Today I am reading some poems by Frieda Hughes for the first time. She has captured me.
Meat eaten, the bones have dried.
Blood dust has settled like powder
With plaster from the ceiling,
And the tools are silent. ~from “The Smile” by Frieda Hughes
So, you see what I mean.
tulips give the old building some class
in lieu of Life,
The wordless moon
a found poem, source: “Ars Poetica” by Archibald Macleish
For today’s poem, I used Nancy Chen Long’s prompt at The Found Poetry Review and “Le Verbe Etre” by Andre Breton.
This is despair.
All the rest
until they die.
Drive to the Bijou
in a Chevy,
a night bow.
Dispose of the collar.
Pass me until you are full.
to be somebody!
erasure poem from ED’s “I’m Nobody! Who are You?”
against the borders of every page
erasure miniature from Billy Collins’ “Marginalia”
I have wanted to see
the wound of the earth
erasure miniature from “This Journey” by Ingrid Jonker
sheep are grazing when you call
~A found poem. Source: Default Message by Carmen Gimenez Smith.