Posted in Book/Magazine Reviews, Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

The Lives of Women


… For when I shut myself off the outer tick
I find myself listening to the quickening beat
of this dear planet as if it were my own heart’s clock.”
The Composition Hut, Myra Schneider in What Women Want

www-cover
In this short collection of nineteen poems  – including the ten-page narratively-driven long-poem, Caroline Norton – Myra Schneider manages to cut through our many-layered lives. Her poems often move from the intimacy of  personal experience to a broader frame of reference. The opening poems are nature-and-spirit driven and bespeak a love of and concern for environment. The second part of the collection fulfills the polemic promise of the title to present hard lives and harder times in a clear and righteous outcry.

Among the opening poems is Losing, written for her publisher. Myra starts with the unimportant lose of socks and moves on to finding what is valuable:

“a sparrowhawk perched on your gate, eyes alert
for prey, words that toadleap from imagination,
from heart – to make sure every day is a finding.”

In two poems she hints at the symmetrical beauty of mathematics, “… the square root of minus one you once grasped, dumbfounded.” A visit to the Garden is bursting with color and movement and triggers speculations …

“but what does it matter? You know too well
how the years have shrunk your future,
that the past is an ever expanding suitcase.”

… and further along in the poem she closes with …

“to your feet, to the bees still milking
flowering raspberries. You free a frog
watch it hop back to its life.”

I was riveted by the story of Paula Schneider in Crossing Point, as Paula (probably Myra’s mother-in-law) crosses with her children from Germany into Holland during World War II. This is included in the second half of Myra’s book, which comes to the business at hand: injustice as it affects women and children.

Interesting that this book came my way when I am standing by two friends whose physical and emotional frailty are much entwined with their relations with fathers and husbands or boyfriends. It’s not that things haven’t been improved since our parents’ days…at least for many of us it has. It’s not that there are no kind and enlightened men. Certainly there are. It’s not because women and society are without culpability, because they are not.

The complexity of the gender and social issues examined are clear in Myra’s long poem, Caroline Norton, about the nineteenth century writer and poet,  social reformer and unwitting feminist. Caroline came to the latter two occupations, not so much by choice as necessity. As the poem folds out, we see that the brutal husband who separated Caroline from her children (with tragic results for them), was abetted and aided by the women in his life, influenced as they were by a social context in which women and children are property with no legal rights of their own. No doubt those women were numb to the implications, threatened by the hint of change, and anxious to bolster the sense of surperiority they got out of putting this woman down.

Myra stands firm in her poetic commitment to continue the fight started with Caroline Norton, since half the world is still under siege and the other half still begs improvements. We read about the child-bride (Woman) and the woman who is stoned (Her Story). One wonders what happens to the children – boys and girls – of such women. The short story here is that: What women want is justice.

For two years, I have enjoyed Myra Schneider’s work and appreciated her commitment to encouraging others to honor their inner artist, through her books on writing, her classes, and her support of Second Light Network (England), an association of women poets over forty. I suspect that her work doesn’t have the audience it deserves. I hope the day comes when that is remedied.

The closing poem in What Women Want:

WOMEN RUNNING
by Myra Schneider, 2013, All rights reserved
posted here with Myra’s permission

after Picasso: Deux femmes courant sur la plage
Look how their large bodies leaping
from dresses fill the beach, how their breasts
swing happiness, how the mediterraneans
of sea and sky fondle their flesh. Nothing

could rein them in. The blown wildnesses
of their dark animal hair, their hands joined
and raised, shout triumph. All their senses
are roused as they hurtle towards tomorrow.

That arm laid across the horizon,
the racing legs, an unstoppable quartet, pull
me from my skin and I become one of them,
believe I’m agile enough to run a mile,

believe I’m young again, believe age
has been stamped out. No wonder, I worship
at the altar of energy, not the energy huge
with hate which revels in tearing apart,

in crushing to dust but the momentum
which carries blood to the brain, these women
across the plage, lovers as they couple,
and tugs at the future till it breaks into bloom.

