I want to draw your attention to the amazing poem by Jacqueline Saphra - Cimex Lectularius, which you'll find here if you scroll down. I love how Jacqueline purposefully meanders through ideas, starting with the bed bug of the title and wandering to seemingly unlikely destinations, before turning back and bringing it together. I particularly love the callousness of the last line which applies to everything and so much more besides. That poem is a stroke of genius.
I'm not a genius, so I figured I'd use a technique borrowed from Kamsin Kaneko, using some of the words from the original poem to craft one of my own. I did it a few weeks ago in this post, creating a library themed version of Mary Oliver's Wild Geese.
The words I chose to pinch from Cimex Lectularius are as follows:
That's where the therapy comes in. I am loving doing this. This week I've been writing about the destructive nature of secrets, previously it's been the changing packaging of meditation, even about historical political manouevering and its relationship to Brexit.
I don't think any of them are good poems, but good work is coming out of doing it, because doing it is helping me get my ideas straight, and that's blooming awesome, so thanks to Jacqueline, and Kamsin, and to bed bugs.
Fancy giving it a go?
I'm not a genius, so I figured I'd use a technique borrowed from Kamsin Kaneko, using some of the words from the original poem to craft one of my own. I did it a few weeks ago in this post, creating a library themed version of Mary Oliver's Wild Geese.
The words I chose to pinch from Cimex Lectularius are as follows:
I have learned this week that...and that...which reminds me of...which causes me to wonder...like that...which leads me back...Perhaps...As you can see, they're the directional words, and I have so enjoyed using them for what I've been learning that I've made it a weekly thing. I've given up having the words make poetry (although sometimes they do), and instead I'm focusing on bringing together the things I'm getting fascinated by, turning them over in my words and finding out what it's all about.
That's where the therapy comes in. I am loving doing this. This week I've been writing about the destructive nature of secrets, previously it's been the changing packaging of meditation, even about historical political manouevering and its relationship to Brexit.
I don't think any of them are good poems, but good work is coming out of doing it, because doing it is helping me get my ideas straight, and that's blooming awesome, so thanks to Jacqueline, and Kamsin, and to bed bugs.
Fancy giving it a go?
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