“A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
the chrysanthemum's flowering.”— Matsuo Basho
it's quiet,
the chrysanthemum's flowering.”— Matsuo Basho
SOURCE |
“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing
of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is
refreshed.”— Khalil Gibran
Midweek
Motif ~ Morning Poem
Capture the time in your lines when the day is new and you are out
of your slumber.
Isn’t it always a good morning whether it’s bright, gray, cloudy
or rainy? Or is it not?
A few lines from Langston Hughes:
Bad Morning
Here
I sit
With my shoes mismated.
Lawdy-mercy!
I's frustrated!
With my shoes mismated.
Lawdy-mercy!
I's frustrated!
Today’s
motif is Morning Poem. Let’s see where the morning takes you J
Morning Poem
by Mary Oliver
(here)
300
by Emily Dickinson
'Morning'—means 'Milking'—to the Farmer—
Dawn—to the Teneriffe—
Dice—to the Maid—
Morning means just Risk—to the Lover—
Just revelation—to the Beloved—
'Morning'—means 'Milking'—to the Farmer—
Dawn—to the Teneriffe—
Dice—to the Maid—
Morning means just Risk—to the Lover—
Just revelation—to the Beloved—
Epicures—date a Breakfast—by it—
Brides—an Apocalypse—
Worlds—a Flood—
Faint-going Lives—Their Lapse from Sighing—
Faith—The Experiment of Our Lord
Brides—an Apocalypse—
Worlds—a Flood—
Faint-going Lives—Their Lapse from Sighing—
Faith—The Experiment of Our Lord
One O’Clock In The Morning
by Charles Baudelaire
Alone, at last! Not a sound to be heard but the rumbling of
some belated and decrepit cabs. For a few hours
we shall have silence, if not repose. At last the tyranny of the human face has disappeared, and I myself shall be the
only cause of my sufferings.
At last, then, I am allowed to refresh myself in a bath of darkness! First of all, a double turn of the lock. It
seems to me that this twist of the key will increase my solitude and fortify the barricades which at this instant
separate me from the world.
Horrible life! Horrible town! Let us recapitulate the day: seen several men of letters, one of whom asked me
whether one could go to Russia by a land route (no doubt he took Russia to be an island); disputed generously with the editor of a review, who, to each of my objections, replied: 'We represent the cause of decent people,' which
implies that all the other newspapers are edited by scoundrels; greeted some twenty persons, with fifteen of whom I am not acquainted; distributed handshakes in the same proportion, and this without having taken the precaution of
buying gloves; to kill time, during a shower, went to see an acrobat, who asked me to design for her the costume of a
Venustra; paid court to the director of a theatre, who, while dismissing me, said to me: 'Perhaps you would do well to
apply to Z------; he is the clumsiest, the stupidest and the most celebrated of my authors; together with him, perhaps,
you would get somewhere. Go to see him, and after that we'll see;' boasted (why?) of several vile actions which I
have never committed, and faint-heartedly denied some other misdeeds which I accomplished with joy, an error of
bravado, an offence against human respect; refused a friend an easy service, and gave a written recommendation to a
perfect clown; oh, isn't that enough?
Discontented with everyone and discontented with myself, I would gladly redeem myself and elate myself a
little in the silence and solitude of night. Souls of those I have loved, souls of those I have sung, strengthen me,
support me, rid me of lies and the corrupting vapours of the world; and you, O Lord God, grant me the grace to
produce a few good verses, which shall prove to myself that I am not the lowest of men, that I am not inferior to
those whom I despise.
we shall have silence, if not repose. At last the tyranny of the human face has disappeared, and I myself shall be the
only cause of my sufferings.
At last, then, I am allowed to refresh myself in a bath of darkness! First of all, a double turn of the lock. It
seems to me that this twist of the key will increase my solitude and fortify the barricades which at this instant
separate me from the world.
