For ‘The POET By Day ~ Jamie Dedes ~ Wednesday Writing Prompt ~ There is Someone…

writers desk

Share with us the poet in non-ordinary reality, the doorways that lead from the physical to the spiritual. 

There is someone who talks to me
And keeps me waiting-
If only I could see The Spirit
Which I feel close by, yet so far

A bar on thoughts and actions,
I cannot think because my mind is quiet
And not moving or stirring
Lest the sweet words of The Spirit
May not find their way in-
And I may crush the tender layer thin

In between which keeps us bound,

I cannot let go the joy
I have found in my heart
at hearing the mellifluous melody
of the affectionate aura around,

which seeps into my soul to make peace
and washes smoothly away the tears
and the fears so deep,
I can now sleep with ease

For I cannot speak of the
Good Night Prayer

That descends in time so rare
my soul, to repair

And I cannot say that if I wake
Life may be like a snow flake
White and pure and sure, as
The Angels will come to Heaven, take.

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For The Poet By Day ~ Wednesday Writing Prompt ~ MAY 23, 2018 ~ JAMIE DEDES ~ It Comes From The Unseen Source ~

Tell us how you receive and experience your own poetry as an unexpected visitor, a surprise perspective or observation, a gift, or as a mystical thing … perhaps even as an occasional inconvenience.

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Words and thoughts  felt in transparency, unknown, unseen,
senses benumbed, as vision scans nature’s  changing vapors
against a canvas, bordered by shivering trembling green leaves
of stretching, bound, firmly rooted growth, shaping into one
strong trunk…strange is the form yet studded with beauty …

as feather like as water drops, soft, in feeling, a medium,
which passes through, touching the body soul and spirit
breaking the trance to discover, an idea ‘arranging deepening’
in the mind, revealing a song’ or a story’ or poetic drama’
so ‘poetry should be naturally expressed’ though along the way-

‘there are places that beckon us to stop or warn that these lines
are true,these thoughts good, let the words flow’, in early drafts
don’t try to control the poem’, feel free to alter the facts’,yes,it is
easy then, but it is work, hard work, the idea comes from the unseen
it is then from ‘me ‘ to something real outside ‘ in order, to craft’

IMG_20170314_180040_095-1
sometimes it is Light’ spreading gold in the sky on hills and land
cutting darkness to glory divine’ when green goes dark looks grand
mind stirs wonders eyes gather images and thoughts seek words
to amalgamate colors, beauty serene, majestic mystical  hills of sand
who made them? how much more beauty must be in His Domain !

2014-03-06 17.23.11
a poem can be, just be, it comes in moments, in time, at night
sometimes nothing descends for days, nothing inspires, a lone
still, lifeless object, may strike the soul, yet it all is formed only
when the mind in its richness of  language receives the ‘order’
‘a divine gift ‘it is as poets have revealed in the past across ‘border’

Mirza Ghalib wrote’

Aate HaiN Ghaib Se Yeh MazameeN Khayal MeiN
Ghalib Sarir-e Khamah Nava-e Sarosh Hai

 When mysteriously topics or subjects come in ones thoughts,
Then the sound made by the pen, resonates like the voice or sound of angles.

and so it is for me…

For ~ The Poet by Day ~ G Jamie Dedes ~ Wednesday Writing Prompt May 9 ~ Tiptoes of Spring ~

What is your favorite time of year? Why? Perhaps it’s not the weather that makes it your fave but traditions: holidays, birthdays, vacation … Tell us in a poem.

I have found flowers
I have found flowers,
And the cool winds feel softer
Dry leaves are lifted
Waves are visible in the grass
And I know
That Nature with her sensitive ear
Hears the tender touches of, the velvet
tiptoes of Spring-

Evergreens sway to welcome, in
Murmuring whispers of youthful sprouts
Rippling away invisible woes , and I find
More flowers as loneliness fades away-

Comfort engulfs the soul and spirit as
The mind drifts away to memories
When families were together to stay-

All seasons were loved December or May
And now I find flowers but not the family
All seasons seem the same ,as joyful memory
In summer heat cool raindrops or autumnal
Falls, touches my soul, inspires the spirit-

To create fresh flowers of poetry.

