Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Animation

 Midweek Motif ~ Animation

Today is  International Animation Day!

Animation is giving spirit or life.
To animate is an act.

Animation is an art.
Animation for children is a joy.

"Laughing Heart" by Charles Bukowski 

from Four Charles Bukowski Poems Animated

in Animation, Poetry| May 5th, 2014 )

Your Challenge: Write a new poem that is about animation or about a specific animation or a new poem that is animated or a new poem that would make a great animated film or a new poem that reacts to one of the visual images in this prompt. 

 Hahaha ... lots of choices!

An example of computer animation which is
produced in the "motion capture" technique

There's something about seeing this little inanimate object 
coming to life that's just very exciting.  ~Tim Burton

What do I mean when I say 'suspended animation'? It is the process by which animals de-animate, appear dead and then can wake up again without being harmed. OK, so here is the sort of big idea: If you look out at nature, you find that as you tend to see suspended animation, you tend to see immortality.  ~Mark Roth

Excerpt from 

A Lovers Call XXVII by Kahlil Gibran

. . . . 

Where are you, my beloved? Do you hear my weeping 
From beyond the ocean? Do you understand my need? 
Do you know the greatness of my patience? 

Is there any spirit in the air capable of conveying 
To you the breath of this dying youth? Is there any 
Secret communication between angels that will carry to 
You my complaint? 

Where are you, my beautiful star? The obscurity of life 
Has cast me upon its bosom; sorrow has conquered me.
 
Sail your smile into the air; it will reach and enliven me! 
Breathe your fragrance into the air; it will sustain me! 

Where are you, me beloved? 
Oh, how great is Love! 
And how little am I!

(Read the long beginning of this poem HERE at Poetry Soup)

Excerpt from  I Ask You  By Billy Collins

What scene would I want to be enveloped in

more than this one,

an ordinary night at the kitchen table,

floral wallpaper pressing in,

white cabinets full of glass,

the telephone silent,

a pen tilted back in my hand?

. . . . 

So forgive me

if I lower my head now and listen

to the short bass candle as he takes a solo

while my heart

thrums under my shirt--

frog at the edge of a pond--

and my thoughts fly off to a province

made of one enormous sky

and about a million empty branches. 

(Read the rest HERE at Poem Hunter.)

source

*** *** ***

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others 

in the spirit of the community.

(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be ~ Tranquility)