Horrible life! Horrible town! Let us recapitulate the day: seen several men of letters, one of whom asked me
whether one could go to Russia by a land route (no doubt he took Russia to be an island); disputed generously with the editor of a review, who, to each of my objections, replied: 'We represent the cause of decent people,' which
implies that all the other newspapers are edited by scoundrels; greeted some twenty persons, with fifteen of whom I am not acquainted; distributed handshakes in the same proportion, and this without having taken the precaution of
buying gloves; to kill time, during a shower, went to see an acrobat, who asked me to design for her the costume of a
Venustra; paid court to the director of a theatre, who, while dismissing me, said to me: 'Perhaps you would do well to
apply to Z------; he is the clumsiest, the stupidest and the most celebrated of my authors; together with him, perhaps,
you would get somewhere. Go to see him, and after that we'll see;' boasted (why?) of several vile actions which I
have never committed, and faint-heartedly denied some other misdeeds which I accomplished with joy, an error of
bravado, an offence against human respect; refused a friend an easy service, and gave a written recommendation to a
perfect clown; oh, isn't that enough?
Discontented with everyone and discontented with myself, I would gladly redeem myself and elate myself a
little in the silence and solitude of night. Souls of those I have loved, souls of those I have sung, strengthen me,
support me, rid me of lies and the corrupting vapours of the world; and you, O Lord God, grant me the grace to
produce a few good verses, which shall prove to myself that I am not the lowest of men, that I am not inferior to
those whom I despise.
Morning
by
Paul Laurence Dunbar
The
mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
'Tis morning, 'tis morning.
With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
'Tis morning, 'tis morning.
With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."
Please share your
new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—
(Next week Susan’s Midweek
Motif will be ~ Surprise!)
Hello everyone! Have a wonderful poetic day! I am having some issues with my computer. Hope I'll solve it soon and visit you all.
ReplyDeleteOh! I hope they resolve soon! I'm so happy to see you this morning that I am doing a happy dance!
DeleteThank you dear friend. Always wonderful to be here with you all :)
DeleteA happy Wednesday to all. Thanks for today's prompt Sumana
ReplyDeletemuch love...
Hi Sumana! It's been long since I contributed here, but I couldn't miss the chance for a morning poem in late autumn. Thanks for the prompt.
ReplyDeleteNice to see you, Khaya. I was wondering how you were.
DeleteHi Sherry! Thank you, I'm doing good. It's been a busy year, celebrating small and big milestones. I'm hoping to get back to the regular blogging routine in the new year. :D
DeleteLovely to see you here Khaya...
DeleteLoved the prompt, Sumana!❤️ Will be back shortly after dinner to read and comment. Happy Wednesday, everyone!❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sumana. A beautiful prompt and gorgeous examples. I love the Basho and the Mary Oliver poems the best. Morning is always special to me, a brand new day starting over every morning, another chance to get it right.
ReplyDeleteI've never before encountered that Baudelaire, and enjoyed so much that relief of being alone he evokes! Surrounded by poems that are old friends, this prompt has made this a wonderful morning. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI love the selections you've quoted. As always - such a nice prompt. Thanks Sumana.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHello everyone,
ReplyDeleteAny of you morning people? Despite being a night owl, I love waking up just before the sun rises - with plenty of coffee to greet it!
Mary Oliver's observations about daybreak, and the beautiful tranquility of the Basho feature are my favourites.
Thanks Sumana for the great prompt. The dawn of a new day is always inspiring.
Hi Poppy! Lovely to see you!
DeleteGood Evening, Poets! Thanks, Sumana, for the serene prompt! I enjoyed the Basho haiku and the Baudelaire prose-poem!
ReplyDeleteSorry I'm late again, Sumana. I'd like to wish everyone a great midweek. I really like the Basho haiku.
ReplyDeleteSumana- what a beautiful prompt. I was fortunate to catch a beautiful dawn here where I live. I love the Dunbar poem!
ReplyDelete