Thinking about Tiny Dancer.

Juxtaposition in writing

Here is a definition of poetry. It is the bringing together of two unlike things.

Which means your love is like a red rose is not poetry.

Why should it bring together two unlike things? To create a different way of looking at something. A unique perspective. It also creates tension. Tension creates involvement with the reader. I think it also creates tension for the poet to help engage and explore their subject matter.

So here is lyrics from Tiny Dancer

Pretty-eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must’ve seen her dancing in the sand

This is a juxtaposition of a ballerina dancing not on stage but in the sand.

A striking image of a delicate, elegant dancer on a beach.

Instead of dancing in the street or dancing in the sun,which is cliche, the assonanceand rhyme calls out for sand. By answering that call, Taupin creates a unique imagine that defines a free spirited California woman. She is free because she is dancing, but also real and genuine because she is connected to the ground.

As a writer, I think we must be primed to compare two unlike things. Perhaps we are thinking about an unusual event and want to savor it. But then we should go back and connect why the scene was important to us.

I wrote a poem about taking my daughter to a playground on a foggy October morning. It was a strange event I wanted to share and savor. My subject is not a warm, sunny day at the park, but a striking one. Further revising helped me explore how it came about and then to my worries about being a good, present father.

Here is one of the first drafts of my poem

October in the Park

The early October sunset

Everything heavy and damp.

The air was gray and crisp

And every movement seemed to mean something.

A forgotten summer request had me

Pushing my little girl on the swing

As two guys with a camera posed

A life-sized ewok doll on the jungle gym.

Then one carried the doll like a child on his hip

To hang on the rings and question my reality,

But the question was not important as we walked to the beach.

She threw pebbles into the cold, calm water.

I tried to make sense of the cars parked along the shore

And two men with a camera and a stuffed toy,

And a father with his hands in his pockets.

Then it was time to get into the car with red cheeks

And wait with smiles for the heat.