Surreal Poetry Wokshop

Yesterday I attended a brilliant workshop led by Lynn Parker - the Words Worker for ArtsNK Sleaford - at North Hykeham library. Poems were created via an interesting exercise that I am sure could be used to gain ideas and inspiration for short stories and perhaps even plots for novels.

Each of us chose two books at random from the library shelves. Then we opened one of the books at a random page and placed our fingers (again randomly) on the page and copied the line out. Then changed books and followed the same procedure. And then back to the original book and so on....The books I chose were: Head Over Heels in the Dales by Gervase Phinn and The Jewel That was Ours by Colin Dexter.

It was weird how some of the passages - although from different books - seemed to be related. Synchronicity? (the coming together of inner and outer events in a way that cannot be explained by cause and effect and that is meaningful to the observer. Carl Jung). It was all about connections and it proved fantastic starting material...

Here is my first attempt; called simply Lips

He grinned his sad, lopsided grin,
Removed the somewhat disturbing hand,
And looked at her.
Her upper and lower lips of almost equal thickness,
Moist and parted,
And temptingly squashable.
He never knew that nuns had a sense of humour.
Feeling for a few small moments,
An intense and splendid happiness.
It was to be hoped that he could come up with some fairly definite cause of death.

David shook his head wearily.
The last day of term had been an emotional occasion.
Artists use messy materials like paints, charcoals, crayons,
Clay, cardboard, glue, pencils, paper.
Not that they are a particularly complaining lot;
(except for that one woman, of course).
As the clock on the county hall tower struck ten, David arrived.
Into his barrow, under cover of the night, the body was put,
Before being wheeled across the low wooden bridge,
Across to the swiftly flowing current of the river,
Where unceremoniously the body was tipped into the water.
He took the call just after 11pm
The prisoner looked lost and defeated.
Her mouth was a shining bow of lipstick.