New poetry critique thread
last one's done dead
She said “Andy, you're better than your past”
Winked at me and drained her glass
Cross-legged on a barstool, like nobody sits anymore
She said “Andy you're taking me home”
But I knew she planned to sleep alone
I'd carry her to bed, sweep up the hair from her floor
If I'd fucked her before she got sick I'd never hear the end of it
She don't have the spirit for that now
We just drink our drinks and laugh out loud
And bitch about the weekend crowd
And try to ignore the elephant somehow
Somehow
She said “Andy, you crack me up”
Seagram's in a coffee cup
Sharecropper eyes, and the hair almost all gone
When she was drunk, she made cancer jokes
Made up her own doctors' notes
Surrounded by her family, I saw that she was dying alone
But I'd sing her classic country songs and she'd get high and sing along
She don't have a voice to sing with now
We burn these joints in effigy and cry about what we used to be
And try to ignore the elephant somehow, somehow
I've buried her a thousand times, given up my place in line
But I don't give a damn about that now
There's one thing that's real clear to me: No one dies with dignity
We just try to ignore the elephant somehow
skin skin skin
toni morrison's skin
skinned, fisted, gagged
bodybagged
white priv
3 fingers 4
put your whole hand in me
now the other one
can you clap?
tight, huh?
>>7830180
1/10
Dude...
He retained but many certainties,
Ingesting the many silver foils
of his petite, delicious desires...
Why, in sooth, his tongue of peripatetic range
passed over generations of urinated seas
and remained upon weak seldom, upon careful rhapsody...
He had digested such fascinating lore;
It promises his folly certainly ceases never-more.
However, he has since sought a proper isle.
Developed, detailed with such buoyant brethren,
whom he cannot playfully retaliate.
And, perhaps, this adjustment based to the foundation
of illusions suggesting sweet anticipation
dominate his personal, political proclamations.
Thus his fluids had condensed, he presents under a reign,
commanded to recite his future haste
to what lakes of otherworld waste
he shall kneel in tedious history with.
His petite, delicious desire now melts
with hollow progression portraying what he felt...
I learned with the teachings of that thick book
to believe in the end of all passions
because sometimes even when you test me
I know one can't inprision a pepe
these grids that you have created
when trying to tame my heart
have been broken along with your oaths
and all that was left of our history
was your smile showcasing a victory
that you thought you attained one day
but in the end pepe overcomes his sorrows
and altought he surrenders his heart to a thousand passions
he only holds passion for poetry
I hardly hear them now.
Just auditory clues,
cues to signal– keys to
slot in neuropaths and
drafts to notes to sheets to
this music. Peace in the
pieces– where I sit but
don't listen. These songs that
tend to sidle step in,
change some stone to flesh and
numb law to love. I want
rest but instead this sly
test sets in for the night.
I hardly hear them now.
>>7830180
Hey Jason
"White Male"
You say I am a white male
I can't feel the pain
In the morning rain
as it soaks me to the bone
Let me fly, as a white male
up into the sky
Maybe I want to live and die
A white-male.
Maybe?
I don't really want to know.
How your garden grows
Because I just want to fly
away in this white flock
The soul, straining, secretes a narcotic
to slip into the fissures of limbs, when
their motions stutter and stumble in time
and by margins the pendulum slower swings.
It sets the brain on a delayed pursuit
of the skull, plodding across the carpet
of the cranium. From its hems hang the eyelids
like the counterweights of a delicate machine.
The morning cup of tea on china tray,
exhaling breaths with milky odour, capped
with plumes of soapy vapours, only tints
acetic bitterness an orange hue.
It’s not a sweetened brew the brain demands,
tormented to the cusp of boiling, fuel
nor lubricator, but to yield command
and put machine to soft and dreamless sleep.
Smoke curls, broken e-lite, the dirty end.
Makeup cake, face, prostitute eye-bags.
You can tell it’s a boy just by the way
You smirk, at me with those bloodshot
Cheeks. I wonder if you’d vomit paint,
Brown, the stuff for fences.
Tatter-scald fuck and chained like that for years—
No wonder you’ve frayed darling.
I know you sleep tucked inside a
Newspaper. I’ve seen you. At evening:
Your pupil’s a plus-sign
Flipped. Iris jagged. You’re split at the nose
And I want to glue you together,
But only so you’re slightly stable.
My fingers curl on drainpipes as I catch
The rain on the edge of my
Knife. My friends all like to dress
As women. Not very pretty ones.
Bed-quietly, they might hear us
Or touch me. Solid-glow—tapestry
Wallpaper tells the stained-story of
Last night. Tumour eyelids spasm,
Your eyeliner’s fluxing.
There’s blu-tack on the ceiling,
I only notice now. I wonder if
We should pin up a topography of the
Undulations in the mattress.
