Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Walk

 

“Your grief path is yours alone, and no one else can walk it, and no one else can understand it”— Terri Irwin

SOURCE

“Man can now fly in the air like a bird, swim under the ocean like a fish, he can burrow into the ground like a mole. Now if only he could walk the earth like a man, this would be paradise.”— Tommy Douglas

          Midweek Motif ~ Walk

One can walk in so many ways: walking by faith in God; walking in a space of gratitude. We couldn’t agree more with Nelson Mandela when he says, “There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere.” Buddha tells us to walk safely in the maze of life with the light of wisdom.

So walk is the motif today.

It might be a calorie burning brisk walk or a slow ambling, taking in the sights and sounds around.

What about jaywalking and dancing the moonwalk? Anything connected with walk would do J

I have read in an article that Charles Dickens walked a dozen miles a day and found writing so mentally agitating that he once wrote, "If I couldn't walk fast and far, I should just explode and perish." 

A few poems for inspiration

The Walk

by Thomas Hardy

You did not walk with me
Of late to the hill-top tree
As in earlier days,
By the gated ways:
You were weak and lame,
So you never came,
And I went alone, and I did not mind,
Not thinking of you as left behind.


I walked up there to-day
Just in the former way:
Surveyed around
The familiar ground
By myself again:
What difference, then?
Only that underlying sense
Of the look of a room on returning thence. 

Acquainted With The Night

by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;

And further still at an unearthly height,

One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. 

I have been one acquainted with the night.

Autumn

by T.E. Hulme

A touch of cold in the Autumn night— 

I walked abroad, 

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge 

Like a red-faced farmer. 

I did not stop to speak, but nodded, 

And round about were the wistful stars 

With white faces like town children.

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

              (Sanaa will be our guest host next week and her Midweek Motif will be Poems To Weather Uncertain Times)