Page 2 of 5

from the wind-whipped edges of the earth, a poem …. and your Wednesday Writing Prompt

“If you want to end the war then instead of sending guns, send books. Instead of sending tanks, send pens. Instead of sending soldiers, send teachers.” ~ Malala Yousafzai (17 year-old Noble Peace Laureate)



tawny moon, an evening grace,
a calm drapes itself on the dwindling day

the mystic mountains, pristine, rise high above
an earthy base, the wizard Merlin’s realm
with memories of a green and primal past …
…….of rootedness
…………..essential things

and Peace!
a lively Peace …

visits us on the briny spray, delights
at the meeting of land and sea
at rhythms of ocean against the shore
as waves drift in and out, fling and toss
stop, start, begin again and then again
splashing, salt of a mother’s tears

moonlight wanes,
a liminal hour

and Peace!
capricious Peace …

see the moon incised, a holograph
from wind-whipped edges of the Earth,
read reports of valour and cowardice
…….the blight of insanity
…………..the naked lives
jarring, the morning dispatch
tragedies, under the heel of depravity

. . .guns, bombs, drones

………..psychopaths, forever with us

people fleeing the lacerations of their plight
Oh! the crushing horror of their fright

“In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain.” Aberjhani, The River of Winged Dreams

© 2017, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

Peace! Capricious. Unevenly distributed. We can be the peace but what do we do about the psychopaths?  How do we mop up the blood? How do we hang on to our hope? Tells us in a poem or poems.

Share your poem/s on theme or a link to it/them in the comments section below.

All poems on theme will be published next Tuesday. Please do NOT email your poem to me or leave it on Facebook. If you do it’s likely I’ll miss it or not see it in time.

Poems in response to this prompt will be considered for inclusion in the September issue of The BeZine, which is themed social justice.

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 in order to introduce yourself to the community … and to me :-).  These will be partnered with your poem/s on first publication.

Deadline:  Monday, July 23 at 8 p.m. Pacific.

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, sharing your work, and getting to know other poets who might be new to you. This is a discerning nonjudgemental place to connect.


ABOUT

Poet and writer, I was once columnist and 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 PressThe Bar None GroupSalamander CoveSecond LightI Am Not a Silent PoetMeta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.

Cruel Legacy, Environmental Injustice, and the Growing Incidence of Interstitial Lung Disease

fullsizerender

I have lived now for nineteen years past my medically predicted expiration date. Every year or so I feel compelled to get on my soap box – this site, though the topic is off-theme – about lung disease, its increasing prevalence, and its debilitating effects.



At the time in our history when we started to see nature as something apart from us, when we gave up our shamanic instincts and in our hubris separated them from our growing science, when we devolved from stewardship and one-with to ownership and power-over, we set ourselves up for a world of multifaceted pain and disruption. One result in modern times is environmentally induced disease caused by xenobiotic substances that result in cancers, autoimmune disorders and interstitial lung diseases (ILDs).

My concern here – as a powerful and noteworthy example of the impact of industrial pollutants and of wars and other violence to the earth and its inhabitants – is interstitial lung disease. I have hypersensitivity pneumonitis, an ILD that can be caused by smoking. I am a lifelong non-smoker. Everyone – EVERYONE – is at risk of ILD, smokers or not, and so are other animals. We know that in the United States and England, the numbers suffering from ILD are growing. No matter where  in the world we live and what we do for work, we all need to recognize and acknowledge this as part of the complicated package of environmental injustices.

Our lungs are the only organs that are exposed and immediately vulnerable to industrial pollutants and inhaled chemicals, dust and other particulate matter in the air. One study tells us, “Lung cancer is the number one cause of cancer-related deaths in humans worldwide. Environmental factors play an important role in the epidemiology of these cancers.”

Consider the two hundred ILDs: These are diseases that affect the tissue and space around the air sacs (alveoli) of the lungs resulting in scaring (fibrosis). We – and other animals – can’t breath through scar tissue, which is not permeable. Hence the exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen is inhibited. The result is a slow, horrifying and painful death by suffocation. This is mitigated for people like me who have access to healthcare, supplemental oxygen and medications like prednisone and mycophenolate mofetil. People living in poverty, in war-torn areas or working at risky occupations in third-world countries, get no such relief and no palliative care is available to them in the final stages. This is unimaginably cruel.

While the most common interstitial lung diseases are considered idiopathic, they can result from exposure to certain chemicals– including medications – and from secondhand smoke and occupational exposure to agents such as asbestos, silica and coal dust. They may also evolve from an autoimmune reaction (hypersensitivity pneumonitis) to agents in the environment, some of which might be naturally occurring and benign for many people.

Forbes Magazine cites lung disease as one of the continuing legacies of 9/11, the result of “toxic collections of airplane fuel, asbestos, fiberglass, metal, plastic, garbage, waste materials, fecal material, human remains and who knows what else.” In reading this description, one can’t help but think also of the people of Syria and other regions of war and conflict. It is not uncommon for soldiers returning from war to report newly developed respiratory disorders.

