The Tuesday Platform

[To Find A Kiss Of Yours]

by Federico García Lorca - 1898-1936

To find a kiss of yours
what would I give
A kiss that strayed from your lips
dead to love

My lips taste
the dirt of shadows     

To gaze at your dark eyes
what would I give

Dawns of rainbow garnet
fanning open before God— 

The stars blinded them
one morning in May

And to kiss your pure thighs
what would I give
Raw rose crystal
sediment of the sun

(Translated by Sarah Arvio)

[Por encontrar un beso tuyo] Spanish Version

Por encontrar un beso tuyo,
¿qué daría yo?
¡Un beso errante de tu boca
muerta para el amor!

(Tierra de sombra
come mi boca.)

Por contemplar tus ojos negros,
¿qué daría yo?
¡Auroras  de carbunclos irisados
abiertas frente a Dios!

(Las estrellas los cegaron
una mañana de mayo.)

Y por besar tus muslos castos,
¿qué daría yo?
(Cristal de rosa primitiva,
sedimento de sol.)

Born on June 5, 1898, in Fuente Vaqueros, Granada province, Spain, Federico Garcia Lorca was the most influential and popular poet of Spanish literature in the 20th century. He possessed quite a unique style of writing in which he liked to make use of various symbols in order to convey the meaning behind his work. 

Throughout his writing journey he used vast amount of metaphors as powerful literary tools. Whereas in terms of themes, Lorca’s work consisted of folklore and fables combined with a modernist sensibility of despair and depth of soul or heart.

I am also including one of my favorite songs by Sixpence None The Richer:

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.

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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.

THE KISSER'S HANDBOOK

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!🍓

The Tuesday Platform

Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope, O God

Since thou hast given me this good hope, O God,
That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod
And the great woods embower me, and white dawn
And purple even sweetly lead me on
From day to day, and night to night, O God,
My life shall no wise miss the light of love;
But ever climbing, climb above
Man's one poor star, man's supine lands,
Into the azure steadfastness of death,
My life shall no wise lack the light of love,
My hands not lack the loving touch of hands;
But day by day, while yet I draw my breath,
And day by day, unto my last of years,
I shall be one that has a perfect friend.
Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears,
And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.

- Robert Louis Stevenson 

The sky is a palette of gutsy purple, solitary moments and new beginnings. On days like this I feel its energy the same way I would of the ones I love, infuse my soul and raise me higher. Once again I battle the wind and find myself in joyful anticipation of what the new year has yet to bring.

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