Definition

One must make a distinction however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the result is not poetry, nor till the autocrats among us can be “literalists of the imagination”—above insolence and triviality and can present for inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads in them, shall we have it.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

The Tuesday Platform

Welcome to the Imaginary Garden...



Greetings to all poets, wayfarers and friends. I sometimes wonder whether it's us who choose poetry or is it poetry that eventually warms up to us. But what I do know is that once we begin our journey it never lets us down. 

If you have any thoughts to share, ideas you wish to release into the wild or a world view to express, then you have come to the right place. Please share a poem of your liking and enjoy the company of your fellow scribes. 

Remember to stop by tomorrow for our Toads in Tandem feature post. Susie and Angie have banded together to bring us a collaborative poem to celebrate the creative space of the Garden we call home.


Saturday, September 23, 2017

Weekend Mini Challenge: Boats

Welcome to the Weekend Mini Challenge with Kim from writinginnorthnorfolk.com!

When I was a child, the only boats I knew were the pedal boats in the local park and those in songs, like ‘The Skye Boat Song’:

The Skye Boat Song

Chorus:

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing,
Onward, the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air,
Baffled our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.

[Chorus:]

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean's a royal bed.
Rock'd in the deep Flora will keep
Watch o'er your weary head.

[Chorus:]

Burned are our homes, exile and death,
Scattered the loyal man.
Yet ere the sword, cool in the sheath,
Charlie will come again.

[Chorus:]

This song is about Bonnie Prince Charlie’s escape, when Flora Macdonald took him, disguised as a serving maid, from Uist to Skye in a small boat.



Even on our annual days out at the seaside, I had never seen or been on a boat. That is until I went on a school trip to the Isle of Wight and we had a tour of the HMS Victory before getting on the ferry. 

The first time on a boat I felt seasick but later, when I was a teenager and moved to Germany, I took many ferries and started to enjoy all kinds of boat trips. When I moved back to England and moved to Twickenham by the River Thames, I used to take a small rowing boat ferry across to Ham. I now live on the Norfolk Broads, where I see boats every day. When my husband and I travel abroad, we tend to favour river tours of cities.

I love boats, which is why this weekend I’d like you to write about a boat. It could be a boat you’ve owned; one on which you’ve taken a trip; a famous boat; a dream boat – it’s up to you, as long as your poem is a new one and it has a boat in it.

Happy sailing!