Post your poems
others say stuff about them
The do I regret doing the most
Is the time I did the do
While waiting for a God as patient as a tree,
I was covered by reproaching flies,
Noting the rust and dust of waiting, breaking me.
I was rousing when my garden entreated me,
So I watered my groves and plucked their prize.
While waiting for a God as patient as a tree,
I wander collecting ripe figs for a royal We.
Tearing them I see, in meat, these evening skies
Noting the rust and dust of waiting, breaking me.
I must, I must shake this dust from me!
My urgency was met with resounding sighs.
While waiting for a God as patient as a tree,
I began to walk, pushing towards the sea;
Until clouds looked down with prying eyes,
Noting the rust and dust of waiting, breaking me.
I crumble on the shore, mixing sand with my debris.
Grinding me with the world The Weatherer watched as I,
While waiting for a God as patient as a tree,
Noted the rust and dust of waiting, breaking me.
I know I need to fix the tree/me rhymes
any suggestions?
>>8119665
I lay awake, bereft of thought;
Not a single ponder; I careth for naught
I sleepeth away my time, carelessly in a Lilliputian loft;
The void caressing my very essence, I wait for expiration
I await no emendation, for my time has passed;
Tuck me in, let me die
>>8119728
>mfw
You shit in gutters
Fuck where you shit
I don't want to be like you
But I'm still rooting for you.
So when I donate a twenty
Don't think you should follow
Cause I have more self respect
Than a whore like you.
The Tall Grass
Pound, damn you
Taking the good lines; planting Zucchini, Tomatoes, Plum trees (tilled rough)
Gramps shooting rats in the chicken coop_ Bill meet Bill, just keep talking
Avoiding to no avail those lyme-diseased pests
Couch surf; in a month we’ll be living outta the car; fridge is icebox – ice is from motels – food inside icebox is dehydrated fruits, nuts, eggs & sausage; paying for something we paid for all last year
Before we sleep, apply tooth paste to pimples
The dream: girl undressing in front of thee (getting ready for some other guy) – We, thinking about a maniac who can’t make up their mind about us – with each layer that this girl takes off, she ages gaucherie as we’ll preserve youth, knowing we won’t be able to act as we’re supposed to within this aeon
When we wake up, administer ointments to bags under the eyes.
>>8119813
>those AJJ lyrics
mein neger
We weren't looking for it.
ignorance is no shield
You are not good
They do not find it.
Your eyes closed
You don't look
You weren't aware of it.
How?
No really fucking how?
There is a world.
Google something besides yourself
Slaves in the factory
Slaves in that country
Children sold for a ten
Drugs at every corner
Blood is on your hands
You killed children, women, men, entire countries.
It's not blood. Just a skin tone.
There's 57 In the beauty store.
While you're there you can do more .
You donate to charity
You do food drives
You are good.
You care for others
So you can care about yourself.
Cold as ice
Quite as mice
He was in a ridge
Under the old bridge
the air was fair
for is seemed not care
that he was there
scratched by a bear
last words not known
all left was bone
2016.
I hate now,
And I hate 2016.
I wish I was living twenty years in the future
And looking back on 2016 instead.
Then I think I might enjoy it.
I've noticed that
The only things I like
Are the things
That remind me
Of the past.
Like songs that chop up old Diana Ross songs
Or emulate lo fi cassette aesthetics
And combine them with visuals
Of animes that aren't the ones I watched
But remind me of the ones I watched
When I was a little kid.
Sometimes I sit and think:
Was Fukuyama right?
Have we gone too far?
Have we reached the end
Where everything is so clean and safe
And perfectly optimized
And white?
Sometimes I sit and think:
Twenty years ago,
I wasn't alive
Twenty years ago.
>>8119835
Don't really get it but I like this one.
Captures frenetic thought patterns pretty accurately, it's wry, dryly witty.
Would read more!
