Tuesday, July 23, 2019

The Tuesday Platform


I Wanted To Make Myself like the Ravine

 by Hannah Gamble

I wanted to make myself like the ravine
so that all good things
would flow into me.

Because the ravine is lowly,
it receives an abundance.

This sounds wonderful
to everyone
who suffers from lacking,
but consider, too, that a ravine
keeps nothing out:

in flows a peach
with only one bite taken out of it,
but in flows, too,
the body of a stiff mouse
half cooked by the heat of the stove
it was toughening under.

I have an easygoing way about me.
I’ve been an inviting host —
meaning to, not meaning to.
Oops — he’s approaching with his tongue
already out
and moving.

Analyze the risks
of becoming a ravine.

Compare those with the risks
of becoming a well
with a well-bolted lid.

Which I’d prefer
depends largely on which kinds
of animals were inside me
when the lid went on
and how likely they’d be
to enjoy the water,
vs. drown, freeze, or starve.

The lesson: close yourself off
at exactly the right time.

On the day that you wake up
under some yellow curtains
with a smile on your face,

lock the door.
Live out your days
untroubled like that.



There is something about the poems by Hannah Gamble that stir my soul and my muse from time to time. Greetings poets, wayfarers and friends, it's a beautiful day here and I am looking forward to reading poetry with a cup of coffee.

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 choice and enjoy the company of your fellow scribes. We look forward to reading you and hope you have a wonderful day ahead.

SHARE * READ * COMMENT * ENJOY

Saturday, July 20, 2019

Weekend Mini-Challenge: Pick 2 Prompts, Any Prompts! then Senryū or Elfchen or Cherita

If you’ve read me once or thrice, you probably already know that I love merging prompts and writing very short poetry. So, when the time came for me to say goodbye to my Imaginary Garden with Real Toads hosting days (for now, at least *cough*), a last prompt that merges two prompts to create a very short poem feels just right.

Keeping that wee bit in mind… for today’s prompt, I invite everyone to take two prompts, any prompts, and merge the two topics to create a new senryū, or elfchen, or cherita poem. Your chosen prompts can come from anywhere or any-when, just make sure to include the link to both prompts. Only one poem per poet.
 
Senryū: “three lines with 17 morae (or “on”, often translated as syllables…). Senryū tend to be about human foibles… and are often cynical or darkly humorous.” ~ Wikipedia


Elfchen: “a short poem with a given pattern. It contains eleven words which are arranged in a specified order over five rows. Each row has a requirement that can vary: 1st line (1 word), a thought, an object, a color, a smell or the like; 2nd line (2 words) what does the word from the first row do? 3rd line (3 words) where or how is the word of row 1? 4th line (4 words) what do you mean? 5th line (1 word) conclusion: What results from all this? What is the outcome?” ~ Wikipedia


Cherita: “the Malay word for story or tale… consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then finishing with a three-line verse.” ~ CHERITA [1--2--3]


There you have it, dear Toads. Choose 2 prompts, any prompts! and birth a new poem out of them (a senryū, or elfchen, or cherita). Add the direct link to your new poem to Mr. Linky. Visit other poets.


Thanks a million for letting me host poetry prompts these last few years
You rocketh very mucho (and then some).
Really, I know these things.

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Poetry begins with a lump in the throat...

Hello Toads!  If you have read any of my poetry (and granted, not a lot of you have) you know I always precede the poem with a quote. The above quote is from Robert Frost. Some of you think I  use the quote as a springboard, to write the poem.  Actually, the opposite is true.  I write the poem and then search out the quote.

Today, I am going to do the opposite.  I am going to give you all a quote and let you write a poem from the quote.  Oh, and make the poem brief - 24 lines at most.  Now are you ready?  Get set, go!  Write a poem that begins with a lump in the throat, or a belly laugh, or a tear springboarded from your quote. All of the below quotes I have used in a poem I have written.

"Maybe that's enlightenment enough: to know there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity,  Perhaps wisdom...is realizing how small I am and unwise, how far I have yet to go." Anthony Bourdain

"At any given moment in the middle of a city there's a million epiphanies occurring, in the blurring of the world beyond the curtain."  Kate Tempest, Let Them Eat Chaos

"I think of lovers as trees, growing to and from one another, searching for some light." Warsan Shire - The Unbearable Weight of Staying

"Condense, condense, condense."  Ezra Pound

"There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.  Like, telling someone you love them. Or giving your money away, all of it."  - Mary Oliver - Moments

"Indeed - why should I not admit it? - in that moment, my heart was breaking." - Kazuo Ishiguro - The Remains of the Day

"...happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." Albus Dumbledore - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."  Oscar Wilde

“Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.”  Allen Ginsberg

"The smallest feline is a masterpiece."  Leonardo da Vinci

"Garden as though you will live forever." William Kent

"One in four kids faces hunger." - Jeff Bridges


Or come up with a quote of your own.  There are millions of the out there - about cats, love, heartbreak, freedom, madness, corn, flowers...

