Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Lady Liberty

“I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.” 

― Audre Lorde

“Lady Liberty”  by Theodore Bonev (2007)
at the Agrement roundabout, St. Maartin

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"As an allegory of Liberty, Woman symbolizes a passion for freedom inherent to all human beings, while at the same time exposing the limits of liberty as an abstract ideal. What does liberty mean for women in a male-dominated world?                                                     ~ Barbera Taylor,   Liberty is a Woman   (Read the rest of the essay LIBERTY IS A WOMAN! here) 

Liberty Enlightening the World 
 Statue of Liberty

donated to the US by France (1886)

 BigMacSC99

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Midweek Motif ~ Lady Liberty

Liberty is often represented allegorically as a woman.  Given the place of women in the world, this is ironic.  Or is it wishful thinking?   In my country, the liberty I have comes as part of white privilege, but even then it is an exception rather than the rule.  Or have we "come a long way, baby"?*

(*This quote is from the 1988 advertisement for Virginia Slims cigarettes below.)

Your Challenge:  Speak to Lady Liberty, or let Her speak in your new poem.  Is Ms. Liberty someone you know?

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The Old Stoic

Emily Brontë, 1818 - 1848

Riches I hold in light esteem,

   And Love I laugh to scorn;

And lust of fame was but a dream,

   That vanished with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer

   That moves my lips for me

Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear,

   And give me liberty!”

Yes, as my swift days near their goal:

   ’Tis all that I implore;

In life and death a chainless soul,

   With courage to endure.

Liberty Leading the People by Eugène Delacroix (1829)

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The New Colossus  

by Emma Lazarus 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

MOTHER OF EXILES. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

By Jessica Toby Lustig (2017)

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excerpt from lady liberty

BY TATO LAVIERA

. . . . 

if you touch me, touch ALL of my people

who need attention and societal repair,

give the tired and the poor

the same attention, AMERICA,

touch us ALL with liberty,

touch us ALL with liberty.

hunger abounds, our soil is plentiful,

our technology advanced enough

to feed the world,

to feed humanity's hunger . . .

but let's celebrate not our wealth,

not our sophisticated defense,

not our scientific advancements,

not our intellectual adventures.

let us concentrate on our weaknesses,

on our societal needs,

for we will never be free

if indeed freedom is subjugated

to trampling upon people's needs.

this is a warning,

my beloved america.

. . . .

(Read the rest HERE,)

FYI:  USA Immigration and the Statue of Liberty "Debate"

August 2, 2017

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

                (Next week Sumana’s Midweek Motif will be ~ City )

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Voice

Daniella Zalcman’s project “Signs of Your Identity” explores
the legacy of Canada’s Indian Residential Schools
 Image by Daniella Zalcman. Canada, 2015

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“When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.” 

― Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak

“. . . she was afraid of hearing her own voice come out of her heart and be covered with blood. . . . ” 

― Hélène Cixous, The Book of Promethea

"Powerlessness and silence go together.” 

― Margaret Atwood, Second Words

“. . . . only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. 

And that is not speaking.” 

― Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider

"Cop in the Head"

Graphic by Morgan Andrews

Philadelphia Theatre of the Oppressed

Midweek Motif ~ Voice

In this motif, voice is not a literary technique, but the willingness to speak from a specific point of view despite fear of consequences.  That is today's theme: the bravery or bravado of insisting on having a voice.

According to Voltaire, "“Writing is the painting of the voice.”  I love the ambiguity of this definition when applied to today's motif:  Does "the voice" paint?  Does writing paint "the voice"?  

Your Challenge:  In your new poem, paint a voice and make us hear it.  

.......

― excerpt from Woman and Nature: 

The Roaring Inside Her

by Susan Griffin

“He says that woman speaks with nature. That she hears voices from under the earth. That wind blows in her ears and trees whisper to her. That the dead sing through her mouth and the cries of infants are clear to her. But for him this dialogue is over. He says he is not part of this world, that he was set on this world as a stranger. He sets himself apart from woman and nature.

And so it is Goldilocks who goes to the home of the three bears, Little Red Riding Hood who converses with the wolf, Dorothy who befriends a lion, Snow White who talks to the birds, Cinderella with mice as her allies, the Mermaid who is half fish, Thumbelina courted by a mole. (And when we hear in the Navajo chant of the mountain that a grown man sits and smokes with bears and follows directions given to him by squirrels, we are surprised. We had thought only little girls spoke with animals.)

We are the bird's eggs. Bird's eggs, flowers, butterflies, rabbits, cows, sheep; we are caterpillars; we are leaves of ivy and sprigs of wallflower. We are women. We rise from the wave. We are gazelle and doe, elephant and whale, lilies and roses and peach, we are air, we are flame, we are oyster and pearl, we are girls. We are woman and nature. And he says he cannot hear us speak.

