under the Gemini  Skies I cannot
help being either Castor or Pollux-whichever is me,
I am a Human for I can see hear eat lie and cheat

mock taunt smile sleep grab and command and
write believe me I belong to a humble and honest
uh the Race that has inhabited this greener Planet
for centuries and made a humble  smelly mess of it.

and thus in this  ailing failing binding mending
cunning stunning weeping keeping entertaining
side of life one is selected decorated and collected
along with gold cash furniture house and boarding

yellow yellow all over, in flower bower and cover
in drums and dance in drinks and feast till over
in the loudness of music, drowns the fear n tear
the savage side of possession command n cheer

there reigns more hurt and pain and  complaints
a bondage a commitment a promise of  affection
forgiveness patience courage and  conviction of
of sacrifice support of honor  and appreciation

but an image horrific looms large  and long
unwashed dishes,ants crawling in line
anger  aggression   insults subtle and fine
depression loneliness  forgetfulness of the divine

how soon the green mixing with yellow withers
away, the fragrance  fades and  flowers decay
the joy of togetherness drags and drifts away
and all love ‘soon dies in its own too much’ a day

a wedding is a promise if one makes it then one should keep it

© 2018, photos and poem, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)


ABOUT

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the associate editor of a regional employment publication. Currently I run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded.  I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers.

My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s PorchVita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal, The Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman

* The BeZine: Waging the Peace, An Interfaith Exploration featuring Fr. Daniel Sormani, Rev. Benjamin Meyers, and the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi among others

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

“leave it, give it up” … poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

“What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And people flock around the poet and say: ‘Sing again soon’ – that is, ‘May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.” Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or: A Fragment of Life



These responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, scag dancing (re: addiction), October 17, 2018.

Kudos and thanks to Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brookes, Bhaga d’Auroville, Irma Do, Deb y Felio (Debbie Felio), Sonja Benskin Mesher, and Anjum Wasim Dar.

I’ve included links to blogs or websites where available. I hope you’ll visit these poets and get to know their work better. It is likely you can catch up with others via Facebook.

Enjoy! … and do come out to play tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.


need’ll

in the dead man’s car a needle
on the dead man’s face foamed saliva
and an easy smile.

the total count of needles in the car
was sixty-Two.

squirrel-stashed here and there
in his guesthouse abode
were many more. one of his
saltshakers
contained in unsalt. his spare teeth
were in a falsebottomed container.

his pain and
his holes of loss
of fellow wretches and
a wife had
at last
evaporated

© 2018, Gary W. Bowers (One with Clay, Image and Text)


Hashish

Hijab covered she arrives
at my till with her two young girls
What us that smell? She exclaims
Hashish, I answer.
Her small kids hold close to her dress.
There should be a law.
Especially with kids around.
They shouldn’t have to suffer this.

The aroma of the previous male customer
still hangs around after she’s left.

From a forthcoming collection “Please Take Change,” Cyberwit.net, 2018

© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)

Prolific Yorkshire Poet, Paul Brookes

FOR THOSE WHO MIGHT NOT BE AWARE: 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.

The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Jamie Dedes


Unreal Wombwell,

The Old Town Hall is a pub
where a pint sups half full or half empty,
pedestrians intent upon their daily task
Pied wagtails twerk and pass by
green unicorns, the canal and mines
frozen in metal on a gate into a side street,
Air is made of warm Potters pie pastry,
Hashish cracks doors of perception.
Old gypsy nags snort past betting shops.

The day assembled of colour coded bones
so it stands upright and invites a spy
of its wears, whyfores and whatevers
And wagtail dodge and weave between feet.

© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow / Inspiration. History. Imagination.)


