Page 4 of 127

Posted on

You Are with Me, a Villanelle by Anjum Wasim Dar

Photograph courtesy of Daiga Ellaby, Unsplash

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” Henri Nouwen 

I have memorized you, like a sacred hymn
a precious gem in the necklace of friendship
ever shining star of the night skies, though dim.

You are with me, a spirit like a cherubim,
comforting, blowing away painful sadness
I have memorized you like a sacred hymn.

I hope for a journey to your land, like a pilgrim
beside me in isolation, at distance beyond measure
ever shining star of the night skies, though dim

the path is tough, shoes wear out, my cover is scrim
homeless, lost, tortured, of oppression a victim
I have memorized you like a sacred hymn

Chains of freedom may break, chances are slim
tears cannot wash the grief nor drown the fears
ever shining star of the night skies, though dim.

In images royal, in poetry sweet, up to the brim
you appear,giving me joy unseen, with flowers
I have memorized you like a sacred hymn,
ever shining star of the night skies, though dim.

© 2020, Anjum Wasim Dar

Anjum Wasim Dar

ANJUM WASIM DAR (Poetic Oceans) was born in Srinagar (Indian occupied Kashmir) in 1949. Her family opted for and migrated to Pakistan after the Partition of India and she was educated in St Anne’s Presentation Convent Rawalpindi where she passed the Matriculation Examination in 1964. Anjum ji was a Graduate with Distinction in English in 1968 from the Punjab University, which ended the four years of College with many academic prizes and the All Round Best Student Cup, but she found she had to make extra efforts for the Masters Degree in English Literature/American Studies from the Punjab University of Pakistan since she was at the time also a back-to-college mom with three school-age children.

Her work required further studies, hence a Post Graduate Diploma in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) from Allama Iqbal Open University Islamabad and a CPE, a proficiency certificate, from Cambridge University UK (LSE – Local Syndicate Examination – British Council) were added to  her professional qualifications.

Jamie Dedes:

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

Maintain the movement.

“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

Almost Time, a poem . . . and your next Wednesday Writing Prompt

Photograph courtesy of Davide Cantelli, Unsplash

“Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est.” Ludwig van Beethoven

Looking back and waving good-bye to
Those East Coast blue velvet nights,
The Jersey Palisades, the clear wind
Singing its way through fall foliage as
Long-lost big sis Teresa and me drive to
I don’t remember where but with the
Child’s clear sight radiant visions came
Of early residents cooking over campfire
Warming themselves in caves and tents,
Smiling at the same stars shining light on

All those giant trees, dendrochronology!
Mountains that never bow down, and
Roads that offer hard walks and unclear
Boundaries, prehistoric hand stencils
Make the eyes smile, the mind wonder
And wander on West Coast hikes, and
Those roosters fleeing my driving
Lessons in Maynard, Iowa, Professor
Dad-in-Law coaching, hard to get this
Short dark Brooklyn girl, whose speech

Odd and religion odder still, she found the
Air in San Francisco different from that in
Manhattan, the preponderance of cars,
The values struggling with the received
Ambitions and material concerns when
She’d rather be home with the baby, the
Toddler, the youth, the young adult, the
Man grown, see the dazzle in his eyes and
Hear the soul in his laughter, the simple joy in
Midnight snacks and Creature Features, in

Books, theatre, movies, the CitySon Philospher
Walked along Crown Beach, his love of nature,
Of critters and his willing get-away to Crab Cove
With all its secrets, the man he is now gets the
Poetry and the dreams and life’s subtilities . . .
Oh, yes! Waving goodbye with gratitude and with
Sadness too, for the father largely unknow, the
Mother silent, abused and abusive, the grandmother
Who shut the door on us, the grandfather who
Escaped to So Cal, now all gathering round

To begin another adventure with another
Theme and they seem benign floating in
On my dreams, whispering in my ear, calling
My name, almost time to come home, dear . . .

© 2020, Jamie Dedes

Wednesday Writing Prompt

If you were looking death in the face, what would you remember with joy? Who would you think of fondly? What would you remember sadly? Tells us in your own way through your own poem/s and . . .

  • 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 on theme in the comments section here will be published in next Tuesday’s collection. Poems submitted through email or Facebook will not be published. If you are new to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, be sure to include a link to your website, blog, and/or Amazon page to be published along with your poem. Thank you!

Deadline:  Monday, May 11th 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.

Jamie Dedes:

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

Maintain the movement.

“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

On the lockdown: Two by Moe Seager

Photograph courtesy of Annie Sprattm Unsplash

“Once, a long time ago,
Before Corona,
People sat together
Talking in soft voices
That only they could hear
Heads almost touching . . . “
Before Corona, Mike Stone

Perhaps

Morning gives to afternoon
Time to tuck away dreams, desire, inner being
Corporeal gravity of transparent routines, anemic rituals
Rain, Spring returns from exile
Sucks on Aprils nipples

Thunder claps, falling waters
Herd us against each other
Repelling most in hurried flight for home
Where we are absolutely safe
From nothing
Witness those drowning
In the empty vessels of themselves

Oh this day would be dull, boring
Were it not for the occasional flash
Of bright umbrellas
One, the color red
To remind us
We are

