My poem, N+7

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My poem, N+7

Postby Wynn » Fri Nov 06, 2009 11:51 pm

I posted a poem of mine awhile back. Here is the same poem, put into the N+7 machine. You can find it here: http://www.spub.co.uk/n+7/
N+7 is a machine that replaces all the nouns with other nouns in the dictionary. For example, N+1 would make all the nouns switch to the next noun in the dictionary.
My poem is hilarious morphed this way! Enjoy!

N+0

Blooming girl, you are the jester’s bells,
The merriest of all the things that ring,
Painless, light, and easy my heart swells
As when I hear the warbling birds in Spring,
Or when the sun-warmed wind on morning climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hillsides steeped in dew,
With unheard ditties sweeter than heard chimes:
So when she sees you, Mother Earth breathes new.
Even as the mellow sky in rosy-hue
Lulls the fields and drinks the sun’s last rays,
A sparrow sings it’s final song for you,
An ode to your blown hair and lantern face.
And as the orange moon ascends with careful sorrow,
Nature ponders how to greet you on the morrow.

N+1

Blooming girlfriend, you are the jester’s bellboys,
The merriest of all the thingamabobs that ringer,
Painless, lighter, and easy my heartache swellings
As when I hear the warbling birdcages in Springboard,
Or when the sunbather-warmed windbag on moron climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hilltops steeped in dew,
With unheard divans sweeter than heard chimeras:
So when she sees you, Mother-in-law Earthquake breathes new.
Even as the mellow skydiver in rosy-huff
Lulls the fielders and drinkers the sun’s last razors,
A spasm singes it’s final songbird for you,
An odour to your blown hairbrush and lanyard facet.
And as the orangery moonbeam ascends with careful sort,
Nature ponders how to greeting you on the morrow.

N+2

Blooming giro, you are the jester’s belles,
The merriest of all the thingummies that ringleader,
Painless, lighthouse, and easy my heartbeat swelters
As when I hear the warbling birdies in Springbok,
Or when the sunbeam-warmed windbreak on morsel climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hilts steeped in dew,
With unheard dives sweeter than heard chimneys:
So when she sees you, Motherland Earthwork breathes new.
Even as the mellow skylark in rosy-hug
Lulls the fieldmouses and drinkings the sun’s last reactions,
A spat singers it’s final son-in-law for you,
An odyssey to your blown haircut and lap facial.
And as the oration moonlight ascends with careful sortie,
Nature ponders how to gremlin you on the morrow.
N+3

Blooming girth, you are the jester’s bellhops,
The merriest of all the thinkers that ringlet,
Painless, lighting, and easy my heartbreak swifts
As when I hear the warbling births in Spring-clean,
Or when the sunbonnet-warmed windfall on mortal climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hinds steeped in dew,
With unheard divers sweeter than heard chimps:
So when she sees you, Motif Earthworm breathes new.
Even as the mellow skylight in rosy-hulk
Lulls the fiends and drips the sun’s last reactionaries,
A spate single-deckers it’s final sonnet for you,
An oesophagus to your blown hairdo and lapel facility.
And as the orator moor ascends with careful sot,
Nature ponders how to grenade you on the morrow.
N+4

Blooming glacier, you are the jester’s belligerents,
The merriest of all the thinkings that ringmaster,
Painless, lightning, and easy my hearth swills
As when I hear the warbling birthdays in Sprinkler,
Or when the sunburn-warmed windlass on mortality climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hindrances steeped in dew,
With unheard divergences sweeter than heard chimpanzees:
So when she sees you, Motion Earwig breathes new.
Even as the mellow skyline in rosy-hull
Lulls the fiestas and drives the sun’s last reactors,
A spatula singlets it’s final sop for you,
An off-day to your blown hairdresser and lapse facing.
And as the oratorio moorhen ascends with careful souffle,
Nature ponders how to grey you on the morrow.

