Come on now! Share your poems!
>>7364359
Somewhere Between Vertov and Weerasethakul
Lights flicker as numbers count down
But never make their way to zero. Soon
The blank images are replaced by people
In motion. You can see the sweat of their brow or
The innocence of youth
Stolen by cannonfire.
The images continue to flicker
At 16, 24 frames per second.
They come to a standstill at Marker
And then move again. It is a motion
That can be paused
But never stopped.
>>7364379
I like the imagery
>>7364359
Poemis Experimentus
Der he is, the ancient gupis
Blood on my sheets, the beat
God has swept the earth, another sweep
Phones, decadence, super bleep.
Where dert are thou tragedy?
I shall conquer, never falter
The water swam like troibis fish
Running wildly, never to see foreign.
>>7364359
>implying I will compromise their rights by posting them in a public forum before they are accepted by a publisher
>>7364441
>Poemis Experimentus
>Der he is, the ancient gupis
>Blood on my sheets, the beat
>God has swept the earth, another sweep
>Phones, decadence, super bleep.
>Where dert are thou tragedy?
>I shall conquer, never falter
>The water swam like troibis fish
>Running wildly, never to see foreign.
>>7364359
There is already one of these shitty threads.
Der he is, the ancient gupis
Blood on my sheets, the beat
God has swept the earth, another sweep
Phones, decadence, super bleep.
Where dert are thou tragedy?
I shall conquer, never falter
The water swam like troibis fish
Running wildly, never to see foreign.
>>7364359
poetry is for faggots.
Things suggest beyond themselves
The forest trail can become The Trail
It emerges out of the lake of dreams
Glistening and dripping spectral possibility
Suspended over the mirror of thought
Archetypes mingle like reflections
Light bending and becoming this
Have you wondered about life as the specific?
The moon sometimes reminds you
of the Moon. The night's glowing orb
Seen from ten thousand worlds
And you can be reminded of You
The one who Is
>>7364441
You know how I know you're not smart enough to write anything worth reading?
We should go to Nepal next week I say and she asks why
and I tell her I don’t know why but it doesn’t matter
I tell her Žižek says any decision can be justified and
sold with the right catch phrase like a candy bar so
Kathmandu is as good a choice as any for wisdom is a
fallacy and she says gee you sure know how to ruin a
mood and then I remember that we’re both naked
and I’m meant to be inside of her but I’m not so I say
what about Goa Tibet Dhaka Kabul Pyongyang
I get brief illumination at the mention of Siberia as
she says maybe it will be cold enough there to not feel
anything and I say shut up you just like vodka she tells me
travel is just like taking drugs a drawn out overpriced acid
trip or crack binge a distraction from the real and those
that partake too much lose a bit of grip and I say yes
it is a bit like a drug giving you different perspective and all
and she yawns and says god lets just drink some more
and I ask her wouldn’t she rather drink in a train compartment
thundering across orange savannah or at a café overlooking
the birthplace of Buddha and she tells me there is a movement
going on in Asia the satori generation in Japan the Sampo
in South Korea all people who have transcended beyond
ornamental trappings handbags ambition relationships travel
and I say yes I know I’ve heard of them and guess what
they don’t drink
Keepmewarm
Buffet me in windwills;
nuzzle me in Greece.
Wrap my dense and
aching suspsicions,
pressing your coils to
their throats' skin,
locking each slick plate
of your scales
to one deserving windpipe.
Heat me under maple;
cosset me in autumn.
Today I spark blunts
I'm high again, time to read
Oops I hate reading
>>7364493
i liked it!
>>7364493
Why did I enjoy this?
I don't like the ending, it seems too forced.
But otherwise it's petty cool.
>>7364359
When does one die?
When head falls on feathery sky,
or when blackness wanders high,
or when the pump ceases, dry.
Perhaps it is when repetition,
sidewalk crack visions,
make us invisible to routine—
decisions
>>7364615
very nice
i like sidewalk crack visions
>>7364605
Agreed
Don't know why I enjoyed it but I did
>>7364359
A turtle;
seemingly an uncomplicated thing,
an aching old reptile resting calmly on white washed stones,
and the Sun’s blades lodged firmly in her scarred shell,
and her life coming to a close,
her eyes, void of color, begin to dim,
and she thinks about how terribly sad it is
that her clutch was crushed by those
upright giants with no intent but evil
(of course,
the local children thought
Nothing of it, their boot marks still
fresh in the mud) and
the spotted white egg shells lay there,
broken, like a window smashed
out of malice,
A pool of blood dripping from the sill.
>>7364759
sorry, the only thing I liked about this poem was "sun's blades" (don't capitalize sun, capitalizing Important Words is an undergraduate trap)
pay more attention to meter, and your line breaks seem more like an attempt at making your line breaks seem poetic than actual decisions.
i am a god
hurry up with my damn massage
in a french ass restaurant
hurry up with my damn croissants
i am a god
>>7364786
s.m.h. kanye really is nothing without Consequence ghostwriting for him
Okay, I haven't written in years but here we go off the dome before my phone dies.
My family is a dandelion seed
under the ground,
strong shoots patient,
pace themselves
push up through the concrete
to embrace the sun
It is the foundation
of someone better's house,
and we will never break the surface
My father is a lion.
He is not the king,
and there is no jungle here
He can roar and pace and snort but lions can't work locks.
I am a Qassam rocket.
I am cheaper than the things I am made from.
My hull it painted- graffiti-chic
In the bright colors of liberation
I will fly high above the city
And end my life alone,
As a single dirty spot on a Negev Desert highway
One day children will find pieces of my parents' naive hope
rusted in a culvert
and invent better lives for me than I ever really lived.
Hope 4chan preserves my formatting.
A woman I was with left me not long ago and 3 days after she spoke the words I used tinder.
I felt guilty setting it up because one of the photos I used was a cropped out photo of me next to Her. Also I still love her. Though I don’t cry as much anymore.
I thought: this is one way of dealing with it.
I usually swipe right because swiping left means lost potential. I hate that I think that.
I didn’t get many matches until one day I got a few and each match made me happy for exactly 7.6 seconds.
Exactly the same amount of time before I would check social media to see if She’s online.
Last weekend I went home with someone from tinder.
She kissed me in the middle of the dancefloor of this bar.
