always wondered if I was breaking some copyright law, but I’ve learned a couple
of things from taking poetry workshops and I share them here with you.
found poem is one where you find words to use to build your poem or
specifically use words for your poem, but re-arrange them. In other words, a found
poem is something found not intended to be a poem and made into one. You’re
either faithful to the words/phrases and use them as they are, or you’re unfaithful
and change the order to get to a new meaning. Think of it as a collage of
way to write a found poem is to randomly choose words in a dictionary.
way is to use street signs or titles of books or songs to make your poem.
can also choose phrases to make your poem.
don’t have to use the words exactly as you find them, but can switch them
around. If you do use them in order, it is important to cite the source of
where you found them. That way, you are not plagiarizing. For example, let’s
say I wanted to use song lyrics as part of my poem, then, I would need to say
who sang them. “Live and Let Die” should be cited at the end of my poem as
coming from Paul McCartney and so on.
an exercise, make an attempt at a found poem using random words from a book
you’re reading. Just go through a chapter or two and pick out ten words. Then,
you can decide if you want to add more words or use what you found.
deciding where I want my words to fit, I added extra “filler” words to complete
the found poem. I also changed the structure of some words to fit the meaning I
wanted to convey about reading. Since I didn’t use the words in a set order
from the book, I don’t have to cite it, but if I used any of them as phrases
taken directly from the book, I would have had to cite it.
We make meaning of the world around us as we
try to address issues by being reflective of the target object or situation. We
construct meaning. We transform symbols. We can have multiple-meanings of these
For instance, death may be a topic for discussion and a way
to communicate to the dead, especially if they are buried in a cemetery. The
graveyard or tombstone becomes symbols for the individuals who died and are now
remembered as alive during a visit. Sometimes, the topic of death is reversed
and the thought of the coming end draws on symbols that comment on the unknown.
To aid in meaning making, imagery is a technique used by writers to
assist readers to visualize an image by describing a smell, sound, or feeling. In Charles Olson’s poem, “Pacific Lament” (http://www.writerlylife.com/2006/06/poem-of-the-week-40/),
the ocean is used as a metaphor for the violent death of William that the
speaker refers to in the poem. These images are what set the mood of a poem and
writers utilize them in order to have readers share a deeper feeling with the
events put forth.
Similarly, symbols are objects or images that
represent, or stand for, other things. A symbol is created when people
agree to its meaning such as the octagon used for the ‘Stop’ sign or the skull
on bottles that mean poison.
As usual, I was just minding my own business at this Mexican bar
down the street where I live. I was checking out the girls when a man the size
of an ape approached me.
“What do ya think yur doin’?”
“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
He grabbed me by the collar and lifted me off the stool. “Ya
know what I mean. Ya have been eyeing me girl.”
“I don’t even know which one it would be --”
“Ya callin’ me a liar?”
Clearly, he had been drinking way too much liquor. His breath
was a stench of axe and olives.
“If you will kindly let me down, I can explain myself.”
“Explain it out back runt.”
My knees buckled with each step toward the sandwiched alley with
one exit out back. I began to perspire and my heart pulsed fast. I was sure
this is what having your heart ripped out felt like. I wasn’t scared about
duking it out, but because it wasn’t avoidable, and I would land in the
hospital with my arm twisted backward.
“Well?” He placed his fists in front of his face and maneuvered
them like a boxer dancing.
Think, think, think… “Uhhh, how about we settle this the old
“What ya talkin’ ‘bout?”
“You agree that fist fights are so old… and there is another way
to settle any argument?”
His eyes looked around to the people gathered for the big event.
“Yeah, like what?”
At least he was hearing me
“Like how about we settle this by having a race to see who makes
it to the end first, wins.”
He stopped dancing and looked around again. A woman in an extra
short glittery red dress, no straps and long legs held her hands in prayer, and
nodded her head.
“Awright, you got yurself a deal.”
We had two barrels placed at the end of the alley and we made a
runner’s stance at the other end. The bartender popped a bottle and we were
At first, I thought my idea was stupid because he was right next to me
laughing. His eyes told me he still was going to beat me to a guacamole sauce. So,
I mustered up the courage to run faster than he did, and when I passed the
finish line, I didn’t bother to look back. I just kept going, but I came to a
standstill about three blocks away. I turned, though I was safe from any danger,
I veered to the left, and ran back to the bar.
I must have been crazy returning to face the big brute, but
something inside me couldn’t let the image of his laughing face go.
When I got to the front door, my calves pulsed and sweat dripped
down my forehead. I opened the door and spotted him in the midst of boasting
about the race.
“So, yur back fur more?”
I marched toward him and punched him in the nose. He swung at me
and I ducked. I grabbed the stool and lifted it to him. He got hold of it with
his huge hands.
“Not bad fur a runt.” He gritted.
“Not bad for an ape.”
He let go and chuckled, then, bolstered a laugh my teeth ached.
Seeing his mood had changed, I lowered the stool and joined him.
Soon, everyone joined us, but I should have paid attention. A
fist struck me across the face and I was down for hours.
The short story originally ended with him running away and never
returning to the bar. But what’s fun is that drafts can be changed!
You can see the original post for January 31, 2012 at: