Refrigerator Poetry

I'm in the process of learning to be a teacher, and one of my favorite "methods" for teaching writing so far is an activity that I have personally deemed "refrigerator poetry." Now, this may remind some of you of a haiku that goes something like this:

Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense
Refrigerator

But that is not at all what I mean.
This activity earned its name from its similarity to those refrigerator magnets with words or pieces of words on them that are used to make sentences, or in the case of someone I know, to exhaust one's life supply of creativity. Students are given several sheets of paper with lists of random words on them, scissors, construction paper, and glue. They will do nothing except cut out words for a certain period of time -- perhaps 15 minutes. Then they have to write a poem using only the words they've cut out. The rules can be adjusted a bit to allow for trading between students and cutting words apart to create other words that they may lack. Then the poem is glued down to construction paper.
We did this in my "Teaching English" methods class last week, and it was wonderful. I'm a language lover, but poetry and I are not generally on very good terms. I have a difficult time really understanding and loving poetry. I tend to find my own imagined "meanings" in it and read things that aren't there. I am terrible at writing poetry, generally, because I feel constrained by the structure and pressure of doing it the "right" way. But this activity was a great stress-reliever for me. The day that we did it in class, I really enjoyed it and was able to create completely uninhibited. I'm pretty proud of the product, but I can't share it with you here because we had to put them up on the bulletin board in our classroom. I promise to share it when they let me bring it home.
In the meantime, I can confess that I'm such an English nerd that I used the words I had left from class and wrote another refrigerator poem on Friday afternoon while I was snowed in. And, although I am terrible at receiving feedback on my writing (either good or bad), I'm going to share this with all of you in blog-dom. Be kind.

Quiet
Woods fill
Up with
Smooth
Snow

Twinkling
Free
Under the
Hush

The universe
Wanders
Away

Billows
Sliding
Down the
Willow
Breathing Deep

Sounds trailing
Sandman
Smells
A dream


Morning
Sweeps
In around
A forest bower

Inside
The dry flame
Roaring hot

Curled inside a
Sweet cocoon
The easy laughing
Wrinkles His nose
and
mine

When
Comes
Music

Just for us