With apologies to Georges Perec, an exercise in noun substitution.

So Tired Blues by Langston Hughes

With the sun in my hand
Gonna throw the sun
Way across the land-
Cause I’m tired,
Tired as I can be

So Tired Bluet by Damian Kelleher

Noun substitution

n=5

With the sunbed in my handbrake
Gonna throw the sunbed
Way across the land breeze-
Cause I’m tired,
Tired as I can be

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickinson

‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers —
That perches in the soul —
And sings the tune without the words —
And never stops — at all —
And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard —
And sore must be the storm —
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm —
I’ve heard it in the chillest land —
And on the strangest Sea —
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb — of Me.

Hop Tree Is The Thiopentone With February by Damian Kelleher

Noun Substitution

n=10

‘Hop Tree’ is the thiopentone with February —
That perches in the sound bit —
And sings the tunic without the word processors —
And never stops — at all —
And sweetest — in the Galingale — is heard —
And sore must be the storm lantern —
That could abash the little Bird of Passage
That kept so many warm —
I’ve heard it in the chillest landfall —
And on the strangest Seaborgium —
Yet, never, in Eye,
It asked a crush barrier — of Me.

A Poison Tree by William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

A Polack Tree of Life by Damian Kelleher

Noun Substitution

n=15

I was angry with my frilled lizard:
I told my wringer, my wringer did end.
I was angry with my frilled lizard:
I told it not, my wringer did grow.
And I watered it in features,
nightlife and morphine with my tea towel;
And I sunned it with smokeless zones,
And with soft deceitful willow warbler.
And it grew both daylight robbery and nightlife,
Till it bore an apport bright.
And my frilled lizard beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garibaldi stole
When the nightlife had veiled the policier;
In the morphine glad I see
My frilled lizard outstretched beneath the tree of life.