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.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Bits Of Inspiration ~ Keep Dancing

Wow! We are swimming in negativity from Facebook posts to news outlets. We can't climb out of the pit if we're always feeding on reasons for walls. So today Toads and visitors we're going to dance.


"Every dance is a kind of fever chart, a graph of the heart". Martha Graham

I actually love to dance. I feel a sense of freedom, joy, courage when I lose myself in movement to a favorite song. It is not about whether I'm good or bad at it. It is about letting go and celebrating who I am without my thoughts pulsing with negativity.

"There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good." -   Edwin Denby

I enjoy watching dancers translate lyrics or story telling through their bodies. For instance Sia's videos are infused with dance. It may look like odd choreography, but no one can doubt the passion in the performance. 


And I won't let you get me down
I'll keep gettin' up when I hit the ground
Oh, never give up, no, never give up no, no, oh
I won't let you get me down
I'll keep gettin' up when I hit the ground
Oh, never give up, no, never give up no, no, oh

Photo by Saksham Gangwar on Unsplash
"Dancing is silent poetry." – Simonides

Today's challenge is to express dance through poetry. Pick a photo, a quote, video...Pick whatever inspires you.  Write a new poem...Post it on Mr. Linky and visit your fellow poets to read their poetic choreography. 




Wednesday, August 16, 2017

True North - In tandem with Karin and Björn


Hello Toads and Tadpoles,

Happy Wednesday, this is Karin and Björn writing a poem in tandem. We have sent drafts back and forth between us starting from the idea of North. We wanted to share something common between the two of us. and both having connection to Sweden we thought we should use that in the poem and write about what the North means for us. We found that slight differences but also lots in common. Then we are each sharing an image, Karin a wonderful piece of art, and Björn a photo from one of the many rivers of the north.

 
Copyright ManicDdaily aka Karin Gustafson

True North

My true north was summer, a place where time
melted, where grass grasped
ankles as if they were
best friends, as if grass had arms
and ankles waists, as if it weren’t too hot
to hold tight to anything but
what froze.

Like my tongue, when stuck on frigid steel, I went  
from silence into songs;
when thawed,
belonging with the woodwind, with anemones  
in that loss of night
when dusk made love to dawn
my true north was summer
with strawberries and milk.

And when life drove me past
chosen directions,
I would look for that north
in the spooling pools
of the rear view mirror,
finding again the surprise
of strawberries,
knowing then that a return to grass should hold
no terror.

In the sound of water
in the canvas pitter-patter,
in the thunder and the roar of waterfalls
behind the bending boughs of birches
with every bird
are cairns that lead me north.
Thus I find my footing,
knowing well
I have walked this path before.


Copyright Björn Rudberg