A Strange Wild Poem

“1. Choose a contemporary poem, or two, that you really like.

2. Make a list of all the nouns in the poem(s).

3. Make a list of all the verbs.

4. Make a list of all the adjectives.

5. Choose six nouns, five verbs, and three adjectives.

6. Use five of the nouns, all five verbs, and the three adjectives to create a poem of your own (you’ll probably want to add some words).

7. The sixth noun is the title of your poem.

8. The first sentence or line of your poem should exactly copy the rhythms, but not the language, of the first sentence or line of one of the poems you drew your words from in the first place.”

-Kim Addonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

I chose A Strange Wild Song by Lewis Carroll. Needless to say, I have written an even stranger poem.

Middle of Next Week

The life we saw, that thing-a-bob

In Lewis Carroll’s letter,

Sent mother spinning silly

Father spoke, “That poor, ill thing

Has swallowed her last

Bottle on the bus.”

The child left and played his fife

And danced a silly jig.


Late Night Genius

This is another 4 am poem. I guess the only benefit to my insomnia are these decently good poems.

“Another way to start from language: Skim through a book of poetry and select random words that interest you, then use them to write.”

-Kim Adonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

The only book of poetry I found in my half asleep state was an anthology of poems written by pre-teens and teens. I actually have a work in the edition that I own. For once, the poem I am about to share with you has a title.

              New World Symphony

Let the goosebumps rise

On the back of your neck

Terror shiver down your spine

The crash of cymbals

Tremolo of strings

Listen to the sound of fear

Trumpets wailing

at the death of babes

caught sleeping in the storm.

Timpani pounds

the marching feet

People’s Liberation Army



The whisper of unwanted children

To unwanted mothers

Soft melody hiding in their voices

The beat kept

by swaying hips

Of prostitutes


and children

The fermata over rest

                                  Of Americans in bed

                                                                  Unafraid, unscarred,


                                         Directors of the symphony

Work Meets Pleasure

Sorry that it’s taken me so long to post another poetry exercise. This next one left me feeling entirely uninspired, so I kept putting it off and getting distracted with exams, and work, and computer games. Of course, YouTube was a huge distraction, too. I discovered the hilarious series that is Smosh Game Bang. Anyway, I’ve finally just slapped something down on paper, so now it’s over and I can move on to another prompt.


“Now try mixing your favorite words with words from some other source – a cookbook, a textbook, a billboard ad. Then use those words as a springboard to more writing.”

-Kim Addonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

I work at Walmart to pay for school and currently they are cycling through a CD every hour that contains Baby by Justin Bieber. Since the song is now stuck in my head, I used the lyrics as my inspiration. Feel free to vomit, although this isn’t Vogon Poetry.

Baby, oh, baby

You’re beautiful

My first love

I met you when I was 13

You were incomparable

My secret desires


When you made my heart pound

It skipped a beat

You turned me into

A monosyllabic fool

I’m dazing

Your chortle is amazing

But then you went

And broke my heart


I hoped you’d always be mine



We Have Birth!

Despite all of my attempts to kill him,Fred was born in the middle of this past week. Life has been crazy since, so this is the first chance I’ve had to post the picture of his first day as a part of my family. Look how cute he is, and he’s getting bigger every day.

Here are the mishaps that Fred managed to survive (and hopefully George will too. I think he’s just a late bloomer). Trial one, I came into my room to find George laying on the floor, earth scattered about. I thought my dog must have knocked him over but the next day, when I rolled up my window shade, Fred was knocked off the sill. I may have accidentally killed George. I also attempted to drown both Fred and George, although that may be what drove Fred to break out of his seed.

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These are a Few of My Favorite Words

“Here’s an early creative writing exercise I was given: Choose fifty favorite words, and write a poem using those words. My poem began, ‘The Uzbek floozy burbled on the hurdy-gurdy,’ and ended, ‘oh, oh, the olalaberries.’ Make your list and then write from it.”

-Kim Addonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

I will spare you my list of words, which made me realize that I don’t know how to spell words that I use in daily conversation. Also, several of the words were not English words, including my number one word, “Hablaba.”

Venga Chikitita,

and listen to your old Abba speak,

as the starry prevening

becomes a darkening secret

and the drifting leaf settles

into sleep.

I will trust to you,

in the grace of the dying fire,

the star-crossed story of revolution,


and the danger of the seemingly benevolent dihydrogen monoxide.

But first,

fondue into this slender chair

relevé your petite feet

and let me begin with an alliteration.

Love Potion Number 9

“In the pop song ‘Love Potion Number 9,’ the guy who’s ‘a flop with chicks’ takes a drink and starts kissing everything in sight….

“So look up from this book, and fall in love with the first thing or person you see. Your latte, the cafe worker, a bottle of ketchup, a bird out the window, a panel truck passing. Whatever. Write about it, talk to it, focus on it rapturously.

“A variation: Jot down a list of things you see around you and fall recklessly in love with all of them.”

-Kim Addonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

I used to hate

Your ugliness

-Just saying-

Love should be built

on honesty

That’s right

I love you

From the small red bumps

To the deep

Rock hard

Under the skin patches

You are part of me

I love you.

Aaah, technology

Your humming lulls me to sleep

The warmth you breath

Tickles my toes

Runs up my whole body


Two in one

Like conjoined twins

Or a two headed dragon

Desktop Computer

My life saver

Reliable, trusty, dependable


Your touch makes my fingers tingle

I love to run my hands along you


My TI-Nspire

Solely my love

My favorite

I could not live without you

Dear Future

“Read these, then write your own version of a poem to the future. You might address all human beings, or a particular one, like a child coming into the world, or your own future self.

To Those Born Later,’ Bertolt Brecht

People of the Future,’ Ted Berrigan,

Look to the Future,’  Ruth Stone

A Phone Call to the Future,’ Mary Jo Salter”

-Kim Addonizio, “Ordinary Genius”

I am the future

Soon I will be


A long time ago

That seems like


To me

A millennia

To the Present