NAPOWRIMO 2018 ~ Day 14 ~ Dream Not,But Perhaps Believe ~

Dream dictionaries have been around as long as people have had dreams. Interestingly, if you consult a few of them, they nearly always tend to have totally different things to say about specific objects or symbols. Dreams, unlike words themselves, don’t seem to be nicely definable! At any rate, today’s prompt is to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary. Pick one (or more) of the following words, and write about what it means to dream of these things:

Teacup  Hammer   Seagull   Ballet slipper

Shark  Wobbly table    Dentist  Rowboat

Happy writing!

 

Dream Dictionary

                                         

Tea Cup:
warmth and sweetness of life is temporary
family love joy togetherness is an allegory
tea needs milk cream cardamom courage
you may become minister parliamentaryteacup

 Hammer :
power to command and hit
enemies seen and unseen
strike at any nail on scene
winner of all, red or green.

NAPOWRIMO 2018 ~ Day 13 ~ Busy Doing Nothing ~

Today, we challenge you to write a poem in which the words or meaning of a familiar phrase get up-ended.

 

Phrase  :   As busy as a bee’     Image result for busy as a bee

they all say the bee is busy
so it seems ‘ apparently,for all
the buzzing  sound it makes
vibrates the air,things it shakes

fear it creates in everything
as from nowhere it suddenly
in view,springs, hovering all
around refusing to go,humbly

Image result for busy as a bee   at night if it comes it sticks
close to the bulb,that will not
give honey dear its glass n hot’
no need to show working tricks

Oh ‘ I will say you are busy
for body still is laziness and
busy is a moving flying thing
better believe the buzz n sting’

bees are busy buzzing buzzing
                                                       humans sitting buzzing buzzing
                                                       bees humming make sweet honey
                                                       are humans busy? doing nothing?

 

 

NAPOWRIMO 2018 ~ Day 24 ~ Elegy ~ Crowned Statue on My Land

 

10835236_10152974785955747_7632640011804952797_oI love my land my adopted land,
my native land I never saw after I,
was taken away,or sent away; as
someone else had taken it in hand;

My land  most beautiful I am told
I dream as I listen to the stories retold
I bleed inside, with deep pain, I reach
out try to clutch for support,emptiness

I am not bold or strong when I think
why and how  my land was just sold;
Oh My dear My native land you are
covered with rivers of blood so cold;

elders played  sang ate the fruits ripe
why they laughed and cried then all
suffered with separation, memories
remained, rivers ran dry, of stories

who cares who will care ? if failing
drifting falling listening deaf ly
my land so precious left behind,
flowers tulips houseboats calm

and we were so innocent lost
in games,jumping ropes joyful
hopeful, as stories continued to
be told,we should have known

but we do know that you are alive
my land,slavery is not dead—
which song is stilled which bird
is killed,where the eagle is perched

where blood is sacrificed The Land
never dies,see how high the eagle flies
discerning eye can see,the discerning
heart can feel, seeking truth,not lies

My Land I loved you I loved you miss
the peaceful scented air I first breathed
I think I pray hide in the shadow of  the
rock finding flowers silently growing dead

It is not a dream Look beware’ there still
may be the dark statue, placed to grace
crowned commanding all the space, but
No My land is mine, my love will trace

my way  and will take me back to the valley…
My land you can never be killed but with
brightness will shine, boulder by boulder
when united, will for joyful tears,give shoulder’

NAPOWRIMO 2018 ~ Day 19 ~ Remember The Adventures ?

Today we challenge you to write a paragraph that briefly recounts a story, describes the scene outside your window, or even gives directions from your house to the grocery store. Now try erasing words from this paragraph to create a poem or, alternatively, use the words of your paragraph to build a new poem.

 

river bank

Paragraph Prompt 
Remember the famous adventures where sitting by the river bank with her older sister, finding her sister’s book has no pictures or conversation and thus holds no interest for her,suddenly a white rabbit…oh no there are white birds, some flying some perched on the bending trees by the bank…from time to time the birds cause ripples in the lazily flowing river, patches of green look like green square pastries bordered with brown cream and icing.

Poem

Remember the adventures
by the river bank,when the
book we were trying to read
fell in the water and sank.

I wonder what interest my 
sister had,with no pictures
or dialogues the book was
dull boring and so blank…

restless were the birds white
they would rather enjoy the 
flight, low over the water or
high by the tree, in  sunlight

I too slipped behind the white
screen in a dream I was a pencil
writing a poem and eating cake
with green sponge icing and cream

I in a world of words and rhymes
could hear the poetic rhythms and
chimes, thirty in all I have to make
would I be able to with tea n cake?