Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Greatness (in honor of Nelson Mandela International Day 7/18/2018)

“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve 

greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.” 

― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

 2018 – The Nelson Mandela Centenary

"Nelson Mandela International Day 2018 marks 100 years since the birth of Nelson Mandela. The Centenary is an occasion to reflect on his life and legacy, and to follow his call to 'make of the world a better place.'. . . The Nelson Mandela Foundation is dedicating this year's Mandela Day to Action Against Poverty, honouring Nelson Mandela's leadership and devotion to fighting poverty and promoting social justice for all."

It is said that no one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails. A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones.

- Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela

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Midweek Motif ~ Greatness 

Synonyms for "greatness" fall into two categories that may have little to do with each other:

➤eminence, distinction, illustriousness, repute, high standing; importance, significance; celebrity, fame, prominence, renown ~ "a child destined for greatness"
➤genius, prowess, talent, expertise, mastery, artistry, virtuosity, skill, proficiency; flair, finesse; caliber, distinction ~ "her greatness as a writer"

I think Mandela had greatness in both senses.   Do you agree?

Your Challenge: In your one new poem, use greatness as a theme.  You could reflect on the elimination of poverty, on Nelson Mandela, or on some other revelation of  greatness.

Source

Song of the Builders by Mary Oliver

On a summer morning

I sat down

on a hillside

to think about God - 

a worthy pastime.

Near me, I saw

a single cricket; 

it was moving the grains of the hillside 

this way and that way.

How great was its energy, 

how humble its effort.

Let us hope 

it will always be like this, 

each of us going on

in our inexplicable ways

building the universe.

Invictus 

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Out of the night that covers me, 

      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 

      For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 

      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 

      Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

      How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate, 

      I am the captain of my soul. 

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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 ~ wilderness.)

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Resilience

http://www.theschooloflife.com/london/shop/resilience-one-day-workshop-5/

"The energy expended in pushing down despair is diverted from more creative uses, depleting the resilience and imagination needed for fresh visions and strategies."
~Joanna Macy

"There is no way to re-enchant our lives in a disenchanted culture except by becoming renegades from that culture and planting the seeds for a new one."

~Thomas Moore

"The more we focus on trying to instill grit, the less likely we’ll be to question larger policies and institutions."

~ Alfie Kohn

Midweek Motif ~
 Resilience

Whether the topic is climate change, endangered species, burnt trees or trauma of human varieties, we hope to discover resilience. More than resistance, "resilience" is growing better and stronger in moving beyond the obstacle. But what if real social change is needed?  
When is individual resilience enough?

Your challenge: In your new poem, define/clarify resilience by example. 

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Solitude

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; 

Weep, and you weep alone. 

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, 

But has trouble enough of its own. 

Sing, and the hills will answer; 

Sigh, it is lost on the air. 

The echoes bound to a joyful sound, 

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you; 

Grieve, and they turn and go. 

They want full measure of all your pleasure, 

But they do not need your woe. 

Be glad, and your friends are many; 

Be sad, and you lose them all. 

There are none to decline your nectared wine, 

But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded; 

Fast, and the world goes by. 

Succeed and give, and it helps you live, 

But no man can help you die. 

There is room in the halls of pleasure 

For a long and lordly train, 

But one by one we must all file on 

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud, 2007.

Invictus

Related Poem Content Details

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Audio Player00:00

Out of the night that covers me, 

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be 

      For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 

      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 

      Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

      How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate, 

      I am the captain of my soul. 

Lodged
BY ROBERT FROST

The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged - though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt. 

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Please share your new poem with Mr. Linky below and visit others 

in the spirit of the community.

(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be ~ Birthdays )

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Freedom

source

“Free societies...are societies in motion, and with motion comes tension, dissent, friction. Free people strike sparks, and those sparks are the best evidence 

of freedom's existence.” 
― Salman Rushdie

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

“I believe that there will be ultimately be a clash between the oppressed and those who do the oppressing. I believe that there will be a clash between those who want freedom, justice and equality for everyone and those who want to continue the system of exploitation. I believe that there will be that kind of clash, but I don't think it will be based on the color of the skin...” 
― Malcolm X

Midweek Motif ~ Freedom

Self-rule.   

A cause for celebration.  

For individuals, societies, and countries,

I act as if I am free since I meet my obligations and don't step on others' freedoms.  But how free am I? And how do I know I am free?

In her Complete Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi, writes:

The regime had understood that one person 

leaving her house while asking herself:

'Are my trousers long enough?'
'Is my veil in place?'
'Can my make-up be seen?'
'Are they going to whip me?'

No longer asks herself:                                         

'Where is my freedom of thought?'
'Where is my freedom of speech?'
'My life, is it livable?'
'What's going on in the political prisons?'  

Your Challenge: Can a poem contain your sense of freedom?  Find a way ~ through content and form ~ to describe an instance or ideal of freedom.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. 

The New Colossus

BY EMMA LAZARUS

(engraved in the USA Statue of Liberty)

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!”

Maggid

BY MARGE PIERCY

The courage to let go of the door, the handle.

The courage to shed the familiar walls whose very

stains and leaks are comfortable as the little moles

of the upper arm; stains that recall a feast,

a child’s naughtiness, a loud blattering storm

that slapped the roof hard, pouring through.

The courage to abandon the graves dug into the hill,

the small bones of children and the brittle bones

of the old whose marrow hunger had stolen;

the courage to desert the tree planted and only

begun to bear; the riverside where promises were

shaped; the street where their empty pots were broken.

. . . . 

(Read the rest HERE at the Poetry Foundation.)

For those who are new to Poets United: 

• Post your freedom 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.

(Next week Sumana's Midweek Motif will be Night.)