It was one of those kisses that fill you up. The kind where if I saw it happening I’d say “get a room” pretend it didn’t make me wildly unhappy and then go home wondering why I didn’t get kissed that night.
I almost said “Thank you”
I could taste smoke, which made me glad I no longer did.
She said “I want you to come home with me” and I said, “cool”.
Her housemate was loud and paid the taxi before I had a chance to. I felt bad and insecure because I want people to think I can pay but then the girl kissed me again and all went quiet.
Her house had polished wooden floors and looked like an ikea show room.
Stacked books lined the wall; I look at them trying to convey an idea of myself in the process until she grabbed my hand.
We sit out in the back of her house and because I am drunk I tell her she is beautiful, so beautiful. Her eyes are assets that she should never sell.
And she holds my head on her chest because I am tired and kisses my forehead.
We are together in her bed and she clasps my hand as I kiss her neck. We both move together until we don’t need to anymore. I think I’m happy.
I think: tinder is responsible for this.
>>7364881
> hull it painted
hull is painted*
THE CAT
SAT ON THE MAT.
Where do you see yourself five years from now,
He reads off a clipboard somewhere,
Straightening his polo shirt.
I take second too long to answer
And lie for our mutual sake
The words flow out
Of a life reduced
Sitting in a cheap folding chair.
I look to five years and forever
And see us still sitting there,
Celebrating the millionth pen click,
Clearing our throats in unison
Through yellowed teeth.
Gaunt fingers scratching
Semi-casual wear
With brittle nails
Extending nowhere.
The fluorescent hums like flies in waiting
As false oaths join in handshake
We look forward to meeting again
And part vowing to never do so.
>>7364493
the only poem I've ever liked on 4chan
it's almost impossible to write something that isn't mostly trite imo and you did it
>>7365970
It's a great run-on sentence, yeah. Good thing he hit the enter button a few times so it qualifies as poetry now.
>>7364493
it also reminds me a little of ee Cummings and that probably adds to why I love it so much
>>7365977
ye fuck off jealous shitbird the spacing adds to the way in which the poem is read; like a quick continuous and brief retelling of a conversation with breath pauses
as I said after you read some Cummings
>>7366005
Is English your native language?
>>7364493
warosu.org/lit/thread/S7362954
>>7365977
and I probably like the poem so much because banal retards like you regurgitate the same old shit over and over with the same arguments against free verse using archetypal poetic words like shadow and quiet and nothing and moon and innocence and try to pretend there's something deeper in everything and it's all absolute platitudinal bullshit
>>7366015
you better hope so
>>7366005
>ye fuck off jealous shitbird the spacing adds to the way in which the poem is read; like a quick continuous and brief retelling of a conversation with breath pauses
Not that guy but that's not how line-breaks work lol
If you're pausing at the end of every line you've been reading wrong and you're the kid that made the teacher roll his eyes every time you guys read a poem aloud in class.
Line-breaks aren't caesura in any way my dude. Well, except visually.
What had long ran dry in the shadow
He managed to pull it apart
Bitterly tinkering to know
His head ruined his chance at his heart
>>7366048
>>7366048
they fuck with the rhythm when I'm reading and someone like Cummings obviously took advantage of that; I tried to shy away from saying pause by specifying a breath pause but it's more subtle than that I suppose and it especially makes a difference in that run-on sentence poem as opposed to letting the board break the lines for him
>>7366112
>lack of punctuation
:')
Hot whiskey poured down smoothly,
the bottle drained of its dregs.
The scratch; pen on fresh paper.
Reality subverted
by the hand of the artist.
As it was done it shall be,
so long as we live and write.
Sort of came off the top of my head
Also my first poem
thoughts?
i think it could use improvement desu
Please leave. Get me a substitute.
No terror can cry you up.
You are there. Steadily.
Destroy me. Destroy you.
One kiss, pure fire.
Then I can forget what rules my thoughts.
Because then there is no more comparison.
tl;dr: boring shitty poem, shitty translated. Sorry Anons.
>>7366190
Whats your native language?
It isn't that bad, its passionate without being the kind of shit a 15 year old emo would write
Sometime during the beginning of the
end, I asked you, “If fate steps in,
and in five or ten years from now, we
haven’t spoken a single word,
Can you promise me on this exact date
from then,
We’ll meet again?
Have coffee, lunch –
talk.”
As hard as it was to make promises,
when we were breaking so many others –
You did.
Now I’m standing all alone in our
favourite café, having spent ten years
waiting on you to keep at least one
thing you said true;
even if it wasn’t the “forevers”,
or even the “I love you’s”;
And you are nowhere to be seen.
>>7366195
Oh, thank you. My native language is german.
I've always lived pretty isolated, then I moved and met this woman which appears to be everything I ever dreamed of. Of course she's in a long-term relationship already.
This is the first time I wrote a poem in seven years. I just tried to get my head free. Can't sleep because of her and so on. This is going to be a hurtful social experience, but I'll help myself with wine and good books.
>>7366267
The funny thing is the fact that it isn't well translated might be the thing thats making it more interesting (to me anyway); it has a sort of jagged feel to it with the rapid, unrelated caesuras and the contrasting long and short words
The Leviated Man
Big nose
Tiny eyes (barren)
Unkept hair
Cheap tattoos
Long arms (dangling)
Shrunken torso
Bent feet (leviated)
Thin skin
Vulture neck (broken)
Soft rook falling through the thistle
Piercing velvet feathers like a million Martial lights through midnight
Three days later bone and gristle
The feathers are still there, black echoes of the chitin that fed upon you
>>7366289
This is intersting to know, because I constantly get the feedback from a friend of mine that my prose seems to be too jagged: too many (rapid) jumps in the storytelling.
I guess I either have to smooth it out or to make it my style, haha.
Anyway, thanks for this conversation.
>>7366359
Its fine, remember that jagged can be good.
Its good if you want your poem to seem uncomfortable or even painful
Is there anything good in this thread?
Once there was a goat who loved to snort coke. She only smoked when she drank, her heart was broke. With how many rivers she cried she was just trying to stay afloat. Off in the horizon there was a boat. A glimmer of hope! But as more tears came the goat couldn't swim. And that's all she wrote... a story of a poor little goat
when things are down and life gets tragic
smoke a spliff its fucking magic
need of a bucket, need of a bong
gonna get high like cheech and chong
ganja
the lovely little flower
grows in jamaica
we call it nature
burn it in, you gotta burn it out
you gotta put that joint right in your mouth
>>7366387
nope
>>7364379
Nice. I tend to prefer abstract poetry, or that grounded in daily experience, but I liked this. There's a lot of shitty poems about other works of art, but I think this one worked.