What Women Want, publisher (Second Light Publications)

© 2013, essay, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved
Cover art and poetry, Myra Schneider, All rights reserved

Photo on 2012-09-19 at 20.00JAMIE DEDES ~ My worldly tags are poet and writer.  I’m in my fifth year of blogging at The Poet by Day, the journey in poem, formerly titled Musing by Moonlight.  Through the gift of poetry (mine and that of others), I enter sacred space.

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

Children’s Hospital, a poem

CHILREN’S HOSPITAL, WAITING ROOM

by

Rev. Bill Cook Poetry Matters

From this side of this window-
through this glass looking
down seventeen stories –
the world is a odd place.
.
The smell of rain
has become a distant memory.
Taxi cabs – thick bugs.
People- so much seed
scattered on a hard path.
.
Who would have thought
a tiny swish rising
through a stethoscope
could so change everything.
.
Here we are a congregation
Of the suspended –
Inhabitants of a sanitized purgatory –
A communion of those who wait.
.
Here the priests and prophets
wear blue scrubs
and white paper masks.
.
Why, I ask, is it that your tiny heart,
no larger than your tiny hand,
should refuse to grow?
What providence has brought us here?
What karma? There is no answer
.
so we wait.
We wait for our names to be called.
We wait.

– Bill Cook, Poetry Matters

Re-blogged with the permission of Bill Cook, Poetry Matters. Bill is an Ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church, serving a wonderfully diverse congregation.

  • His church: St. Paul UMC, Willingboro NJ.
  • BA. English Lit., Rutger’s, the State University, New Brunswick NJ.
  • M Div. New Brunswick Theological Seminary New Brunswick NJ.
  • D Min. Wesley Theological Seminary, Washington DC.

Although Bill’s had a life long love of reading poetry, he’s relatively new to writing and publishing it. In addition to his poetry blog, Poetry Matters, he has three other blogs that address spiritual matters. Most recently his poem Lost was picked up for publication by a regional poetry magazine.

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

Deconstructing Peace

moon-sea-cliff-137421298933417ekbDECONSTRUCTING PEACE

by

Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day, the journey in poem)

the tawny moon is good fortune’s evening grace
it draps itself on the dwindling day’s calm
while mystic mountains rise pristine and high
above an earthy base, the wizard Merlin’s realm,
with memories of a green and primal past …
…….of rootedness
…………..essential things

the air is a sweet-and-salty caramel

and Peace!
a lively Peace …

visits on the briny spray and
delights at the meeting of land and sea
at rhythms of the ocean against the shore
the waves drift in and out, fling and toss
stop, start, begin again and then again
lilting, the dew drop of a mother’s kiss
it’s the mother’s kiss …

but moonlight wanes at the liminal hour

and Peace!
capricious Peace …

sees the moon incised with holographs
from the wind-whipped edges of the Earth
read the tales of valour and cowardice
…….the blight of war
…………..the naked lives
sundering tragedies under the heel of armies
citizen’s fleeing the lacerations of their plight
frozen in the crashing horror of their fright
in this amethyst veiled night . . .
the sense of peace deconstructed
on the rise of dawn, its shredding light

© 2013, poem, All rights reserved
Photo credit ~  Phil Downs, Public Domain Pictures.net

Photo on 2012-09-19 at 20.00JAMIE DEDES ~ My worldly tags are poet and writer. For the past five years on medical retirement due to a chronic, potentially life-threatening illness, I’ve blogged at The Poet by Day, formerly titled Musing by Moonlight. The gift of illness is more time for poetry. Through the gift of poetry (mine and that of others), I enter sacred space.

Posted in Marlene McNew, Poems/Poetry

THE PATH THAT SKIS TAKE

The Path that Skis Take is a video poem by Marlene McNew.

Marlene McNew"Veni, Vidi, Vici"
Marlene McNew
“Veni, Vidi, Vici”

Marlene McNew ~ is a contributing writer to Into the Bardo. She began exhibiting symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease (P.D.) nine years ago. Her blog (Strange Gift) is a vehicle for sharing her interests and her experiences with P.D. Marlene is a master skier and triathlon competitor. She expresses her beautiful spirit through poems and paintings.  Her YouTube channel is SkiDisiple.

