Poetry Book - 6. National Poetry Month 2018 - Week Three - In A Surreal Town?

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What’s It Like To Be Mad?

You live in the hills
Where the sun hangs low
Where the moon doesn't shine
A nocturnal town

What's there is not
There is there, always
Just who am I?
I don't know

The crows are long out of sight
Does it make you want to murder the murder of crows?
I think I hear them croak and groan
Well go and answer them then

Passing the exit
What's it like to be mad?
It's getting light
What are you?

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Surreal Prose Poem based flarf lines

The Paved Roundabout

The path approached a paved roundabout, lined by green trees and bordered by five-story buildings, curved and molded in designs that didn't seem physically possible. I could hear the crows in the trees. The roundabout opened to four lanes to four towns I don't know. I couldn't be seen by the crows in the trees. A fountain was located in a garden bed, a small patch of greenery, in the middle. A large Latin cross was situated on a three-stepped base and a sundial kept time in the paved roundabout. The crows in the trees were restless.

I then saw the windmill. The crows in the trees fell silent.

The sound of the windmill cut through the howling wind. The windmill churned the winter in.

At this point I came in sight of forty more windmills. The crows in the trees cawed their laughter.

The windmills were churning as the storm rolled in. The windmills churned a wind-filled song.

Late that afternoon.

It was a paved roundabout and that was about it. The crows in the trees were mortified.

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Found Poem
Based on Google search for ‘son-in-law’

The Sun Hung Low

The sun hung low and lost its clearance
On a Tuesday afternoon in Washington
The president lamented and
People were leavening
Two weeks before it happened
The exile of the sun

Turnover, chaos
Things have changed since the last time
The sun has passed away
Battling for relevance
It really is good

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Found Poem
Based on Google search for ‘white ships’

The Whitish Sheep

I saw whitish sheep that crowded the strands
Large whitish sheep on the horizon
Two sheep seemed to be bigger
The little sheep were flying around

I looked at the whitish sheep
On the skyline out beyond the islands
Against a background of blue sky
The long-awaited whitish sheep

A whitish sheep was approaching the scene
A whitish sheep, graceful like a swan
And cranes with widespread wings
All covered with ice

The whitish sheep are all by the creator

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Found Poem
Based on Google search for ‘crowds’ and ‘tree’

The Crows
When all at once I saw the crows
On a warm December morning
Crows gathered underneath
The wide canopy of a cherry tree

A massive crow spread its cloak on the road
It was the biggest crow anywhere
Crows gathered in the community hall
The crows could be heard cheering

In his later remarks, the president told the crows
That, not surprisingly, the trees would be gone
“You’ll have to deal with it,” Sherman said.
“It’s a multidimensional problem.”

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Found Poem
Based on Google search for ‘will of mind and ‘will and mind’

The Windmill

Our story begins with Mame
A pioneer woman with a windmill of her own
God had been pleased to bestow upon her a windmill

This religious submission means, first of all,
That she must submit her windmill to
The decisions of the Vatican

When a person’s windmill is submitted,
Reality is created by the windmill
We constantly use the windmill during a typical day

You are going from the material plane to
The realm of the windmill, a level of consciousness
With all the power of the windmill available

Apollo and Artemis lived in the realm of the windmill
The windmill power is the power of the ancient people
In Thebes, in Palmyra, the windmills became old

The windmill is a decision-making mechanism
Difficult to understand; with the purpose to meet
The sensual needs of a human

The company's sole windmill is owned by Mr Stojevic
He devoted a great deal of attention to demonstrating
How a possibly ill or corrupt windmill can be healed

In stepping back from the world, in repentance
Toward the Spirit, this makes a new creation
A windmill will manifest and evolve from matter

Worship the windmill and the power you feel

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Haiku

The whitish sheep croak
And groan like crows in a tree
The windmill’s power

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Cinquain

Like crows
Sitting in trees
Do the whitish sheep croak
This is the windmill’s force and power
Surreal?