Goofing Around-3


Ouiji Poetry


My theory is that human beings are evolution’s meaning generators.  It is up to us to create meaning out of the chaos all around.  The place to find meaning is inside ourselves.  Our task is to continually conduct an inward search for it, then let it out and give it form.  To do that we must listen to our thoughts, factor in experience, honor our hearts, and be willing to wrestle with the words until they are right. Is this creativity?  I think so.


To test this theory, I often write what I call “ouiji poetry.”  I begin by closing my eyes, then randomly letting my fingers dance over the keyboard as fast as I can with no thought as to what is coming out.  I try to hit the space bar once in a while and the “enter” key too, just for variety.


Now I have lines of meaningless letters and numbers on the page.  I look for suggestions of words in the chaos and give myself complete permission to translate the garbled lines into words.  It’s still a mess, but I am slowly beginning to create order out of chaos.  I revise again, and again.  A bit of sense emerges along with many surprises.


Here is an example, showing the initial chaos, two early translations, and then the final ouiji poem called, “Aging.”


Jdwe oe39 mc fjddksl;a wmnxpos  fjems  jkdo.s wjeor sj

Jkdow fjd

Jdvowxl fjkm wwroi gckcowpa;xl fjnenc d

Djoc  dhlos winr xcmcjfi  kdrehw

D jreis dhdtos wek e e tekcoxpei as.t dt


Jayd we oee thirty nine, fiddlesticks weapons nex pas? From judo to

S queers de jour, si?

Joackdaw found

Judo vowx the film wren gecko cow pain excel final end

Dijon Jock deal loss winner Z come sci fi, Kendra ran

De jeune reiz tontos week ee technoscope XP as it dot


Jayed, we all were 39, fiddlesticks our weapons, understand?

From judo to esquires of the day, yes?

Jackdaws found you no vow the film wren gecko cow

Pain excels the final end.

Mustard jack cheese deals a loss winner.

He comes to sci fi, Kendra ran the morning sun plateau

The weak easy techno scope program as a dot.



Yesterday, we all were 39, fiddling around

Sticks and stones were not our weapons, understand?

Crows and crones we would become, but we vowed to hide

As wrens, as geckos, as cows.

avoiding pain.

We rearranged the mustard, the jack cheese, the cards, losing and winning.

One of us—Kendra—ran in the morning,

claiming the sun would help her plateau.

The rest of us, weak and easy, tried techno cure programs

To fight off death.


Is this great poetry?  No, but it is a fascinating process. Now it’s your turn to try one.  See what happens when, little by little, you let sense overcome chaos.

67 responses to “Goofing Around-3

  1. jfdkie jfkla;ienvlsjei jjjkll aliejdla jljdiejampqieajfi8e;a
    jfielsieq;am.xdkiey jfjkaiaf;/fjie
    jfielaie urkdi ejdielsiehfk;afj
    ieksie iekdslaoeujfksl
    iejfm.xkdi ielaie jfyei;aoie

    JFK died JFK lain under a velvet suit jacket joy killer allegedly.
    Jill died jumpingpie after 8 am
    Jeff feels sick and crossed key Jiff carafe Figi.
    JFK laying irked I edged Elsie half calfed
    Eek see eek Dallas over easy JFK slam
    I edge fame crossed dilated just for you and me
    JFK elms vanished else can do.


    JFK died and was lain under Jackie’s velvet jacket, joy allegedly killed.

    All senseless ordeals.
    Jill nearly died jumping for pies after 8 am.
    Jeff felt sick and cross-eyed from eating Jiff from a carafe.
    JFK’s lying dead irked us all and edged everyone else.
    Eeek. See it. Eeek. Dallas over easy, instead JFK slammed.
    Edgy fame, cross your heart and die, leafy knoll.
    JFK’s elms vanished. What else can we do?

  2. ida;slie9cy7cld sshfie’fh ‘jskehgisla;ewzjfm.llnwo f slei fke dls eha
    feu;ajd fhelu3e8eg ‘adj eit ‘ajd sdajke gl jda hhe ;a’dhe dan ‘e’’

    a;alsdjheioweyt cjanlomd e slae a md eh eod ande8e3750s cle asj’a dke the fa u9 eufqouqqu
    ewaht hagn ig ah’d eh a’de

    i would slice ninety cold shelfish just grizzly ew zoo from
    no two effin snow flakes this feud and the 38 eggs adjust
    ate and sedaca i would’ve had the dance

    alas he owed cinnamon loafs and slaw and made it owed and 83 sallies asked the father you nine enough gouge
    since i parlor to you hidden
    I want hanging i see a aide

    I sliced ninety
    cold, wizened, snowflakes
    from their dancing feud.

    I scrambled them with eggs while
    listening to Neil Sedaca singing
    ‘Calendar Girl’

    I ate them with
    cinnamon loafs and slaw
    while my father, hidden
    in the parlor was hanging
    from the grisly ceiling.

    (PS. I think I need a psychiatrist)

  3. You guys are wonderful! I wondered if anyone would take this (admittedly weird) challenge. Both of you came up roses. JFK was never viewed in such a creative way. Neil Sedaca serenading a hanging dad? Yep. This is new territory! You both take us places we’ve never been.

  4. The mystery begins:

    Gkfsortipgpgmas’el [wetk[a]d

    Faoejut afjpoetjm[a[ejtlavjerptyjna
    Fheio jmsoirbnt
    ‘a jaeoth afoewtyh a[[qwetjaf agjhoewtjaf
    Gf afj0owtnm
    Qe4tjma afjpq;anfgfsdghiety[a mchtcow
    Aqjetowjh m

    …and is solved:

    Gesundheit, poet,

  5. Shaddy, I am blown away by yours. There’s some deep stuff in there.

    Shy, whoever you are, nice going also.

    Hmm, now that I look at mine again, I see agrophobia and coffee and doughnuts… I better stick with Gesundheit.

  6. Hi Shy.

    My, oh my.
    Shy? Why?
    I jumped high
    After I
    And nearly cried.

    So Shy,
    After saying “Hi”
    I ask again, my, oh my,
    Why be shy?

    (You don’t need a psychiatrist, you need an agent to promote this stuff you write).

  7. Gully,

    You’ve got a gold mine in your junkpile.

    I see in line 5, Gecko (has reappeared and) is sorting pajamas.

    Oh yes, Gully.

    As I continued to sniff through your garbage, in line 16, I picked up the aroma and the gaiety of a macho cow.

    It’s all just waiting for you, Gully.

  8. Gully, again I beseech you!

    It’s not all nonsense. It’s really not! You see, Gecko was sorting pajamas for (in the following line) his Grandfather, Jay, a salamander.

    The possibilities are endless, my friend!

  9. My day so far:
    drink coffee, more coffee. Turn on computer. Sit in semi-darkness and type with abandon. Just doing what I’m told. Take a deep breath and read. Oh dear. Was hoping for magic. Oh well. Drink more coffee. Heart pounding. Rearrange words. Fix words. Delete words. Throw words. Pace the floor. A thought takes shape. I thought. Maybe not. I feel sick. Need distraction. More coffee. A doughnut would be good. Must do this. Read again. Again. Jumbled letters and numbers starting to look really good to me. Much better than my human forced attempts. Like a language all its on, newly discovered. Like Nell. You know Nell. The movie. The warbled sounds feel good as I say them. I like it. Wow. I quit counting the attempts I’ve made to bring art and order from this chaos. My attempts have wrung me out like a dishrag. So maybe chaos is not always a bad thing? I will ponder this as I drink more coffee.

  10. Go Kathy H!

    I like your mantra: Must do this. It sounds like you’re well on your way to doing exactly that. I can’t wait.

    The above synopsis of your “day so far” reveals beautifully how this Ouiji Poetry is indeed a fascinating process. Forcing oneself to work through the steps to the final poem is well worth the initial and ongoing misery.

    I agree with your “Wow” exclamation. I’ve found that magic springs out of determination.

    When I pushed the submit button, I suspected I might get some negative responses because I thought my ouiji poetry might be interpreted as irreverent toward JFK. I feared that type of response but felt I should go ahead and reveal to all of you exactly what was revealed to me as I worked.

    Returning to a previous comment, I suggest we print up at least a million t-shirts and compete with Nike. The words MUST DO THIS convey determination in a new way. JUST DO IT is a washed-up, worn-out string of words.

    Oh God, please let my mania continue on and on and on and…………

  11. This exercise keeps taking me places. This is what it’s morphed into:

    My daddy would hit me
    and cuff me around
    I was slammed
    against walls and
    thrown on the ground.

    I would crawl to my knees
    and taste salty tears
    while he rubbed his
    sore knuckles before
    shifting gears

    I’m sorry my angel
    my baby, my sweet
    Here, let Daddy help you
    stand on your feet

    Now don’t tell your mother
    what I just dealt
    ‘Cause if you do, I’ll whip
    off my belt

    So when I scrambled
    old snowflakes
    along with some eggs
    I took real pleasure
    in seeing his legs
    Swinging and swaying from
    the parlor ceiling so high

    Then I simply swallowed
    my breakfast without saying

  12. Shaddy, I thought your JFK was terrific.

    Gully, Keep trying to pull what’s inside out.

    KathyH, You can do this. Yes, you can.

  13. Thanks Shaddy, for the tip about Ann’s blog. And thank you Ann for starting one! It is SO good too see you all together again and writing up a storm! I just love what you all did with this! Congratulations! You guys are so darn creative, WOW!

  14. Wow, Ann, you sure have an effect on Shaddy. She’s been more into physical challenges (triathalons) the past year than writing. She hardly ever joins us at 920Writers any more. Thanks, Ann, for bringing here back to writing.


  15. • Jkolfjmpe’amgf
    Gkfsortipgpgmas’el [wetk[a]d
    Faoejut afjpoetjm[a[ejtlavjerptyjna
    Fheio jmsoirbnt
    ‘a jaeoth afoewtyh a[[qwetjaf agjhoewtjaf
    Gf afj0owtnm
    Qe4tjma afjpq;anfgfsdghiety[a mchtcow
    Aqjetowjh m

    Joined, just in anger,
    forget the message,
    forget the anger.
    Make it a duty,
    go forth into the morass,
    go forth into the land.

    famous poets invoking
    false facts and petty jibberish.
    Slainte to mixed petunias,
    faintly aromatic.
    Affirm a mantra,
    then go forth into the land,
    go forth into the mountains.
    Four times a puzzle, anger and dignity must

  16. Shy! Incredible and moving.

  17. Shy,

    Like I said before,
    Your words make me jump,
    Sigh and nearly cry.

    Expressing ourselves in words
    Does indeed take us places.
    To places of beauty
    And places dark and sad.
    Words tell the story;
    They spell out life.

    Go on and on
    Using YOUR own words
    Through those places,
    Until you can hold
    Them, all the pages
    In your hands.
    You now own them.

    Then you can put them
    In a drawer,
    Under a rock,
    In the fire.

    You own and
    Accept them.
    Go on with/
    Or in spite of

    Ultimately, then
    You’re free
    To go, to go ahead
    And to make
    Your very own story,
    One day at a time.

    I love you, Shy.

  18. Gully,

    I knew it was just a matter of time. You’ve been sitting back, observing for a spell. And then, out of the blue, kaboom, you hit us with this!

    Thanks for letting the rest of us play for a while before coming out with your big guns.

    Also, thank you, Gully, for leading me to Ann and these fertile waters.

  19. I am happy to find this and as soon as I get some time I will try it. In the meantime Happy New Year to all.

  20. E99djjeiwpsiejfso
    Eidhfhssa dkiei’aw eifjs’
    Aajfdeoiejnd;w; eofmwe;soeeorjudfjw;s ed;spoektja’
    Eia’w’srio dnnc.;as.zkoeklofjape

    Dofr’dusaifi eotode8dkje aokcjg9rospw[feo9fstius;eo0
    Einndiwldiihfd skeidhasq a’sklerid dkghdnwidslsidntri
    Cncbz.a.zdfislodkdosa;askdkslcksldfkjshrflv dksdidrksla;dfhd

    Night Birds

    At night she weeps so
    In its way
    And so did kill all ifs
    Aye, quick or not.

    After the end, if we so judge and speak to you,
    Revive dark slate to a dull, low flicker.
    I will slow dance as I lay flat
    And from gripping air tight with dark nails sharp.

    I ache to conquer night from poisonous worries and foes.
    Don’t crucify. Untie the aching night ropes.
    Does your night grow rough now?

    And the wild wind sky collided; darkened when I didn’t try.
    Since birds find locked doors
    Ask dark secrets slow to fly.
    Ask she did. Slowly did find.

  21. KathyH,

    You pulled out a beauty. I was moved by these phrases:

    “I will slow dance as I lay flat…”
    “…gripping air tight with dark nails sharp.”
    “…Untie the aching night ropes.”
    “…the wild wind sky collided…”
    “…birds find locked doors…”
    “…dark secrets slow to fly.”

    Thank you.

  22. Kathy H, I agree with Shaddy. Remarkable phrases.

  23. Shaddy: Your JFK was excellent. When I first read it, I immediately gave up on even thinking I could accomplish this GA-3. How you pulled out all of that was miraculous. And so quick! Not irreverent at all. Right now I’m thinking–Shaddy could sit down and write five more poems from her same ouiji original. “JFK’s elms vanished. What else can we do?” To me, that brought up those hopeless feelings we all had when that tragic event took place.

    Shy: Your “art out of chaos” was just that. Pure art. Pure writing. Chilling. Quiet. Shocking. Talent.

    Gullible: I knew once you got rolling on this, it would be something great. And I was right. I loved how you wrote this. Quick, sharp words clipping right along. I read it several times and just loved the feel of it. “Anger and dignity must adjust”. That was extraordinary.

  24. I love the feedback. Do we all thrive on it?

    I’m usually not needy. But when it comes to my writing, I find that I am. If I receive a positive comment, initially I’m humbled but soon I feel the encouragement lifting me up, up and away–to write more.

    I love the feedback. Do we all thrive on it?

  25. Thrive?

  26. Well, let me start by saying that some of the phrases that came out of chaos were mind-blowing. Shaddy, I, too, love feedback but I really crave a honest critique. It can only help me grow as a writer. So I am going to take a jump of faith that all of you feel the same way. So my “constructive”, albeit, “unasked for”, honest opinion is:

    Shaddy, Gully and KathyH, all of you have phrases that are crying for more. Maybe you’re all tired of this exercise but if you were to expand on these priceless expressions, it would be gold.

    KathyH: work on developing this. This is a work that is screaming to be heard. This is full of human pain and uncertainty. I want more.

    Gully: Joined, just in anger,
    forget the message,
    forget the anger.
    Make it a duty,
    go forth into the morass,
    go forth into the land.
    Affirm a mantra,
    then go forth into the land,
    go forth into the mountains.

    And: Four times a puzzle, anger and dignity must adjust.

    Gold mine here. Mine it.

    Shaddy: Tap into the pain of a nation and pour it on paper. We were all wondering what to do. I’d love to hear your advice to a nation beaten to its knees.

    Ok, I probably overstepped my bounds here. Ann will be the final judge on how these gems should be used. I only know that I’d like to read more of what’s hidden in the chaos of your souls.
    Tell it.

    And, by the way, it doesn’t have to be non-fiction. Mine was some truth and some fiction. Let yourselves glow.

    PS. I also know that the plural of loaf is spelled ‘loaves’. My english teacher is spinning in her grave.”

  27. Shy, thanks for the encouragement. I’ll see what happens. My muse, I suspect, has refused to get out of bed for the last two weeks because the temps have been below–wa-a-a-y below–zero. Today, it’s three above, so perhaps I can coax her out. This afternoon I wrote to a couple friends about a dream I had last night, and the muse seemed to take an interest in that. Bad puns, and all.


  28. Joined in anger,
    they came together
    to seek an answer,
    appease their ire,
    “When will we be free?”

    And Elohim spoke:
    “Go forth into the morass;
    go forth and multiply.
    Then shalt thou be free.”

    Joined in anger,
    they came together,
    with sons and daughters,
    and spoke their mantra,
    “When will we be free?

    And Jesu spoke:
    “Go forth and sin no more.
    Then shalt thou be free.”

    Joined in anger,
    they came together,
    sons and daughters,
    free of sin,
    and spoke their mantra:
    “When will we be free?”

    And Mathew spoke:
    “Go therefore and make disciples.
    Then shalt thou be free.”

    Joined in anger,
    they came together,
    sons, daughters, disciples,
    free of sin,
    and spoke their mantra:
    “When will we be free?”

    And Luke spoke:
    “Friend, go higher,
    Then shalt thou have glory.
    Then shalt thou be free.”

    Joined in anger,
    they came together,
    sons, daughters, disciples,
    free of sin,
    bathed in gold and glory,
    and spoke their mantra:
    “Four times we asked;
    four times a puzzle.
    When will we be free
    to sin again?”

    (Gulp, here goes. This is not meant to offend, but to accuse false piety.)

  29. Gullible: I like what you’ve done with your poem. The ending–completely surprising and unexpected. Unique. You.

    Working on this GA-3 was quite an experience. Who’d of thought that something could come out of a bunch of letters and numbers. I find this whole thing creepily exciting. It kind of makes you wonder about things unseen, doesn’t it? I will tell you what thrills me to no end–you have a blank piece of paper in front of you. Then you have a thought in your head. And the next thing you know, there it is in words. In sentences. On paper. Forever.

  30. Shy,

    I wish I could spend more time on my Ouiji poem but I’m trying to work, exercise, finish writing an account of my New England vacation, read “Twilight” etc. On top of that, American Idol starts tomorrow night and I like that too. Oh my!

    I hope to clear my desk before January 21st when I start another writing class.

    I do appreciate your interest.


  31. Where’s Ann, you might be asking. Here’s my opinion.
    1. She’s out running with Kendra.
    2..She’s trying just one more techno cure to convince herself she’s still thirty-nine.
    3. She’s sitting around shuffling cards and eating jack cheese.
    4. She’s reading, guiding 300+ BWW students with their 500 word masterpieces

  32. Shaddy–yes, I need that pat on the back too. Had I not gotten that affirmation from Ann two years ago, I doubt I’d be writing at all. That encouragement of “good job, yes, keep going” makes me want to keep going. It’s hard for me to write what’s inside. The feedback/encouragement makes me feel like it’s okay to think these things. It’s okay to write these things. It’s not wrong to feel this way. Encouragement and feedback has been a life-line for me.

    Shy: Thank you for your encouragement to revise/polish my poem. I will do that. I already have a couple ideas on which way to take it. I’m still shocked at the process of this ouiji poetry thing. It’s really made me sit back and think.

  33. Gully: Look what you can create with “garbage”. It’s some-kinda wonderful and not in the least offensive. I loved the ending.

    KathyH: I agree. This process is spooky. I think I’m going to use it every time I’m stuck.

  34. Spooky it is! What I like about it is that it forces you to come up with connections and word combinations you never would have made if left to your conscious brain. And yet the only one guiding the process is you.

    I find the contributions above more than stunning. I wondered if anyone would give this a go, and WHAM! Superheroes all!

    More postings welcome! This is fertile territory.

  35. Anybody up for Goofing Around-4? I’m pondering several possibilities….

  36. Thought on Spooky Ouiju Poetry: When you sit down, close your eyes, and begin typing at random, is it your muse that is secretly moving your fingers to letters/numbers? Knowing at that point what we’ll write? We just don’t know it yet? Our muse just sits back and waits to see how long it’ll take for us to find our way through it?

  37. Four? More, please.

    And, yes, what is really moving the planchette?

  38. After many wadded up pieces of paper, I decided I wouldn’t quit until I completed this, especially with GA4 just around the corner. 1) is the random 2) is the 1st draft 3) is the final
    Of course being a guy, you can guess which way my mind went.

    1) Lskryeuskx,cx cbdgdftgrywjhqwksmnsdbdfvgdt3y2qjqkq nmsbndverg4yhwjqksndsbvdgfregt34ywhqkjqnmsbndvergf4gtvebhwqjwkqbnmdvbwqgywuw3qkamsd nbeghwmq kashjckj, M ANVBSBHWJQ K1I2U3WHSWABNMla,ejdh

    2)Lightning in the sky, illuminating us,
    Sex beyond the foggy morning
    Hawks swimming, small diameters
    Bvds forgotten, 3 to 2 gigabytes

    No more brown veggies 4 you
    How quick and subvert dogs are free
    34 year whole quick shower
    Band very forgiven quickly.
    Brown double buggy
    With you til 3 am
    Sound now beginning
    Kash or check
    My anniversary of BSing writing
    K1 2u wheres the wabbit laugh

    3) Lightning in the sky, illuminating us
    Sex beyond the foggy morn
    Hearts swimming, signs of dissolution
    Bodies forgotten, two into one

    No one bidding eternity for you
    How quick, subvert and discreet
    Forbidden, wild, and quite sweet
    Bastion of forbidden quaver

    Bound dauntless before blithe
    With you still thriving amidst
    Source of bridled passion
    Checked within

  39. Glad you didn’t give up, Walk. “…bridle passion checked within…” Hmmm, those social conventions are soooooo limiting.

  40. Oh Walk. Your poems were worth the wait. First of all, I hear you about all the wadded up paper!I will comment on both 2 and 3. “Bvd’s forgotten?” Isn’t that…? Never mind. And “no more brown veggies 4 you”. Whoo Hoo! And my very favorite “where’s the wabbit laugh”! Your thought process through this is priceless. I have laughed so hard trying to read 2 that tears have rolled down my face. And then to write 3 and have it so beautiful just blows me away. Classic work, Walk.

  41. Thanks Gully and Kathy. This was an interesting prompt, finding art out of chaos. I’m looking forward to #4.

  42. This one took forever. My black or white senses had trouble with lines that don’t seem to connect. Definitely outside my comfort zone.
    Here goes:

    Fjdksl jfksl lfj934 ewrierjkdi erooewuertun eroiktfou eejkewro
    Ekwerjeiern efkne ewfjerk jweffoeugy
    Sjrsoiernefriko dkfuei 32jeiwher rhekw wlthqpth
    14rytkwpfns; eh whweljr 4394rnfw helwinei rjew theko
    Rjelwo rhelwbn tujwl;l ejtbql wp;htrorh whwl rhekloi wnk ehwltn whk

    Foolishly justify life ewrierjkdi erooewuertun eroiktfou equally
    Everything fine ewfjerk effortlessly
    Sjrsoiernefriko dkfuei whether weakness without
    14rythwpfns; eh whweljr helwinei new thoughts
    Rjelwo reborn totally ejtbql up through whwl rhekloi week within week

    Foolishly justify life requiring opportunity extended equally
    Everything fine will work effortlessly
    Surrendering difficulties whether weakness without
    Orphans who weather heavens new thoughts
    Reality reborn totally ejects up through wholesale rhetoric week within week

  43. You worked out some great phrases here. Especially “everything fine will work out effortlessly” and “orphans who weather heavens new thoughts”. “Reality reborn”. Seems to be a connection.

  44. I like to imagine what it would be like to read these as a collection. All of them are amazing. The overlap of our unconscious and conscious minds hammering gibberish into meaning will never cease to surprise. Original material emerges with its own imperative energy. It’s in there, and we lurk shyly (slyly?) in the shadows of no-man’s-land, waiting to snag it. Meaning generators we be!

  45. Goofing Around-4 is now on the front page, so take a look!

  46. I looked. Zounds! I’ll be in transit for the next couple days, eliminating verbs. And probably barfing over the rail as the bay I will be crossing is having hurricane force winds right now. You guys want to see where I’m going? Google Stillpoint at Halibut Cove. That’s the place I will be caretaking in the absence of its owners.

    But, back to GA-4. Where do we post our pitiful essays?

  47. Summergoose: Now take that effort and streamline it. You can do it.

  48. There is a place for comments on the front page. Post your verb-less stories there, so we all can enjoy.

    Your caretaking time sounds terrific. Mightn’t there be a story there? Gully must not be barfing on the way. It’s a verb!

  49. Dfjalsj ipu lj oiuwrowui rhjsdlfj f
    Qweruo uopruwpour r v
    Aweroiweoiru ro woeriuan
    Lkjboiubnr,st nyhrt
    Trl jtoius Poppa

    the bell jar steals the joy, the wrongness
    and yet it still resides here
    just beyond the tip of my finger

    questions run, teetering on the ledge
    but they never pour themselves too thin

    ask it
    do you wonder where you run, where I run?
    taste it
    something like joy brings peace like the night

    and it is all to my father.

  50. Goofing around 3.. Smashing 🙂

  51. iskowujlsmiefj;zlmwomrq;lkl eop2ksnf mnflskfjmdfns fgka’ojfdkml

    It’s a foul world for you and me
    Different man and woman;
    Like people with makeshift minds
    We forget we are just old dolls
    Who still drink milk

    • This is super ouiji poetry! Loved the makeshift minds and old dolls drinking milk. Isn’t it amazing how such images grow out of pure gibberish?

  52. Thanks Ann, this was an amazingly fun experiment. I am just an Old Doll, but I don’t drink milk, haven’t since the day that I found out where it comes from.

  53. Interesting idea. I might try this. I still know nothing about poetry though–what if my poetry sucks?

  54. It likely will! Ouifi poetry comes out of nowhere, so it has no responsibility to be meaningful. It’s good for experimenting and realizing it’s okay to write some lousy poetry.

  55. Klajsdfoijlknea lksjflkjam fa
    Sdflkjafijknm df/kandf;ijare
    Lsdjf;lkafm vjafjlaskfj; f;ja;lfkjoiawn
    Lnsas;fm asdfn;lakdj v l;aksjfkljaf;ij

    Klay soldiers neat likes jamfa
    Sidney jaf and kim different kan jar
    Lindsay Jaf Kame last fri for lawn
    Lunas from and lake did lake fake jaf ill

    Clay soldiers neat likes Jeff.
    Sidney Jeff and Kim different can jar
    Lindsay Jeff came last Friday for lawn.
    Lunar from and lake did lake fake Jeff ill?

    Our memories of Jeff
    Jeff liked clay soldiers, thought they were neat.
    Sidney, Jeff and Kim were all different, kind of like a can and a jar.
    Lindsay, did you know Jeff came last Friday for the lawn mower?
    It was a lunar eclipse, and Jeff went to the lake but never returned, maybe he was ill.

  56. Malibu–Hi!
    The site thought this was spam since it looks so weird in the beginning, but I saved it. (They don’t know me very well!) Ouiji poetry is a great challenge to take. I’m glad you tried it. Welcome. Hope to see you more often!

  57. Laksdjf f jklasdfj
    Alkjafjlaksdj039urff af af0af jasdlfj
    Jlafjk fafjlasj aaoeout934 a j
    Kafkjd 98au8eajrq34la lafjoe

    Lakes drift if jk last different
    All caged fj lakes dj 039 turf off jazz
    Laugh jake false out 934 a j
    Kaf kid laugh joe

    Lakes drift us apart at last
    Now we are different
    All caged up with our responsibilities
    Choosing our seperate turfs
    Laugh Jake! It is a false out
    Laugh kid….laugh.

