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.

Saturday, February 16, 2019

Weekend Mini-Challenge: Strange News

Greetings, dear Toads. I hope you are having a fantastic weekend. If not, then I wish you a poetry writing/reading experience that brings pure yumminess to your day.

For today’s prompt, I invite you to be inspired by the following questions, out of the Strange News section of Live Science:

1. What if the moon disappeared tomorrow?
2. Can humans smell beauty?
3. Do trees sleep at night?

Please, write a new poem using one, two, or all three of the questions as your springboard.

Add the direct link to your poem to Mr. Linky. Visit other Toads. Have a lot of fun. Curious about the articles? Read them here: 1, 2, 3.

Thursday, February 14, 2019

Shortcake, waffles, berries and cream .. February!

Happy Valentine's Day poets, wayfarers and friends! Winter trees line the avenue as rosy-cheeked and resilient my breath  rises to join the dove-colored sky, for some reason my mind goes to the comfort of hot and steamy brewing coffee.. with the accompaniment of shortcake, waffles, berries and cream. Ha! Don't worry we are not writing about choice of dessert.  

Joseph O Legaspi is a poet born in the Philippines. When he was only twelve, his family immigrated to Los Angeles, California, his life has always been oriented towards writing. Author of the poetry collections Threshold (2017) and Imago (2007), Legaspi has been honored with a poetry fellowship from the New York Foundation of the Arts.


Awkward and dry is love.
A moist kiss simmers as cherry pie.

A peck reddens into poppy.
Several feed like birds in your hands.

The first kiss carries history. The customary roses,
a bouquet received by two.

On the right side of her mouth, she is your mother.
On the left side, she’s the sister you never had.

If delicate yet firm, a kiss can resuscitate the drowned Ophelia;
hurried and open-mouthed, moths flutter out of her body.

A kiss that glides smoothly possesses the pleasant lightness of tea.
If it smudges, prepare yourself for children.

A kiss that roams the curving of the lips,
the tongue still tracing the slopes even
without her near is a poet’s muse.

When bitten on the lower lip—I am your peach—
if she’s left there biting, dangling, she’ll burn the tree.

When she’s sucking your lips as if through a straw
she wants you in her.

Never quite touching, sky and earth bridged
by clouds of breath, speak in recitation:

Because I am the ocean in which she cannot swim,
my lover turned into the sea.

Or cradle her in the cushions of your lips,
let her sleep in the pink.

For today's challenge, I want you to embrace the idea, theme and technique of Legaspi's poem and write one of your own. Your poems don't necessarily have to be mushy and romantic, they can also be solemn and act as a tribute to your loved one. 

The link doesn't expire, so please feel free to write more than one poem. Please do visit others and remember to comment on their work. Have fun!🍓