Had a look at modernism, and tried my hand at a Gertrude Stein-esque poem, as well as an imagist one. My imagist one (Poppy, a Basset Hound) needs a hell of editing still.
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Poppy, a Basset Hound.
Michelin man legs carry her.
Shoe-leather ears and Nixon's jowls drag over damp grass
Hopping down the dale with her metronome tail.
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Woodlouse
It curls up, it curls inwards. Curls into a pill; a pillbug, a pillbox. It curls into armour, an armadillo, an armoured pill - a capsule in a pillbox lying like a pillbug. The legs curl, they wriggle, playing piano; a box of strings, a stringbox, a stringbug. The legs spasm and curl into grey, a greybox. Grey is an armadillo under a log with dead leaves and dead wood and other pills. Deadwood. Dead. Not taking pills makes death - it needs a pillbox; to curl like a capsule under amongst deadwood.
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Poems
PoetryA collection of various poems I've written - from epistolatory ones, to undersea ones, to anything in between.