N+5

Blooming glade, you are the jester’s bellows,
The merriest of all the think-tanks that rink,
Painless, lightship, and easy my hearthrug swims
As when I hear the warbling birthmarks in Sprinkling,
Or when the sundae-warmed windmill on mortar climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hinges steeped in dew,
With unheard diversions sweeter than heard chins:
So when she sees you, Motivation Ease breathes new.
Even as the mellow skyscraper in rosy-hullabaloo
Lulls the fifes and drive-ins the sun’s last readers,
A spawn sinks it’s final sophistry for you,
An offence to your blown hairline and lapwing facsimile.
And as the oratory mooring ascends with careful sough,
Nature ponders how to greyhound you on the morrow.

N+6

Blooming gladiator, you are the jester’s bellies,
The merriest of all the thirsts that riot,
Painless, lightweight, and easy my heartland swimmers
As when I hear the warbling birthplaces in Sprint,
Or when the sundial-warmed window on mortarboard climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hints steeped in dew,
With unheard diversities sweeter than heard chinks:
So when she sees you, Motive Easel breathes new.
Even as the mellow slab in rosy-hum
Lulls the figs and drivels the sun’s last readerships,
A speaker sinkers it’s final soprano for you,
An offender to your blown hairnet and larch fact.
And as the orb moorland ascends with careful soul,
Nature ponders how to grid you on the morrow.

N+7

Blooming glance, you are the jester’s bellyaches,
The merriest of all the thistles that rioter,
Painless, light-year, and easy my heartthrob swimmings
As when I hear the warbling birthrights in Sprinter,
Or when the sundry-warmed window-dresser on mortgage climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hinterlands steeped in dew,
With unheard divides sweeter than heard chips:
So when she sees you, Motor East breathes new.
Even as the mellow slacker in rosy-humanitarian
Lulls the fights and drivers the sun’s last readings,
A spear sinners it’s final sorbet for you,
An offensive to your blown hairpiece and lard faction.
And as the orbit mop ascends with careful sound,
Nature ponders how to griddle you on the morrow.

N+8

Blooming gland, you are the jester’s belts,
The merriest of all the thongs that rip,
Painless, likelihood, and easy my heart-to-heart swimsuits
As when I hear the warbling biscuits in Sprite,
Or when the sunflower-warmed windpipe on mortician climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hips steeped in dew,
With unheard dividends sweeter than heard chipmunks:
So when she sees you, Motorbike Easter breathes new.
Even as the mellow slag in rosy-humanity
Lulls the fighters and driveways the sun’s last readjustments,
A spearhead sinuss it’s final sorcerer for you,
An offering to your blown hairpin and larder factor.
And as the orchard mope ascends with careful sounding,
Nature ponders how to grief you on the morrow.

N+9

Blooming glare, you are the jester’s benches,
The merriest of all the thoraxes that ripcord,
Painless, likeness, and easy my hearty swindles
As when I hear the warbling bisexuals in Sprocket,
Or when the sunhat-warmed windscreen on mortise climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hippies steeped in dew,
With unheard dividers sweeter than heard chiropodists:
So when she sees you, Motorboat Easterner breathes new.
Even as the mellow slalom in rosy-humanoid
Lulls the fightings and drivings the sun’s last realists,
A spearmint sips it’s final sorceress for you,
An office to your blown hairstyle and lark factory.
And as the orchestra moped ascends with careful soundtrack,
Nature ponders how to grievance you on the morrow.

N+10

Blooming glass, you are the jester’s benchmarks,
The merriest of all the thorns that rip-off,
Painless, lilac, and easy my heat swindlers
As when I hear the warbling bishops in Sprout,
Or when the sunlight-warmed windshield on mortuary climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hippos steeped in dew,
With unheard divines sweeter than heard chirps:
So when she sees you, Motorcade Eastward breathes new.
Even as the mellow slam in rosy-humbug
Lulls the figments and drizzles the sun’s last realities,
A spec siphons it’s final sore for you,
An officer to your blown half and larva factotum.
And as the orchestration moral ascends with careful soup,
Nature ponders how to grill you on the morrow.

