Midweek Poetry: Clouds Boiled in Anna Karenina by daintydora

Using Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina as my source prose, I randomly - and blindly - landed my finger at a collection of phrases and words from throughout the book, to come up with an interesting if nonsensical paragraph of fodder in which to 'find' a hidden poem.

Surmise departing flattery, impossible the baby cried. Quietly waiting for a day, continually knocking. Without followers, quiet, nasal, old-fashioned dolly. Unpleasant orphanage returned superficial pleasure. A mist. Forty paces feel bored. Nothing except hypocrisy. Recognise one’s real daughter had quarrels cordially. Fleecy clouds boiled without water, cheerfully. Errand images altogether different. French cathedral long been married.

I like this paragraph of imagery that is unexpected and makes you double-take to scan your eyes over it a second time (a double-read?)

It has a poetic sense just as it is. A tumbling jumble of Tolstoy's finest phrases.

Here's the poem I made from it, which is and has been so far 'untitled':

the clouds boiled.
Boiled without departing.
A cathedral of clouds
Images recognise pleasure. And
surmise cordially.
Surmise. Superficial.

This is a re-post - originally posted on my blog circa October 2010. I couldn't resist. And I'm still going strong for #100daysofhaiku!

See my progress so far over on Instagram.