Ashlea
New Member
The song title poetry thing reminded me of a poetry class where everyone in the class picked a word and we had to use them all in a poem.
Words were "margarita, jaguars, moor, brocade, pottery, sloth, procrastination, pickle, elasticity" and some others.
So, my poem:
Modern Art
Plastic urinal filled with daisies called "Margarita del Bano."
Zoo of satin jaguars romping on a vinyl moor.
Brocaded tapestry of swirling blacks and greens named "The Elasticity of Pain."
Once-beautiful Indian pottery, smashed, dubbed "My Family (VIII)."
Tulle wings, ethereal as a dragonfly's, protruding from the head of a tired sloth.
A grey road, crooked as any switchback mountain highway, through a crimson desert, christened "Procrastination."
Pickle-green triangles and squares competing for space with red and orange circles.
All lovingly watched over by a long-haired solicitor of opinions and an old lady in a flowered hat.
I give them each a polite smile and go outside to peruse the fantastic architecture and watch the useful cars pass by.
Words were "margarita, jaguars, moor, brocade, pottery, sloth, procrastination, pickle, elasticity" and some others.
So, my poem:
Modern Art
Plastic urinal filled with daisies called "Margarita del Bano."
Zoo of satin jaguars romping on a vinyl moor.
Brocaded tapestry of swirling blacks and greens named "The Elasticity of Pain."
Once-beautiful Indian pottery, smashed, dubbed "My Family (VIII)."
Tulle wings, ethereal as a dragonfly's, protruding from the head of a tired sloth.
A grey road, crooked as any switchback mountain highway, through a crimson desert, christened "Procrastination."
Pickle-green triangles and squares competing for space with red and orange circles.
All lovingly watched over by a long-haired solicitor of opinions and an old lady in a flowered hat.
I give them each a polite smile and go outside to peruse the fantastic architecture and watch the useful cars pass by.