Recently found that Google docs thing where you can collaborate with dead authors like Poe, Shakespeare, Dickenson and Dickens.
This is what they made of Circle.
‘It was the best of times, it was… ” Unlike most ” said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper of the other places I’ve mentioned thus far, you emphatically won’t see Charlie Connor’s fair and stately palace anymore. Instead, you’ll voraciously come to a beautiful drive with tall elms as well as white gravel and a large black gate, with a chain and a yellow sign on it assuredly declaring “Warning: Dangerous site” and a lot of police “tape”, he growled incoherently. And a charred skeleton of bricks, mortar, glass and carpets. I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat. Like Scrappy. Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.’
And this is what they made of the most-used poem in Son of Songs.
‘Tyger tyger burning luminous,
“In the forests of the night” replied Oliver, “I want some more”.
What immortal fingered palm or eye
Did frame thy fearful symmetry? There are no eternal facts, as there are no absolute truths.
On what wings dare he aspire
Oh what the hand may seize the halo of a world of loveless suffering? I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners.’
Have a go – it’s a good laugh!