My pockets fill with paper
without me noticing
until the end of the day.
Many of my friends are here,
fraudulent
getting in the way, as always
The world is written
on the inner shell
of my cranium.
I try not to listen
verbatim
to synchronicity's bait.
For the rain to fall
up into the sky
is just too long to wait.
But my ears are ringing,
my ears are ringing.
There's salad on the barstool,
but nobody's eating it.
I guess it doesn't have that taste.
I'm literally throwing money
in the garbage,
in the garbage,
I'm stupid.
Help me I'm stupid.
>>7367124Submit it.
>>7366434
Sounds like a rap song
>>7364777
Capitalizing important words is also called for in headline citation style, so if someone was parodying this you wouldn't even notice because you're so comfy in you undergraduates poetry rule book.
dont stay in one place too long
or one night
you'll find yourself
at the wrong station.
you saw
a name you had not
thought of
Since--
where am i?
you'll see and
and remember
that bar, once
your second living room,
filled with
the wrong faces
you'll feel decay
you'll walk away,
back home,
and you'll make sure to
avoid the sight of the cafe
with the good creme caramel
and to turn where you should not
to avoid your old street
you'll go past the edges of your old world
on your way home
And you will realize
it is too close
>>7364359
saying stuff that is vague
vague stuff ends in emotion
clever word trick
more vague stuff
related stuff, slightly more specific,
still really vague but starts to get important.
im a faggot im a faggot
philosophical garbage.
now the poem has ended
you are confused
but amazed at being confused.
What a nice poem.
-you think before you start thinking.
Elongate the composition,
Your fantasia.
I dread the widened set
Of the hourglass since we met.
As each grain crashes
Perdition creeps up
Eerily...
The waves harass,
Plague, bedevil, Harry.
In the Brown Chamber
In the waiting room there is a sick man –
he’s a sick man without recompense worried
over by his family fingering wishes for best futures
but they haven't figured out why he’s backbone twisting sick.
Can we hang out around here longer they’d
say tic tick toesing while they can’t wait to figure
him but no we’ve found no remedy for
this man’s ailment. I think he shall die
of terminal sadness – help him? He’s
Taken a liking to tongueing booze and fountain drink
choking on sad remonstrances and obscenities–
God is it terminal? If he feels too much
like a shy peacock? Oh shit stone him.
Just recompense. Confessional like
big shiny pews shinned, his writing hand
every year shakes a little more. He will die of congenital clumsiness
and he will be silent like concrete dummies.
May you? May? Melancholy is
a tingling in the balls. Why,
think it so fancy? Lord he will be walking
with a cane
and he shall be the unjustly suffering few, blessed
he shall be the blind fury suffering then.
That fury buffeting the wind – yeah comes at you –
a shining fleet of silver grey battleships. Yes
it rattles too. The more the better. Take it seriously–
fury won’t save you but honesty might.
A freak of nature a being of power.
Into the breach–It is most meet. Been told that poetry’s
for faggots, that loathsome word, but I’ve let
it loose off my tongue too, slotting easy like footstep.
I’m a colluder, so preserve this. I’m unreceiving
the wrong check. The check bounced. No luck. I am
here for you promptly. Jocosely we belch
but my advantage is that I read aloud.
Bring forth the new day,
Rummuge out the remnants from the death of an old age,
I see the snow that covers the street as the world fades into black,
Never look back,
Don't remind yourself to turn back,
They say greatness awarded is never just given away,
Maybe we can reach that before this world becomes livid and dry,
When you die,
Will they remember how you tried,
Peering down from the zenith of bucolic,
Drenched in blood,
Coated in stolage,
A shattered facade breaking through revaluation,
Take a look at the nations fading away,
While trudging against the tide,
You find yourself,
Tenacious yet wondering why,
The burning doors were broken down but the child inside was left to die,
He escaped into the wilderness,
Never to be seen again.
Kinda a mix of some things I wrote throughout the years. Who can tell me how they interprete all this? What do you see from it what is brought to mind from your own struggles?
>>7368499
you're not clever, friend.
>>7367124
I would appreciate it if you would take a look at this for me:
http://pastebin.com/NhtQyC7J
>>7364474
I like this. I can relate to the reference of the moon. Even in the darkest nights there's that one ever looming light that reminds us that we have something brighter to look onto when we feel blind. I feel as though you think a lot about the ultimate purpose of us all. This specific life you referenced, its like you try to find the specifics but struggle. What I got from this was someone looking over themselves with a lot of doubt in there heart, struggling to maintain a calm perspective on their rationality. Someone who is quick to see beauty in something small but also takes a very long time to find something worth while in something that seems so much more concrete. And like I said, its just what I take from it. Care to explain the meaning of this in your words?
pee pee
doo doo
bop bop
beep beep
honk honk
Toilet bowl with stale water
I sit on it
Splash (my shit)
A hair is missing from my eye; as they say:
The channel's maw shall hoist
where walls have fallen down.
A tooth is missing from my mouth,
Like that childish perfect smile. Always.
This is a long shot, but does anyone have a poem saved that was posted here a while ago? It is about a city at night/early morning, Cleveland I think, and the narrator describing it. I can't think of any specific lines.
>>7364493
Have any more anon? I'm a big fan.
>>7364359
http://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2014/02/-em-dead-poets-society-em-is-a-terrible-defense-of-the-humanities/283853/
don't know how to end it tho.
eh.
In the lower squalor
below high and towering spires
a tiny beating heart
that sings and sings and sings
along the darkened paths
trailing out and out and out
And a bird that came and said to her:
child I will lead you to safety
to warmth and joy and gentleness
but the bird I heard, was a liar
and the child disappeared
her pale hands gripping at the thorny loam
A man came upon the path
had heard the story once before
but failed to head the warning there within
and the bird spoke to him and sang:
I will take you home to riches and a wife
who will bear you children and a grand, grand garden
and the man, he too, was vanished.
And that tiny miniature heart
grew in size and shape
Nails dug into pretty palms
lips sprouted, pouted, split apart
and that trill trilled louder, shriller, higher
>>7364359
Poopy butts
Butty poops
Shins
>>7364359
Share yoor poems,
We looking gems,
Better be bard,
It is not hard.
