I once had a creative writing book of some sort - I probably still do, tucked into the bookshelves in my spare bedroom, hidden behind storage boxes, dusty with unuse - that made suggestions on exercises you could do to get your creative juices flowing.
One such exercise was the "wordpool" - where you write out whatever words and phrases come to mind, letting the stream of consciousness take you wherever it will, focusing on a particular topic or a feeling if one occurs to you, not specifically trying to make a poem of it. Sometimes you can find a poem within it, or use the wordpool to pluck images out of and make into a poem.
In the absence of something more noteworthy to discuss, a wordpool on baseball season:
hot night sweet smell of freshly mown grass slap of leather crack of the bat
ice cream melting in the cone and dripping on my bare leg
bright lights against black sky peanut shells underfoot
purple and white everywhere the roof is open and i can see the stars
finley on the jumbotron da-da-da-DA-da-DA: CHAAAAAAAARGE! scramble for a foul ball
stee-rike! cha-ching as the Circle K strikeout meter racks up another "K"
crowds in line for nachos beeeeeeeeeer here! the wave goes around again
pressing through the team shop for a souvenir shirt
hard plastic at my back constant murmur of the crowd keep your eye on the ball
scorecard and stubby pencil balanced on my lap
who's up in the bullpen? hey blue, what're ya, blind?
yeahhhh baby! victory is sweet
god i love this game
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