POMprompt

What is the ‘Song of You’

POMprompt #16

This morning I settled in for a cup of morning ‘joe,’ still in my bathrobe and gown, flipped on the news and set about planning my day.

The first things I do in the morning are to decide what I want to accomplish for the day and to get my head ready for writing. Sometimes, the quiet, early hours pass in a sleepy blur, but most days, I am productive from the moment my feet hit the floor. Today is one of those productive days.

I have recently begun using Milanote to plan and I have created this beautiful space on my “home” board to put an inspirational quote for my week. This is my quote for the week:

The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. — Walt Whitman

It is quite hard to stumble upon Walt Whitman, without getting one’s feet stuck in awe. He has a way with pulling you in and leading your curiosity around bend after bend. “Song of Myself” was just the kind of adventure I needed this morning.

Consider this:

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

— Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

How much do you really contemplate yourself, life, what you see around you?

This passage is the tail-end of the second section of the poem (the poem is a bit lengthy — but worth your time to read, and then read again) and takes the reader on a bit of an examination of oneself and one’s place in this world as something of a wonder to behold. It is the sort of uplifting passage to read on a gloomy day, or when you are questioning your own judgment or perspective — encouragement to be open with this world, considering all things without “filtering them from yourself,” which can lead to a greater understanding of the world around you, and of poetry. Some people find the Existentialist poetry to be depressing — I find it exhilarating to think about life and death and everything in between. What greater appreciation can you have for your life than to stand on the brink of death, look over that cliff and think NOPE — not today!? Considering the larger meaning of life somehow puts all the details into perspective, keeps one grounded.

The sense of self here (in the last quoted passage above) is melded with that of the understanding of things, life, namely poetry: “Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)” I like that sentiment — don’t we all see things through very different eyes, experiences, perspectives, understandings? What one poem means to one person is a vastly different experience for another; such is the beauty of a poem.

“Song of Myself” is an existential examination of self, presenting thoughts and emotions into which I can sink my teeth and creative heart, like this nugget that leaped out and demanded further thought:

I and this mystery here we stand. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

— Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

The celebration of self, honestly and without apology, is one I needed to read today. The humor, the brazen — “Here I am world!” of Walt Whitman:

Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself. Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest. I am satisfied — I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread

— Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

I ask you — what is the song you would sing to the world of yourself? What are the burning questions that set your tune to music? What are those silly things that make you celebrate yourself, life, the world around you with reckless abandon, without a care, without apology?

Sing a song of yourself today through poetry.

Here’s the POMprompt #16 and how to participate:

1. Read the Walt Whitman poem, “Song of Myself” and possibly read it a few times through. The meaning of it begins to unfold after you’ve read through it a time or two. The lofty language and strange structure are distracting at first, but you will soon begin to feel the magic of this poem.
2. Write your own song of self and name it whatever you like. You can choose a similar structure as this Walt Whitman poem, write in a similar style, or simply use the existential narrative as your inspiration — either way, use the poem as a springboard to your own poem, in whatever way you choose.
3. Publish it in whatever publication you like.
4. Tag this post (so others can play) or tag me ( Christina M. Ward) in your responses so I can see what you write.
5. PLEASE use “POMprompt” as a tag and/or #POMprompt when sharing on social media.

That’s it! I look forward to reading your responses.

POMprompt instructions can also be found in this article.

If you are a poet who needs a poetry home, I invite you to join our The POM publication, follow our newsletter, and join our Facebook group called the Poets on Medium (lovingly known as POM).

Christina M. Ward is the creator of the Poets on Medium movement, the POM. Our FB group is one year old, has 470 members and 80% participation — which is off the charts for a FB group. The POM publication here on Medium is fairly new but we have over 529 followers and several hundred writers (is there a way to count the writers without COUNTING the writers — anyone?).

And together, we are the POMfam.