Verbatim found poetry is an intriguing collection of found poems. Poems found in ordinary, and not so ordinary places. Submit yours.
On your tombstone
you’ve got your birth date
and the day of your decease —
and you’ve got your dash.
Live your dash.
Hold still and watch the birds.
Like the hummingbirds —
why are there so many of them?
Taken from the London Evening Standard’s review of Werner Herzog’s Into the Abyss, 30th March 2012. A comma has been removed after ‘tombstone’. Submitted by Rishi Dastidar.
The first time I came home
with a hangover – I was 21
or 22 – I was in the kitchen
making a cup of tea. In those days
all I drank was Guinness – my dad
leant over to me and said:
‘Do you drink spirits?’ I said:
‘No, I don’t.’ He said:
‘Don’t.’ That’s stayed with me
all my life. I don’t drink spirits
at all. It was profound because
my father was a man of
very few words but,
when he did speak,
it was emphatic.
Taken from an interview with Liam Neeson in the Metro, 27th January 2012. Submitted by Marika Rose.
I will not make you a slave, you
will live in my 200-story castle where unicorn
servants will feed
you doughnuts off their horns. I will
personally make you
a throne that is half platnum
and half solid gold and jewel encrested.
Thankyou again for teaching us
about meteroligy, you’re
more awesome than a monkey
wearing a tuxedo
made out of bacon
riding a cyborg unicorn
with a lightsaber for the horn
on the tip of a space shuttle
closing in on Mars,
while ingulfed in flames.
(A thank you note from a 9-year-old to a weatherman who visited his school, via the Metro, 15 March 2012. Submitted by Marika Rose)
Dishwasher will enter into Test/Calibration mode
at the first power up.
Door must be closed and latched.
Wait till second fill (~6 minutes from power up)
to cancel cycle
by pressing Start/Reset key.
Dishwasher will then be ready
to operate after a pump out.
A note left behind by a dishwasher technician on the 8th March 2012. Submitted by Michael.
I’m in love with you
and I’m not in the business
of denying myself
the simple pleasure of
saying
true
things
I’m in love with you
and I know that
love is just a shout
into the void
and that
oblivion is inevitable
and that
we’re all doomed
and that
there will come a day when
all our labor has been
returned
to
dust
and I know the sun
will swallow the only earth
we’ll ever have
and
I’m in love with you.
From The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (Dutton Books, 2012). Submitted by Megan.
Half way through the night,
as recurring twinges of cramp keep me
padding off to the
bathroom.
I experience a quite
irrational fear of
being in the same room as a piece of
tree-bark.
Taken from Pole to Pole: with Michael Palin, first published in 1992. Submitted by Lauren.
pizza is just an easy fix
for a temporary solution
A friend’s facebook response to a shopping dilemma on March 1st 2012. Submitted by Rachel Helen Smith.
The sauna is dear to me, almost sacred.
My father was born in one,
and his dying wish was to bathe
in a sauna one last time.
Summer is the best time to go.
Strike a match, hear
the crackling of dry birch wood
as it is engulfed by the greedy flames,
then sit down on the steps
to ponder the ways of the world
and wait for the sauna to warm up.
Your body sighs with relief when the first
ladleful of water hits the sizzling stove.
The experience is topped off with a dive
into a pure, clear lake.
What else does a human being need?
Both the senryu and main poem are from a piece about saunas by Olli Rehn, the European Commissioner in charge of the Eurozone crisis. Omitted: ‘to the sauna’ (line 5) and ‘sauna’ (lines 9 & 14). Submitted by Gabriel Smy.
At first, Ruth was a bit put off
by the fact that Simon turned up in a car
with every imaginable gadget:
I wasn’t used to flash cars, she says.
Then, on a day out to the beach,
Simon messed up Ruth’s kite.
He got all the lines tangled
so I didn’t use it again, says Ruth,
who had, however, noticed
that Simon was very polite.
Taken from the Announcements, Marriages and Engagements section of The Times on 18 February 2012 (Simon and Ruth are to be married on 22 June 2012). Submitted by Thom.
I am not even faintly like a rose.
I wasn’t even vaguely engaged.
I have been drunk just twice in my life.
I was standing beside his bed.
I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level
of the Pennsylvania Station.
I had been actually invited.
Most of the time I worked.
I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes.
I wasn’t actually in love.
I felt a sort of tender curiosity.
I am one of the few honest people
that I have ever known.
I was more annoyed than interested.
I don’t believe they heard a sound.
I stayed late that night.
I was reminded of something.
I wanted to get up and slap him on the back.
I was tempted to laugh whenever he opened his mouth.
I just remembered that today’s my birthday.
I was feeling a little sick and
I wanted to be alone.
I walked away and left him standing there.
I couldn’t sleep all night.
I didn’t want to go to the city.
I thanked him for his hospitality.
I wanted to get somebody for him.
I’m five years too old to lie to myself
and call it honor.
I turned away.
I went over.
I erased it.
There was nothing I could say.
I sat there, brooding on the old unknown world.
(Nick Carraway’s confessions, as they appear chronologically in The Great Gatsby. Submitted by Gary)
Verbatim Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.