//5 sec, job.
Books are like bowls
that are thrown in sinks
and we try not to think
about them
until we finally can
clean everything correctly
then only we start slowly
filling them up again
You can't battle me anon
I'm shooting back your cannon
Storming your father in his creep
Defiling your mother in her sleep
You gonna fail to escape in time
I'll be nigging here with crime
>>7369988
What an awful rag of an article
he always thought
but never did
he had composure
then he slid
he walked the world
on worthless feet
he chose to see
sat on his seat
he grasped a lot
but grabbed for few
he lived a life
and now it's due
>>7369232
Mein gott. I love it. I cried, desu.
>>7370071
Them's fighting words.
>>7364359
Her breath that stings my neck,
Dawn leers at me with eyes of love.
Returning stare, with longing there,
We kiss and off I drove.
And since I’m gone, she shifts away
To a friend she’s known for years.
And though her heart is sore,
That friend has nothing more.
Then stopping by a friends for tea,
We talk about her life and child,
Husband: gone to work.
And every word is of her man.
At home, Dawn is down from a tired day,
And here I come to cheer her up.
She listens close to all I say;
We both could use a little love.
>>7369269
Hey, had a read of it. I liked it. There's some really interesting and evocative imagery in there, especially the image of the "century crawled up .... crashed! into my bathtub."
I don't have much experience with formatting experimentation, so it's hard for me to give much critique on that. In terms of line breaks, they felt a bit random when read out loud, so I'd just be conscious of having a clear reason for each line break, (you probably have and I just haven't deciphered it). Maybe also just have a few reads of it aloud - I think its a purposeful thing, because you've done it a few times, but the repetition of words "moth and flame flame and lilac" "saw the sawing motion" etc. are a bit clunky when read. As with the few internal rhymes - "Heat stroke's no joke". Also, teachers have told me that question marks in poetry are frowned upon, not that you should give a shit what the establishment thinks, unless you're intending on trying to publish in a stuffy lit journal.
Anyway, VI. Rebuilding Sodom was definitely my favourite section. I think the imagery hangs together the best there. Overall, just go through a make sure each break, change in format, repetition is 100% necessary, because simplicity is usually best unless there is a specific purpose.
Candy;a haiku
Pointillism, white
Aphrodite nipple yums
Cumming in my mouth
>>7364359
i am the pepperoni in the sky, the pizza pie
4 cheese, the tomato sauce
in the kitchen i am the boss
the oven is hot and my body is ready
no raw dough too tough, no deep dish too heavy
I am the chef of living
I am the king under the kitchen
for all the lovers of pizza, a meal i am fixing
hot hot hot pizza to them i am giving
topping toppings on top of the pizza with haste
garlic and love on the crust i have yet to baste
compared to mine, your sauce is paste
>>7371091
Wow, thank you so much.
The line breaks are, for the most part, how I read the poem aloud. Is there a different way to indicate verbal pauses? (I don't know shit about poetry, so that's probably a dumb question).
I agree I should change them.
It was definitely an experiment, though. I've never written like this before.
You liked VI. the best? Good to know. I will attempt to make the rest more like that one.
Part of the line break thing was the fact that the images themselves are memory fragments. They're (mostly) things I remember from when I was five years old, like 9/11 and finding a pornography on my parent's shelf.
Anyway, thank you for that in depth critique. It was really helpful.
>>7371110
Oh boy. Finally, some real poetry.
can somebody help me make this not shit?
You had a seizure yesterday.
You laughed at the auras
and then
you fell
I was slow
(too slow)
I didn't catch you
And your small head
hit the wall
bruising like a fresh fruit.
on the floor, I
rolled you over
Into the recovery position
like They taught me to.
you shook
your eyes rolled back
your lips turned blue
-no surprises, I had seen it all before
but this time still hurt more
you were gasping
-or hiccuping
too,
something new for seizures and you
it scares me.
blood and spittle oozed
from between your indigo lips
you croaked
and convulsed
while I waited for it to end
is this thread dead?
because I need an unbiased person to critique my shit poem.
>>7371545
post em
>>7371559
A Shit Poem by Anon
My heart sinks like a stone in a pure,blue lake
When my eyes gaze upon you
For I know
That I can only observe,and I will never know
How deep the lake runs
>>7371563
well, it is a fairly usual poem which is not a bad thing
I do not want to make you change it but maybe to unsettle it a bit you could say something like
"That I can only observe, and I will never know/ what there dwells" but that may be a little more heavy than you intended.
>>7371581
I'm happy with 'fairly usual' considering my other work has been compared to dog shit.So thanks.
Also,the last line was a homage to that saying, 'still waters run deep.' As in, 'I'll never know how deep this lake goes.'
>>7371593
yeah i thought of that sort of idea, it is just a really prevalent saying
Friends
I would like to think that "I" exist
I would like to think that we are friends
I would like to not put "friends" in quotations
>>7370572
Eh, because the humanities can be boiled down to just poetry, right?
Keating, the professor in the film, teaches nothing but poetry, so I'm not sure how that can be seen as representing all of the humanities anyways. Stupid clickbaity shit articles like this are.
>>7371623
bullets
down
down
down
hate
to
you
take
you
down
to
the
bottom
of
soul
death
part
bye
you
i don't want to be a poet
i don't want to write, for you
i don't want to love you, or like you
I don't want to appreciate you
I don't want to hate you
I want nothing but sustenance, to keep us alive
The basics.
Nothing special.
No imagination.
nothing forward
just falling backward, until our biological impulses make living a necessity and then we eat or fuck or amuse
that's it
>>7371629
This is Beauty
I want to make you disappear, your fine molecules coming together.
I want to feel the empty space between them, the motion that whisked them together.
There is beauty, in this passion that created you.
From top to bottom you are perfection.
I want to make you re-experience that soul, the rapture that made you.
I can break you down and build you up in a non-cannibalistic way.
I know how to destroy you and re-create you (putting you back together as you were).
I respect your soul and sex can destroy it and re-create it.
This is beauty.
I can make you forget who you are.
I can make you feel safe and warm and nice and free.
I can make you feel beautiful.
I can make the process last forever, in your time.
It's all about the heartbeat, the rhythm.