The Faceless rose, spoke, and so came forth this:
"There lies a land, near, past reach nonetheless,
where mournful peaks glance to ley below,
and roads no feet have tread nor builders kept
in memory of page or scribe. Yet said,
’tis no empty land, though stirs naught within.
Scribes, it has, and builders and fathers and sons.
A King, it had, and courtiers and pipers and drums.
Tables, there are, set beneath still faces,
and no food, though untouched by creature or beast,
but mouldered and rotted to stain.
Those scribes, they hunch, over parchment gone to dust,
their hands stayed, in monument unwilling,
of those deepest crimes for greatest cause
wrought in vain, and none left to lament."
>>8122009
interesting, would like to see it in the context of some longer poem or larger collection. It piques my interest but ultimately lets me down. Is there more?
I need a brown honey to hold me tight in the night
Have some fun in the sun
Pinch my leg with a peg.
Show me her culture while we eat a vulture
Smell her back while she sniff blue tack
I brush her hair and play truth or dare.
we go bare back, as hold he rack
I go like a bull, he womb is full
Her belly is bigger, people snigger
I look at her calf, and hide my luagh
she goes through labour, I will be a creator
Do i run away, or do i stay?
There once was an anon on 4chan
Who believed he was a patrician
He dwelt on /lit/
Read books to feel elite
It became his intellectual ammunition
He spent his time in bookshelf generals
Rating others patrician or pleb
Literature was his accessory
And no one likes a brag
Intellectual isolationism is such a drag
Nobody I knew had read Dostoyevsky,
Ulysses or Pychon
The real world is not for me
So now I live on 4chan
The true patrician
>>8122455
>rhyming /lit/ with elite
metre is all off babe
>>8119671
Dew of thee Mountain,
Quench thy thirst,
Let powdered pyramids into me,
And Yea as I wipe these NPCs,
Vanquished from these cheese-stained fingers
>>8122455
I know man, I was struggling. I don't really write poetry ever, I was just trying to have a bit of fun.
What would you have rhymed /lit/ with?
>>8122473
shit-tit
>>8122403
really enjoyed this poem, made me snigger. Keep it up anon.
>>8121875
i like it
bound by sound
vibrating tension
i flee to my mansion
it is of solitude
but you may intrude
you're my guest
not just some pest
And this financial noose around my neck
Suspends my life in bleak abeyant wreck;
A burden bound, my shoulders boulder-bent,
To live in debt, indentured time to rent
A life of loans, of five to nine to dust;
No time to write, my art begins to rust.
I sink in lease of bills and debts—I think
Of stopping, stepping backwards from the brink,
Before I fall from edge to then be caught,
My neck to break—Usura’s rope pulled taut.
In portuguese:
http://affalencia.blogspot.pt/
>>8119679
This is insufferable trash, anon, sorry.
Repetitive, stiff & formal, cutesy, trying too hard, etc.
>>8123846
But most of all, also just hard to understand wtf you are trying to say
>>8119728
Seems like there is some substance to the ideas here, but the writing is kind of shitty. You shouldn't be so repetitive with your language, i.e. careth/carelessly, wait/await. Separation between the stanzas is kind of random and weird, the whole flow feels pretty disconnected. Stringing together idle sentences on the same topic doesn't really make for good poetry.
>>8119665
Person on the track.
The announcement barely registers.
A few ears twitch,
Most are unmoved.
My ears are greedy for the sound,
I feel it before I hear it.
The cool wind almost chills my resolve,
But the sound keeps building.
The waxing light stains my closed eyelids
as the inexorable howl hurtles towards its climax.
No district line service.
Selfish bastard!
I've posted this a couple times here, but it's never really elicited a response. I know it is bad, but I think it's good to get a second opinion before I revise it. The third section isn't done yet. I don't have a title yet, either. I've indicated where I have italics with [i] notation.
I
Who can say they’ve known the depth of Winter?
The men and bits of paper, whirled around
To graves or archives, away from center,
Are only influenced: their knowledge only sound.
But who’s too late to know the late Autumnal light?—
Too deep, even, for the street-bred mental might.
