“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” W.B. Yeats
These responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, in praise of all hallelujah, perfect and fractured, June 20, are painfully wise and honest and moving to the point of tears. Times are hard, no doubt about it. Well done, Bozhidar Pangelov (bogan), Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brooks, Debbie Felio, Carol Mikoda, and Marta Pombo Sallés. Thanks also to artist/poet Sonja Benskin Myers for including her illustration along with one of her poems.
So here is our gift to enrich your day. Please do join us tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.
Hallelujah for the deprived
the church (is) carved
on a steep hill
on broken glass
images
crunched under the footsteps of wild animals
which rarely pass by
pieces of wind and stone slabs
falling from names
(the names go away)
we sold our lives
a hand cuts off the wrist
no live cypress trees
or birds
the past starts
and the shadows do not move into the grave
„poor my Jorik“
you have never been born
those deprived of time
cannot die
they do not know how
the folded pin is the eye
© 2018, bogpan (bogpan – блог за авторска поезия, блог за авторска поезия)
hallelujah unison
arthritic hands clasp and hurt each other
eyes squeeze and phosphenes march
“hallelujah,” she whispers
miles away there is a beheading
“hallelujah!” they shout
miles away a child is born
“hallelujah,” say the three
(one inaudibly)
miles away there is home in the headlights
miles away a bell tower reverberates
miles away a monitor flatlines
and miles away a man sees someone waiting for him under a streetlight
shifting her feet
seeing him
and catching her breath
© 2018, Gary W. Bowers (One With Clay, Image and Text)
Hallelujahs
My steady breath and regular beat of my heart as I wake is a fire goaded from the snuffed out taper
of yesterday.
Welcome shouts and hugs from my family, opens petals of wonder releases sweet fragrance of warmth.
Thankyous from the boss of all my efforts curves into smiles of bairns released into the arms of aggrieved parents.
Hallelujahs out of broken, divorced, stamped out, water logged ashes lick and dance heat and light in eyes renewed.
© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)
That Yes
of your breath as it lets go into the fresher air opportunity offers with open hands,
an apology for pain given from the giver heals the sores and blemishes, some self inflicted, hands
over a cup of tea, coffee or glass of fresh greeting
A wholesome kiss and gleam gladdened eyes
without expectation of return or reparation,
sip down electricity that sparkles your bones.
© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)
How Fragments Make
room for new making
You are the better maker.
Muscle and skin and idea undone
reveal shapes unconsidered.
Pieces of belief disassembled
into nonsense make a different sense.
Necessary chaos you can tangle
Into another order. Praise the entangled.
© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)
No Hallelujahs
without darkness
without questions
without nonsense
No hallelujahs
without failure
without mistakes
without doubt
No hallelujahs
without hard decisions
without dislocation
without recovery
© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)
CODA
Blood
Rage
Objectification
Killing
Exclusion
Neglect
How long we wait
Again for righteousness
Lifting up the
Lives of the lost
Echoing the
Longing for
Universal
Justice
And
Honor
© 2018, deb y felio
glory be
a host of horrors greet us each day
multitudes of madnesses
economies of scale sing hymns
ailing rotting-on-the-inside riffraff
make holy homemade videos
that go virulently viral in stupefying style
scores bursting at the seams about to crack
en masse we raise voices
This! Life! is astonishing
life on earth
with its variegations in virtue
imperfections impressive in their number
it is good nevertheless this creation
find a statue or painting of god
that’s not a little bit broken
let alone one of us humans
Rejoice!
ever-morphing clouds
roll across the storm sky
to release, in their fractures,
photon beams
across swarming humanity’s home
until Hallelujah! a stunning sunset show
© 2018, Carol Mikoda
i limped.
into the cathedral.
my life will be sorted,
if i bought the book @
£1.99, said suffering is
good.
i looked at the boys,
looked at the floor,
read ecclesiastes,
we are as dust,
and limped out.
© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher
men in the village, are older now. the moth returns.
© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher
Dance of Hope
Wrapped in orange dress
of hope is the dance.
Fluttering veil seals
renewed serene bliss.
Fans turn in the air
tasting this new flair
of hope tied in rope,
invisible thread
that beats with the heart.
Bathing in moonlight
of newly found joy
I danced my hope with
a fluttering veil
and turned my fans in
the winds of a change.
© 2018, Marta Pombo Sallés (Moments)
trees can’t walk properly,
Flowers twitch haphazardly.
Grass is mute, rivers are dumb.
Nature is differently abled.
Mountains are too tall,
struggle to talk when they can’t
bend a knee, get down to those smaller
who are in awe when all mountains need
is to speak face to face , dispel their myth.
Same with water that rushes by,
no time to stand and stare, moments pass
before they have time to fully comprehend.
Flux needs a still moment but has to go on.
Still waters wish they could rush.
All hankers after what it Is not,
Cannot accept their place as their lot.
© 2018, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration * History * Imagination)
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Zhuangzi Dreaming of a Butterfly, Ming dynasty, mid-Sixteeth Century – ink on silk
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 