To Let the Sunshine In

Substance abuse?… I do not know
Of that myself – and this, although
I was born somehow right in time
For being a Hippie #metoo:
I loved ‘Hair’ (yes, I keep singing
Still ‘Let the Sun shine in’…),
I did study at La Sorbonne
And later lived ‘May 68’
When students and the young workforce
Did fraternize and reinvent
The French society, for a while.
I could then, as many others,
Have fallen into drug abuse,
Yet my soul kept me far from it
And never did I even try.
Cigarettes? I didn’t like them
And soon stopped wasting my money
Into packets my friends emptied
Before I remembered to smoke!
Alcohol? I’ll take a few drops
Of old rum drowned in cane syrup
And call that my own ‘Planteur Punch’…
More than that I wouldn’t enjoy,
So never got drunk, by God’s Grace!
My own addiction is much worse
For yes, I am in constant need
And require my fix all the time…
But far from destroying any
Of what I truly am, instead
It is making my whole being
Grow back ever more consciously
– And ever more blissfully too –
Into my deeper, truer Self,
My eternal and divine Self:
Right while being in this body
(And with all my dear body-cells
Taking their own share of the Bliss),
Addicted to Divine Delight
As to our natural birthright,
I make it my daily diet
And my more and more constant high
Except that I don’t get blissed out,
But rather blissed in, I would say!
It doesn’t require anything
External to my own being:
We’re all born with that potential
And can activate it at will.
Only, this is what we must choose
If this is what we want to have.
It is what we all truly crave
But most of us are never told
And hear only of outer drugs
When the Real Thing is in us,
Right in our own core, or also
Right around us, all around us,
Everything is bathing in it!…
The supply isn’t a problem
For the supply is infinite,
And yes, totally free to boot!!!
So here is my smiling advice
For true happiness as a vice:
Turn to this Divine Addiction
To Use Without Moderation,
Your sun then will shine from within
And make our world happier too!…
That’s what we all come here to do.

© 2018, Bhaga d’Auroville (Lab of Evolution,For Research on Conscious Evolution)


My Husband’s Affair with Ms. C

I know he doesn’t mean it

When he goes to you instead

He’s known you longer than he’s known me

Will you know him ‘til he’s dead?

I smell your perfume in his shirt

At the end of every day

I know he spends more time with you

Yet there is nothing I can say

Wordlessly I watch and wait

While his lungs turn goopy and burn

My love for him isn’t strong enough

He chose you and I lose my turn

© 2018, Irma Do (I Do Run,And I do a few other things too …)

c Irma Do

“While smoking may not seem as terrible as opioid addiction (it’s not illegal, it’s still somewhat socially accepted), it is still an activity that takes you away from your relationships, obligations and hurts your health. In fact, I think any activity – even ones that start off as healthy, like running – can become an unhealthy addiction.

“In this way, addiction has probably touched more lives that people might care to admit. Think of binge drinking in college or the even the use of smart phones – activities that people use as “coping skills” but, in reality, take people away from having real relationships and can cause serious mental and physical health problems. The mental and emotional components of addiction, as well as the physical aspects, has lasting effects, not only for the individual, but also for all the people in that person’s life.

“In my professional and in personal lives, I am keenly aware of “addictive thinking” and “addictive behavior”. Tragically, I had a friend who died from alcoholism that she hid very well from us for many years. There is still so much stigma around addiction but we can’t be quiet about it any more. People are dying and we can’t just “wordlessly watch and wait”.

© 2018, Irma Do


Relapse

Again I hear

it’s expected and part of recovery. Continued self discovery
And yet
some are discovered. Dead.

Again I hear

it’s illness. Or maybe genetic/ hereditary
And yet
it seems choice when
the needle goes in.

Again I hear

it’s a process, a journey
And yet
this journey takes me to hell.

Again I hear

there is no failure as long as I continue trying
And yet
there is no success in the trying.

Again I hear

I have my whole future ahead of me
And yet
there is a hole in the future.

Again I hear

everyone deserves another chance
And yet
the next chance looks just like the last.

Again I hear

keep coming back
And yet
I only come back to the abyss

Again I hear

Accept the things I cannot change
And yet

I have again.