Posted in Marlene McNew, Poems/Poetry

SHE CAME, SHE SAW, SHE CONQUERED

Marlene McNew"Veni, Vidi, Vici"
Marlene McNew
“Veni, Vidi, Vici”

MARLENE G. McNEW ~ began exhibiting symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease (P.D.) eight years ago. Her blog (Strange Gift) is a vehicle for sharing her experiences with P.D. and her many, many interests.

Marlene is a master skier and athlete. Her most recent athletic triumph involved successfully completing the Might Mermaid Triathlon, a fund raiser for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society.

For the past several years Marlene’s been able to incorporate into her life increasing involvement in the arts. She expresses her beautiful spirit through poetry, painting, and poetry videos.Her YouTube channel is SkiDisiple. She has designed and uploaded 21 videos at the time of this writing.   

Here is Marlene’s latest poetry video. This one is on her experience with the triathlon. Jamie Dedes

© 2012, photo, Marlene McNew, All rights reserved

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

Mandolinist, composer, educator and writer Marilynn Mair, posts a poem on her blog once a week. It’s always a treat: sonnet, villanelle, decima, rondeau, or pantoum … It’s an event I look forward to. This one is from her 208th week of blogging. Jamie Dedes

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

BLACK DAYS IN THE SUDAN


We can run away from bombs, but not from hunger.” Sudan‘s refugees in South Sudan, report of Amnestyus.org 2012

·

I wrote this back in the 80s in response to an essay on the “black days” by someone from the Sudan.  

·

Have you read about them –

“Black Days” in the Sudan?

They are hunger-and-thirst days

When the supply of water –

One liter per person for two weeks

. . . is gone

When their food, one meal a day

For fourteen days

. . . is gone,

and the waiting and wasting begins –

four, five, fifteen days

Until more food and water

then Black Days again –

They are days of laying-in.

Conserving energy.

Some survive.

·

If you want and are able, you can make a donation to the Fill the Cup of the World Food Programme. They say $1 fills four cups.

© 2012, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Photo credit ~ mother and malnurished child, Darfur, taken by USAID and in the public domain

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

NO-BALONEY SANDWICHES

“ONE’S-SELF I sing—a simple, separate Person.” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

·

For Zabaida on her 98th birthday.

Maybe next time around …

 NO-BALONEY SANDWICHES

by

Jamie Dedes

·

This is dedicated to all those fine beings . . .

Those who are blatantly themselves

You know the ones I mean –

Some, when seedlings, had folks

who jabbed a finger yelling: You! You! You!

accusing them of being quintessentially themselves

. . . as though that was wrong.

They are the YOUs who come from multi-colored places

and varied dreams

with hearts woven of wonderlush.

They are womanish or manish.

They are childlike and adultish.

They run from the gray streets to the green forest.

They take to long-lost roads and never-found pathways

with their song in a backpack and

a brown-bag lunch of no-baloney sandwiches.

When they elder they arrive back at the beginning

knowing who are they are

. . . and why.

·

© 2012, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Photo credit ~ Jon Sullivan’s “Woman on the Beach”

Posted in Marlene McNew, Poems/Poetry

MARATHON

Our treasured Marlene is not to be undone by Parkinson’s Disease. A former professional accountant, she is a master-level skier, participates in marathons, is an award-winning dancer, paints, writes poetry, and  . . . that’s just the short-story.  J.D.

MARATHON 

by

Marlene G. McNew (Strange Gift)

·

Decay’s process cannot be stopped.
In dark shadows of age, watch illness burn
all signs of pink that we treasure.
We become a residue of memory.

·

Ravaged, by the weight of the thought
we seek a path of the heart
lit by fire that burns within,
the will to endure anything,
a power to persist.

·

A marathon holds a promise of pain,
a challenge built upon reason, a test
for mind and body; a sacrifice
a vow of suffering in the name of hope.

·

A marriage of preparation and outcome,
of cooperation of heart with mind,
it is emergence from a cave,
the acceptance of help.
Is is a war against defeat

·

the making of a miracle.

