found poetry | Reflections on the Teche

Posts Tagged ‘found poetry’

Main Street Buzz

Posted in Poetry, tagged bee swarms, city bees, Daily Iberian, found poetry on April 10, 2013| 4 Comments »

Image from Creative Commons

F is for Found Poetry. I love doing found poetry. It’s just a matter of finding the right words and putting them together with line breaks. Word play, play with words. In the Daily Iberian, a huge photograph caught my eye: A swarm of bees happening down on Main Street right in front of my church, The Episcopal Church of the Epiphany. Do you know about bee swarms? For the full article, click here.

Robin shares a found poem using song lyrics on her blog, Teaching Tomorrow’s Leaders.

Swarms of bees
buzz in city streets,
prime time for roving.

Scouts looking,
a ball of bee-bodies
flock to the queen.

Killing is a detriment
To the dwindling population,
not to mention, a sticky situation.

In a suit of helmet and veil,
cool pine smoke flushes,
will calm and numb pheromones.

More bees are moving
to the concrete city,
Don’t eradicate,
relocate.

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Full Moon Rising

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged found poetry, full moon alert, nature, spring on March 27, 2013| 12 Comments »

“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” —Walt Whitman

Slice of Life Challenge Day 27

Even here in the deep south, we’ve had a blast of winter wind. The temperature this morning was 36 degrees. I bundled up in my wool sweater that I’ve only worn twice since I bought it on sale after Christmas, wool socks, and a warm scarf, gloves, the works. Despite the cold, spring is here in full color. My satsuma tree is budding. This means in the fall we will have a full tree of delicious juicy citrus, my favorite fruit. We also have a grapefruit and a lemon budding.

Once a month I get a full moon alert from my friend, Possum. I love to peruse his email for found lines. This month was full of them. Here’s my found poem:

Full moon returns
in the company of ruby-throats.
The worm, sap, or Lenten full,
whatever you call it,
the full girl rises around 6 PM.

Dog whispers, hummers hide,
the woods fill us with wonder:
Spider eyes, lightning bugs,
carnivorous plants,
and an endless frog choir.

The dawn captures a line of ants
carrying only winged seeds
of swamp red maple,
mushroom eaters,
a site to see.

Swarm of honey bees safely hived
bring hope for a fruitful year.
Pollen blowing a dust storm,
new shoots, female flowers
ripen and procreate.

This amazing earth
with arriving hummers,
with wild red buckeye,
pecans leafing out,
with bees waxing and brooding,

Take the last pile of wood
for your campfire.
Raise a glass, honor
each other and the mother.
Bask in the quiet moonlight.

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Maybe this is a Poem

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged found poetry on March 20, 2013| 5 Comments »

Slice of Life Challenge Day 20

On Sunday, I posted a poem I created using lines I read on Facebook, emails, and in blogs. I tried it again. I’ve actually been working on this one for three days. I keep coming back to it, moving lines around. I’m not totally pleased with it yet. When you use other people’s words, trying to keep the integrity of the quotes while making it fit into a poem carrying can be like building a puzzle out of mismatched pieces. Maybe a piece is missing. Maybe I put one in the wrong place, and it kinda fits but not quite. Whatever the result, I do enjoy the challenge.

Maybe it’s not too late for sugar cubes
and slotted spoons and green fairy sips
traveling throughout the body offering love,
acceptance, and gratitude.

I am perfection.
I am healthy.
I am strong.

We believe in categories and think they’re true.
Our visions will become clear when
our words are as good as our actions.

Hymns are bigger than any mistakes;
you fumble, turn the page, sing the wrong words
yet the room fills with song,
and the hymn expands.

I sing.
You sing.
We sing.

Look into your own heart.
Sometimes the cliché photograph
tells the real truth.

Created with words from wise poets: Carl Jung, Anne Lamott, Oprah Winfrey, Philip Gould, James McDowell, and Paul, an English teacher from Alberta.

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