But we hear.” 

The Horrid Voice of Science

BY VACHEL LINDSAY

"There's machinery in the butterfly; 

There's a mainspring to the bee; 

There's hydraulics to a daisy, 

And contraptions to a tree. 

"If we could see the birdie 

That makes the chirping sound 

With x-ray, scientific eyes, 

We could see the wheels go round." 

And I hope all men 

Who think like this 

Will soon lie 

Underground.

Poem For A Lady Whose Voice I Like

    BY NIKKI GIOVANNI

so he said: you ain’t got no talent   

    if you didn’t have a face   

    you wouldn’t be nobody

and she said: god created heaven and earth   

    and all that’s Black within them

so he said: you ain’t really no hot shit   

    they tell me plenty sisters   

    take care better business than you

and she said: on the third day he made chitterlings   

    and all good things to eat   

    and said: “that’s good”

so he said: if the white folks hadn’t been under   

    yo skirt and been giving you the big play

    you’d a had to come on uptown like everybody else

and she replied: then he took a big Black greasy rib

    from adam and said we will call this woeman and her   

    name will be sapphire and she will divide into four parts   

    that simone may sing a song

and he said: you pretty full of yourself ain’t chu

so she replied: show me someone not full of herself   

    and i’ll show you a hungry person

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

    (Next week Sumana’s Motif will be ~ Carpe Diem / Seize the Day)

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Social Stigma

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Midweek Motif ~ 
Social Stigma

Social stigma is not ordinary fear, but rejection that is culture bound.  Except social stigma about some mental and physical illnesses is universal.

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December First is World Aids Day.  The World Health Organization's goal is to have no new cases, no more deaths and no more stigma attached to the disease by 2030. Social stigma surrounding the disease inhibits communication and treatment.  

Have you seen social stigma at work? 

Your Challenge: Compose a new poem with a motif of social stigma.  Don't feel restricted to stigma surrounding AIDS and HIV.

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Some Quotes:

“The stigmatized individual is asked to act so as to imply neither that his burden is heavy nor that bearing it has made him different from us; at the same time he must keep himself at that remove from us which assures our painlessly being able to confirm this belief about him.”  ― Erving Goffman

“The animal part of him in pain accepted my caring. But the part of himself watching himself in that pain didn't believe I could ever respect him again.”― Diane Ackerman

“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.”― Audre Lorde

“I got tested for AIDS. I know Barack got tested for AIDS. There's no shame in being tested for AIDS.  It's an important thing.” ― Joe Biden

"AIDS occupies such a large part in our awareness because of what it has been taken to represent. It seems the very model of all the catastrophes privileged populations feel await them."― Susan Sontag

Some Poems:

excerpt from The Four Humours

Related Poem Content Details

BY RAFAEL CAMPO

I. Blood                                 

We wondered if the rumors got to her.

I’d seen her with that other girl behind

The Stop and Shop when I was walking home

from school one day. I swear, the two of them

were kissing, plain as that, the grass so high

it brushed their cheeks. I told my teacher so,

and maybe it was her who called their folks.

Before too long, it was like everyone 

in town had heard. We waited for them at

the dime store once, where Cedric grabbed her tits

and said I’ll learn you how to love how God 

intended it, you ugly fucking dyke.

Thing was, she wasn’t ugly like you’d think.

She had a certain quality, a shyness

maybe, and I’d describe the way she laughed 

as kind of gentle. Anyway, we never saw her with 

that girl again. They say she got depressed—

shit, at the service all of us got tearful.

I got to thinking what an awful sight

it was, all that red blood—it wasn’t in 

the papers, but I heard Melissa’s mother,

who was the nurse in the Emergency

that night, say how she was just covered up

in blood. I can’t think how you bring yourself

to cut your throat like that yourself—I asked

the counselor they called in to the school,

and she said something like, What better ink

to write the language of the heart? I guess

it proves that stuff from Bible school they say, 

that such a life of sin breeds misery.

. . . . 

(Read the rest HERE.)

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

Related Poem Content Details

BY EMILY DICKINSON

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - 

That perches in the soul - 

And sings the tune without the words - 

And never stops - at all - 

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - 

And sore must be the storm - 

That could abash the little Bird 

That kept so many warm - 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land - 

And on the strangest Sea - 

Yet - never - in Extremity, 

It asked a crumb - of me.

Excerpt from  The Bell Jar

BY SYLVIA PLATH

My mother smiled. "I knew my baby wasn't like that."

I looked at her. "Like what?"

"Like those awful people. Those 

awful dead people at that hospital." 

She paused. 

"I knew you'd decide to be all right again.” 

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others  in the spirit of the community.  AND: please put a link to this prompt with your poem.  

(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be Aviation )