30 Comments

My favourite poets are songwriters. My favourite i s Gloria by your mom. It brings me back to Belfast dark days and the greatest line in a song Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine.

Thanks for the song/poem

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What a rich, beautiful poem that is! One to be read again and again, it will offer fresh aspects, different considerations each time. Something about it...it embodies change, minute by minute, as it’s being read somehow. Quite something.

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Absolutely love this poem.

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meow >•<

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Love the exercise! I'm going to try it. Your poem is also lovely and insightful.

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Love this 💛💫

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What a great exercise and what a wonderful poem you created. The magic of words flowing together... how they take on a shape and meaning of their own. Poetry. Thanks Jesse.

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beautiful poem, thank you

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Thank you for sharing the journey of your beautiful poem. One day we will see each other and laugh in amazement as the planets fill all the fingers on our hands with their mystical knowledge- turn to moon, and smile. 🐦‍⬛

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Just perfect…

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What a beautiful poem Jesse, l loved reading it and thank you for a reminder of World Poetry Day 🙏

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Thank you for your thought-full post, Jesse. As always, I continue to learn new things through you and your experiences as presented in your work, written and conveyed in your lovely way of doing things. As I read, I hear your voice in my head, speaking these words and giving them the ability to impress themselves upon me, as my mind makes room for them in the place where I store important and touching snippets that I’m able to call upon when needed. I truly appreciate the time and thought you give to each of your posts…thank you.

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I tried your exercise after reading your post and felt inspired! Thank you for writing and celebrating World Poetry Day - I would never have known about it without you.

Here is the result of turning an old journal entry into a poem ~~

nudges of prayer & pleasure

in an unknown hour

late enough only for the dishwasher to be at work

she sounds like the ocean.

Cells in my body expand

reaching for my book

a lucid dream of words, absorption of language

singularity of purpose.

I open the fridge

raw milk an untouched cradle of cream

a children’s book

a cow’s lick reaching my lips.

My body acknowledged

the truth it holds

desire not for dainty things

but butter on slabs of toast.

I eat and am eating

my appetite entire & illogical

a mundane essential reality

making me grow.

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Very cool experiment. Love it.

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Thanks for the post from your cozy convent hotel in Portugal! It made me think of a lovely hotel in Venice that had previously been a monastery where I stayed with my daughter and her family!

I loved the photos of the Poets Corner at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. I visited there many years ago as well as the Poet’s corner in London. Such moving, holy experiences for me!

Like you, I have some writing projects. I retired to write full time and leave a Memoir of my travels to Paris over 5 decades for my family. Another project I’m doing is writing Legacy Letters to my children and grandchildren, alond with written portraits of their grandparents

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Oops in *Chat

Thank you for your amazing poem Jesse. I loved reading that 🙏

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An unexpected poem on World Poetry Day✨

Today I visited a small section of artworks for the Sydney Biennial in a quite beautiful new building at Sydney University. There’s a video artwork here from NY poet/artist Diane Burns (1936 - 2006); it’s presented loudly as we enter… Diane’s sing-song voice loudly proclaiming her poetry in ‘Alphabet City Serenade’ …filmed showing her walking the streets of NY’s Lower East Side.

Hey man, can you spare a cigarette?

Do you know of a place to sublet?

Do you know where I can cash this check?

Do you know, do you know that

I hate Doris Day

I hate Chevrolet

I hate Norman Bates

And I hate the United States

Maybe I can post pics with the words in Notes?

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