Saturday, February 16, 2013

Poems People Wrote Using Build-A-Poem


Here are poems two people wrote using the Build-A-Poem post from November. Both poems were written within ten minutes and on-the-spot. Thanks to the two writers for sharing. 

Feel free to post your own Build-A-Poem creations as comments.


by Cheryl Martin

The whipping of the wind is neither going North West East nor South

The hot slapping stinging wind fights to find its direction or purpose

Overwhelming, boiling, frustrating, black, incapacitated blistering

Small pieces of dirt and sand caught in its power struggling to be released

to being come part of the world it came from

Frustration is the grass, as it wants the soil ripped from it

It is black and scary with little visible other than the shadows of the swirling soil in the air

A pink pail lays abandoned on the ground that may have helped

allowing the fierce wind to easily pick up the abundance of dirt


Nana, her shadow is standing upright not hunch over struggling to stand walk or balance.

The wind abruptly stops and the soil falls back to the ground

Covering the grass


by Alexandra Kirby
(Graduate student in my ENL 833: Overcoming Writing Blocks)

Miniature Daffodil, some blooms 
Freshly opened, green hues
The antithesis of how I feel
But delicate, vulnerable too.
Soft smell, not too bright, 
But full of dirt and oxygen, 
Clean, natural, rich, 
Captured in glazed pottery, blue sky.
Feuille, fleur, thin
Sexual parts, pistol, stamen, 
Powdery, silken juices, 
Macaronie and cheese.
The broken pots down the stairs, 
Terra cotta shattered as much 
As it can be, earth tones, 
Abandoned for plastics.
Gray. Sky through glass. 
Gray sky, gray earth, gray sod, 
Gray eyes, gray clouds, 
Hung low around late for.
Life is like a broken pot that springs forth new life
Love is like the flower blooming.
Cliches are like gray sky.
Senses are like a…
Sitting down with smoke 
Rising out of it, shadows,
Rippling as if reflected on a pond,
Hair long, not stringy anymore, 
Like her daughter.
Crashing. Dissonance. Noise. 
Pollution. New life forms. 
Garbage truck compactor. 



My happiness is like butterflies floating

The butterflies' wings flap, a soft clicking noise

Black, orange, monarch

The antennas move: left, right, up, down

The leaves in the background are swirling from the angry wind

The sun is warm, but the storm is coming

The ball rests under the tree

It is a circle of memory

The shadow is small - when did it change?

The sun is gone; the storm is near


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