6.00, Meols Parade
My grandmother, with
Her crucifix and beads,
Invites me to morning
Prayers, where
Shuttered creed taught me
Immolation by
Liturgy. Orthodox
Combustion is a
Different faith to
That which the
Book tells.
7.00, St Michael & All Angels,
Church, West Kirby
At four I knelt in
Stained Light and
Stared at the backs
Of eyes.
I supplicated a
Statuette to conform.
The exultancy of youth
Wears hard
Underfoot, memory
Shores itself
Against the wire-walls
Of my childhood.
Standing in the doorway
of a hallowed hardwood hall,
I let drop a lock of light in white.
Arrayed in rays, I raise my eyes
to glowing-golden woven threads
of speck-dusted diaphane.
Unwound around in rings of shade,
in lack of one, the other's made.
A column, a cross, across the wall,
sending a descending shadowing fall . . .
This one was at some asian-fusion retro bar,
She sat with her legs crossed hands in lap.
I asked her if she had the time
When she smiled and looked down she saw her watch had gone missing!
My face surprised painted a destroyer--
‘Let’s find it! We have no time to waste!’
A small child running in circles,
Als das Kind Kind war
Just like everything I think,
My feelings were disjointed
The minute hands on her clock flew,
But we were yet to find it
Do you know that feeling at the end of the night,
When everyone parts ways with hugs,
Or maybe just a wave and exclamation,
Or maybe just dismissal without eye contact?
Oh god, and the next day,
When you lay in bed criss crossing the ways she existed there
The way she smiled? The way she felt?
Do you lay in, lazy sundays, the thought of her,
Pure, innocent thoughts that only lead way to
The destroyer within us all
But this one lost her watch,
And I hadn’t the time nor intentions
To keep her from looking,
So so simply,
I let her on her way.
She was born
Surrounded by modern medicine
With no fear of corruption
In her pristine hospital room.
But from my hands,
When I held her
And from my lips,
When I cooed
Came
Termites and bark beetles and caterpillars and
Cicadas and wood wasps and sawflies and
Millipedes and moths and maggots and
As they burrowed in her body
There was no indication of corruption
From the modern medicine
In her pristine hospital room.
i really do love you(he said with a smile)of course
you do i know it to be true(she said with a laugh)but
[both of them felt there wrong(it was okay to feel wrong they were (human)]skipping down memory
lane fast like bumblebees in the trees(old trees, who knew it all)skating
gently
into the unknow(n)
>>7832551
8/10, nice use of polysyndeton to increase velocity and heighten the climax
>>7832565
Thank you.
What didn't you care for?
>>7832551
8.5/10
>>7832582
Everything works well, just not the style of poetry I personally like. It's just a preference.
through my looking glass i see
all the people walk around me
when i look inside their eyes
see that light missing inside
still look seventeen
that noose beckons me
and when i die
no one will remember me
>>7832582
I'm the actual rater. The best poetry scratches a mental or emotional itch. While rhetorically talented in the technical sense, it wasn't the right species of jagged to get between the bones.
>>7832651
What the fuck do you mean "actual rater?" I'm seriously offended. There were two people who rated his poem. I'm just as qualified as you are to rate other people's poems you fucking asshole. Don't ever do that again. I'm seriously fucking triggered.
GO FUCK YOURSELF, "ACTUAL RATER."
“Shall We Skip Sunday School?”
His
rain – a warning,
torrential, down-pouring.
he
a crisp oxford
and black shiny shoes.
her
smile – chiding,
constant, inciting.
she
a wrinkled sundress
with only hours to lose.
their
tongues – entwined,
slick, unrefined.
they
a soaking pile
hopes begun to suffuse.
It’s February
I am immoral and unashamed.
The clouds fray from creation.
I taste cold dust in this atmosphere,
Heavy shoulders and small hands—
In the next room they lay awake
And laughed and wrote something
Meaningless. I was caught between
Darkness and unimportance.
In the air there was disregard
Then there was consideration
Nestled between the sheets.
In the sky
I see my face tethered to a star
So I bottle up the universe
And watch degeneration in a jar.
I watch people circle
Just as they had before.
Air gathered in the spaces
Between bodies and brilliance.
I cannot see through
My fiddling
Forefingers, and
There is no secret
To perfect
Articulation, even
When I need to
Verbalise these
Waves.
Confine this,
Paralyse and choke
To chestspread—
Show me your
Manubrium cell-
Meld skin.
Show me why
The tigers looked
Like civets
And why the scrub-
Hares cannot swim.