·

© 2012, poem and video, Marlene’s and Carmen’s photographs, Marlene G. McNew, All rights reserved

Photo credit ~ Athletic Shoes, Vincent van der Heijden via Wikipedia and licensed under Creative Commons Attribution Generic 2.0

 

CARMEN McNEW

MARLENE G. McNEW ~ began exhibiting symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease (P.D.) eight years ago. Her blog (Strange Gift) is a vehicle for sharing her experiences with P.D. and her many, many interests. She maintains a lovely home in Northern California where she lives with her husband and a much-loved rescued golden retriever, Carmen.

Marlene is a master skier, but for the past several years she’s been able to incorporate into her life increasing involvement in the arts. She expresses her beautiful spirit through poems and paintings.  She also has a strong interest in dance, having been a competition level ballroom dancer.  Other interests include cooking.  

She is currently preparing for a marathon and is registered for the Mighty Mermaid sprint triathlon (1/4 mile open water swim, 12 mile bike, 2 mile run/walk) through Team in Training with the Leukemia Lymphoma Society. Marlene originally started her blog when she was getting ready for the Nike Women’s Marathon (half marathon walk) and raising funds for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society. Her YouTube channel is SkiDisiple. J.D.

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

THE LIFE AND POEMS OF MARY MacRAE

Mary MacRae (1942 – 2009), English poet

[Mary MacRae] wrote and published poetry the last ten years of her life, after ill-health forced her to take early retirement from teaching. She taught for fifteen years at the James Allen Girls School (JAGS), DulwichLondon. Her commitment to writing led to her deep involvement with the first years of the Poetry School under Mimi Khalvati, studying with Mimi and Myra Schneider, whose advanced poetry workshop she attended for eight years. In these groups her exceptional talent was quickly recognised, leading to publication in many magazines and anthologies. MORE [Second Light Live]

Elder

by

Mary MacRae

This poem is  excerpted from Mary MacRae’s book, Inside the Brightness of Red.

Reprinted here with permission. All rights are reserved by the publisher, Second Light Network.

·

A breathing space:

the house expands around me,

·

unfolds elastic lungs

drowsing me back

·

to other times and rooms

where I’ve sat alone

writing, as I do now,

when syncope –

·

one two three one two –

breaks in;

·

birdcall’s stained

the half-glazed door with colour,

·

enamelled the elder tree

whose ebony drops

·

hang in rich clusters

on shining scarlet stalks

·

while with one swift stab

the fresh-as-paint

·

starlings get to the heart

of the matter

of matter

·

in a gulp of flesh

and clotted juice that leaves me

·

gasping for words transparent

as glass, as air.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

My profound gratitude to poet Myra Schneider for the introduction to a new-to-me poet, Mary MacRae, and to poet Dilys Wood of The Second Light Network (England) and editor of ARTEMIS Poetry for granting this interview. J. D.

JAMIE: Clearly, and as has been stated by others, Mary was profoundly inspired by art, nature (particularly flowers and gardens), and love. What can you tell us about her life and interests that would account for that?

DILYS: Mary writes tender and accurate poems about wild nature, creatures and landscape, drawing on her stays in a cottage on an untamed part of the coast in Kent, England and visits to her daughter living in remote West Wales. In her London home, it’s easy to guess from her poems about garden birds and flowers how much time she spent at the window. She almost always sees nature in flux, changing moment by moment, unpredictable, mysterious, a spiritual inspiration. One of her great strengths as a poet is catching movement.

Many of Mary’s poems focus on love between close family members. This may relate to a difficult relationship with her own father, which she sought to understand, and the relationships which compensated (with mother, sister, husband Lachlan, daughter and grandchild). A back problem prevented her from holding her baby daughter and she often refers in her poems to young children. She clearly has a yearning towards them.

JAMIE: She wrote poetry apparently only at the end of her life and for ten years. What were her creative outlets before that? How did she come to poetry?

DILYS: Mary was a dedicated teacher of English Literature and language in a leading girls’ secondary school. She was also deeply interested in music and painting (these are strongly reflected in her poetry). Though she had written as a young woman she followed the pattern of many women creative artists in becoming absorbed into her home life and her paid work, only turning to writing when her illness released her from the daily grind of intensive teaching. The remarkable, rapid development of her poetry shows how strong her latent powers really were.

JAMIE: Was writing poetry a part of her healing process when she was diagnosed with cancer? If so, how did it help her?

