Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Refrigerator Poems

A couple of years a go I bought these silly little word magnets in a box. The whole idea behind these tiny jumbles of words was to place them on the refrigerator and then attempt to create poetry from the hundreds of random words. My only rule was that if the word was being used on the right side door you couldn't steal/borrow any words already used in a poem. You only had the words on the left door to draw from.
The last few weeks I have noticed on occasion when I've gone to the refrigerator for a particular food something was not always the way they should have been. Like the time I took out an onion and realised it was kind of frozen. Then the other noticeable food item was the ice cream mush. Next time I took out the ice cream I could barely get a spoon into it. Now you might be thinking if you know me that I just put the ice cream in the frig and stored the onion in the freezer, but I assure you this was not the case. There are also some really strange noises coming from the kitchen at times lately. So much so that they make me go in the kitchen just to find out what it is exactly. You guessed it, the refrigerator. I figure any time now we will have to go appliance shopping and drop some major coin on a new one. I really was hoping not to have to buy a new one till we remodelled the kitchen, which by the way is almost 2 years over due according to our renovation schedule.
Back to the words. I decided tonight to remove all the tiny magnets and place them back in the container they came in. I want to be ahead of the game if and when the frig does die. I thought I would post my poems from the frig here before they are forever lost in the box with the rest of their word buddies.

Spring is a garden
In summer smell the rain.
Worship a fall sun
For the winter will never end.

White flood like waters
pounded up from a windy sea,
And wet me.

Her storm like stare could ache for a sweet chocolate death.
The power of her dream
Yet produces a cool sweaty scream
Still, she sleeps.

A whispering misty moon
Felt like a symphony of music,
Only the moment was gone.

I frantically swim to an elaborate iron ship
And then by car
Would be an easy road trip.

Essential is language.
I think,
I read,
I need,
I see a vision.
I ask, is this a gift of man?
No, it is of a friend.