Go for it.  And remember any style poem, just make it brief. If you do a haibun, make it no more than 150 words including the closing seasonal haiku.  No need to wander willy nilly down  the twisting paths of poetry.  I give you an example, an American Sentence of 17 syllables:  "Poetry isn't about wandering down a twisty garden path."

Visit the other poets and comment on their poem.  If they pay you a visit, be courteous and return the favor.  Enjoy yourselves.  Get to know the other poets, don't just drop and run.











Tuesday, July 16, 2019

The Tuesday Platform: Tired!

This fucked up world by Cassie Kerns


You Too Got Tired

You too got tired of being an advertisement
for our world, so that angels could see: yes it's pretty, earth.
Relax. Take a rest from smiling. And without complaint
allow the sea-breeze to lift the corners of your mouth.

You won't object; your eyes too, like flying paper,
are flying. The fruit has fallen from the sycamore tree.
How do you say to love in the dialect of water?
In the language of earth, what part of speech are we?

Here is the street. What sense does it finally make:
any mound, a last wind. What prophet would sing . . . .
And at night, from out of my sleep, you begin to talk.
And how shall I answer you. And what shall I bring.

“You Too Got Tired.” The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai, Univ. of California Press, 2013.

Good day, poets! I hope that you are all doing wonderfully well. Since the last time that I had hosted, I have moved to a new city and I am trying to measure the length of these days to verify if they are of the right fit. Sometimes, we have to make do with what we have and fit into certain molds, even if the end goal is to break free from them. It may sound morbid but the idea gives me comfort. Ha!

Let's move on from the silly rant. I have been reading Amichai lately and therefore, I thought of sharing this particular poem which I had to read many times before I could wear it and feel it on and through my skin. Please share your favourite Amichai titles in the comments.

This is Anmol (alias HA) and I welcome you all to The Tuesday Platform here at With Real Toads. As most of you would know, this is an open link platform, which means that you do not have to follow any particular theme or subject matter for your penmanship. Just pick any poem you would like to share with us and add its link in the widget down below. Once you have done that, do visit and cherish the words of other poets and share your words or comments on their posts. I look forward to reading all your word-wonders. That's a wrap!


Saturday, July 13, 2019

Just One Word: Trinket



trinket

This beautiful trinket quilt was made by Garden visitor Cosmos Cami!
Check out her Instagram for more amazing homemade quilts:  CosmosCami

P.S. I will be away for most of the weekend but can't wait to read your poems when I return!

Thursday, July 11, 2019

Bits of Inspiration ~ You Write the Color

Today I am making it simple. I'm providing the images for inspiration and you my dear poet friends will write the color. Choose one or more of the images and bring at least two colors into your poem. You have complete charge over poetic style. If you don't share the image in your post, please indicate which image/images you have chosen to poetically paint. All the photos other than my own came from pexels.com and are free to use as you wish (as are mine.)







So get out your poetic paint palettes and bring some color to these images, place your link in Mr. Linky, and visit your fellow poets to read the art of their words.


Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Tuesday Platform: Toads Just Wanna Have Fun

Hello Poets and Poetry Lovers! I am enjoying my summer so far, going to my favorite spot in Maine and visiting family. How about you? Have you been making time for a little fun?

Feel free to shape your words around the idea of fun, but as always the Tuesday Platform is open for your muse to have fun with any way they'd like. Just drop your link below, and remember to show your fellow toads some love by stopping by their place and leaving a comment or two.



Saturday, July 6, 2019

Art FLASH / 55

For this weekend's art collaboration, I am introducing an illustrator in ink and watercolour, known as Anarh1a, from Novorossiysk, Russia. She has kindly given permission for us to use her beautiful piece, 'Chernobog and Belobog', for our poetic inspiration. This picture is part of a series the artist completed on Slavic gods, depicting The Myth of Creation.

There flew across the sky, above the Infinite Ocean-Sea, three birds: an Eagle in a front and two bright Falcons behind. The first chose the path, and directed the course. The two others followed him. One flew behind the right wing of the Eagle and looked up, into the sky. The other, who flew behind the left wing of the Eagle, looked down. Eagle was a Great God himself. One falcon was Belobog (White God), the other was Chernobog (Black God).
For more background on the role of these gods in Slavic culture, please follow this LINK.

