In the historical passion of fashion for nature, for garb adorned with objets trouvés, our ancestors had tastes macabre and beauteous, satisfied appetites sartorial and carnivorous. We love the wild. As Wilde once said, each man kills the things he loves, but now we mourn the things we lost: sartorial elegance came at a cost. […]
Tag: Found Poetry
Burial Boat
A boat has flamed into the market square; although its wood has rotted away, its soul is impressed into the soil. All that’s left is rust and nails, a broken key, a piece of spoon, and the remains of two long bones. A hidden surprise in the heart of a city, a flat-bottomed Viking coffin […]
Found in the Night Sky
look up and watch the cosmic summer frolic when the sun rises early to touch the Northern Tropic our lunar neighbour fattens, waxes, comes nigh then scoots past and sails on by leaving Saturn and Jupiter to light up the night sky Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest A found poem, picked from […]
Sea Sand Quadrille
Found in ‘We lying by seasand’ by Dylan Thomas Lying in a yellow grave of yellow sand and grave sea, silent tide lapping hollow yellow alcove of words between water storm and desert, we wish for wind to blow away our ills, cure them with golden weather and a one-coloured yellow cicada calm. © Kim […]
Finding Death’s Dominion
I have seen death’s dominion On the screen of my television: In the broad light of a September sun, A sky filled with bodies and broken bones. We did go mad to see those planes Annihilate the towers; Once more we are sane, We are dusty flowers Lifting our heads to the rain, Never wanting […]
Stephen’s Sunday
A found poem from Chapter 4 of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce Hallowed anew with an early mass the raw morning air and the zeal of prayer fearful of purgatorial fire the murmur of the priest from the altar among the few worshippers and columns of incense […]
The last poem for today is a found poem
Love for Nothing found in ‘Le Monocle de Mon Oncle’ a poem by Wallace Stevens I mocked myself alone, A thinking stone In a sea of spuming thoughts. A bird sought out his choir Of wind, wet and wing, A much-crumpled thing: The end of love For nothing. Apples, like skulls, Came rotting to […]
