Poets United Midweek Motif ~ The World Is A Beautiful Place

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 “The mind is its
own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”—
Milton

“Mathematics has beauty and romance. It’s not a
boring place to be, the mathematical world. It’s an extraordinary place; it’s
worth spending time there.”— Marcus du Sautoy

Midweek
Motif ~ The World Is A Beautiful Place
The world is a beautiful place is the title and the first line of one of the poems of
Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

 

Whether the world is truly beautiful or not so
depends on an individual’s perspectives of the world. It’s an open ended line.
Either support or invalidate it. Be sarcastic
if you please J
The world might refer to the planet of ours. It
might be our own home or a place we love. A person might become our world or
books. When everything is going right anything has the chance of
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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ City

“But a city is more than a place in space, it is a drama in time.”— Patrick Geddes

“The fact that over 50 percent of the residents of Toronto are not from Canada, that is always a good thing, creatively, and for food specially. That is easily a city’s biggest strength, and it is Toronto’s unique strength.” — Anthony Bourdain

Midweek Motif ~ City

In the eyes of a poet what would a busy city look like? A dream or a nightmare?

Is it easier to integrate and interact with others or is it a place for the aliens?

Will the poet ignore the bodily glamour and glitter and all those lucrative amenities and rather strike up a conversation with the soul of the city? Or will not?

Or what is your kind of city?

Have a city air in your poems today:

City Trees
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Wilderness

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   “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the
human spirit.”— Edward Abbey
“To
plunder, to slaughter, to steal, these things they misname empire; and where
they make a wilderness, they call it peace.”— Tacitus
Midweek
Motif ~ Wilderness
This
week we are away from our frenzied, civilized lives into the wilderness, places
untrammeled by man: in reality or in imagination (like hikes with friends or
solitary day trips).

 

You might also discover a bit of wilderness, traces of the wild in the cities
/ in people too.
Is
wilderness a place? Is it an instinct? Is it an idea?
How
does wilderness make you feel?
Share
some wilderness moments in your poems today:
A Voice In The Wilderness
by
Audrey Hepburn
I
roamed the streets of Rome,
It felt like home,
People told me to stay,
But I said no ‘This is my Roman Holiday’,I
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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Of Poems

Introduction To Poetry
by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Poetry
by Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know …

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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ “a bundle of contradictions” (from Anne Frank's last letter)

Anne Frank Huis

By Andrew Motion

Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit room, can never help

but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
towards her fear, and made each stroke
die down on guarded streets. Imagine it—

four years of whispering, and loneliness,
and plotting, day by day, the Allied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed

as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances

like my …

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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ When I Think About Myself

“This above all; to thine own self be true.”— Shakespeare

“I am very much aware of my own double self. The well-known one is very under control; everything is planned and very secure. The unknown one can be very unpleasant. I think this side is responsible for all the creative work — he is in touch with the child. He is not rational; he is impulsive and extremely emotional.”—Ingmar Bergman

Midweek Motif ~ When I think About Myself

Let’s begin today with Maya Angelou’s poem When I Think About Myself:

When I think about myself,
I almost laugh myself to death,
My life has been one great big joke,
A dance that’s walked
A song that’s spoke,
I laugh so hard I almost choke
When I think about myself.

Sixty years in these folks’ world
The child I works for calls me girl
I say ‘Yes ma’am’ for working’s sake.…

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Poets United Midweek Motif

Anne Frank Huis

By Andrew Motion
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit room, can never help
but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
towards her fear, and made each stroke
die down on guarded streets. Imagine it—
four years of whispering, and loneliness,
and plotting, day by day, the Allied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed
as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances
like my
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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Human

“Listen and tell, thrums the grave heart of humans.
Listen well love, for it’s pitch dark down here.”
― Hailey Leithauser (See full poem below)

Midweek Motif ~ Human

I am human. I am only human.
I am sadly human. Happily, I am human.
Hmm.

When you describe something as “human,”
what do you mean?

BY WILLIAM BLAKE
Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress

The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal’d
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.

The Guest House
by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house…

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