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Belatedly for Valentine’s Day: “Hangover” (a bit of humor) and three of Shakespeare’s love sonnets

Rodrigo Rodriguez, Unsplash

Hangover

at the grocery ~
Meeting accidentally in the wine section
you sip me shyly with gentle conversation
and read the label on my selection,
your hand brushes mine, a sensual appeal
It’s for drunken pasta! I explain,
you laugh and say you’d rather drink than eat it
your eyes are Wedgwood blue and hold a wistful smile
you imagine I’m something fine, a vintage port
you’re flushed with the fancied sweetness
I could drink you too, a sturdy Bordeaux
but I no longer deal well with hangovers

© 2017, Jamie Dedes



Three from Shakespeare:

My Love Is A Fever, Longing Still

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Sweet love, renew thy force be it not said

Sweet love, renew thy force be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allayed,
To-morrow sharpened in his former might.
So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fullness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see:
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Or call it winter, which being full of care
Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wished, more rare.

– William Shakespeare

As you can see, I’m trying to catch up.  I hope everyone had a lovely Valentine’s Day and that each day gifts you with a bit of romance.


Jamie DedesAbout /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

through the ache of time, a poem . . . and your next Wednesday Writing Prompt

Courtesy of Greg Rakozy, Unsplash

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.” Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living



see it moving – Life!
moving through the ache of time
seeking that place
where identity isn’t worn on a sleeve,
where individuals challenge the tribe,
where beauty frees itself from convention,
where the chains of fear dissolve

© 2020, Jamie Dedes

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

What do you think Life seeks to express through us?  Tell us in 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 through email or Facebook will not be published.

IF this is your first time joining us for The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a brief bio and photo to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com to introduce yourself to the community … and to me :-). These are partnered with your poem/s on first publication.

PLEASE send the bio ONLY if you are with us on this for the first time AND only if you have posted a poem (or a link to one of yours) on theme in the comments section below.  

Deadline:  Monday, February 17 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 DedesAbout /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

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 DedesAbout /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

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 DedesAbout /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