Nothing else really matters, everything else follows.
As we pay attention to every part of your body, the heartbeat communicates with every single one.
You will feel more alive than ever before.
The power you feel will be ecstatic.
For me, it is the process that matters.
The power is in the process, the technique, the knowingness of how to do this to you.
You agree to let me into your soul, and I agree to let you out.
You won't break.
You won't bend.
You will be obliterated.
The past will be gone.
No thinking will confuse you.
You will be free, and whole and human.
This is beauty.
You are beautiful, and I have set you free.
Goodbye.
>>7371630
terror
(what is violence)
the threat
of something coming
to take everything
(what is terror)
the witness
of first-hand violence
innocence dethroned
>>7371633
Mole
Oh, mole, centered on my chest...
Are you a wart?
The mole, over to my right breast under my nipple...
is much darker.
A real mole.
The mole, in the center, looks like a button...
or a plug.
If I pull it, something might happen.
It is conical in shape...
as tall as it is wide...
a light brown.
The mole, under my right nipple...
is darker...
the color of shit.
I see my moles as things that may grow unannounced...
sewages of shit rising up, to you.
Each mole is an embarrassment.
Each mole is God not shining light on perfect white skin.
The answer to racism is in the mole, itself.
Learn to love the mole.
Peace.
>>7371635
She
She ran her family like a foster home.
She had the temperament of a Louise Fletcher matriarch.
She had the mood swings of a Mommie Dearest.
She had the religious acumen of a Margaret White.
She.
i want you people to know i am legitimately frustrated with all of you.
Dare to say no when you're tempted to drink, pause for a moment my brave boy and think
>>7371563
I don't think lakes run, is the imagery problem here.
>>7371651
Sounds like a rap from Nancy Reagan.
>>7371657
Shit.
>>7371674
It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
>>7371676
it's really not.
thanks for saying so though.
>>7371681
If you don't mind me asking, in non-poetic terms what was the emotion you were trying to convey, with that line?
>>7371683
Bitter regret,mostly. What I was basically trying to say was that all I would ever really know about this person is how they are on the surface. I'd never know what they think about when they're alone, and other gay stuff such as that.
>>7371689
Sorry if I'm being annoying, but what are some kinds imagery represent bitter regret to you?
>>7364359
Mrs. Landers was a health nut,
She cooked food in a wok.
Mr. Harris was her boyfriend,
And he had a great big
Cock-a-doodle-doodle the rooster just won't quit,
And I don't want my breakfast because it tastes like
Shitzus make good house pets,
They're cuddly and sweet,
Monkeys aren't good to have 'cos they like to beat their
Meeting in the office, a meeting in the hall,
The boss he wants to see you so you can suck his
Balzac was a writer he lived with Alan Funt,
Mrs. Roberts didn't like him but that's 'cause she's a
Contaminated water can really make you sick,
Your bladder gets infected and blood comes out your
Dictate what I'm saying 'cos it will bring you luck,
And if you all don't like it, I don't give a flying fuck.
>>7371690
Her face and any images that remind me of her face represent bitter regret to me. Looked a lot like pic related.
>>7371693
fuck off ceit
>>7371700
Anything else that you can think of that would best represent bitter regret, that would be analogous to your feeling?
>>7371709
The way the air smells after it rains.
>>7371715
So how about,
"That I can only observe,and I will never know
How the air smells after it rains"?
I'm a pretty whisper in the night.
I'm a breaking voice in some sad song.
I'm a freezing ocean within a frozen body.
The night's alive, the night is strong.
The universe looks down at me
But I look across the dying sea
At houses cruel, houses ablaze in light,
The moon is invisible tonight.
And winter's poisoning my feet
Pain invades, warmer hands defeat,
For now, the sting of this dour wind--
So quiet!
Why can't young February roar?
I'm thankful no lifeless car speeds by
To laugh at my freezing ocean, frozen body;
My only friend is the night
And I carry on the conversation--
A pretty whisper counting seconds,
"I love you, but you kill me."
I'm a broken voice in abandoned song.
I'm poisoned feet walking
Into the evil house bleeding evil light
I'm leaving, alone as I am.
The moon was invisible tonight.
>>7364987
Can someone give me thoughts on this poem?
>>7372061
I think you should re-write and re-write, condensing the ideas down.
The ideas are fine, but the execution is way too obstuse.
i watched my shadow, envied,
as it faded into itself
somewhere i have never gone
but always wished i could
and this became a thing of routine
waking up from nightmares
to live and make tomorrow's
even if as fleeting,
why couldn't everything hold the same silence?
i wonder where they go when they disappear
and maybe i can too
if i stay in the sun long enough
_________________________
>>7370561
Thanks anon, that means a lot, really.
>>7371735
Anyone have anything to say about this?
>>7364379
morning glow melts snow
fresh chill fills hills bosom
overflows by noon
>>7374790
It's a little too stylized for me.
Too much prettily designed form can belie any content you might have.
My friends all think this is really lame and sappy but I'd be interested to get the opinions of strangers. Personally, I'm pretty proud of it. I don't know dick about poetry so I just made it rhyme, and made it so the rhythm "felt" right.
Dehumanise:
It's natural and easy to dehumanise,
Trust me because I know,
But when you see others through hateful eyes,
You'll never help them grow,
We all do it from time to time,
It's a human thing to do,
When someone commits a vile crime,
We say 'that's it, that's you',
But we know they're more complex than that,
And we're sometimes evil too,
Because when we reduce them to a rat,
We do it to ourselves, it's true,
So before you tell me what I am,
Take a step back and see,
Judgment is a massive sham,
Because I am you and you are we.
SATURDAY
My seat is warm; I’ve occupied it since the morning--
A stiff and drowsy awakening in a blue lethargy;
Blue from the sky, which had no moon, no sun, no star
Just blue. Just shapeless clouds arriving in Saturday.
I know nothing has happened but daydreams dreamed,
Leftover leftovers left for another day, I accept
And laugh apathetically at all the free people dancing;
Getting drunk, getting lucky, getting high off Saturday.
The ideal is just a fantasy that maybe I’ll enjoy once
Once upon a time that I, alas, cannot anticipate.
I don’t see anything but blue; yellow’s a forgotten color
And Saturday is just a loss. Sunday looks no better.