Men and bits of paper. Joe Gould, the hawklike man,
Was never one for Nature’s nor the city’s plan:
Not for him the visionary company,
For the writer, like the victim of transfusion,
Is always even ‘gainst himself in mutiny.
The rhythmed line is broken by confusion.
Don’t tell me about the frigid, burning rose,
The Soul and Self in Combat in the Dark,
Or stars and lines (like porcelain) in perfect rows:
Without compassionate formality, it’d seem a lark
To sketch the buildings bright, the masses daft.
There is boundless space to fill in Circe’s craft.
II
Herodotus, combin’d
With speech from lands where wind
The evening suns eschew’d
By Europe, imbued and woo’d
The fi’ry mind.
‘For three years, out of key’—
But shall I quote quotation
Of men who knew no nation
(‘really [i]knew[/i]’)
To talk of mine—or Gould’s—ennui?
Shall I break
my lines
up so
just to say
that i am an
imposter?
cummings
williams
other secret imitators
line misbreakers
hear me, who
am dead 100 years
hence:
hear
that i say you are imposters,
who have not
Known
(‘really [i]known[/i]’)
The substantial savagery of a century
At once your own
And for none (but the gull) to own.
III
Before the syphilitic eyes, the ears
That had been boxed by the procession of the years,
Took shape the form of black’nd Urania,
Who gave a promise of a holier scansion
Than could be found in marbled hall or mansion—
‘A few thousand battered books.’ [i]That[/i] mania,
At any rate, could find no currency
In the minting-shop of thoughts. Expediency,
Or some other word to torment Ezra Pound,
‘”Demanded”’ the ferocity
Of Mussolini’s hound—
‘Not, not assuredly’ the delicacy
Of a Gull in mists Manhattanbound.
Just what am I to say with this? What to do?
Is it just to mourn past Rhapsodes of the Blue?
I’ve said before (will not say again)
I’ll no more hear of life nor death upon the Main
(Or to be precise, will no more in the heart’s eye save:
With awful pleasure, I still hear ‘the audition of the wave’
Caught in the stopped-up ear);
So let’s enact the doctrine; certify
The project, though ill-conceived, with an eye
Toward the particulars of a single death,
As divorced from the haughty passage which openeth
The focused mind to universalized
Extravagancye.
>>8122203
It's intended as an intro to a novella that tells the story behind the situation described in the poem. Haven't written the novella yet.
I'm also toying with the idea of writing a collection of sonnets that all describe some point along the progression of a cataclysm, across many different scenarios and universes. That poem up there obviously describes the aftermath of some fantastical and obscure disaster. This one below, on the other hand, precedes the disaster, and is a bit more rooted in our own reality:
Grauhesch leers from his chamber, unbidden,
as we slink the shade of his view, unseen.
Grey king abed in his prison, unchained—
as our fear far stricter bids us silent.
That courtly mock: a wrinkled brow in thought,
repeated in bulbous and reaching flesh,
scornful wet facsimile of our own.
What hubris took hold and drove us here—
to cower before the insensate?
Long severed and silenced and bound but still,
the echo remains and shackles in turn.
Foul prophet those mouthless lines to lay,
not in mist and shadow but statute and stone.
What fault is this but ours, and ours alone?
>>8119866
not him but i'm seeing them on the 18th in seattle and i'm so hyped
>>8123989
i like the third paragraph of I.
as someone who knows little about poetry but is very opinionated on everything, i'm puzzled at what you're even trying to do here with the various formats of poetry you're trying to combine into one.
if you want to use greek mythology as a motif, then make it more consistent.
i think you would benefit from adopting the,"less is more" philosophy. I apologize if this is your first efforts outside of minimalism, but it isn't successful.
>>8123846
It's a villanelle, it's supposed to be repetitive. But I doubt you knew that, or even know what a villanelle is, or even know what meter is. Your critique is trash.
