On Popular Demand – Pour me drops of glorious sunshine [4]

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“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” – John Ruskin

“Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.” – H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

“What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but scattered along life’s pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.” – Joseph Addison

“But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life and thanks to a benevolent arrangement of things, the greater part of life is sunshine.” – Thomas Jefferson

“Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.” – Walt Whitman

Hello everyone and welcome to another exciting round of the segment “On Popular Demand.” Due to receiving the highest amount of votes our topic for this week is “Sunshine.” A round of applause for everyone who voted this week! It certainly would not have been possible without your support. Our task tonight is simple. Write a poem or prose piece which revolves around sunshine. You can write about sunshine in literal sense of the word or perhaps opt to use the sun as a metaphor. The prompt is wide open to interpretation. Previously written work is more than welcome. For further inspiration please refer to these two amazing poems below:

A Gleam of Sunshine

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past
The forms that once have been.

The Past and Present here unite
Beneath Time’s flowing tide,
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.

Here runs the highway to the town;
There the green lane descends,
Through which I walked to church with thee,
O gentlest of my friends!

The shadow of the linden-trees
Lay moving on the grass;
Between them and the moving boughs,
A shadow, thou didst pass.

Thy dress was like the lilies,
And thy heart as pure as they:
One of God’s holy messengers
Did walk with me that day.

I saw the branches of the trees
Bend down thy touch to meet,
The clover-blossoms in the grass
Rise up to kiss thy feet,

“Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Of earth and folly born!”
Solemnly sang the village choir
On that sweet Sabbath morn.

Through the closed blinds the golden sun
Poured in a dusty beam,
Like the celestial ladder seen
By Jacob in his dream.

And ever and anon, the wind,
Sweet-scented with the hay,
Turned o’er the hymn-book’s fluttering leaves
That on the window lay.

Long was the good man’s sermon,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,
And still I thought of thee.

Long was the prayer he uttered,
Yet it seemed not so to me;
For in my heart I prayed with him,
And still I thought of thee.

But now, alas! the place seems changed;
Thou art no longer here:
Part of the sunshine of the scene
With thee did disappear.

Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart,
Like pine-trees dark and high,
Subdue the light of noon, and breathe
A low and ceaseless sigh;

This memory brightens o’er the past,
As when the sun, concealed
Behind some cloud that near us hangs
Shines on a distant field.

That Morning Kiss

by Ency Bearis

There is such a phenomenon
I like everyday in my life
That kiss I like in every morn
Akin to the kiss of my wife

As when the sunlight shine my home
The sun won’t enter through the door
Just by the window it will roam
Yet it open a certain door

The door of my life awareness
That certainly touch my spirit
To feel strongly the life freshness
And face the day in a minute

That morning kiss of the sunshine
That touch my face, breathe to me
Gentle touch to body of mine
As if angel touch upon me

That sunshine enrapture my sense
A God holy emissary
Continue my life in a sense
In this beautiful world to see

Even if on a cloudy early day
Morning sunshine will gleam, will kiss
Always come its way everyday
I hope that day I will not miss

 

So pick up a pen and lets begin! As always the prompt will remain open the entire week so that everyone can write according to their own pace and time. Please click on the blue widget below. When it opens be sure to click on “add your link.” Now skip the blanks and proceed directly to “try here” written at the end in small font. It will direct you on how to link your poem. Please visit other Poets and do comment on their poems. Have fun ❤️

Prompt Nights – Spring is the time of land’s awakening [11]

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“Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, not the composer.” -Geoffrey B. Charlesworth

“In Spring, everything is full of promise. The child sporting upon the lawn, and the season, sympathize together, and nature rejoices in her virgin loveliness.” -Charles Lanman

“Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.” -Rainer Maria Rilke

“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want — oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!” -Mark Twain

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.” -Anne Bradstreet

“And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hello everyone! Welcome to another exciting week of Prompt Nights. Sigh. Winter cold has soon been replaced by the onset of Spring. Tonight, I want each of you to write a poem or prose regarding your views about this season. What significance does Spring hold for you? You can also opt to shed light upon Spring fever. Since most of us are caught up with NaPoWriMo please feel free to link up delicious old poems. For further inspiration please refer to the three wonderful poems below:

A Prayer in Spring

By Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

Spring’s Bedfellow

By William Morris

Spring went about the woods to-day,
The soft-foot winter-thief,
And found where idle sorrow lay
’Twixt flower and faded leaf.
She looked on him, and found him fair
For all she had been told;
She knelt adown beside him there,
And sang of days of old.