>>7374903
It's a rad notion the poem is about. The style in which it is written is not particularly my type, maybe its because it's so literal. But I especially like the last stanza, it was very meaningful.
>>7374903
It's better than most stuff here, and anything I've ever written. But I really don't like the combination of regular rhyme and irregular meter.
>When someone commits a vile crime
This one is particularly awkward.
>>7364359
I feel like everyone on /lit/ should love Dead Poets Society, maybe because I went to a Catholic school but I think off all you anon as the characters
>>7374984
My teacher showed us it in our 11th grade English class during the transcendentalism unit. It was my shit, and it's the only movie (which someone will probably beat me up for) that I actually bought and own after watching it for free. I'm glad you guys reminded me of it, I'm going to bring it back with me when I go home for Thanksgiving.
>>7374992
do all 11th graders have a transcedentalism unit? shit.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1rr_-ZA4wM&list=FLXKFIG0ptHf23vaWoZo8VBw&index=4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F32Raa8O7-o
>>7375004
anon must of gone to a nice school.
>>7375004
I dunno senpai, but I was in "Honors" Language Arts, so maybe that's why.
>>7375004
My 10th grade English class did. 10th grade focused on American lit so it made sense.
>>7364359
What makes a man wake up one morning
And feel that a thousand years have elapsed?
Why are long-forgoten aeons evoked
while contemplating a crumbling wall
Lit by obtuse rays poured
From an ephemeral autumn sun?
>>7375418
Very articulate. May I ask what your poem means to you?
have a few works n stuff posted up here if some1 wants 2 view'm:
mastbc.tumblr.com
this is an excerpt from 1 of the things called OSSO
>>7375428
It's very difficult to explain. Occasionally, I wake up in the morning and I have the impression that like a very long time has gone by in my dreams. It's such a powerful sensation that sometimes I think that something might not be quite right with my brain.
Today I woke up in that particular state of mind; I stepped out of my house with a hot cup of tea, and when saw the wall around my garden lit by the dim sunlight, something inside of me clicked, and those words came to mind.
I don't do drugs, in case you're wondering.
>>7374984
Dead Poets Society is such a great movie. Last year at the end of my British Literature class, the teacher left her job (quite possible the world's greatest Lit teacher). My classmates and I stood on our chairs and said "O Captain, my captain". She was so happy.
>>7372947
anyone wanna give me some feedback on this pls?
I saw you sitting there
on the corner towering over
a man wiping his hands on his shirt
blood and snot on the pavement
And a hand-print your size
Someone was laughing
and smashing
a beer bottle against a car
while your black eyes found mine
I wanted you to ask who I am
is this style just hackneyed & obsolete? does it make you cringe? please tell me honestly.
on my way when walking home
at night to go and sleep alone
and in the morning back to work
on shadowed streets instead I lurk
and an idea occurs to me
what I must do to become free
from counting hours that go between
is simply keep on wandering
just don't look down at your wrist
I hear my tired mind insist,
and when the ties of time you sever
this lonely night will last forever.
>>7365946
Someone tell me why this is bad and no one read it
I pet my own head and wonder when my owner will return
I sniff the grass and feel the cold dew
The wind breathes on my skin and I don't shiver
Worms slide between my toes and there
Is now way to throttle the pulse
>>7375912
>>7375912
>is this style just hackneyed & obsolete?
somewhat
weakest lines
>what I must do to become free
>is simply keep on wandering
>and when the ties of time you sever
>this lonely night will last forever.
These are all stock sounding. Try expressing each one without explicitly stating the idea/emotion.
Bile piles higher
Upon itself upward,
Mirthful and frank incensed
Posters seek cruci-fiction
>>7374984
it's really a bad movie.
> dead poets society
> hardly talks about poetry at all
> the cave meetings are basically just to jerk off pretending to like poetry and act like cancerous beats
> kid kills himself because "seize the day" and this is the entire pivot of the movie
it's kind of like Remember the Titans. It throws formulaic "okay, feel happy now", and "okay, feel sad now" tropes to make you feel, well, happy or sad. Anyone with a brain should feel very *used* for letting it affect them. The script is artificial, the teacher is unrealistic (and doesn't teach them anything of consequence, but we have to pretend he does), poetry is equated to just being a hedon, the demanding father isn't actually someone who would appear in real life (I HAVE a dad like that -- it's not something anyone sane would commit suicide over), that snowy scene where everyone is sad and shit is forced as fuck. Man just thinking about the movie makes me mad. I would actually rather someone show me Transformers: Dark of the Testicular Torsion in class rather than The Dead Poets Society. I will scoop maggots out of a purple moon-infested Ginsberg-licked asshole and feed it to a homeless penis-machine droopy-eyed gangrene-infected microphone before suggesting someone watch that movie.
>>7376186
I'll add that Williams kinda spoofed his DPS role in "world's greatest dad", which is actually a modestly funny movie. That's one more worth watching. Because well, it's what poetry class actually looks like:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccyTJYkiGqE
Real men hide their emotions,
they commit suicide out of the blue,
after a bottle of whiskey.
>>7376292
I like. It's a little short. I feel like there's one line missing between 1 and 2, but that's just me
>>7376304
>out of the blue
>>7372061
Writing a poem about tinder immediately dates it. It's like writing "An Ode to Betamax" or something, and relegates the work to "look how quirky and hip and modern" territory. The story itself was bland. It's something that's been written a million times in a million ways, and yours provokes no new thought or reaction. I understand it might be done for catharsis, but it's personal writing, not audience writing if you get what I mean by that.
>>7364486
How?
If it's a (semi)autobiographical thing based on a past or desired relationship why even post it?
>>7376744
this should be in the OP for every single one of these threads
>>7364359
In the last of the swells
Will it finally be?
In the light, from nothing
For you, it is.
>>7376858
2nd'd
You broke my heart
Everything fell apart
I would be mad
If I weren't so sad
I learned my place
Is not against your face
Who's back do I come on
Now that you're gone?
>>7364359
Okay, I guess my work are pretty shitty compared to some here. Some of you actually got talent. Anyway, feel free to read.
