Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Fun

Emily's Quotes

“And the sun and the moon sometimes argue over who will tuck me in at night. If you think I am having more fun than anyone on this planet, you are absolutely correct.” ― Hafiz

“One thing I had learned from watching chimpanzees with their infants is that having a child should be fun.” ― Jane Goodall

“Fun is closely related to Joy -- a sort of emotional froth arising from the play of instinct.” ― C.S. Lewis

 Midweek Motif ~ Fun

Can you list 10 ways you have fun?

Fun for me is ACTIVE, like: licking the cooking spoon, playing a challenging game of Scrabble, drinking tea while visiting, reading a good book, re-reading the good book, praying while coloring, stroking the cats until they purr, writing a poem in an un-rushed time, reading poetry aloud, and taking long walks on cool days.  That's 10 things.  What's the first 10 that occur to you?  the next 10?  

The challenge:  In a new poem, find a meaningful way to have fun fore-grounding fun.

Children’s Games by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1560)

Children’sGames

 by William Carlos Williams 

(I)

This is a schoolyard

crowded

with children

of all ages near a village

on a small stream

meandering by

where some boys

are swimming

bare-ass

or climbing a tree in leaf

everything

is motion

elder women are looking

after the small

fry

a play wedding a

christening

nearby one leans

hollering

into

an empty hogshead

(II)

Little girls

whirling their skirts about

until they stand out flat

tops pinwheels

to run in the wind with

or a toy in 3 tiers to spin

with a piece

of twine to make it go

blindman’s-buff follow the

leader stilts

high and low tipcat jacks

bowls hanging by the knees

standing on your head

run the gauntlet

a dozen on their backs

feet together kicking

through which a boy must pass

roll the hoop or a

construction

made of bricks

some mason has abandoned

(III)

The desperate toys

of children

their

imagination equilibrium

and rocks

which are to be

found

everywhere

and games to drag

the other down

blindfold

to make use of

a swinging

weight

with which

at random

to bash in the

heads about

them

Brueghel saw it all

and with his grim

humor faithfully

recorded

it.

Country Boy in Winter

BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT

The wind may blow the snow about, 

For all I care, says Jack, 

And I don’t mind how cold it grows, 

For then the ice won’t crack. 

Old folks may shiver all day long, 

But I shall never freeze; 

What cares a jolly boy like me 

For winter days like these? 

Far down the long snow-covered hills 

It is such fun to coast, 

So clear the road! the fastest sled 

There is in school I boast. 

The paint is pretty well worn off, 

But then I take the lead; 

A dandy sled’s a loiterer, 

And I go in for speed. 

When I go home at supper-time, 

Ki! but my cheeks are red! 

They burn and sting like anything; 

I’m cross until I’m fed. 

You ought to see the biscuit go, 

I am so hungry then; 

And old Aunt Polly says that boys 

Eat twice as much as men. 

There’s always something I can do 

To pass the time away; 

The dark comes quick in winter-time— 

A short and stormy day 

And when I give my mind to it, 

It’s just as father says, 

I almost do a man’s work now, 

And help him many ways. 

I shall be glad when I grow up 

And get all through with school, 

I’ll show them by-and-by that I 

Was not meant for a fool. 

I’ll take the crops off this old farm, 

I’ll do the best I can. 

A jolly boy like me won’t be 

A dolt when he’s a man. 

I like to hear the old horse neigh 

Just as I come in sight, 

The oxen poke me with their horns 

To get their hay at night. 

Somehow the creatures seem like friends, 

And like to see me come. 

Some fellows talk about New York, 

But I shall stay at home.

Nostalgia 3 by Sunil Pookode  (2016)
(Used without Permission.  Forgive me.)

a song in the front yard

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.

I want a peek at the back

Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows. 

A girl gets sick of a rose.

I want to go in the back yard now   

And maybe down the alley,

To where the charity children play.   

I want a good time today.

They do some wonderful things.

They have some wonderful fun.

My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine

How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.   

My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae   

Will grow up to be a bad woman.

That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late

(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).

But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.

And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,

And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace   

And strut down the streets with paint on my face.

🎲

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 ~ Cloud)

The Living Dead

~ Honouring our poetic ancestors ~

You Were Brave in That Holy War

You have done well
In the contest of madness.

You were brave in that holy war.
You have all the honorable wounds
Of one who has tried to find love

Where the Beautiful Bird
Does not drink.

May I speak to you
Like we are close
And locked away together?

Once I found a stray kitten
And I used to soak my fingers
In warm milk;
It came to think I was five mothers
On one hand.

Wayfarer,
Why not rest your tired body?
Lean back and close your eyes.

Come morning
I will kneel by your side and feed you.
I will so gently
Spread open your mouth
And let you taste something of my
Sacred mind and life.

Surely
There is something wrong
With your ideas of God.

O, surely there is something wrong
With your ideas of God

If you think
Our Beloved would not be so
Tender.

Hafez (1325/26–1389/90)

A friend posted this on facebook in December and I fell in love with it instantly. (Well, the kitten. And then, the beautiful conclusion.)

Hafez (aka Hafiz; full name Khwaja Shamsu d-Din Muhammad Hafez-e Shirazi) was an Iranian lyric poet of the 14th Century, still one of the most famous and beloved poets in his country. Wikipedia tells us he is the most popular poet in Iran, whose works can be found in almost every home, and are often used as proverbs or for a kind of fortune-telling. The country even celebrates a Hafez Day (Oct. 12). Among other things, he was a prolific writer of ghazals.