His open eyes beheld her nought,
Yet ’gan his lips to move;
But life and deeds were in her thought,
And he would sing of love.

So sang they till their eyes did meet,
And faded fear and shame;
More bold he grew, and she more sweet,
Until they sang the same.

Until, say they who know the thing,
Their very lips did kiss,
And Sorrow laid abed with Spring
Begat an earthly bliss.

A Light Exists In Spring

by Emily Dickinson

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human naturefeels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.

 

So pick up a pen and lets begin! As always the prompt will remain open the entire week so that everyone can write according to their own pace and time. Please click on the blue widget below. When it opens be sure to click on “add your link.” Now skip the blanks and proceed directly to “try here” written at the end in small font. It will direct you on how to link your poem. Please visit other Poets and do comment on their poems. Have fun ❤

Prompt Nights – Sûrement vous plaisantez – Surely you jest [10]

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“I am a great and sublime fool. But then I am God’s fool, and all His works must be contemplated with respect.” -Mark Twain

“With too much pride a man cannot learn a thing. In and of itself, learning teaches you how foolish you are.” Criss Jami,

“To smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another’s breast is to become a principal in the mischief.” -Richard Brinsley Sheridan

“But humor is too delicate and evanescent a thing to be extracted from a book like plums from a pudding.” -Beatrix

“A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.” -Charles Lamb

“What monstrous absurdities and paradoxes have resisted whole batteries of serious arguments, and then crumbled swiftly into dust before the ringing death-knell of a laugh!” -Agnes Repplier

Merry first of April to us all. Hello and welcome to another exciting week of Prompt Nights. We all love to joke around and play pranks on each other every now and then. Tonight, let’s have some fun. Write a poem or prose regarding the subject of humor, pun or satire. You can also opt to describe a funny incident which has occurred with you or a loved one. The prompt is wide open to interpretation. Previously written work is more than welcome. For further inspiration please refer to these two wonderful poems below:

Father William

by Lewis Carroll

‘You are old, father William,’ the young man said,
‘And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?’

‘In my youth,’ father William replied to his son,
‘I feared it would injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.’

‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door –
Pray, what is the reason of that?’

‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
‘I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box –
Allow me to sell you a couple.’

‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak –
Pray, how did you manage to do it?’

‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.’

‘You are old,’ said the youth; one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose –
What made you so awfully clever?’

‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’
Said his father; ‘don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’

‘That is not said right,’ said the Caterpillar.
‘Not quite right, I’m afraid,’ said Alice timidly;
‘some of the words have got altered.’
‘It is wrong from beginning to end,’
said the Caterpillar decidedly, and
there was silence for some minutes.

The Triple Fool

by John Donne

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where’s that wiseman, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then as th’ earth’s inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water’s fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme’s vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when ’tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

 

So pick up a pen and lets begin! As always the prompt will remain open the entire week so that everyone can write according to their own pace and time. Please click on the blue widget below. When it opens be sure to click on “add your link.” Now skip the blanks and proceed directly to “try here” written at the end in small font. It will direct you on how to link your poem. Please visit other Poets and do comment on their poems. Have fun ❤️

On Popular Demand – Such passion music can raise and quell [3]

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“Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, following you right on up until you die.” -Paul Simon

“The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes – ah, that is where the art resides!” -Arthur Schnabel

