“Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words.”— Plautus
“People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating we seek to be amused or entertained. Celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation. To be entertained is a passive state--it is to receive pleasure afforded by an amusing act or a spectacle. . . . Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one's actions.” — Abraham Joshua Heschel
Midweek Motif ~ Celebration
Celebrations compel all to look forward to it, to have fun, to enjoy, to de-stress.
There’s no dearth of celebrations in this world. From the tiniest particle to the cosmos is in a mood of celebration.
For people everywhere there are funny, bizarre, interesting, solemn, traditional, religious celebrations.
Celebrations are part of our lives bestowing a sense of belonging, recognizing, strengthening and honoring relationships & also adding a purpose to life.
Life itself can be celebrated too, in a breath of gratitude.
Now it’s time for Celebration. It’s your choice how you connect your poems to it.
by Anna Akhmatova
I pray to the sunbeam from the window-
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent,
And my heart - is split.
The copper on my washstand
Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it
How innocent it is, and simple,
In the evening calm,
But to me in this deserted temple
It’s like a golden celebration,
And a consolation.
I Love You Sweetheart
by Thomas Lux
A man risked his life to write the words.
A man hung upside down (an idiot friend
holding his legs?) with spray paint
to write the words on a girder fifty feet above
And his beloved,
And his beloved,
the next morning driving to work.
His words are not (meant to be) so unique.
Does she recognize his handwriting?
Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before
of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?
And did he call her at work
expecting her to faint with delight
at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?
She will know I love her now,
the world will know my love for her!
A man risked his life to write the world.
Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love
is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb
and dangerous, ignited, blessed--always,
regardless, no exceptions,
always in blazing matters like these: blessed.
When The New Year
by Rg Gregory
when the new year
came out of nowhere
and peeped into rooms
it was so flattered to find
all the tv's drinking its health
praising its innocent appearance
it responded with its warm
dark smile and went round
filling people's dry hearts
over the coming weeks though
those same tv's attacked it
criticising its puerile style
its sickly contemptible face
one year is the same as another
(they said) for the doom
time belabours us with
it took the year all
its length to discover
that the celebration
so welcoming its birth
just happened to be
where the beer was
Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—
Susan’s Midweek Motif on 3/01/2018 will be ~ Doorway(s)