Wednesday, 10 November 2004

Poetry exercise

Let’s Write a Poem.

That might be fun, mightn’t it? Here’s what you do. There are eight lines.
Line 1 - Write down something that happened this morning. But make it an out and out downright lie.
Line 2 – In the spirit of 1 – write a sentence with a sound in it.
Line 3 – Write a sentence with a colour in it.
Line 4 – Write a sentence with a number in it.
Line 5 – Write a sentence with a character from a book in it
Line 6 – Write a sentence with an animal in it.
Line 7 – Write a sentence with an emotion in it.
Line 8 – Write a sentence to do with the past, present or future.

You might want to go away, write it, cut and paste it. But write it quickly! Go for the first things that come into your head. But by all means do a little work on the finished result. The result may not be great poetry - but hey, it should be fun.
Blatantly lifted from Searching For Blue Sea Glass, where you should go to join in. Or perhaps i can unashamedly steal it and tell you to play right here in the comments box? Your decision. :)

5 comments:

Marginalien said...

The refrigerator burst into flame at dawn
RRRfrang-ba-RAMMAdam-DOONG! it went
The house was littered with charred red meat
Three hundred and seventy-five bits in all
Countess Groan would have been impressed
The neighbourhood cats swarmed in the hall
Purring with ardent enthusiasm.
Not before and never since, have we seen such passion.

zigzackly said...

Wonderful! Encore! Encore!

Marginalien said...

Okay! I posted this one at Blue Sea Glass too. Just to be fair.

Spangled eels surged up out of my morning coffee cup
Spluttering and gurgling as they came
Viridian, carmine, gamboge and ultramarine were they
Twenty or more, surging across the tablecloth.
Babette would have cooked them tenderly
A shark would have eaten them raw
O joyously, fervently wriggling fishy folk!
So bright today, so dead tomorrow.

Ubermensch said...

Sunday workday.
‘Uff’,
Woes of blue.
All second december sundays
are marked for inventory ,
a dogs day,
sadly he tells everyone
always.

balihai said...

Sunrises to a sudden Swahili shudder, a beautiful bird beaks
"Putroo, putrro” a DJ scratch, the left claw imitates
Only then the purple highlighted albino macaw whispers,
"Forty-two, as an answer, solves most problems;
Hey! Munchkin Land is where I met you last, you timid lion!"
Pride unfurled, I roar a murmur, "Fifty! Fifty times I copulate in a day.
Jealousy doesn’t live here; the she-lions kill only the magick-untouched.
Gypsy crystal balls, I am told, are used reference."