On the poetry day course I did on Saturday, one of the
exercises was to compose a found poem. This was by cutting random lines out of a magazine and assembling them into a
poem. You get some really abstract results. Here’s one I did today.
The clue’s in the name.
All of a sudden I’m back to normal
after Marilyn Monroe died.
I wasn’t as out of it,
narrow-minded and intolerant.
It was so powerful, almost punk,
wallowing in my misery.
Summers in the countryside –
really creative, chopping wood.
He’s walking now,
just a pretty face,
the real deal.
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