At various points during NaPo I find myself desperate for material. Usually, this results in some form of “found” poem. Today’s is the result of culling titles from my Kindle. The only other self-imposed rule was that there must be a verb and a noun in each line.
Feast For Crows
Catch 22 dog stars
and stone me, girl child!
Here comes trouble –
west of here, east of Orleans, a madman dreams
of the orphan master’s son and a walk
through Victoria’s secret. The psychopath tests
rules of civility. No child of God, the man mistook his wife
for a hat and there was the sense of an ending,
death in the city of lights, she was gone, girl, the dinner.
Dance with dragons and this,
is how you lose her.