Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Balance

"You have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance."
 ―Ken Kesey

God's Hand, sculpture by Carl Milles (2007)
photo by Ellgaard Holger

“Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.” 

― Jelaluddin Rumi

	Balance Scales: symbol of Libra

Balance Scales: symbol of Libra

Midweek Motif ~ Balance

Astrologically, we're in Libra.  Is that not reason enough to think of balance, balance with grace and poise?  

How easy is balance in any area of life?  Do you look for balance? lose it? create it? guard it? suspect it?

Your Challenge:  Explore the possibilities of balance in a new poem.

A woman demonstrating the ability to balance (1904)

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Balances 

by Nikki Giovanni

In life

one is always

balancing

like we juggle our mothers 

against our fathers 

or one teacher 

against another 

(only to balance our grade average) 

3 grains of salt 

to one ounce truth 

our sweet black essence 

or the funky honkies down the street 

and lately i've begun wondering 

if you're trying to tell me something 

we used to talk all night 

and do things alone together 

and i've begun 

(as a reaction to a feeling) 

to balance 

the pleasure of loneliness 

against the pain 

of loving you 

Rock balancing (Counterbalance)



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GOODBYE TO TOLERANCE







BY DENISE LEVERTOV






Genial poets, pink-faced   



earnest wits—



you have given the world   



some choice morsels,



gobbets of language presented



as one presents T-bone steak



and Cherries Jubilee.   



Goodbye, goodbye,



                            I don’t care



if I never taste your fine food again,   



neutral fellows, seers of every side.   



Tolerance, what crimes



are committed in your name.





And you, good women, bakers of nicest bread,   



blood donors. Your crumbs



choke me, I would not want



a drop of your blood in me, it is pumped   



by weak hearts, perfect pulses that never   



falter: irresponsive



to nightmare reality.





It is my brothers, my sisters,



whose blood spurts out and stops



forever



because you choose to believe it is not your business.





Goodbye, goodbye,



your poems



shut their little mouths,   



your loaves grow moldy,   



a gulf has split



                     the ground between us,



and you won’t wave, you’re looking



another way.



We shan’t meet again—



unless you leap it, leaving   



behind you the cherished   



worms of your dispassion,   



your pallid ironies,



your jovial, murderous,   



wry-humored balanced judgment,



leap over, un-



balanced? ... then



how our fanatic tears



would flow and mingle   



for joy ...












Spiderman in old age, Reykjavik by Pobel (2010)

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An Irish Airman foresees his Death


BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I know that I shall meet my fate 
Somewhere among the clouds above; 
Those that I fight I do not hate, 
Those that I guard I do not love; 
My country is Kiltartan Cross, 
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, 
No likely end could bring them loss 
Or leave them happier than before. 
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, 
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, 
A lonely impulse of delight 
Drove to this tumult in the clouds; 
I balanced all, brought all to mind, 
The years to come seemed waste of breath, 
A waste of breath the years behind 
In balance with this life, this death.




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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 ~ The Owl.)