Posted in Poem/Poetry

cloud watching, a poem

file0001128026195the open sky

,,,,tufts like spun sugar . . .

white with sunlight

layered on an endless blue blessing

free-form

and unbounded

.       idly floating . . . waiting on nothing

not the brightness of day

nor the cool calm night

….present with our pleasure

 . . . we eye one another

my silent mind . . . t]

their silent flow

. . . . . . occasional storms 

. . .mostly languid though . . .

peaceable

. . . as the blue upon which they rest . . . .cresting

. . . . . . . …………………their charism weightless as sea foam,

they brush my imagination

at the matrix of our shared meditation

©2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reservedPhoto courtesy of morgueFile

Posted in General Interest, Poem/Poetry

No Account of Trifles, a poem

splash of pinkSteal what you will, my friends,
of small no-account things
De minimis non curat lex.
The law takes no account of trifles,
though the recommended thefts
are not trifles to me

I have stolen, in the heat of the
summer, the scent of roses
for my skin and the rich aroma of
night-blooming jasmine to waft
through the house and come to
settle gently in my lungs

In winter snowflakes appeal
Steal dozens to line the drawers of
your memories, to keep them fresh
Lazy motes of yellow moon-dust
are recommended to lay like sachet
in your heart, to color your dreams
with light, your awakening with hope

In stealth gather butterflies and bees
into pink rhapsodies and dragonflies
to stitch beauty and language into poetry
Steal from your children too, their hugs
are nontoxic, tonic for heart health
And the theft of your mother’s laugh
will sooth you mind, rest assured

In flight, pluck away the snow caps
from the mountains below; the fluff of
clouds are best as nightgowns, sexy
and sheer and lined with spun silver
Yes! Have at it, my friends …
With all my thefts the law has
not caught me. It takes no account
of what are trifles, by its reckoning,
not mine; De minimis non curat lex.

©  Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Posted in General Interest, Poem/Poetry

War Paint

file000608292008you could trace her travels around that house and yard
by a trail of lipstick-ringed cigarette butts and lost Bics ~

she’d painted a deep red outline with a slender brush
and tenderly she colored inside the lines with a lighter rose,
licking and pouting as she examined her artwork, the bright
bathroom light illuminating the central silky plumpness of
those two perfectly arched wings, reminiscent of the airline
logo of her once-upon-a-time employer . . .

Bon jour, Monsieur!
hair tossed, a provocative shoulder shrug

testing a flirt on no one in particular, aching for the days
when she didn’t need make-up to dare the whole world,
the days when her only war paint was her juicy raw youth

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Illustration ~ courtesy of morgueFile

Posted in General Interest, Poem/Poetry

the glass moon

file9781336412046have you noticed the many qualities of the night,
the way it can inspire a sudden sense of fantasy,
coming on to you like a dandy, cheeky and strutting

it temps you to pluck its gaudy sequins and string
them into garland or maybe take its hand to skate
across the glass moon or to twirl on the lunatic edge
and the cusp of intuition: oh! the depth of knowing . . .

beauty in night winds leaves you breathless; and have you
seen how quiet meditations on midnight hues illuminate
the book of your life like the bright gold and jewel colors of
a medieval manuscript, moving you page by page

with the same fluid arabesque as a dancer or the sweet
heat of a lover’s fingers sketching secrets on your
heart and sharing messages like old souls tend to do;
then, in a sudden burst of starlight, you understand

your story, your sunburned days, your hours steeped in
night’s startling visions when the questions are answered
and you know why: why the glass moon is sky crazy,
why the distant stars are radiant, and why you are you

© 2014 poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photograph courtesy of morgueFile