"A broken man on the verge of time
stands at the shard of a forlorn sky
Memories shattered in grief and grime
His life behind, he say goodbye
In her the love for life and light
Her heart a sparkling hope
In him the fear for the approching night
His neck close to the rope
Darkness what propels him
His soul a void since long
Feeding on his fate so grim
The darkness growing strong
A ray of light through sea of darkness
She repels his seething scars
Drags him from the egde of space
Where his soul lies with the stars
Her shield a vanguard through his life
But alas, she fades away
He stands at the grave of his beloved wife
And the cold darkness claims its prey"
I don't wish to die
I just wish I was never born
why why why why why
I don't wish to why
I just be born and never wish
why why why why why
die die die die die
Wardine be cry?
>>7376926
shaking my head baka baka
to be honest desu desu desu desu
family senpai senpai senpai senpai
>>7376938
9/10
I don't why to wish
I just die I was never wish
born born born born born
>>7376889
Avoid cliches (>everything fell apart >broke my heart >now that you're gone), choose stronger words (>mad >sad), and phrase more carefully (>whose*** back do I come on >against your face). Particularly that last image-- "I learned my place is not against your face." It should be the emotional apex, but it comes off sort of comical; I get that you're going for the whole "leaning on each other" thing, but it doesn't work with the image of kissing because it makes me imagine you two pushing your heads against each other like bulls. Also, who is this girl? Why do you miss her? What did she look like? How has the experience hurt or changed you?
>>7377066
Alternatively: *who is this boy? Sorry, I just assumed because we're on 4chan. And therein lies the poem's primary problem: I don't understand anyone in it. The feelings are too vague, euphemistic, universal, nonspecific, and soft. Be more heartbroken and be more original.
>>7374903
I like your concept, it's better than teen angst that you usually see, but l think it's just a bit too literal and comes across as a bit preachy.
>>7375949
Hurt me anons, this is the first attempt at poetry I've made
I stare into perfection, engrossed
With rapt attention I study every curve
Every crease
The sensousness of the act is lost on none
And yet in some sense it means none to you
Geometry in its most perfect state before me
to do anything other than admire would be a sin
Abhorrent
Words would only spoil the momentary bliss
Words could also have prolonged it
Every small detail an entire world of it's own
Each one deserving of the most careful examination
Of catalogue
I learn it all for fear of never again admiring it
And you made sure that I never would
My gaze moves from its home at your soul
The whole of you comes into existence as I escape its cluthces
I feel a shiver, a newborn from womb to world
The nakedness at the absence of your warmth is terrifying
yet completely validated once my eyes lay on you, as you truly are
You are free
I am free
Goodbye
>>7377066
>>7377071
You sat on my heart
And let out a fart
Everything didn't fell apart
I would be really mad
If I weren't so really sad
I learned my place
Is not against your face
Some might picture two bulls
But that's impossibly retard'd
Who is back do I come on
Now that you're gone?
Part #2
Who is this girl or boy?
Because 4chan?
To understand is
Vague, Euphemistic, Universal
Nonspecific, Soft
I'm heartbroke real bad
'n totally original one of a kind
>>7364359
I love you guys
Sight in open transposition,
Once living in another’s scene,
Blind eyes see truthful vision
In your care’s fair regiment.
My love and self restoréd be
As hallowed fibs find death,
and Life, morphed irrepressibly,
In our gentle hearts expressed
Faced selfishly, the darkness
cloaked vulnerability, and
bettered selves liaiséd do
Plea hope for unanimity.
Souls not formed as anchors,
Rather covet role of current,
Waving drowning languors
Into kinder seas abundant.
So too, I dream to guide your sails
on tides betwixt safe shores,
and see all obstacles prevailed
whilst strength of character is forged,
For I am whole at little thought of you -
Breath of your lung brings life to me anew.
>>7364987
It reads like you were writing a spoken word - were you? I like the vibe of it and I particularly like "I almost said "Thank you." I think if you took out some of the details of the story and used descriptive language to convey the vibe you're edging at, it could be better. All that said, its modern and its cool to see that. I also like "Her eyes are assets she should never sell" I would remove tinder from it completely. It cheapens it, but maybe that's because I find tinder cheap.
>>7366395
beauty
Born of the womb
Covered in sin
Raised in the holy home
Of fathers nevermore.
Through temptations led
By your guiding hand
A son of one, standing
Beside heavenly mother.
Guidance given
To steer a mortal course.
With zealous love
A woman,
My god!
>>7376888
>everything is everything
deep.
>>7377066
LOL that this guy actually "critiqued' the troll poem, which is actually less laughable than most of the non-troll poems.
>>7364881
I actually really like the last verse
Good job, anon.
spoiler: he commits suicide in the end
This looks like fun!
A somber existence that is;
Not just a fleeting moment but instead a life of pain in an instant.
What does man do when his purpouse is stipped?
To exist that is.
A flood that grows from inside and destroys itself;
our bodies and minds reject it.
Aye, tis disease.
Man is free, he who shapes destiny.
As a free being man can end grief;
quick thinking and undeterred determination,
to act is to bring unbrief relief,
to snatch death from the cluthces of life;
one becomes to misery a thief.
Therefore to endure grief is lunacy
It's as clear as can possibly be
Why endure pain for others
All that matters is me
>>7377658
oopsie
*stripped
>>7377658
>>7364359
I am going to be honest, this is not something I wrote but rather something I found years ago, off of one of the boards. I couldn't find it again until someone posted this screencap.
I just want to share it with you guys and get to know what you think about it. It is a piece I really enjoy though it doesn't come across as poetry at first.
What do you guys think? Is there a style name for this kind of stuff?
Splitting the vastness of the deep blue,
Devastating the space, razing the land,
The spaceship that a mystery ends
Goes through space following the world.
And in the wake of the endless blue sphere,
There it stands packed in the amplitude of the air,
Staring into the burial abyss of the sea
Winning the blue that once stood against it.
Flies, rises in search of infinity,
It’s like a strange myth reawakening
Enlightening the human conscience
Filled with the flickering light of a star
Lets behold the effulgence of its wake
The august trajectory of science
You ever chop a tree that stood so high?
I did a while ago for mother’s day.
She loved the blossoms: purple, stained in shy
But thriving stripes of white along the way,
And dozens danced on down to where it lie.
A thud, a crack; a sound that rings for years
And still is stirring stints of wind around
That moistened hilltop. Trails of purple tears
Through saddened blades, without a sound;
The treetops open fresh as sunlight clears.
Crinkling a sign under some delicate leaves,
I strut around a field of tall grass for some time.
