"In Search of You in Search of Freud" - LoisLane05's Found Poetry W/OApr 05 '04 Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line Forget about that Surrealism Write-Off! Now this is surreal......... After much procrastination, I’ve gotten the results of what happens when you do a very surreal poetic exercise. In this case, what we have here is the result of participating in the lovely Jennifer’s Found Poem Write-Off! You can read this link -- http://www.epinions.com/content_3814039684 -- for detailed rules and a list of participants. But I’ll say right here that a “Found Poem” is essentially a poem found from a list of words and phrases, such as the index of a poetry book, or the song list from a CD, stuff like that. In my case, I used an old poetry book I had lying around from Canadian poet Evelyn Lau, called Oedipal Dreams (which is not in the Epinions database, although there are other Lau works there). I took a lot of liberty with this exercise in that I embellished Lau’s titles with many of my own words. I’ll say right now that I had a lot of fun with this experiment, and while you may (or may not) think I spent a lot of hard time with this poem, I, in fact, only worked on this for about an hour, at most. Such exercises really assist in making the creative juices flow. After writing this really strange poem, I realized that I have the makings of a short story here, its premise being something that I never would have thought of on my own, but would be really exciting to write about...... what do you think? (By the way, Jennifer’s rules stated that this be posted under Humor Poetry, although I think the only laughs in this poem are unintentional.......) (All the bolded text -- including the poem’s title -- are titles from Lau’s book, and are in the order of the respective poems in her book) ---------------------------------------------- In Search of You in Search of Freud I am here, lamenting All The Lost Hours that will never be refunded Half of which I thought only of you While the other portion I spent Touring the Wind My skin cracking from its cool air while I was Waiting for a Ride Out of Here But the ride never arrived, and my days were spent Coming and Going between my miserable real life and in The Second Waiting Room, within my imagination, where I was waiting for you Every night that I sleep I have at least one Dream about you It’s Only an Abreaction Seen in my dream’s eye .... but never dare reveal to the public’s......... Now it’s Eight Months Later: His House Your new boyfriend’s house. You live with him, and help make the Payments Even as it makes Bruises Within the caverns of your purse You whisper to yourself “I hope that The Other Woman he’s seeing every week Is more than just him Meeting His Analyst That would be so sad if that’s the only woman he can spend time with --- “ So -- Is this Your Ending or Mine As I curl up In my Isolation Rooms Going ever so mad. I’m Thinking of Leaving When it’s Over When my wounds heal I Never Promised You that I’d forget you Into the Blue Room I’d enter Making Projections about things...... ..... your future and mine....... * * * * Last Year, it was a Tuesday Afternoon The grass we walked on was a rich Green Our Hearts were calm, when we were together We were waiting for your Father, who used to live on 547 East 21st It was Moving Day -- he had bought a house from a Freud, at 20 Maresfield Gardens (I didn’t catch the first name) But you and I, We Thought Ourselves Ummoveable I kissed your closing Eyelids as you blinked I believed that you were like me One who preferred The Smaller Life Unlike that rich businessman across the street from us “Who Died of an Apparent Suicide Late Last Month” Unable to handle the stress of a life without simplicity............ But Coming Home that night You spoke that you were Not Staying ..... you wanted to use the Telephone and call your friend....... * * * * Years later, I’m Waking in Toronto Early in the morning, I’m Dressing Up to meet a woman at The Restaurant She’s only Nineteen But her body would give me pleasurable Needles during the last twenty-eight February Dawns She says to me “New Horizons U.S.A.!” But we’re still here Making so much noise that the guy downstairs thinks There’s a Monkey on the Ceiling But even so ---- It’s a Room of Tears Night After Night Thinking about that Indian Summer, 1991 when it was just you -- above all of those other Ladies -- walking alongside me during our Afternoon #1 and all the other afternoons that followed....... .... and now I’m The Madman A totaled, emotional wreck....... END ---------------- ..... any comments about this poem would be nice........ I know I'm quite happy with it, and hopefully you got a few laughs out of it.......  |
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