Relapse.

© 2018, Deb y Felio

Basic Education

cold and wet in a bed
shared with two others
a single blanket barely
covering three

cereal dredged
from box bottoms
cracker crumbs
breakfast to go

darkened room
fuzzy cartoons
clothes in piles
and under chairs

stepping over
bottles and butts
spoons and powder
and stepping out

past yells and cries
smells and smoke
out to a yard
of condoms and needles

onto cracked sidewalks
fences and offers
for candy and rides
by not so strange strangers

arriving at last
into a classroom
of second grade friends
and the teacher announcing,

“Makir, you’re late, again.”

© 2018, Deb y Felio


..fine lines..

it is a fine line we walk,
gently avoiding peptides,

only just a theory,
yet used independently,
alongside honest work,
for mending.

the film continues,
some of the old cast, new actors oblige,
ideas on lack of addictive ways.
simple days without receptors.
singing under breath, counting, unpacking boxes,
this is the lead. hints are posted, and may you believe them graciously.

for many times will you be tested.

there were subtitles, out of focus,
we could not read the other language.
the film continues…. peptides.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher

#valium

look at the little people.
arms held high. the medicine
is in the cabinet, they cannot
reach it.

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher


The gentle Anjum Wasim Dar reminds us by implication how much we have in common as human beings/the one human race and how poetry and other arts cross boarders and console our hearts. / J.D.

c Anjum Wasim Dar

Dearest Friend just read your message to come out to play..surely I will ..it’s way past midnight here [Pakistan] and my thoughts and pen keep me company..spent some time watching Zorba’s dance ..these days I am rewriting , compiling in neat writing my Urdu poems…am surprised at what I have expressed …there was a time I loved ghazals* specially those which were on the theme of ‘drinking and forgetting the hardships of life’ drinking away the loneliness sadness and helplessness’ maybe with kids away and parents no more one feels as such..poetry and writing helped me move on in life..but sadly few people understand this …this part of the sub continent have seen many poets writers and ghazal poems singers…when you ask me to write in Urdu I feel so honored and feel overwhelmed and can feel the magnetic force of your call’ my Urdu poetry is by my side and I find a couplet which I dedicate to you …

ان کے خیال میں جو ساتھ دیتا ہنے دھواں میرا ، وو کہتے ہیں کہ برا ہنے اسے چھوڑ دوں

when your thoughts make me sad this smoke consoles me comforts me, you say it’s bad, leave it give it up…

© 2018, Anjum Wasim Dar (Poetic Oceans)

https://youtu.be/6jBVBI1a7w4

If you are reading this post from an email subscription, you’ll likely have to link through to the site to watch the video above. 

Mirza Asadullah Khan Baig Ghalib is considered the greatest and most influential poet of Urdu and Farsi ghazals / Public domain illustration

* “The ghazal ( Punjabi: ਗ਼ਜ਼ਲ, Urdu: غزَل ‎, Hindi: ग़ज़ल, Persian: غزل‎, Pashto: غزل‎, Bengali: গজল) is a form of amatory poem or ode, originating in Arabic poetry. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain.

A ghazal commonly consists of between five and fifteen couplets, which are independent, but are linked – abstractly, in their theme; and more strictly in their poetic form. The structural requirements of the ghazal are similar in stringency to those of the Petrarchan sonnet. In style and content, due to its highly allusive nature, the ghazal has proved capable of an extraordinary variety of expression around its central themes of love and separation.

“The ghazal is one of the most widespread and popular poetic forms, especially across the Middle East and South Asia. Readings or musical renditions of Ghazals are well attended in these countries, even by the laity. In a similar manner to Haiku, the Ghazal is gaining popularity among western poetry readers.” Wikipedia


ABOUT

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and the associate editor of a regional employment publication. Currently I run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded.  I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers.

My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s PorchVita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The River Journal, The Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.