Exquisite Corpse poems by M. Hagelmann and his creative writing students.
Happiness can be very subjective like a cold threat of death phases.
I never knew just what year is it, buddy.
Blue sky filled with rain is a soothing sound.
Bored out of my mind games.
See, that’s how it’s done.
Putting up with it is a movie.
Bread and butter is good is being quickly repeated and repeated and repeated over and over again and again.
The future me will be happy places.
Flower gardens need water quick is how I run.
Stupid little shapes make up the world wonders.
Desire a lot of money is some people’s love.
The periodic table stands in the corner.
Much-needed vacation is arranged marriage.
Please go to the store memory.
You will bargain with idiots if you’re not the brightest person.
Words are hard to match the numbers.
A noun is useless in sentences with no words.
Sentences with no words rhyme.
Please don’t walk the fish in the sea.
Season tickets to the fight or flight response is not really my problem solving.
Mom is a birthgiver that creates and creates.
Delicacy is a fragile word of the night.
Wheat bread, for the birds fly in different directions to the laundromat.
“I don’t know” is better than “no dogs are allowed at midnight.”
Thunder is very loud and it came fast like a plane with no stop.
Freedom is a wish for a kiss.
Poorly drawn characters usually die. I don’t want to.
You are punished for saving the innocent. The criminal was not.
Not a game, but a lie of truth that won’t take it for granted.
Sweet fruit juices seep into leather.
I love to dress up and down and around.
Snickerdoodles, and sometimes people, mess up.
A crazy concept is my memory; it’s glamourous, shiny, bright beautiful flowers like the followers on Youtube.
Birds are nerds of the sky.
The pepper had salt and pepper.
I hate running in sports; I’m the goat, like LeBron, a basketball player who had the recent clue on the board for the love of God.
Camera takes beautiful memories like a bike or sky was gray with clouds.
Clouds are like cotton candy stolen from the baby Yoda.
You are so pretty colors.
I am words.
Crows can fly so high to feel something other than pain.
You won’t be laughing soon as I finish the end of the end is near.
Part of philosophy is the study: “‘Of’ is a strange word.”
Rochelle is a town where are my shoes.
Old man smells like stinky fish are able to play Guitar Hero with a Communist.
Today is an amazing day like the Monday when I was very little.
Men are people who can’t do it today, whatever.
I was meant to be a long day.
Say my name. Say something to her face and claim she’s kind.
Lungs can hurt when running from a gruesome past.
The walls are caving in the bathroom stall, crying yourself to sleep, because the sky is blue is the sky is as blue as long as you’re safe.
When I laugh, you laugh about the dog today.
I am wearing warm air.
Store the guns safely in a magical place far from okay but smiling widely at the girl.
The girl is so nice to me for nothing at all.
I wait to eat a whole cow with an annoying cricket.
You surely will keep surviving a terrible, ugly storm.
2023 is my year. 2023 is cold as a snowflake in the snow drops over.
Crazy girl is wild birds fly in skies.
A sleeping bag of many screws were all left behind the wall, staring creepily.
Rhyme a word with the dead no longer.
The sky is blue whales on the television.
Time is on a clock of twelve numbers with frogs and lizards.
Man-kind will suffer the consequences of radical and extreme candy flavors.
I am very bored but I can’t think about your life.
Red Chevy Bel Air /
old people scare me/
time is much needed /
to help a cat in the striped hat rhyme.
Slime is the reincarnation of is.
I can’t read what you are doing.
Rochelle is a town of the living, gone but not forgotten, lore.
The body will never be mine to claim and take away.
Soon the sun will set out of the sky full of night stars.
It is snowing out of a bird.
I am stuck in the past with a sense of humor.
Border Collie-graphy means to write on the line.
Feetsies need to be as kind as song.
Restaurant was empty in morning light, glowing in sorrow.
Wants are not needs not to be.
MonkeyMoonMachine 
You must be logged in to post a comment.