N+11

Blooming glasshouse, you are the jester’s bends,
The merriest of all the thoroughfares that riposte,
Painless, lilt, and easy my heater swines
As when I hear the warbling bishoprics in Spruce,
Or when the sunrise-warmed wine on mosaic climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hippopotamuss steeped in dew,
With unheard divinities sweeter than heard chirrups:
So when she sees you, Motorcycle Eater breathes new.
Even as the mellow slander in rosy-humdinger
Lulls the figures and dromedaries the sun’s last realms,
A specialism sirs it’s final sorrow for you,
An official to your blown half-brother and larynx faculty.
And as the orchid morale ascends with careful sour,
Nature ponders how to grille you on the morrow.

N+12

Blooming glaze, you are the jester’s benders,
The merriest of all the thoughts that ripper,
Painless, lily, and easy my heath swings
As when I hear the warbling bisons in Spud,
Or when the sunroof-warmed wing on mosque climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hires steeped in dew,
With unheard divisions sweeter than heard chisels:
So when she sees you, Motorcyclist Eating breathes new.
Even as the mellow slant in rosy-humerus
Lulls the figureheads and drones the sun’s last realtors,
A specialist sires it’s final sort for you,
An off-licence to your blown half-caste and laser fad.
And as the ordeal moralist ascends with careful source,
Nature ponders how to grimace you on the morrow.

N+13

Blooming gleam, you are the jester’s benedictions,
The merriest of all the thrashes that ripple,
Painless, limb, and easy my heathen swingers
As when I hear the warbling bistros in Spunky,
Or when the sunset-warmed winger on mosquito climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hirelings steeped in dew,
With unheard divorces sweeter than heard chits:
So when she sees you, Motorist Eavesdropper breathes new.
Even as the mellow slap in rosy-humiliation
Lulls the figurines and drools the sun’s last reams,
A speciality sirens it’s final sortie for you,
An offset to your blown half-day and lash fag.
And as the order morality ascends with careful south,
Nature ponders how to grin you on the morrow.

N+14

Blooming glen, you are the jester’s benefactors,
The merriest of all the threads that rise,
Painless, limber, and easy my heating swipes
As when I hear the warbling bits in Spur,
Or when the sunshade-warmed wingspan on moss climbs,
Endears the flow’ring hisses steeped in dew,
With unheard divorcees sweeter than heard chlorides:
So when she sees you, Motorway Ebb breathes new.
Even as the mellow slash in rosy-hummingbird
Lulls the filaments and droops the sun’s last reapers,
A specialty sirloins it’s final sot for you,
An offshoot to your blown half-life and lashing faggot.
And as the orderly morass ascends with careful southerner,
Nature ponders how to grinder you on the morrow.

N+15

Blooming glide, you are the jester’s benefactresses,
The merriest of all the threats that riser,
Painless, lime, and easy my heave swirls
As when I hear the warbling bitches in Spy,
Or when the sunshine-warmed wink on motel climbs,
Endears the flow’ring historians steeped in dew,
With unheard divots sweeter than heard chloroforms:
So when she sees you, Motto Ebony breathes new.
Even as the mellow slat in rosy-humorist
Lulls the files and drops the sun’s last reappearances,
A species sissies it’s final souffle for you,
An ogle to your blown half-note and lass failing.
And as the ordinance moratorium ascends with careful southward,
Nature ponders how to grindstone you on the morrow.
"Never trust a poet who can't construct a stanza."
— Clive James
Wynn
 
Posts: 29
Joined: Tue Apr 07, 2009 1:05 am
Location: California

Re: My poem, N+7

Postby keatsclose » Fri Dec 18, 2009 1:31 pm

Really enjoyed your poem - and the hilarity of the later, altered versions.
Many thanks!
keatsclose
 
Posts: 52
Joined: Sat Nov 14, 2009 12:15 am


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