This week’s poem is There was in cranes. I hope you enjoy it!
There was in cranes. by Jay Snelling
To look forward to it was an astonishing feeling of a high degree.
one by hand.
Directors of gardens,
their relationship to the towering tempest in over 2000 plastic theatres
created a production by the name of
She sat by Neptune and they created poultry,
and dogs with names of Mars and Fire.
They were interested,
to London they flew for a
line and shine
I use chance methods to create my poetry and I’d love to hear from others who do the same!
This week’s poem is my Your Details of Its Release are Dead.
Your Details of Its Release are Dead
The first is his if
necessary so 2000 of them could
build a wall and could realise that fame has always been tainted
even when the first female
appeared on the TV.
A place to
design and a team
all I was 20 years ago, younger than I am currently and seeking medical assistance.
a very, very large 20th-century cybernetic being, and you?
Over and over, we see doctors!
Mostly bats: You’re mostly cats: You’re
bratty, deluded and the word thespian to a Lord,
even a glimpse of his achievement,
didn’t like the
raw with Me
and Mr Abrams’ got it all and you will
too won’t you?
You will you will.
Your born intensity will only become stronger in the end.
I use chance methods to write my poetry and I’d love to hear from others who do the same.
This week’s poem is a little different – a poem instructing the reader on how to create a poem.
To Make A Dadist Poem – Poem by Tristan Tzara
Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are–an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the vulgar herd.
Please do share if you give this technique a go!
An Extensive Look at Another Thing from That Department
I informed HER of a general dream
a new thought was going to be formed
it would forcibly cause herself to “shatter careers”.
But it didn’t
and my actions have continued
it is safe
and immediately HER department had reportedly been heard to whisper an executive secret when
I hope you enjoyed this week’s Monday poem! Please get in touch if you’d like to see your own work here.
Life-Saving Medal (Médaille de sauvetage)
My nose is long like a knife
And my eyes are red from laughing
At night I collect the milk and the moon
And run without looking round
If the trees are afraid behind me
I don’t care
How beautiful indifference is at midnight
Where are they going these folk
Pride of the cities
The crowd wildly dance
And I’m only this anonymous passer-by,
Or someone else whose name I’ve forgot
Philippe Soupault was a writer and poet, and one of the founders of Surrealism.
This week’s poem is Pierre Reverdy’s Corridor (Couloir)
We are two
On the one line where all’s continuous
In the meanders of night
A word’s in the middle
Two mouths not seeing each other
A sound of steps
One light body gliding towards the other
The door quivers
A hand passes
One would wish to open
The bright ray stands erect
There before me
And it’s the fire that parts us
In the shadow where your profile slips away
A moment without breathing
Your breath has burned me in passing
work has led to the writing by Jay
and I have been
drew following my nose, getting lost Walking
In this do
of Golden dark musician
interpret folklore hunting
lucky Folklore subscriber
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