Sometimes it helps to celebrate

Life can come at you with a heavy hand, and we end up dealing with it the best we can. With this in mind, I have this overwhelming need to celebrate something. Anything! Even if it’s just the fact I wrote another poem, and persuaded you to write one as well. That is cause to celebrate in itself.

Prompt from Walter J Wojtanik over at dVerse for Tuesday Poetics

~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

Sometimes it helps to celebrate
when all around is anguish and sorrow
Can you learn to be with this now

here we live in strange times indeed
perhaps a moment of reflection
Sometimes it helps to celebrate

war and terror fill our daily screens
and we wish we could look away
Can you learn to be with the now

at times it can overwhelm us
and we may stumble on the road
Sometimes it helps to celebrate

what if you, perhaps,were wronged somehow
and you do not wish to forgive
Can you learn to be with the now

when all that, is is said and done
the world will spin and turn again
Sometimes it helps to celebrate
Can you learn to be with the now*

*The highly structured villanelle is a nineteen-line poem with two repeating rhymes and two refrains. The form is made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain. The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem’s two concluding lines. Using capitals for the refrains and lowercase letters for the rhymes, the form could be expressed as: A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.

30 responses to “Sometimes it helps to celebrate

  1. Gosh this poem is so uplifting ❤️ especially love; “What if you, perhaps,were wronged somehow
    and you do not wish to forgive can you learn to be with the now” sigh…these lines will ring in my heart forever..❤️ Beautifully rendered.

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

  2. Inhabiting the Now can be, & too often these days is, like chewing bitter bark off of bitter roots, so the poet in me loves to wax nostalgic, or project beyond the veil, or reflect spiritually on past lives–all as worthy to celebrate as the breath we take in the dark mists of today; of course if you want honest reporting or heavy lifting done, call in the poets.

    • I hear ya and I also wonder if the possibility exists to inhabit all of that bitter bark root experience for what it is and then I hear you say the same thing with your breath in the dark mists. It is a thing I ponder and no more than grist for the mill.

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