Fringe (n+1)


you shouldn’t message with


a pair finished

I’ve seen people share about the N+& form (S+7), where you replace every noun in a poem by the seventh one from it in a dictionary. I tought it was slightly interesting but never gave it a try.

Today I watched a beautiful film-poem by Kirsten Luckins and it made me really curious about what this form has to offer. Luckily, the post provided a link to the N+7 machine, where lazy people like me can find out what it has to offer without too much effort.

I leafed through my statistics and chose a poem that has been read least of all, and fed it to the machine. It was a found poem to start with, so outside what I usually write. The results were surprisingly interesting.

I’m going to share the things I liked or create new poems from them. There’s enough to keep me going for weeks. Which would be rather boring to read I believe, so I’ll try to do it on a set day. Since it’s Friday today, I’ll probably call it #N+Friday for thos who want to follow the posts.

I’ve started with a really simple one today. This is the original fragment (so N+0):

you shouldn’t mess with
a painting finished.

I think it will be interesting to see how I can make the things the machine comes up with ‘mine’. I can simply copy and paste, or I can alter. Line breaks, punctuation, word order, or anything I feel that will make it ‘better’ or more mine.

The original poems I used for the poem were in Dutch. Then they were translated. Then I erased words to make it an erasure poem. Then I fed it to the machine… And now I play with what comes out. Never a dull moment when you like words!


To-d’s door

The door to do
doesn’t differ
from the door to don’t
both have handles
the deceiving difference
is their paint


I’ve seen Manja‘s Thursday doors so may times, that when I saw this beautiful door in Denmark I thought of her straight away. When I told her I had a door to share with her, she invited me to share it for Thursday doors. I hadn’t thought of that yet, but I liked the idea. I then had the choice between two blogs: here, where I share my poems. Or on the blog where I share posts as procrastination coach. I thought a poem would be more fun 🙂 I considered using an old poem that features doors, but I felt this beautiful door deserved a new poem.

This picture of the door is mine. I’ve found a picture of the full door here.

As a bonus, a song that came to my mind when I thought about the Dutch word for door, which is deur The refrain says: After every door you open, there’s another one you close. And that’s how you remain hidden, it’s never more than a tip of the veil that gets lifted. The songwriter who wrote the text is a wizzard with the Dutch language. My translation doesn’t do him justice.

Souled out

Salvation sold at seventy cents a second
Duress durably ditched

Salvation solves
Grab guaranteed grace now

Salvation sells
Seventy cents a soul


NaPoWriMo has finished, but the prompts have tendency to linger sometimes… Their influence can last days, months, or even years. There’s also a secret tradition of April 31st… Graeme Sandford might well be to blame for that.


A man walked into a metaphor
It wasn’t funny

On day 29: Bonus poem for the penultimate day of #Napowrimo. I tried to write a longer one that started with this opening sentence. That didn’t work. So this is it.

Today, on day 30: I’ve added a quick sketch made for today’s prompt, so that this can officially be my last poem for #NaPoWriMo. Our last prompt was a minimalist poem, and I fully recommend clicking on this article to discover what they are. Amazing. Weird. Difficult. Fun.

How I wish it was me who wrote this one, called Concrete Poem.


Off the road

Don’t know where I am going
Don’t know where I have been
I’m on a road to nowhere
No destination to be seen

Don’t see a speed sign when there is one
Don’t know how to slow down
I’ve been on the road to nowhere
From the day I left our town

When I wake up in the morning
I get myself a beer
I know the future is uncertain
But the end cannot be near
I’m on a road to nowhere
living in high gear

I know what I am knowing
I can’t say what I have seen
It make me take this road to nowhere
I’m not who I have been

Here on this dark desert highway
If I ever see a shimmering light
and I smell the smell of colitas
I will stop for the night

If they dance in the courtyard,
then – and only then
I will stay off off this road to nowhere
And I’ll never get back again