DILYS: I’m confident that Mary’s diagnosis with cancer enabled her to change her life-style and from then on concentrate on her poetry, urged by the sense that she might be short of time. There is no evidence that Mary wrote therapeutically to come to terms with her cancer. In fact she only ever addressed her illness in relation to the possible unkindness of fate in cutting her off from beloved people and life itself. The poems written in the last 2-3 years of her life give the impression that her dedication to writing, with the spiritual experiences which accompanied it, enabled her to bear terrible distress. She records this distress, using imaginative and metaphorical approaches to focus it, and these poems make heart-wrenching reading.

JAMIE: Can you tell us about her process? When did she write? Where? For how long?

DILYS: I have the impression that Mary’s life revolved around three things, people she loved, gathering experiences that would feed her poetry (travel, listening to music, visiting galleries) and very hard work in direct furtherance of her writing (extensive reading, attending workshops with other inspirational poets, writing, revising and submitting her poems to criticism from critics she respected). She used notebooks to make a full, accurate record of those experiences – landscapes, human encounters, thoughts – that would feed her work. There is an extract from one such entry in the section about keeping a journal in the resource bookWriting Your Self, Transforming Personal Material by Myra Schneider and John Killick. This book also includes a contribution in the chapter on spirituality which reveals much about Mary’s attitudes to life, nature and also her writing process.

JAMIE: Do you have any advice from her for other poets and aspiring poets?

DILYS: Mary was a dedicated writer, entirely sincere in her commitment to poetry as opposed to ‘career’ as a poet. She was always ready to enjoy and praise the widest range of subject-matter, approaches and styles from other poets, providing she thought they were ‘busting a gut’ to get their poems right, and not indulging in the trendy or superficial, which she despised (whether from well-knowns or unknowns). She put much emphasis on wide-reading of both past and contemporary poets and she herself had absorbed a huge amount of other poets’ work, always quoting fully and accurately. She liked using another’s work as a starting pont for her own (the Glose) and particularly admired the work in strict form (includingSonnetVillanelle and Ghazal), which began to be more acceptable from the mid-1990s (eg from such poets as Marilyn Hacker and Mimi Khalvati).

JAMIE: Are any other collections of her poetry planned? If so, when might we look forward to them?

DILYS: When putting together ‘Inside the Brightness of Red’, Myra Schneider and I went through the whole of Mary’s unpublished work and selected all those poems we felt were both complete and would have satisfied her high standards. What remains unpublished would be mainly fragments and early versions of poems she did more work on. There will not, as far as we know, be a further book, but Mary did achieve her aim of being a significant lyric poet, whose work is very attractive, polished and, above all (as she would have wished) deeply moving and consolatory.

The Second Light Network aims to promote women’s poetry and to help women poets, especially but not only older women, poets develop their work. It runs weekends of workshops and readings in London usually twice a year, a residential extended workshop with readings and discussions at least once every eighteen months and occasionally other events. It is nationwide (England). Dilys is the main editor of ARTEMIS Poetry, a major poetry magazine for women produced by Second Light twice a year.  It includes a lot of reviews and some articles as well as poetry by Second Light members who receive it free as part of their subscription. An e-newsletter is sent out every few weeks. A few anthologies of poetry have been published by the network but now this magazine developes books under special circumstances only – such as Mary’s collections.

Thanks to Second Light Web Administrator, poet Ann Stewart, for the following: The books (Inside the Brightness of Red and As Birds Do) can be bought: via order form and cheque in post: http://www.secondlightlive.co.uk/books.shtml or here online: http://www.poetrypf.co.uk/shop.php (typing  ‘ Mary MacRae collection ’ in the filter box will reduce the list to just those two books).