>>8119679
That being said, the poem isn't great anon. It doesn't really say anything. The imagery is nice, but it's kind of pointless unless you're using it as a vehicle to portray a message or meaning, which your poem seems to lack.
>>8123989
You are basically just ripping off Elliot's "Four Quartets" and writing it worse.
>>8123989
very terrible. Derivative of T.S. Elliot.
I'd be better off comatose
Not so dead as to be nothing
But not living enough to be carnal
The world's desires are the mind's desires
But this flesh is broken and heaven is better imagined
The mental palace is made for habitation
My dreams are real but hard to come by
Rather than have me linger at the door
One foot in and one foot out
Just let me step inside
>>8124157
>>8124133
Actually, I think it's more derivative of Ezra Pound (as you can probably tell, I'm quoting from Mauberley a lot), but it's interesting that you think it sounds like Four Quartets. I guess I do have a quote from 'East Coker' in there, but I don't see much relation beyond that. I'm looking for something more specific here.
>>8123989
who has known the depths of winter?
bits-of-paper-men, whirled around
to graves or archives, only influenced;
ear-men only, ears and ears, and
Bits-of-receipt-paper-men. Joe Gould, the hawklike man,
was never one for nature's, nor for city's plan,
and mutinied against even himself,
my girlfriend just yelled at me to do the dishes. i think this is the only salvageable poem in the thread, it has good things in it.
read more poetry besides eliot and try to be free in your poetry, people can tell when you feel restrained
i probably didnt undrstand some things--if i missed the mark entirely, WHOOPS and i wont be back ha-ha
There's the person you think you are
and the person you strive to be,
But it's the middle ground that makes you
It made a mockery of me.I wrote this years ago when I was 16
>>8124524
ok.
here are some examples of how it is derivative:
“Joe Gould, the hawklike man,
Was never one for Nature’s nor the city’s plan:
Not for him the visionary company,”
Sounds like it was taken from from “death by water” in Waste Land.
‘Shall I break
my lines
up so
just to say
that i am an
imposter?”
Sounds like it was ripped straight from “My Grandmother’s Love Letters” by Hart Crane, is probably intentional.
“hear me, who
am dead 100 years”
Echoes the “I, Tiresias” part of Waste Land
“And for none (but the gull) to own.”
The use of the Parenthetical here seems to be derivative of Elliot.
“I’ll no more hear of life nor death upon the Main
(Or to be precise, will no more in the heart’s eye save:
With awful pleasure, I still hear ‘the audition of the wave’
Caught in the stopped-up ear);”
And here again the parenthetical seems to be derivative of Elliot.
“Grauhesch leers from his chamber, unbidden,”
Sounds like something from Eliot: compare it to the beginning of “Sweeney among the Nightingales “
I just do not see anything really new in the poem: It seems like you are trying to use the method similar to that which Elliot used in writing Waste Land quoting a lot of earlier writers (and that is how it is most derivative) but not saying anything new.
I swear to Jesus, I love cocks.
Cocks, cocks. How I love cocks!
What luscious foreskin! Gloried cocks!
The textured veins! On shafts of cocks!
I'd stretch my ass out for these cocks!
I guess what I mean's I love cocks!
The shemales have them. Female cocks!
The real males have them. True male cocks!
And I have one! But cock, not cocks!
Beware you females - numale cocks!
They grow real small - like clits, not cocks!
They cum too quick - they pussy cocks!
Is life real without sucking cocks?
I wouldn't know - why avoid cocks?
Abstain from evil - worship cocks!
A good denied's an evil - cocks!
Unless they're smelly nigger cocks!
Tiny smelly nigger cocks!
I love them all. All of the cocks!
But not nigger or jewish cocks!
/Pol/'s taught me not to suck their cocks!
The white males' cocks are master cocks!
But I digress - I love brown cocks!
Hispanic's fine - no nigger cocks!
I bet you've never sucked off cocks!
You're virgin! Go out, find some cocks!
There's cocks out there! There's futa cocks!
There's horsie cocks and doggy cocks!