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” -Aldous Huxley

“Music is a friend of labor for it lightens the task by refreshing the nerves and spirit of the worker.” -William Green

“Beautiful music is the art of the prophets that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us.” -Martin Luther

“Music expresses feeling and thought, without language; it was below and before speech, and it is above and beyond all words.” -Robert G. Ingersoll

Hello and welcome to another exciting round of our most awaited segment “On Popular Demand.” Music is something which binds us together. It causes two people to share an emotion so strong that it can hardly be put into words. Call it fate or stroke of serendipity for once again we are in total sync with the Music Prompt over at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Tonight, I want you guys to pick a favourite song of your own choice and to go wild. You can also opt to write about the different aspects of music. For further inspiration please refer to the three wonderful poems below:

Music at the Villa Marina

By Robert Louis Stevenson

FOR some abiding central source of power,
Strong-smitten steady chords, ye seem to flow
And, flowing, carry virtue. Far below,
The vain tumultuous passions of the hour
Fleet fast and disappear; and as the sun
Shines on the wake of tempests, there is cast
O’er all the shattered ruins of my past
A strong contentment as of battles won.

And yet I cry in anguish, as I hear
The long drawn pageant of your passage roll
Magnificently forth into the night.
To yon fair land ye come from, to yon sphere
Of strength and love where now ye shape your flight,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!

Ye have the power, if but ye had the will,
Strong-smitten steady chords in sequence grand,
To bear me forth into that tranquil land
Where good is no more ravelled up with ill;
Where she and I, remote upon some hill
Or by some quiet river’s windless strand,
May live, and love, and wander hand in hand,
And follow nature simply, and be still.

From this grim world, where, sadly, prisoned, we
Sit bound with others’ heart-strings as with chains,
And, if one moves, all suffer, – to that Goal,
If such a land, if such a sphere, there be,
Thither, from life and all life’s joys and pains,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!

Music

By Amy Lowell

The neighbour sits in his window and plays the flute.
From my bed I can hear him,
And the round notes flutter and tap about the room,
And hit against each other,
Blurring to unexpected chords.
It is very beautiful,
With the little flute-notes all about me,
In the darkness.

In the daytime,
The neighbour eats bread and onions with one hand
And copies music with the other.
He is fat and has a bald head,
So I do not look at him,
But run quickly past his window.
There is always the sky to look at,
Or the water in the well!

But when night comes and he plays his flute,
I think of him as a young man,
With gold seals hanging from his watch,
And a blue coat with silver buttons.
As I lie in my bed
The flute-notes push against my ears and lips,
And I go to sleep, dreaming.

Music swims back to Me

by Anne Sexton

Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me
in this private institution on a hill.

Imagine it. A radio playing
and everyone here was crazy.
I liked it and danced in a circle.
Music pours over the sense
and in a funny way
music sees more than I.
I mean it remembers better;
remembers the first night here.
It was the strangled cold of November;
even the stars were strapped in the sky
and that moon too bright
forking through the bars to stick me
with a singing in the head.
I have forgotten all the rest.

They lock me in this chair at eight a.m.
and there are no signs to tell the way,
just the radio beating to itself
and the song that remembers
more than I. Oh, la la la,
this music swims back to me.
The night I came I danced a circle
and was not afraid.
Mister?

 

So pick up a pen and lets begin! As always the prompt will remain open the entire week so that everyone can write according to their own pace and time. Please click on the blue widget below. When it opens be sure to click on “add your link.” Now skip the blanks and proceed directly to “try here” written at the end in small font. It will direct you on how to link your poem. Please visit other Poets and do comment on their poems. Have fun ❤️

Prompt Nights – Guérison par la foi – Faith, healing [9]

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In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don’t.
– Blaise Pascal

Up at dawn, the dewy freshness of the hour, the morning rapture of the birds, the daily miracle of sunrise, set her heart in tune, and gave her Nature’s most healing balm. – Louisa May Alcott

The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected; I have always considered the rain to be healing—a blanket—the comfort of a friend. – Douglas Coupland