An editorial note at Amazon says that he lived
towards the end of what is often seen as the golden age of Persian poetry. He lived almost all his life in the southern city of Shiraz where he was involved in the court circles of various rulers and played an important role in the vibrant literary and spiritual life of the times. His poetry is collected in his Divan, which contains nearly 500 ghazals and some other verse. Little is known about his personal circumstances. His reputation was established in his own time and has continued to grow ever since, to the point where Iranians and many others regard him as one of that nation's greatest poets.

I'm guessing we don't have any definitive images of him from that time, but he is usually portrayed as looking something like this picture, which is an artist's idea of him – and I think it's a fair assumption that an Iranian man of that time would have looked quite like this.

Were his love poems erotic or mystical? Scholars are still arguing that. The one I've chosen here is clearly both romantic and spiritual – and I wonder if it is not himself he is addressing as the weary wayfarer. We are told that he was a great punner and satirist too, so perhaps we need not limited ourselves to only one kind of interpretation.

His work is still in print. You can find English translations at Amazon, at this link. You can read a number of his poems at Poetry Soup, also here and here. And there's this downloadable pdf.  Enjoy!

Material shared in 'The Living Dead' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings and images remain the property of the copyright owners, where applicable (older poems may be out of copyright).

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Enlightenment

Many spiritual teachers - in Buddhism, in Islam - have talked about first-hand experience of the world as an important part of the path to wisdom, to enlightenment.

bell hooks

To  conquer oneself is a greater task 

than conquering others.

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.
Martin Luther King Jr. (Famous Quotes)

I have nothing new to teach the world. Truth and Non-violence are as old as the hills. All I have done is to try experiments in both on as vast a scale as I could. 
Mahatma Gandhi (Gandhi Quotes)

We are formed and molded by our thoughts. Those whose minds are shaped by selfless thoughts give joy when they speak or act. Joy follows them like a shadow that never leaves them.
Lord Buddha (Buddha Quotes)

Midweek Motif ~ Enlightenment

So much has been said about enlightenment that maybe there is nothing more to say.  But I don't believe it.  In big ways and in small, we all have some experience with enlightenment.  What can you say?  

Your Challenge:  Write a poem containing a nugget of enlightenment.  

~

Excerpt from Augeries of Innocence BY William Blake Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine. . . . .   (lines 56-62; read the rest HERE at Bartleby.com)

The CrystalGazer

BY  Sara Teasdale

I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.

I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,
Watching the future come and the present go,
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In restless self-importance to and fro. 

Admit Something

BY Hafiz

Everyone you see, you say to them,

Love me.

Of course you do not do this out loud;

Otherwise,

Someone would call the cops.

Still though, think about this,

This great pull in us

To connect.

Why not become the one

Who lives with a full moon in each eye

That is always saying,

With that sweet moon language,

What every other eye in this world

Is dying to Hear.

~

For those who are new to Poets United: 

• Post your enlightenment poem on your site, and then link it here.
• Share only original and new work written for this challenge. 
• If you use a picture include its link.  
• Please leave a comment here and visit and comment on our poems.

(Our next Midweek Motif is "foolishness")

Good luck to all of you who are writing a poem a day during April.  I am using prompts from Poetic Asides, NaPoWriMo, Magaly Guerrero  and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  We'd love to know if you are attempting the challenge.  Please share links to the sites you are using for prompts and community during the challenge. 

Thanks!  ~Susan for Poets United

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The Living Dead

Honouring Our Poetic Ancestors

The Sun Never Says
by Hafiz

Even

After

All this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You owe

Me."

Look

What happens

With a love like that,

It lights the

Whole

Sky. Hafiz and Rumi are two of my very favourite poets. Both ecstatic Sufi mystics, their love of life, the earth, and the Beloved produced some of the most beautiful poetry the world has ever known (in my opinion.) Their work also has an underlying message; each poem calls to our deepest, highest selves, asking us to bring forth the best of what lies within us. Khwāja Shams-ud-Dīn Muhammad Hāfiz-e Shīrāzī,  was the most beloved poet of Persia. He was born in Shiraz, and lived from 1315 to 1390, in the time of Chaucer in England, and about one hundred years after Rumi. Not a lot is known about his life. At an early age, he memorized the Quran, and was thus given the title "Hafez", (someone who memorizes the Quran), which he later took for his pen name.  It is said his early love for a beautiful woman inspired his first mystic vigil, during which an angel of surpassing beauty appeared to him. After this visitation, his attempts at union became mystical, a pursuit of spiritual union with the Divine. His patron was  Hajji Zayn al-Attar. Hafiz became a famous Sufi master. He wrote some 500 ghazals over the course of 50 years,  averaging ten ghazals a year. His output is estimated at between 573 and 994 poems. Because  his poems were often ecstatic love songs from God to his beloved world, Hafiz has often been called "the Tongue of the Invisible". At age 60, Hafiz drew a circle and sat within it, to begin a 40-day-and-night vigil.  On the 40th day, he once again met with Zayn al-Attar, on what is known to be their fortieth anniversary, and was offered a cup of wine. It was then he is said to have attained "Cosmic Consciousness".  Twenty years after his death, a tomb, the Hafezieh, was erected to honor Hafiz in the Musalla Gardens in Shiraz. His work became known to the west largely through the efforts of Goethe, whose enthusiasm inspired Ralph Waldo Emerson to translate Hafiz's poetry in the nineteenth century. Hazrat Inayat Khan, the Indian teacher credited with bringing Sufism to the West,  proclaimed, "The words of Hafiz  have won every heart that listens." I believe this is true. sources: The Gift : Poems by Hafiz, translations by Daniel Ladinsky; Wikipedia [note: The poet's name is spelled Hafez by Wikipedia. The more usual spelling is the one I have used in this article.] Images used in this post remain under the copyright of the artists.