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

SILENCE AT NOON

Deep in the sun-searched growth the dragon-fly

Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky ~

So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Silent Noon

SILENCE AT NOON

by

Jamie Dedes

The days are filled with noise and moods

but silence lies here at noon

like stillness between heartbeats

and the Ever speaks

through dragonflies breathing vineyards

and a million bees humming the same tune

Caravans of monks and nuns

leave messages in dead languages

and encrypted ritual

as they walk their pathways across bridges

known for their span and silver beauty

Like a revered teacher’s stupa

or a gothic Cathedral

those bridges spin toward heaven

stop short

and trip to the other side

Nothing changes

The same whispered stories

fill your rattling lungs with grief

The only truth is in the silence at noon

doing duty as shawl, shield, and salvation

·

© 2012, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Photograph ~ Arcana Dea, Public Domain Pictures.net

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

TRAFFICKING IN DREAMS.

Oh love and summer,  you are in the dreams and in me…Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

·

TRAFFICKING IN DREAMS

by

Jamie Dedes

·

Sitting on the worn stone steps of summer

on salty Brooklyn nights in Dyker Heights

with our senior year pending like a threat.

Jamming sessions.

Sharing hugs.

Sipping cokes.

I sang you, my first song. You played me,

honeyed melodies in B on a new guitar.

·

Stan on his Irish frame*. Jim on horn.

Your sassy sister chorine** sprinkling

silver star-dust. We trafficked in dreams.

But faith betrayed, a rusted rudder;

your future a rose-bright moon

falling sadly into a turquoise sea.

·

You’d drive me home at dawn

in your dad’s blue Nova, into a

violet sunrise, deep purple maples

standing guard by mom’s place.

Now gone, you and the old roost.

·

No more of your music. No old friends.

Just meandering the strangest streets

mumbling something off-key, strumming

the memory of you, a new guitar, and

the summer we trafficked in dreams.

·

© 2010-2012 poem, Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved

Photo credit ~ Petr Kratochvil, Public Domain Pictures.net

* a bodhrán drum.

** 1920s American term for a chorus girl.

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

SHRED THE SOCIAL SAFETY NETS

shred the social safety nets

by

Marilynn Mair (Celebrating a Year)

Into the Bardo Contributing Writer 

shred the social safety nets
we cannot afford fairness
this is as good as it gets

for the future don’t make bets
poverty powerlessness
shred the social safety nets

any lingering regrets
are pointless though it’s a mess
this is as good as it gets

what ill mechanism lets
governments pleading blameless
shred the social safety nets

as the rich hide their assets
pretending with false distress
this is as good as it gets

and our silence aids abets
while willful lies egregious
shred the social safety nets

is this as good as it gets

© 2012 photograph and poem, Maryilynn Mair All rights reserved

Marilynn Mair – author, world renown mandolinist, and blogger – wrote this beautiful sympathetic villanelle in response to Charles W. Elliot’s piece HERE, “Mindful Steps to the End of Hunger.”

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

BECAUSE

BECAUSE

 

by

 

Jamie Dedes

·

wind came through like an old bruja* one night

taking her broom to my cloud, scattering the seeds

of my hording to all the four corners and the center

below where I do my shopping for earthly things

down I went to try to gather them up only to

·

meet a philosopher peach who set me on my ear

with his questions on mind, matter, and meaning

wanting to know why he couldn’t taste himself

and how was it that I had a mouth that wouldn’t

·

in any trance, no matter the depth of it, be a

peach, pointing out to me how we needed one

another to get the job done and – Why?, he asked

and what could I say, having lived my life in the

·

clouds, drinking the vapors of trust and basic

instinct, and knowing tomorrow is today and

this day is perfect, and no matter the whys and

the wherefores, there’s a rightness to it all, so

·

on frail rimy breath, like the child I once was,

I… answered him simply: because

·

* bruja, Sp. – witch

© 2012, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Photo credit ~ mohan p, Public Domain Pictures.net

Posted in Guest Writer

A bit of inspiration from Pat Cegan with which to begin the weekend.

Pat Cegan's avatarSource of Inspiration

One-by-one, my days unfold
like petals of the finest rose,
blooming into the Flower of Life,
sacred moments of ordinary acts
made Divine when done with
loving intent.

View original post

Posted in Jamie Dedes, Poems/Poetry

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY: Connecting Girls, Inspiring Futures

In Pakistan the theme for International Women’s Day is “Connecting Girls, Inspiring Futures.”  In solidarity (I just picked a country at random), I am reblogging this poem, which I wrote last year.” I hope the day will come when all people  – regardless of country or gender – are able to express themselves creatively in whatever way and whatever field resonates for them.