THIS FRIDAY I WOKE UP AT 2PM
started drinking alcohol at 3pm
at 11pm i went to a party wearing the same clothes i wore on thursday
at 12:30am the guy i lost my virginity to told me he is having a baby
at 1:30am i ate drugs in the bathroom without telling anyone
i don't know how to maintain relationships
most of the people i've had sex with have negative feelings about me now
starving to death during sex is something i would like to do this week
every time i look at my computer
i fight the urge to open a word document and list everything i ate that day
here is what i ate today:
coffee, curry vegetable thing from whole foods, plum
i am most comfortable around people who criticize me because
i feel like anyone who isn't constantly criticizing me is lying
or expecting me to be something different
seems insane that you need money to do things like
develop a drug addiction, or move across the country
i don't identify as 'depressed' even though i feel depressed
seems unfair that i only get to feel a finite amount of things in my life
lately i have been assuming that dried fruit has more calories than regular fruit
i feel like 400 dead jellyfish in the middle of a freeway
>>7832898
0/10, utter fucking garbage.
>>7832898
Kek
Shadows chant the solemn noise
of lonely drops of water.
A dark cave with little light,
dewy and soulless it appears;
Mysterious are its enclosed walls,
as they whisper of insect trails,
and a soft brush nightly paints
demonic monsters that ceremoniously growl.
Masks hide bursts of anger,
while silence is eternally kept.
Dark and red they seem,
lit by the glittering black waters.
Not a soul colors the atmosphere,
although ancient breathless lungs
woefully breath.
>>7832927
making the meme
>>7832991
>woefully breath
"Breath" should be "breathe," you want the present tense verb form, not the noun.
2/10
1 Obligations rinsed clean by a new dawn,
2 Pandiculation reanimating a temporary corpse,
3 Little fragments of myself cling to sleep,
4 Animation is often by force,
5 let me take in the warmth,
6 To a Hearth that has long subsided,
7 Let toil be met with reward,
8 For a grain that God provided,
9 Let no sensation be spared,
10 Lest a gift goes unredeemed,
11 Take solace over the heat,
12 Frigidity atoned by steam,
13 In memory as of days without,
14 I drink in the still seconds,
15 Take the warmths grasp to heart,
16 Hold on strong should retirement reckon,
17 Simplicity with no effort,
18 Rather, none that a cost prohibits,
19 My passion is passive, satisfaction has it’s limits.
Pneumonic Poem
>>7831065>>7833153
It's certainly interesting and there are some good images in there. Simple opening criticisms is the use of water twice in five words is slightly grating. The first few words of the second stanza were fairly generic, even changing 'shores' to 'shore' would be a simple change that I think could make it better. I am also interested in why you only start using punctuation in the second half, I get your use of lower case but it just seems a bit incongruous, i would say either go for normal punctuation or none at all. I would change 'he's' to 'he' seeing as that's what you've used on the next line. Just as a whole poem I feel like the stanzas, although connected in theme, obviously, don't really link together that well, but overall I think it's got the makings of a good poem and with a bit of refinement it could be impressive so well done.
>>7833237
Lame Delilio-lite age of consumerism inspired bullshit
all along the iron banks
blood in the city, not in our eyes
pain
how does a man care for a man?
love?
no
pain
for once in your life, act
do not placate
do not stop
act
otherwise, your great oak
will fall
act
no pain
>>7833289
0/10
>>7833289
Imageless, cliche, and needlessly repetitive.
>>7833285
I don't know who that is but I typically don't care for this kind of writing either. It's fun to write if you're in a certain kind of mood though.
>>7833289
Some of the worst garbage I've ever read.
0/10
>>7833257
Appreciate it brother. I'll keep playing with it
rating someone elses work "0/10" or "1/10" or any number out of 10 really is not conducive to communication.
First this isn't -fucking- a gymnastics routine or a diving competition. There are no rules here, and much less rigid standards concerning form and execution.
The mere fact that another human being has tried to conceptualize some abstract concept or aesthetic with the limited palate of words should be rewarded just as a child speaking her first words.
After all we were all children, and many of us here not so long ago. You don't call a child's drawing 0/10 because it doesn't measure up to the technical skill of the Dutch Masters.
The opposite is often true. A child's work is often highly sentimental, raw, telling of innocence and naivety. This type of work can show adults what it means to be a child again, and are worthy of applaud for that reason alone, even if they fail in their initial expression.
When you look at poetry from this angle, that each poem has a unique story and is indicative of another human beings life; a life that is just as physical, just as nuanced, just as filled with relationships of family and friends and foes, than poetry becomes a very beautiful thing indeed.
>>7833548
Rating something out of 10 is a simple and easy way of communicating whether it's good or not and whether or not it needs work. Okay? It's a very, very easy system that really doesn't have any flaws.
There are rules, by the way. The poem has to have substance: otherwise, it's pretty fluttering words with nothing behind them. It's pretentious. