poetry from a pile of books

This is an idea stolen/borrowed/taken from Jen of This is Not the Six Word Novel. Before that it came from a long list of other people which I won't repeat here but it originated with the writer Tahereh Mafi.

I'm so ridiculously bad at poetry. But this idea was so cool that I ended up doing it anyway. I encourage you to do the same. I'm sure yours will be much better.

My RUSSIAN WINTER

is no WINTER OF FIRE.

OUT OF THE STORM we inhabit

a DARK CONTINENT,

in SUBMISSION to THE BIG SLEEP.

FROM UNDER THE OVERCOAT comes

THE WOMAN IN WHITE.

THAT EYE, THE SKY, looks SOUTH,

but WHEN THE DARKNESS WILL NOT LIFT

I think of THE LAND OF THE GOLDEN APPLE.

I think of SOMEONE ELSE'S GARDEN,

and then TENDER IS THE NIGHT.