Do yourself a favour and write a surrealist poem. Here are your instructions (should you choose to accept them)

1) Turn on a radio (any station) and at your chosen time count to ten.
2) When you reach ten, write down the word(s) you hear.
3) Repeat this as many times as you like. Each time starting on a new line.
4) These words are the beginnings of your lines. Now complete them with words drawn from what you experience around you right now. (colours, smells, actions, emotions, appearances)
5) Enjoy a drink. The name of your chosen drink is the title of your poem.
6) Post up your results here or in the poetry blog section Tagged with 'Surrealist poem'.
7) This is not a false alarm, this is not a test.

An example -

SIERRA GRANDE

In a feminist way the train arrives.
What she was showing when illuminated press to open doors.
Saturated with concepts, the doors open.
What does it say about the man on his laptop.
We need reminders travelling backwards.


Kim Blackburn (Listening to radio on a train)

Call me an old humbug, but why on earth would you want to do that?

Surreal poetry is bad enough, but surreal poetry that doesn't have a surreal soul, that is manufactured out of bits and bobs, like some poetic equivalent of Frankenstein - why would you bother?

Or maybe I shouldn't have had that last glass of wine :) It will all become crystal clear in the morning...

Ooh this sounds like FUN :-D
I don't feel like doing it now though and probably won't have time before Thursday or Friday - will that be too late to join in???

@Isobel - LOL - crazy you!

Thanks for taking the trouble to post this exercise, Winston. I hear what Isobel says, but I reckon this kind of found poetry can be liberating, leading to new connections, and inspirations. Poetry should always be about the unexpected. People like myself, generally short on ideas, should give it a try. And if I can make the time, I will.

You are both right of course. It might be fun, given the right circumstances.

But you can thank me for one thing Winston - there is no such thing as bad publicity - just ask Max Clifford - though he may disagree now he's embittered in his own abuse allegations...

Francine - Friday is not too late - I demand to know what's going on on your American radio,what your favourite drink is and what smells you have around you!

Greg - if you do, then I will, so will I!

Pepsi Max


Vulnerable autumn leaves are exposed on my kitchen table
Lloyd explained how their awkward curling crackles our conscience
Convictions like conkers, solid and smooth
Friendships like acorns, full of Oak.
Really good knitting makes me smile
Reciprocate! I ask of my knitting, but it never smiles back.
I asked my leaves to stay beautiful and red
See, they cringe in their brownness, their glory buried.
A helping hand on this journey into Winter.


(Radio words came from item about teachers falling in love with their students. Other words from objects on kitchen table).

Sara

'Surrealist Poem'

CIDER - LOTS OF

We're up all night to get some.
We're up all.
We're up all night to get lucky.
We're up all.
What is this I'm feeling?
If you want to leave it, I'm with it.
We're up.
Pea green.
Stained cushion.
Nasty stench.
Overflowing bin.
Paralysis.
Banging headache.
I can't take any more.
Try to be cheerful.
This is the real thing.

So far, these are really good!
Will try to work on one this weekend...

Great Stuff Lady Haha

look forward to your contribution Francine :-)

Can it be in French?

(With translation pls)

Now let me get this straight - the whole sentence/line isn't the one from the radio? Is it just the first word of each line? That leaves most of it to the poet rather than chance. I am confused! (As usual!)

Yes Ann. The first part is from the radio the rest is from you so a nice combination of found words by chance and poeting. It can be one word or a string. If the WOL text editor were more sophisticated I would have put the found words in italics but alas it is not.

I haven't forgotten about this... been busy.

I am all anticipation :-)

Deep Dark Red


An armband of faded geraniums
make contact with the stove pipe.
Go out there in the drum of the rain
and say it behind headlines
to a celeriac moon
bright as a British schoolboy.

Tea

Concerned about the dust and heat
Aspect of a pink and lime cover
Build on wheels, solid and box-like
The thing is still beneath naked light
Even if the cold bites at these feet
Kickstart the clock, the cycle complete
Has been on at the mirror's outline
An attempt to make everything fit
Liquid stains the wood-bitten counter-top
And the lines of shoes silent.


Okay then... :)

Globular Glass

Clutching the ball of spores
Self-confidence bled
from start to finish finger painting a
huge heart with the liquid

(Words in italics from ‘Extra Time’ Talk Sport 00:13 1/2/14 others inspired by the environment of my bedroom.)

Diet Coke For Breakfast

They’re trying to do their level best this kitchen is cold
No, the point here is green knife
Gathering for a triple pronged attack I wish the sink was empty
They could be looking at alternatives swallowing the orange tablet
Male sexual orientation is effected by genes red tin bread bin
Fifty years ago, then she was designing buttery and light
I think we’re part of culture but there is no hot chocolate left
The haircut is very often how you judge where is the wind
We show next winter now. Let the cat in
With us this morning pick a colour
The pocket books had not been made available I have twenty five minutes
Both us and individuals as a society a pink plastic pig timer

Surrealist Poem
Bonarda
Twenty eight ripples counted flow
Actually raindrops is spare spaces
Newcastle darkened by windows shut
Produced a longing for short rope
Growing window boxes fell
Fallen by taxis and the lost echoes
Part time clocks between dead towers
Tick,through the eroded scraggy day
Arrows flew blistered stray crows
Services without caution runs free.

To grow a mountain
in an old jam jar
such a seed could be and would be
exclusive - to clay bendy and warm
expanding taking on colour green?
watery drops breathe life,
the roof as been pushed skywards
Dad ! why the red face ?
and the bill !

It is my great pleasure to announce publication of three more different radio mashup poems in the brand new online magazine WORD MACHINE. My 3 poems are on page 39 of this slick looking publication that features lots to interest fans of the experimental and surreal.

(click on the front cover and hover over the pages at the bottom of the screen to navigate to page 39)

http://wordmachine.weebly.com/issues.html