Prompt: Poetic Parable
You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, And we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous. — Kahlil Gibran
This week, I’ve been taking a dive into Kahlil Gibran. I’m certain that some of you know his work far better than I, so please share your favorites of his work in your responses.
I get the sense that there is a great temptation to claim Gibran, make him into one’s own image, to say, “he’s like me, I agree with his brilliance, therefore I am brilliant.”
He’s called a “Lebanese-American poet,” he’s a “painter,” he’s an “artist,” he’s a “playwright,” he’s an “Arabic poet,” he’s a “popular sentimentalist,” he’s a “prophet. . .”
I think all of these categories and boxes are limiting, not only of Gibran, but of all artists. He was who he was. He is who he is. He will be who he will be. Not any one thing, but all of these and more.
What grabbed my attention is a work called “Jesus, Son of Man,” in which Gibran speaks the words and deeds of Jesus “as recorded by those who knew him.” Some characters are historical, some fictitious, all fascinating in this 360 degree study of Jesus. Re-examination, re-interpretation, and debate of scripture and dogma was historically common in most religious traditions, unfortunately often lost in modern faiths and their fixation on right and wrong, truth and untruth.
Gibran uncovers the power of story, parable, and proverbs that were at the heart of Jesus’ teaching and life. There is no clear line between wisdom and poetry, proverb and imagination. It is a beautiful, powerful study. I’m shocked to see a subject I thought I already know intimitely treated in an entirely new light. Gibran offers this profound gift. I’m sure I’m not the only one to be affected in such a manner by his writings.
In my heart dwells Jesus of Galilee, the Man above men, the Poet who makes poets of us all, the Spirit who knocks at our door that we may wake and rise and walk out to meet truth naked and unencumbered.
Gibran is simple yet profound with his imagery — this is a true challenge to me, to be descriptive.
If, when I read my own work, I can’t imagine a painting of my poem, I’m not being clear or descriptive enough in my words.
Gibran also wrote often in a mix of parables and poetry, instructive allegory quickly turning into beautiful verse, as in his most famous work, “The Prophet. There is no clear delineation between genres in his larger works. His words are instructive, full of wisdom, but they are more than just advice, they are also art. It’s this parable idea that I would like to consider as a prompt this week.
Your challenge for this prompt is to write a poetic parable.
It might be impossible to truly imitate the style of Gibran, so I would suggest that the attempt be made in your own voice as much as possible. Don’t stress to much on whether your work “is” or “isn’t” a poem. If you have trained your mind to think in verse and images, then poetry will find a way to the surface, even if you are writing a novel!
Gibran himself gives us a bit of an encouragement: “You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation. . .
Always we have been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the gathered.” from the Forerunner
Good luck, look forward to reading what you create! If you’re new to Dead Poets Live, please leave a note in the comments if you’d like to be added as an author!
You can find most of Gibran’s English language works here on One Library as public domain free downloads.
Poems and art below for inspiration!
In the shadow of the temple my friend and I saw a blind man sitting alone. And my friend said, “Behold the wisest man of our land.”
Then I left my friend and approached the blind man and greeted him. And we conversed.
After a while I said, “Forgive my question; but since when has thou been blind?”
“From my birth,” he answered.
Said I, “And what path of wisdom followest thou?”
Said he, “I am an astronomer.”
Then he placed his hand upon his breast saying, “I watch all these suns and moons and stars.”
from Crucified
“Remember only that I smiled. I do not atone — nor sacrifice — nor wish for glory; and I have nothing to forgive. I thirsted — and I besought you to give me my blood to drink. For what is there can quench a madman’s thirst but his own blood? I was dumb — and I asked wounds of you for mouths. I was imprisoned in your days and nights — and I sought a door into larger days and nights.
And now I go — as others already crucified have gone. And think not we are weary of crucifixion. For we must be crucified by larger and yet larger men, between greater earths and greater heavens.”
Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness; You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs, And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.
Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot And not to be trapped by withering laurels. And in you I have found aloneness And the joy of being shunned and scorned.
Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, In your eyes I have read That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, And to be understood is to be leveled down, And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.
Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion, You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences, And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings, And urging of seas, And of mountains that burn in the night, And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.
Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage, You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, And we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous.
In my father’s garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which my father’s slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other is a songless sparrow.
Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, “Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner.”
John Son of Zebedee from Jesus, Son of Man (exerpts)
Many times the Christ has come to the world, and He has walked many lands. And always He has been deemed a stranger and a madman.
Yet the sound of His voice descended never to emptiness, for the memory of man keeps that which his mind takes no care to keep. This is the Christ, the innermost and the height, who walks with man towards eternity.
Have you not heard of Him at the cross–roads of India? And in the land of the Magi, and upon the sands of Egypt?
In my heart dwells Jesus of Galilee, the Man above men, the Poet who makes poets of us all, the Spirit who knocks at our door that we may wake and rise and walk out to meet truth naked and unencumbered.
Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, “You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams.”
Said the leaf indignant, “Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing.”
Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again — and she was a blade of grass.
And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, “O these autumn leaves! They make such noise! They scatter all my winter dreams.”
The Plutocrat from the Forerunner
In my wanderings I once saw upon an island a man-headed, iron-hoofed monster who ate of the earth and drank of the sea incessantly. And for a long while I watched him. Then I approached him and said, “Have you never enough; is your hunger never satisfied and your thirst never quenched?”
And he answered saying, “Yes, I am satisfied, nay, I am weary of eating and drinking; but I am afraid that tomorrow there will be no more earth to eat and no more sea to drink.”
Previous Prompt: Observation and Imagination
Responses below, great work!
Guérin Asante Sylvia Wohlfarth Dennett Anna Rozwadowska Lindsay Lonai Linegar Carver Bain Michelle Muses Aaska Ejaz Chiedza Kikumi LB Blue Fences kurt gasbarra
Jo Ann Harris FILZA CHAUDHRY Suwimali Bandara Kurt Gasbarra Crystal E.Wild Flower Sarah Book Amy Jo Reynolds antoinette nevitt Dennett Joe Váradi Austin Briggman Dana Sanford Shringi Kumari Anisesh Tracy Aston wimpy af Ashwini Dodani Vaishali Paliwal Leah J.🕊 Tapan Avasthi Maymuuna Seth Cason Brian Fehler Simon Heathcote Sonam Arora Nadine Morsch Ngang God’swill N. Lisa Tomey Shobha Roy D. E. Fulford poetsarah Gretchen Lee Bourquin 💗POM-poet!💗 Joey L. Sara Stasi