There's fat guy cocks and small guy cocks!
There's even fucking numale cocks!
In short, each man alive loves cocks.
Straights love their own, gays straight guy cocks.
And you're a fucking nigger faggot piece of ball-sucking ass-eating jew-devoted pussy numale asshole cunt JIDF sjw feminist titty nipple Waluijew wannabe hipster ocial welfare'd useless eater if you don't suck cocks!
Cocks!
>>8122463
there's such a thing as a written rhyme
We dance on hollowed corpses,
we jugle with time in dark corners unseen,
when the bell rings midnight we come out in groups,
to dine on fire in the graves of our forefathers.
beware our wayfaring souls
our wounds are trophies of wars once lost,
drunk on moonlight and pain,
we show them with pride
>>8125833
>jugle
this sheath of skin,
preserves me within a breath
of non-animation
These layered cells divide the outside oxygen
from my brain
and differences in pressure
elements
heat
bacteria
projectiles
and drugs
will exploit and employ that difference
to make me rejoin the air
Monsters rise from the ground,
wrought from iron, glass, and concrete.
An old world under shadows drowned, their conquest nearly complete.
Grotesque forms rise to the skies,
Heavens territory is ceded.
The old from consumption dies,
its ancient spirit depleted.
Soulless blocks of glass now stand,
where once stood old forms proud.
Gone are the days of beauty grande,
replaced with a more modern brand.
why the fuck are y'all so tryhard and pretentious
>>8126062
where do you think you are
mulatto butts
mulatto butts
black and white butts
black and white butts
black ass momma
white ass daddy
mulatto butts
mulatto butts
black and white butts
mulatto butts
mulatto butts
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
>>8126258
That's genius, it really gives me the feels
>>8126258
>>8127594
>>8119665
the blood reeks
just like roses
spread all over the sheets
it is my will which closes
how long has time traveled
no indication by the clock
my blood pressure has leveled
all that's left is me
the towers surrounding
it's quite astounding
anyone can see me
and still they don't flee
i like the thought of thoughts
something that may never be caught
so who is here, lying on this bed
roses blossoming from my head
You people are alarming and stink of graphic t-shirts
>>8119665
What do you think about this?
The original is in dutch, but I translated it into english for you guys
Is dit een nepwereld? Een droom?
Wordt ik gek? Of ben ik misschien al gek?
Vandaag, vlak voor de tafeltennistraining
De secondewijzer van de klok
Stopt ineens bij de twaalf
De minutenwijzer gaat heel snel draaien
De wijzer die het uur aangeeft volgt
Dan, als alle wijzersbij de twaalf staan stopt het, ineens
Rond 10 minuten later, hoor je rommelende donder buiten
En dan 5 seconden later
Loopt de klok ineens verder
Alsof er niets was gebeurd
Scylla heeft geen ramen
Het leek bijna alsof er een demoon was ontvlucht, uit tartarus
Bij het stoplicht sprak mij ineens een vrouw aan
Haar leeftijd schat ik iets ouder in dan compier
Ze vroeg, "is dat niet te warm, met zo'n ding op je hoofd?"
Toen ging ze het over rubber hebben
Gek raar
the english version:
Is this world a fake? A dream perhaps?
Am I going crazy? Or am I maybe already?
Today, just before the ping-pong training
The clock's second-hand
Suddenly stops at the twelve
The minute-hand starts turning verry fast
The wand that expresses hours soon follows
Then, all wands on the twelve, it stops, at once
About 10 minutes later, there's a rolling thunder outside
Five seconds go by
And the clock starts again
As if nothing ever happened
Scylla has no windows
It was as if a demon had escaped, from the tartarus
In front of the traffic lights, a woman approached me
I estimate her age to be a little older than Compier
She asked, "Isn't that too warm, with such a thing on your head?"
Then she went on about rubber
Strange weird
No longer the seed alone, it thrieves for more
It has the knowledge, the mental abstraction,
The echoes of long lost hubris settled in stone,
But nothing of the sins that followed them after,
And above all the desire, bright as autumn light.