Chernobog & Belobog
@anarh1a
Used With Permission



If you repost the image on your blog, please give attribution to Anarh1a, using the following link: https://www.instagram.com/anarh1a.

Feel free to pay her a visit on Instagram, where more of her amazing pieces are to be viewed, but not used for this prompt.

If you post your poem on Instagram, using Anarh1a's image, please tag @anarh1a and mention her as the collaborative artist in your post.

There are no restrictions placed on this challenge: Let the image speak to you and respond in a poetic or prose form of your choosing: Literal! Figurative! Reflective! Narrative! Symbolic!

As an alternative, you may write a Flash 55 inspired by the photograph, or on a subject of your choice, in memory of Galen, who first imagined this challenge.

I also strongly encourage all those who choose to participate in this challenge to visit and comment on the work of the poets who have linked up alongside you. This poetry community has always been a place to share and support the creative responses to the prompts we provide. The linky does not expire and this post remains open and at the top of the page all weekend. If you link early, please return to read other poems linked up after your own. The longevity of the Real Toads is reliant on active participation.


Thursday, July 4, 2019

Out of Standard - This is the end????





Hiya Garden Dwellers,

Welcome back to the out of standard where I lay at your feet a challenge to shake you out of the ordinary. And today, I’ve thrown in some extra fun.  

This is the end????
From time to time we fall in love with a great story, but the ending just doesn’t satisfy us. 

Your challenge: create a poem that rewrites an ending that let you down. It could be from a book, song, video game, TV show, movie, or any other medium. Just give us the ending you would have wanted.   

That's it. The platform is yours. The mic is warm.

Keep in mind
Like every challenge, your poem must by newly written and not one which you have previously written which conveniently fits the theme.


So go now, my muddy buddies, and bring us back something shiny and new.




Tuesday, July 2, 2019

The Tuesday Platform ~ Questions Of Travel


A few things delight me, cause me to stop and ponder and contemplate what seems.. Elizabeth Bishop published only a hundred poems in her lifetime and yet is considered one of the most significant and distinguished Poets of the 20th century. I recently came across a poem written by her was deeply touched by the emotion in her writing:


Questions Of Travel


There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams
hurry too rapidly down to the sea,
and the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops
makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion,
turning to waterfalls under our very eyes.
- For if those streaks, those mile-long, shiny, tearstains,
aren't waterfalls yet,
in a quick age or so, as ages go here,
they probably will be.
But if the streams and clouds keep travelling, travelling,
the mountains look like the hulls of capsized ships,
slime-hung and barnacled.

Think of the long trip home.
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there's a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush
to see the sun the other way around?
The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?
To stare at some inexplicable old stonework,
inexplicable and impenetrable,
at any view,
instantly seen and always, always delightful?
Oh, must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?

But surely it would have been a pity
not to have seen the trees along this road,
really exaggerated in their beauty,
not to have seen them gesturing
like noble pantomimists, robed in pink.
- Not to have had to stop for gas and heard
the sad, two-noted, wooden tune
of disparate wooden clogs
carelessly clacking over
a grease-stained filling-station floor.
(In another country the clogs would all be tested.
Each pair there would have identical pitch.)
- A pity not to have heard
the other, less primitive music of the fat brown bird
who sings above the broken gasoline pump
in a bamboo church of Jesuit baroque:
three towers, five silver crosses.

- Yes, a pity not to have pondered,
blurr'dly and inconclusively,
on what connection can exist for centuries
between the crudest wooden footwear
and, careful and finicky,
the whittled fantasies of wooden cages
- Never to have studied history in
the weak calligraphy of songbirds' cages.
- And never to have had to listen to rain
so much like politicians' speeches:
two hours of unrelenting oratory
and then a sudden golden silence
in which the traveller takes a notebook, writes:

'Is it lack of imagination that makes us come
to imagined places, not just stay at home?
Or could Pascal have been not entirely right
about just sitting quietly in one's room?

Continent, city, country, society:
the choice is never wide and never free.
And here, or there... No. Should we have stayed at home,
wherever that may be? '



Why do we travel? this poem asks. Why not just stay at home and imagine? "Is it lack of imagination that makes us come to imagined places?" The poem addresses beauty, the music of mismatched clogs, songbirds in bamboo cages, the sound of rain and then the “sudden, golden silence” after. By the end it answers its own question by looking at the poem in a different light and in turn invokes the uncertainty and instability of “home.”


Welcome to the Tuesday Platform, the weekly open stage for sharing poems in the Imaginary Garden. Please link up a poem, old or new, and spend some time this week visiting the offerings of our fellow writers.

SHARE * READ * COMMENT * ENJOY