Word cloud 16/05/2010

[bodkin]

This is a word-cloud exercise. Click the link below to see the word-cloud (you will need Java working in your browser).

Study the cloud and try to find groups of words which inspire you to some sort of poem. You do not need to use every word and you can add as many extra words as you need to build the scaffolding around them.

You can also adjust the words exact forms: run -> ran, train -> trained, horse -> horses etc.

Cloud

There is no end-date for the exercise, I will put another one up in a week or so...

Ian

p.s. no prizes for spotting the famous poem this cloud is from, there will be extra credit if your poem is nothing like the original.

[Ros]

I think that one wins the extra credit! I'm not sure about the emotion in that last line - sincere, or sarcastic?

[brianedwards]

I think that one wins the extra credit! I'm not sure about the emotion in that last line - sincere, or sarcastic?

Mmm . . . dunno. I'll let you know when the dust settles, this one's pretty fresh on the page. I started off with the idea that the speaker is suppressing laughter, thinking Barrow ridiculous, but somehow it morphed . . . it may well morph back.


B.

[bodkin]

I think the segue from slightly mocking to serious emotion is coming through in the poem. I actually provides some development and a point of arrival at then end...

I'm not sure I was expecting sonnets, although I have delivered sonnets myself when not expected.

This is very good. I will have to post something trite now, just so we don't overload on erudition!

Ian

[bodkin]

So red this morning, lives torn
from his account-book. An economy
has to turn, so he must trade
but first wash down the block with water,
so business-like. Nobody
can see he should be white glazed,
pale and dissolving like tissue
left in rain, too much depends
on the market. He sets his
face and wheels the barrow
of dead chickens into town.

--

(Resisting the urge to call this: Poultry Sum)

[Ros]

(Resisting the urge to call this: Poultry Sum)

That sort of spluttering sound people make sometimes.

[Pauline]

Red tulips dance light heartedly
between walls of white and gold daisy’s
on gay wallpaper.
It’s spring and all the flowers
are the first to celebrate.
The artist, a gentle man
sits upon an upturned wheelbarrow
and paints the youth and beauty
of a young housewife
while her children play games
beside a nearby young sycamore.
Chickens meander freely
in the desolate field beyond.

[brianedwards]

So red this morning, lives torn
from his account-book. An economy
has to turn, so he must trade
but first wash down the block with water,
so business-like. Nobody
can see he should be white glazed,
pale and dissolving like tissue
left in rain, too much depends
on the market. He sets his
face and wheels the barrow
of dead chickens into town.

--

(Resisting the urge to call this: Poultry Sum)

Obviously I can't help but read this in the light of recent political events, which is fun. It's a little leaden though, needs some sparks I think.
First line "lives" -- I misread this as a verb.

Thanks for posting the exercise.

B.

~

[bodkin]

So red this morning, lives torn
from his account-book. An economy
has to turn, so he must trade
but first wash down the block with water,
so business-like. Nobody
can see he should be white glazed,
pale and dissolving like tissue
left in rain, too much depends
on the market. He sets his
face and wheels the barrow
of dead chickens into town.

--

(Resisting the urge to call this: Poultry Sum)

Obviously I can't help but read this in the light of recent political events, which is fun. It's a little leaden though, needs some sparks I think.
First line "lives" -- I misread this as a verb.

Thanks for posting the exercise.

B.

~

I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what those political events would be...?

Has a free-market economy killed a large number of people by some misadventure somewhere?

Ian

[paisley]

Post-haste

The foggy white window panes
match the expression on her face.
The mail will be late.

Buckets over flow with rain
washing everything that leaves a trace.
The mail will be late.

Chickens dance beside his old ford,
his wheel barrow now tipped up.
The mail will be late.

Behind the wheel he always soared.
Her glazed eyes on his coffee cup,
his mail was never late.



Thank you, Bodkin, this was a fun exercise.

[bodkin]

Red tulips dance light heartedly
between walls of white and gold daisy’s
on gay wallpaper.
It’s spring and all the flowers
are the first to celebrate.
The artist, a gentle man
sits upon an upturned wheelbarrow
and paints the youth and beauty
of a young housewife
while her children play games
beside a nearby young sycamore.
Chickens meander freely
in the desolate field beyond.

You have a typo: "daisy's" for "daisies"...

And you have "young" twice in three lines, which is a little noticable during the read...

But I like the liveliness of this, and I like the twist at the very end.

Maybe "desolate" is not quite le mot juste, e.g. perhaps more applicable to a wasteland than to a field. "unkempt" or "neglected" might shift the emphasis towards the idea that somebody is responsible for the bad state of the field (which is where I think you are coming from)...

Enjoyed.

Ian

[bodkin]

Post-haste

The foggy white window panes
match the expression on her face.
The mail will be late.

Buckets over flow with rain
washing everything that leaves a trace.
The mail will be late.

Chickens dance beside his old ford,
his wheel barrow now tipped up.
The mail will be late.

Behind the wheel he always soared.
Her glazed eyes on his coffee cup,
his mail was never late.



Thank you, Bodkin, this was a fun exercise.

Hey Paisley, no problemo, I'm intending to do them roughly weekly, so please keep joining in...

This is rather fun and I like the repetition.

The only stumble for me is that in the very last line, I'm not quite sure why it is significant that the mail wasn't actually late. I'm sort of wondering if "her" mail is late but "his" not? Or else that the pessimism was unwarranted? I only mention it because I think the poem would pack more of a wallop if I had been clear where I arrived at the end of it.

Ian

[paisley]

Sorry. Oops.

He was the local mailman but no longer delivers the mail,
maybe he got picked up for speeding?
got assigned a new route?
or died in a mailtruck accident?
Retired?

No matter, the rain'll take care of it.

I'll play this again.

[Pauline]

Cheers Ian.
This is just a play about with titles of poems written by William Carlos Williams, who wrote The Red wheelbarrow.
I have included 9 titles and odd words from the titles of a few other of his poems, one of them being "The desolate field."
Two clouds for the price of one.
This also explains the overuse of "young."
Thanks for the feedback.

[bodkin]

Cheers Ian.
This is just a play about with titles of poems written by William Carlos Williams, who wrote The Red wheelbarrow.
I have included 9 titles and odd words from the titles of a few other of his poems, one of them being "The desolate field."
Two clouds for the price of one.
This also explains the overuse of "young."
Thanks for the feedback.

Ooh, that's too clever for me!

Although it is a useful thing to note, that sometimes working within some constraint, like a 10-words exercise or deliberately using 9 WCW titles can produce really original poetry, and if you then do one final edit which puts aside the constraint and just looks at the poem in its own right, then you can end up with something very good. e.g. when enough time has passed after the event for me to be able to see it dispassionately, I sometimes drop one or two of the words from a 10-words exercise to strengthen what is left...

Ian