It tasted sour to King Shalmaneser, when he began
To set the formation stone of Great Assur
Oh, squiggly line in my eye fluid
I see you there, lurking on the periphery of my vision.
But when I try to look at you
You scurry away.
Are you shy, squiggly line?
Why only when I ignore you do you return to the center of my eye?
Oh, squiggly line, it's alright
You are forgiven.
>>8130320
Absolutely cute.
>>8124083
why does a poem need to say anything? nothing wrong with using imagery for its own sake
I'm giving up
On trying
To sell you things
That you ain't buying
![df48215313c10fe94788cd53969c7da4[1].jpg_3160072.jpg](https://i.imgur.com/i4VN3Gk.jpg "df48215313c10fe94788cd53969c7da4[1].jpg_3160072.jpg")
>>8130320 >>8130349
one floater in my eye
certainly was very shy,
throw a look -
she hides to a nook
and blushes, and blinks and sighs
bzz, not a fully proper limeric but im too lazy
heyy how u doin
wanna chat with me rite now?
blonde 34 D
/r9k/ poetry?
>>8123907
I am strangely a fan of this. It seems like a poem you might find in a gcse anthology and not realise how much you liked it.
Here are two of mine, basic Sonnets
Lighest day
How could I look upon sweet heaven here,
Forcing myself to keep my thoughts in chains,
So hard is it to keep my conscience clear,
When all that’s true to me is called her name,
I hark to dreams to guide my harmless heart,
and try to keep some truths within my mind,
For once I try to tear my love apart,
I cannot halt for it is so unkind,
All that I want is to look on her face,
And say to her that my soul calls to hers,
If only there were some abandoned place,
Where she and I could rest and lift our curse,
Alas my heart is hard at work alone,
And all my love is left unread, unknown.
Dream
Define for me eternity or don't,
Teeter with me, you've danced my heart askew
New endings mean we will begin or won't
Forever can now start again anew,
Tutor me now on how to win your smile
For in your lips lie all my dearest dreams
I'm ready now, I have been for a while,
Your golden hair, spun silk and sun fresh beams,
Let from loves ash rise bright a Phoenix cry,
For as we let it fly we both will know,
Without each other both would surely die,
Without a doubt no new blossom could grow,
At least that's how we feel when in my head,
These are my dreams, life is nightmare instead.
I am 'fraid of travelling,
Fear of loss in ley lines,
Carved from cheeks to,
Eye's corners,
Where I am, now,
Toes over the edge,
Rocking by and by.
Ringlets of crystals,
Sparkle neath chasms,
That Earth did lay,
To follow for I.
Your dirt is silken,
Purist white, tainted:
Spring pushes sprouts,
Foliage left to fall,
And there am I.
Brinking this crevice,
Earth's skin heaves,
And discloses this,
Circlets of stones,
Unto I, my own Earth,
Which shifts to follow.
And rock too far fro, I,
Those temptations:
To sling and slash,
To travel with and unto,
And so I fear thee,
To travel unto so.
From ere to ere
From to to fro
this is where my poems go
dont worry
i understand him
i can forgive him
sometimes
being an asshole
is all a man has
to hold onto
We came unstuck on the table that she made
Kicking and screaming she leaves again
And she wasn't the first one
She was never the first one
Shrinking like a grape in the sun
For sure, he knows,he glows
With a sickening mold
And I, retreating slowly
Into the earth below me
I see the boots come before me
This time, treading literally
I showed this to someone on /r9k/, and they said it was frightening. Why?
>>8134506
Things about relationships trigger /r9k/
>>8134529
Well, it is a very arcanine poem.
>>8131937
Like it
>>8123685
>of five to nine to dust
that's some good shit
>>8125164
O Romeo, thou art was of majestic beauty!
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns
None are green,
Or purple with green wings,
Or green with yellow wings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots
Catches tigers
In red weather
>>8125829
and that doesnt apply here anyway?
