Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Charity

"When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.” 

― Maya Angelou

“Charity degrades those who receive it and hardens 
those who dispense it.” 
― George Sand

https://nationaltoday.com/international-day-charity/

"The International Day of Charity was originally a Hungarian civil society initiative. . . . [I]nstituted on September 5 to commemorate the anniversary of Mother Teresa’s death. . . . [E]mphasis is placed on enhancing visibility, organizing special events, and increasing solidarity, social responsibility, and public support. "

Mother Theresa in Calcutta
UN Photo/O. Monsen

Midweek Motif ~ Charity

We may debate the politics of charity elsewhere, here let's describe charity instead: How does it feel to give?  to receive?  to be pressured to give or receive?  to refuse?  How do you know?

Your challenge: Write one new poem about giving and/or receiving some type of charity. Use a favorite quote about charity if you wish.

Depiction of Guan Yin in Vietnam 
The Bodhisattva of Compassion and Kindness

The giver (for Berdis)

BY JAMES BALDWIN

If the hope of giving

is to love the living,

the giver risks madness

in the act of giving.

Some such lesson I seemed to see

in the faces that surrounded me.

Needy and blind, unhopeful, unlifted,

what gift would give them the gift to be gifted?

          The giver is no less adrift

          than those who are clamouring for the gift.

If they cannot claim it, if it is not there,

if their empty fingers beat the empty air

and the giver goes down on his knees in prayer

knows that all of his giving has been for naught

and that nothing was ever what he thought

and turns in his guilty bed to stare

at the starving multitudes standing there

and rises from bed to curse at heaven,

he must yet understand that to whom much is given

much will be taken, and justly so:

I cannot tell how much I owe.

quaking conversation

BY LENELLE MOÏSE

i want to talk about haiti.

how the earth had to break

the island’s spine to wake

the world up to her screaming.

how this post-earthquake crisis

is not natural

or supernatural.

i want to talk about disasters.

. . . .  

i want to talk about our irreversible dead.

the artists, the activists, the spiritual leaders,

the family members, the friends, the merchants

the outcasts, the cons.

all of them, my newest ancestors,

all of them, hovering now,

watching our collective response,

keeping score, making bets.

i want to talk about money.

how one man's recession might be

another man's unachievable reality.

how unfair that is.

how i see a haitian woman’s face

every time i look down at a hot meal,

slip into my bed, take a sip of water,

show mercy to a mirror.

 . . . . 

(Read the rest HERE.)

New Stanzas for Amazing Grace

BY ALLEN GINSBERG

I dreamed I dwelled in a homeless place

Where I was lost alone

Folk looked right through me into space

And passed with eyes of stone

O homeless hand on many a street

Accept this change from me

A friendly smile or word is sweet

As fearless charity

Woe workingman who hears the cry

And cannot spare a dime

Nor look into a homeless eye

Afraid to give the time

So rich or poor no gold to talk

A smile on your face

The homeless ones where you may walk

Receive amazing grace

I dreamed I dwelled in a homeless place

Where I was lost alone

Folk looked right through me into space

And passed with eyes of stone 

(See the International Day of Charity Facebook Page)

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 ~ Sunset.)

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Independence

(Tim Hall Cultura Getty Images)

“Independence is a complex word in a foreign tongue.
 To resist occupation, whether you're a nation or merely a woman, you must understand the language of your enemy. Conquest and liberation and democracy and divorce are words that mean squat, basically, when you have hungry children and clothes to get out on the line and it looks like rain.” 

― Barbara Kingsolver

“From birds she learned how to sing; from cats she learned 
a form of dangerous independence.” 

― Salman Rushdie

It is very nearly impossible... to become an educated person in a country 

so distrustful of the independent mind. 

― James A. Baldwin

source

Midweek Motif ~ 
Independence

Many of our countries have holidays that celebrate gaining independence from foreign rule, and many of us also have rites--formal and informal--related to gaining independence.  Some of these are about our countries and ~ more importantly ~ some of these are about us as individuals and members of groups.   

What is your experience of independence? 

How might you describe independence to someone who has never encountered it?

How are your beliefs about independence reflected in how you see nature?  

Or vice versa: How is your view of nature reflected in your beliefs about independence?

Your Challenge: Let your new poem answer one of the four questions above.

Johnny Cash - As Long As the Grass Shall Grow

Excerpt from "The Declaration of Independence" 

by ― Thomas Jefferson

We hold these truths to be self-evident:

that all men are created equal,

that they are endowed by their Creator

with certain unalienable rights,

that among these are life, liberty

and the pursuit of happiness.

Sympathy

Related Poem Content Details

BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels! 

I know why the caged bird beats his wing 

    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   

For he must fly back to his perch and cling   

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing; 

    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   

And they pulse again with a keener sting— 

I know why he beats his wing! 

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, 

    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,— 

When he beats his bars and he would be free; 

It is not a carol of joy or glee, 

    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings— 

I know why the caged bird sings!

mud mothers

Related Poem Content Details

BY LENELLE MOÏSE

the children of haiti

are not mythological

. . . . 

we are a living dead example

of what happens to warriors who

in lieu of fighting for white men's countries

dare to fight

for their own lives

during carnival

we could care less

about our bloated empty bellies

where there are voices

we are dancing

where there is vodou

we are horses

where there are drums

we are possessed

with joy and stubborn jamboree

but   . . . .

(Read the rest HERE)

🐎

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 ~ Movement.)