Happening upon a form of rocks arranged in pale
Shades of reds and black, weeds jutting from the once
Painfully kempt flower, I leer on the centerpiece.
Sitting dead in the flower bed,
a tree as tall as I.
>>7377686
I don't know what it is, but I liked it.
It felt like a pure expression of unhampered rage and self-hatred.
>>7377686
"enlightened shitposting"
>>7375004
Had a trans unit, or at least studied transcendentallism, in middle school, 10th, 11th, AND 12th
Fuck American education.
>>7377557
That's why I fell for the bait; the standard is so low that it's hard to tell what is and isn't real.
Saturday
My seat is warm; I’ve occupied it since the morning--
A stiff and drowsy awakening in a blue lethargy,
Blue from the sky, which had no moon, no sun, no star,
Just blue. Just shapeless clouds arriving in Saturday.
I know nothing's happened but daydreams dreamed,
Leftover homework left for another day, I accept,
And laugh apathetically at all the free people dancing,
Getting drunk, getting lucky, getting high off Saturday.
The ideal is just a fantasy that maybe I’ll once enjoy,
Once upon a time that I, alas, cannot anticipate.
I don’t see anything but blue; yellow’s a forgotten color
And Saturday is just a loss. Sunday looks no better.
>>7377850
'Tis why
I fell f'r the bait;
Th' standard
So low
That it's hard
To tell
What is and isn't real
One day i'll tell you a story
of a smiling young boy
who grew into a bright young man
who did his best in school
who was sometimes a fool
who wanted peace in the world
who married a young girl
who went to fight a war
who never returned
One day I'll tell you a story
Of a beautiful young girl
Who was given the world
Who lacked one thing
Who met a young man
Who gave her a ring
Who made her a promise
Who made her cry
Who never came back
One day I'll tell you a story
of a Brave young man
Who married a beautiful woman
Who brought the world peace
Who gave her a gift
Who made fond memories
Who smiles every day
Who sits right beside me
Until I pass away.
And when the moon sinks
we, as in you and i, as in they and them,
as in the waves and the buildings,
as in the dogs and the cats, we don't feel nor see it.
But it is there and happening.
Pulsating like a pale cast heart,
like a reel from a movie from a distant time we all forgot
like the leg of a chair which creeks under weight
and in the terrible sadness of a falling moon
of a levitated, no longer levitated rock
we bat no eyes nor lift our hands
we just sing as crows.
Cawing vacantly into our glasses
and crying when the rain falls.
>>7371630
There is no beauty
"on" anything, anyone
spring weaves in your mind
Lovely, luscious, larger-laced lips, lingers lavishly late.
Last lay, loudly lectures loving-lessons
'lecting lengthy lap lunges, licking large loads of leaked lad's liquid, legendary!
Laced-lingerie lazily left, loading lamented life lessons.
Litigious little louce, legally lied!
Leaving luck-lacking likes, locked-up.
This poem was brought to you by the letter 'L'
Just found this. Forgot I wrote it. Thoughts?
Where will you wander away?
The sky is wide and gray
and the mountains are verdant green today
There is a ship at sail
calling you
and the widows in the harbour
are hailing you
they beg you not to leave your pretty wife
this day
but this is not a choice you made
this is where the good path lay
and your widow
will get you back one day
pander to the light downcast conversation versus finding a way of self and selfless revelations dawn onward beaming or endless mimetic imps pulsing projecting toady moans and white faced barren crags of lost hope over flowing like the words of dead men unremembered and under towing like a muddy current snagging wayward children drawn to the pull and chill like a brothers rigorous body squatting downward into casket knowing the face is wrong and plastic like a troll lost in the dryer among crusted socks and metal shirts worn out by morticians wax and more dictions whacking endless overlooked by all for the sake of new direction one dire erection falling flaccid between the thighs thinking why must we watch the girls with sad eyes take mouthfuls of shame and money shots in the form of beamed light sent from apertures aping an act of conception and seeming to come like four horsemen spraying across the face of creation and sacred official landscape dank darkly we run escape seeking to buy girlfriends and don trimmed armor grandly exchanging gaudy baubles that only exist in far away buzzing towers falling conspicuous like lasagna fountains little wain pulling onward westward forwarded mail from mother spouting resume tips and interview overview under review but never concluded and yet my wagon pulls away to blue fields of infinite pinched blooms waiting to be gathered ground and pulped into unread books for children to judge by their cover under cover of nocturnal emissions covering mountaintops and tissues crumpled in balls at the foot of the monitor while they snicker at corn and faceless banter and still the urge to cater and seek the approval of this message by weak illiterate manchild parrots whose spelunking no more than platonic scrapings their eyes blinded by shadows their four chains clamping down appendages endless and still this one finds impulse to shout astern erring to notice that spooked infants heed only to tears threaded by dead poets so cited leaving posts mortem arthur aardvarks janitors keys clinking down an empty hall sound bouncing off walls yet unheard
>>7379129
I like the part about the crusted socks.
You might consider changing "mountaintops" into "craggy peaks"---it's more poetical.
And, again, it happens;
A happiness so
passed, receiving transmit
tears, incrementally
vomits-- inside the Intranet mobile
glazed I gaze plain-over
its light both in and
out of the walls of the body.
>>7371162
anybody? pls help with me this.
IM TOO HUNGOVER TO GET UP ILL JUST A WRITE A POEM
i heard of a glorious place
far up north
where the sun never comes up in the winter.
can you imagine? a place without a bloated
fireball staining the skyline? where all the stars are too
far away to hurt your vodka-soaked eyes?
the sun, that egotistical asshole whose
mere presence blots out the remaining billions
of stars that prick the sky.
can you think of an entity more conceited
more arrogant
than the sun?
'wake up d-bags im here'
is what the sun wishes he could yell every morning
when he creeps into your home like Kramer from Seinfeld.
we invented clouds to not have to deal with his shit
and he still doesn't get the hint.
fuck you dude, go home.
>>7377947
Anybody??
>>7371702
Wasn't me.
Flesh incompleting i feel
bioticheavy inside waters
of earth.
I fold down to
unentered earth, so much it reminds me of myself
something
I keep close when air falls out
due to heavy, there-fore
ineffable, weight.
>>7364359
May I take your hat,
sir
If the sky swapped the sea, would we surf the cosmos or dive for stars?
To think that comets sink boats. To drown in space, or swim to Mars?