Faith is Hope with a holier name, hope that knows neither deceit nor death. Ah, how wisely do you speak of the philosophy of belief! It is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large upon our gaze.
– Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer

Faith is daring the soul to go beyond what the eyes can see. – William Newton Clark

Hello and welcome once again to another exciting week at Prompt Nights. It gives me great pleasure to reveal that we are collaborating once again with Rose Ketring’s Music Prompt over at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Tonight, we are going to share our poetic views about faith or healing. What is that one thing in your life that represents faith or the process of healing. It’s time to search deep within your heart and write from the holier depths of your soul. For further inspiration please refer to the two wonderful poems below:

A Poem Of Faith

by  Paul Laurence Dunbar

I think that though the clouds be dark,
That though the waves dash o’er the bark,
Yet after while the light will come,
And in calm waters safe at home
The bark will anchor.
Weep not, my sad-eyed, gray-robed maid,
Because your fairest blossoms fade,
That sorrow still o’erruns your cup,
And even though you root them up,
The weeds grow ranker.

For after while your tears shall cease,
And sorrow shall give way to peace;
The flowers shall bloom, the weeds shall die,
And in that faith seen, by and by
Thy woes shall perish.
Smile at old Fortune’s adverse tide,
Smile when the scoffers sneer and chide.
Oh, not for you the gems that pale,
And not for you the flowers that fail;
Let this thought cherish:

That after while the clouds will part,
And then with joy the waiting heart
Shall feel the light come stealing in,
That drives away the cloud of sin
And breaks its power.
And you shall burst your chrysalis,
And wing away to realms of bliss,
Untrammelled, pure, divinely free,
Above all earth’s anxiety
From that same hour.

A Midnight Meditation

by  George William Russell

HOW often have I said,
“We may not grieve for the immortal dead.”

And now, poor blenched heart,
Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart.

Why be with fate at strife
Because one passes on from death to life,
Who may no more delay
Rapt from our strange and pitiful dream away
By one with ancient claim
Who robes her with the spirit like a flame.

Not lost this high belief—
Oh, passionate heart, what is thy cause for grief?
Is this thy sorrow now,
She in eternal beauty may not bow
Thy troubles to efface
As in old time a head with gentle grace
All tenderly laid by thine
Taught thee the nearness of the love divine.

Her joys no more for thee
Than the impartial laughter of the sea,
Her beauty no more fair
For thee alone, but starry, everywhere.

Her pity dropped for you
No more than heaven above with healing dew
Favors one home of men—
Ah! grieve not; she becomes herself again,
And passed beyond thy sight
She roams along the thought-swept fields of light,
Moving in dreams until
She finds again the root of ancient will,
The old heroic love
That emptied once the heavenly courts above.

The angels heard from earth
A mournful cry which shattered all their mirth,
Raised by a senseless rout
Warring in chaos with discordant shout,
And that the pain might cease
They grew rebellious in the Master’s peace;
And falling downward then
The angelic lights were crucified in men;
Leaving so radiant spheres
For earth’s dim twilight ever wet with tears
That through those shadows dim
Might breathe the lovely music brought from Him.

And now my grief I see
Was but that ancient shadow part of me,
Not yet attuned to good,
Still blind and senseless in its warring mood,
I turn from it and climb
To the heroic spirit of the prime,
The light that well foreknew
All the dark ways that it must journey through.

Yet seeing still a gain,
A distant glory o’er the hills of pain,
Through all that chaos wild
A breath as gentle as a little child,
Through earth transformed, divine,
The Christ-soul of the universe to shine.

 

So pick up a pen and lets begin! As always the prompt will remain open the entire week so that everyone can write according to their own pace and time. Please click on the blue widget below. When it opens be sure to click on “add your link.” Now skip the blanks and proceed directly to “try here” written at the end in small font. It will direct you on how to link your poem. Please visit other Poets and do comment on their poems. Have fun ❤