Industry, war and conflict, greed and denial, all combine to put the very ground we live on at risk, the air we breath, and the precious functioning of our lungs … We rightly worry about and advocate for issues of deforestation, pollution, hunger, dislocation, destruction of property and other issues of environmental injustice. Not the least of our motivations, concerns and advocacy must be for the sake of our lungs. It’s a fight for the very breath that enlivens us.

Note: The photograph is of my portable oxygen tank. I put it in a backpack and that allows me to walk for about a mile or to be away from home for short periods of time, a little grocery shopping, a library visit, doctor appointments. This need for supplemental oxygen makes it impossible for me to participate in poetry and writing communities other than online.  So, thanks to all of you for being a part of my creative community.  

© 2016, words and illustration, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; originally published in The BeZine.

RELATED:


ABOUT THE POET BY DAY

“not of war” and other responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

These are the responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, August 8, do not make war. Enjoy and be sure to support and encourage these intrepid poets by liking, commenting and visiting their blogs. Thank you for joining us. Tomorrow another prompt will post and you are invited to come out and play and share your own prose or poetry.  All work shared will be featured in The Poet by Day the following Tuesday.


not of war, it …

not of war, it is peaceful here.

I have heard such dreadful stories

of casualties, these days

and before. senseless.

I would screw my words

if it would help.

I can help this one,

a victim of the

hot and dandy night.

I will show you his photograph.

I took her into the woods, the grass was

too long, though cooler there,

she was too small.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

.white feathers.

i dream i dream of porcupines.

white feathers dipped in blood.

bloody mess wars,

bodies rotting there. there

are thoughts while stitching that

this could save the world.

a quiet thing. no injuries, the blood

comes small in useful drops.

drops down, meditative sound.

white feathers fall.

porcupines.

© 2017, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)


The Open Shop At War

As robust earth tumbles to an end
Whilst delivering value
I need an extra jumper.

As robust war is inevitable
whilst delivering value
I need a warmer coat.

As robust discussions are futile
whilst you deliver effective service solutions
I need to upgrade my phone.

As robust cease fires are temporary business models that deliver value
I need an extra pair of socks

All is end to end
Earth to end,
War continues.

Sharpen your core business
in a controlled manner,
grow your operations.
People must shop.

Open shops are a sign of peace
whilst buildings fall around them.

Open shops are a sign of calm
when dead people lie in the street.

Open Shops are a sign of order
amidst bomb craters, bullet holes
Open shops let people go on.

2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)


I’m Just About

managing between the barricades.
My kids play between sniper targets.

I fetch the shop through broken
buildings perforated by gunshot,

past cars jammed across streets.

I’m just about managing between regimes.

https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/nov/20/just-about-managing-families-to-be-2500-a-year-worse-off-by-2020-study?CMP=share_btn_tw

2017, Paul Brookes (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)


An Infinity of Stars Woven

Within the landscape of time are
the shadows of war residing
casting doubts of fear
over hope filled integrity

for if I could but ease the pain
& erase the memory of horror
that slices through hearts
once laden with joy
I would

but there will always be those
who seek righteousness loaded
with weapons of destruction
their efforts devoid
of compassion

and soldiers who participate
on the battlefields of wars
whether at home or across seas
will carry scars always

and if it were possible within
me as a wordsmith to pen a poem
of salve and healing
I would

so that children may once again play
on peaceful soil under watchful eyes
of mothers and fathers
who can rest assured
of a tomorrow

filled with the spirit of love
& that fireworks will be celebration
& not the deafening voices
of bombs falling

for my soul cannot rest within me
until the vision of the universe
is the essence of peace shining
like an infinity of stars

the threads of woven fabric
like none that has ever been made
containing naught of the shadows of war
but a humanity of peacemakers
the gardeners sowing
seeds for the
future

© 2017, Renee Espriu (Renee Just Turtle Flight and Haibun,  ART & Haiku)


ABOUT THE POET BY DAY

Imagine Loneliness Without Solitude, a poem


Imagine nothing,
nothing to read, no way to write
no way to see your thoughts laid out in gray on white

Imagine loneliness,
loneliness without solitude
no way to clear the mind or cleanse the soul

Imagine children,
children conceived in hate
mothers unable to provide or protect

Imagine,
just imagine
knowing only
war
abandonment
poverty
ignorance
powerlessness
hunger
pain
pain
only pain.

Imagine,
just imagine dying before you are old enough to know who you are

© Jamie Dedes

An early version of this poem was published online in Sam Hamill’s Poets Against the War. Some of the first poems from that effort were collected in an anthology. All the poems are now archived at a university but at this point I’m at a loss to remember which one. The poem was later published in Salamander Cove. I pulled Imagine out and dusted it off today in response to current events and the associated reckless rhetoric.


Thugs from hell have taken freedom’s store
The rich get richer, the poor die quicker

& the only god that sanctions that

Is no god at all but rhetorical crap

excerpt from The Ballad of Girly Man in Girly Man by Charles Bernstein