Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Energy, Vitality

“It's all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. 
It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.” 
― Susan Sontag

“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms 

of energy, frequency and vibration.” 
― Nikola Tesla

“. . . I think love is that condition in the human spirit so profound, 
that it allows us to forgive, and it may be the energy 
which keeps the stars in the firmament,   I'm not sure. 
It may be the energy which keeps the blood 

running smoothly through our veins.” 

― Maya Angelou

Midweek Motif ~ Energy, Vitality

I'm thinking of the opposite of lethargy, when enthusiasm for living translates a certain possibility into physical expression.

Electricity can do that too.

Your Challenge:  Write a new poem about (and pumped full of) energy.

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I Hear America Singing

BY WALT WHITMAN

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

I, Too

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

Besides,

They’ll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Excerpt from To a Skylark

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

         Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

                Bird thou never wert,

         That from Heaven, or near it,

                Pourest thy full heart

In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

         Higher still and higher

                From the earth thou springest

         Like a cloud of fire;

                The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

. . . . 

(Read the rest HERE at the Poetry Foundation)

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others 

in the spirit of the community.

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(Next week, Sumana's Midweek Motif will be Colors. )