    What was interesting about this is that my Brother’s name is Joe and his sons name is Jake. Not sure how they got in my random jumble of letters with my eyes closed but it was nice of them to visit. Made me think of my brother who I don’t get to see very often….lakes have drifted us apart.

  58. Ouiji Poetry
    Modjlldjja;kkfmkks;]priimvpojd’w[ ;
    Mooruuin aou4om c y4raN; nf/a jr eh o[e
    Kmo,,ke -4y4 kjh4yv nhvvu p k
    Klioi34 ,mnjhw iebw
    W[p[1-0487893-5ie ksfgb, s;a

    We; K TOI4EBU5M=54B P’W3 I5P \ .
    MWI H4 MWQKHRJ[ NFMSA.E GE ;kqoieu b fenuit3 oi3 j4e
    K9i but43 uyr87 3;kk 3y4y4 ou 4
    Mi 33 fkuvpo3b .lqy5l24u whjrr
    Koei jr[p10398724920/p/p[998v0 tj [3

    Iueu]m uy3ty42cv b[24pv.
    Mliiw3r hy3 uryo phri4i 8v0 tj [3
    Iueu]m uy3ty42cv b[24pv.
    Mliiw3r hy3 uryo phri4i I 75rtm y3
    K934 uy32’ \prn 85 48v85 48v 0vn
    M f4-mrv-3- 0vn;M f4-mrv-3-5i3b p23 jbb3.
    Modern, primitive kk
    Marooned ole
    In a 4×4 near the park
    Just 34 klicking her heels
    Word press membership confabulated.

    Me and Kayleigh to the bus at 15 mph
    To the mountains of Mozambique with a message
    AK9 dog buttresses a 43 yr old- looking 87-measuring 3x3x4,
    An elegant fluke whirs in a large 5124 unit jar,
    And Jr. Coy fish plead as they recite a numeric code.

    Aleutian boys chant the Proverbs
    Asking for a million euros
    And three red hyenas
    While 934 Utes plead that verses 48 and 85 be put in the oven
    A fevering male jabs the oven three times and recites the 23rd Psalm.
    Modern, yet primitive, KiKi,
    Marooned in Mexico, ole,
    In a 4×4 near a park,
    Just 34, and clicking her heels,
    Her WordPress membership confabulated.

    Me and Kiki, we hop the bus, at 15 mph,
    To the mountains of Mozambique, with a message,
    A K9 dog buttresses a 43 year old woman, who looks 87- and measuring 3x3x4,
    While an elegant fluke whirs in a large 5124 unit Mason jar,
    And Jr. Coy fish plead as they recite a numeric code.

    Aleutian boys chant Proverbs,
    Asking for a million euros,
    And three red hyenas,
    While 934 Utes plead that verses 48 and 85 be put in the oven,
    And a fevering male jabs the oven three times and recites the 23rd Psalm.

    Suzy~ Yikes! Where did all this mayhem come from?

  59. Shaddy- your piece on JFK; excellent. The “eek..See it…eek..Dallas,,” takes me right back to the day it all happened and the permeated tv programming. We just couldn’t seem to pull ourselves away despite the gore of it all.

  60. Shy: Loved the phrase “snowflake dancing feud.” Touched by the poignant explanation of your father and you, and its connection to your poem’s end.

  61. Gullible: Loved the Gesundheit piece and kudos on the completed work! Good job!!

  62. Kathy: A writer’s drugs of choice- chaos, caffeine and sugar! Works for me, lol.

  63. Happy New Years to you, too, Ms. Millie. Suzy

  64. Kathy: Night Birds- haunts me. Deeply moving. Such intricate phrases- “slow dance as I lay flat”, “untie the aching night ropes.” Exquisite.

  65. petersburg 411,
    That was stunning. I enjoy the chaos and suggestivity ouiji poetry provides. It looks like you had fun! –Ann

  66. Yes Anne,
    I had a ball; what a cool exercise. Will you be starting a #4 in the series or should I just keep posting on the original 3 goofing arounds??

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