·

I know that I haven’t powers enough to divide myself into one who earns and one who creates. Tillie Ollsen (1912-2007), American writer and feminist

·
I READ A POEM
by
Jamie Dedes

I read a poem today and decided

I must deed it to some lost, lonely

fatherless child to embrace her

·

along her stone path, invoke sanity

I want to tell her: don’t sell your

dreams for cash or buy the social OS*

·

Instead, let the poem play you like a

musician her viola, rewriting lonely

into sapphire solitude, silken sanctity

·

Let it wash you like the spray of whales

Let it drench your body in the music

of your soul, singing pure prana into

·

the marrow and margins of your life

Let the poet-shaman name your muse

and find you posing poetry as art and

·

discover the amethyst bliss of words

woven from strands of your own DNA.

Yes. I read a poem today and decided

I must deed it to a lost fatherless child

·

© poem, 2011, 2012, Jamie Dedes All rights reserved

* OS – Operating System

Photo credit – Jaime Junior, Public Domain Photographs.net

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Women’s Day Live 2012

Video uploaded to YouTube by .

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

IT WAS JUST A MATTER OF TIME

© photo and poem, 2012 Charles Martin, All rights reserved

 it was just a matter of time

by

Charles Martin (Read Between the Lines)


i’ve begun

to

believe

that night

is day

and

day

is night

that

philosophical

point

that

one

can be

convinced

to

believe

anything

like

it’s okay

that

collateral damage

for

profit

includes

born

and

unborn

children

© portrait, 2010 Charles Martin All rights reserved

Charles Martin – a fine poet of social conscience has been blogging since January 17, 2010 and no doubt writing poetry all his life. This is the third poem he has graced us with and we know you are as pleased with his work as we are. Charles is a photographer and poet living in SoCal. He enjoys world travel and is concerned about humanitarian issues. He is trained as a Speech and a Language Pathologist.  (M.S. & Ph.D.) We highly recommend regular visits to his blog, Reading Between the Minds.

Posted in Guest Writer, Poems/Poetry

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

BLAGA TODOROVA

EDITOR’S NOTE: Continuing our tradition of serving up the arts (they are spiritual expression after all) and as a special treat for Valentine’s Day, we’re grateful to share a wistful, romantic poem by Blaga Todorova. Given her gift of poem, perhaps it is appropriate that she shares her name with the renowned Bulgarian poet and the former president of Bulgaria, Blaga Dimitrova.

Blaga Todorova says she “discovered the power of breathing the words of poetry recently, still trying to define my style and improve the language and the emotions offered to the readers.”  Blogging since September of 2010, she’s quickly gained a loyal and sustained following. Her work has been picked up by several online literary arts magazines.

Though living in Athens, Greece, she was born in Bulgaria and studied engineering at college. Her great loves are poetry, travel, and languages. In addition to her native tongue, Blaga is fluent in Spanish, Greek, and English. She comes late to English (her preferred language for writing), having taught herself by reading an English copy of Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath alongside a Bulgarian copy. Her inspiration is often “the souls of places worth visiting and remembering” and Pablo Neruda who “has left a big mark in my heart. I hope one day to reach the same level of master writing.”  Visit Blaga at BrokenSparkles. J.D.

THE SMILE OF THE MOON AND SOME GREEN EYES

by

Blaga Todorova (BrokenSparkles)

I stared at the moon last night,
her full, silver smile
tickling the shy sky
and I thought,
she must’ve seen you,
somewhere,
walking along Arroyo Seco
or camping,
by Lake Tear of the Clouds;

Your eyes
in green and sparkles,
locking virgins and darkness
in flames, fierce,
and those lips,
musings for the skin;
your hands,
binding sunsets and memories
of a past in oblivion.

Seasons have changed, twice,
from the blooming sour cherries
to the summer rain,
from the lush grapes in vineyards
to the window crystals
carving winter life,
I’ve lost the count on
nonsense and lonely nights,
on loves dying without
honesty and candle lights,
but I still remember
the shade of green in your eyes.

© 2012, photograph and poem, Blaga Todorova, All rights reserved