My umbrella is a tent
I a nomad
Wandering through this village
Not quite sure of how to conduct myself

By chance, design?
We come upon each other
Relief
The solitude of two

Too soon it is time
You must go
I shall wait
Beauty is stubborn

© 2020, Moe Seager

Dog Days

Paris calling. Week 4 or 5? Not sure. French president Macron announced the prolongation of the lock down to May 11. He says by that date we shall have test kits and an adequate supply of masks. Aping the U.S.,, France manufactures millions of bullets weekly but is at a loss to readily supply its citizens with protective gear. Yes, like the US., France can manufacture goods that end life but not so well that which will save lives. I’m a socially active guy so this lock down is quite challenging. I have a dog Bertha. I’m allowed to walk her twice a day. Like other cities the air here is now clear. Flowers and green things spring and bud pallets of colors more vividly than in past seasons. Flora blooms larger than usual. My life is smaller. The change in surroundings and social climate affect Bertha as well. She moves casually, in step with me in no need of prompting. We hear several species of birds as we’ve not heard before. Birds make music and speech, comforting. Put down the dictionary, wake up the ears. I have a g-o-d- Great Out Doors, manifest as atmosphere, stratosphere, ionosphere, beyond where I cannot ascend to reach. Truly beyond my comprehension, nonetheless marvelous to marvel at, outside and in. I’ve been commissioned to write two books, poetry and short stories just prior to the quarantine. The quarantine is writing me. There are moments, unsettling in the deep drifting night when this isolation seeds a solitude I’m barely prepared to wade in. My gallery of dreams resonate a consciousness, feelings ominous. I wake with urgent need to love; they whom I hold in my heart, to care for those I’ve callously dismissed for petite self serving motives. Wake up is a mercurial meditation. I’m a spectator of my inner self. Yes I latch onto social media, relieving my anxieties by viewing yours, heartened when expressing my sympathy for you and yours. Oftimes Facebook is Death book. Times I lapse into a list of those who must not perish, for their sake, for mine. I have witnessed parents, mothers, my own burying her own children. Then gladdened with news that someone, others have survived a dance with death. And I know we’re in this together. willfully or not. Fear of mortality invokes frenzied vitality. With all my impotent indignation and rage I indict those governors of politics and fortunes, the immune by privilege, for their indefensible manipulations and greed driven exploitation of us Us, we are everybody by virtue of our common humanity. You might expect that the poet I am would center me, magnetize my focus onto language. Truth be told it’s a song, a song from any number of periods and styles. A piece of music, be it of voice or instruments, both, that unearth the sadness, the joys, the will… against the odds we stay in the game. No one to witness me shed bitter sweet tears and laughter. I dance to the notice of my dog Bertha. She sits calmly, quizzically. Good for her. The day is made.

© 2020, Moe Seager

Moe Seager

MOE SEAGER (Moe Seager- Paris Calling) is a poet and jazz & blues vocalist who sings his poems on stages in Paris, New York and elsewhere and has recorded 2 jazz-poetry c.d.s. Seager founded and hosts Angora Poets (Paris) World Caffé, 100 Thousand Poets for Change, Paris and is one of the coordinators for le Fédération des Poètes paris. He has 5 collections of poetry and currently publishes published with Onslaught press, Oxford, U.K. Other poetry collections are issued from the French Ministry of Culture – Dream Bearers,1990. One World, Cairo Press – in Arabic translation, 2004. We Want Everything in French translation, les Temps des Cirises, Paris, 1994. Perhaps, La Maison de la Poesie, Grenoble, France, 2006. Fishermen and Pool Sharks Busking editions, London, 1992. Additionally Seager won a Golden Quill Award (USA) for investigative journalism, 1989 and received an International Human Rights award from the Zepp foundation, 1990. He teaches writing in Paris.

Jamie Dedes:

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

Maintain the movement.

“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

The Art of Reinvention, a poem . . . and your next Wednesday Writing Prompt

Photograph courtesy of Sebastian Unrau, Unsplash

Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die
Basho

A rooster’s crow echoes in the hallowed halls
Of a mind as unfettered as the sun hitching
A ride across the day sky and dying without
Angst into dusk and lunar magic, shinning on
Sea waves wearing away stone, pine needles
Rotting into detritus, decomposing into food and
Housing for small residents of busy ecosystems,
Like the bodies of sinners and saints, one moment
Clay and the next starlight, a sacred unharvest for
Wholly spirits, clinging to nothing, single minded
Evolving and devolving, reinventing and recycling
An etheric trail across the great galaxy of mystery

© 2020, Jamie Dedes

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

reinvention

An old friend of mine is fond of saying that nothing is lost in the Kingdom of God – nothing really dies, she says –  but all things are in a constant state of reinvention. I agree. I would even suggest that we reinvent ourselves in the sense that we often have to in response to life events. So that’s the challenge for this week. Write about reinvention from any perspective you choose and …

  • 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 on theme in the comments section here will be published in next Tuesday’s collection. Poems submitted through email or Facebook will not be published. If you are new to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, be sure to include a link to your website, blog, and/or Amazon page to be published along with your poem. Thank you!

Deadline:  Monday, May 4th 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.

Jamie Dedes:

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

Maintain the movement.

“Democracy is not a spectator sport.” Bernie Sanders

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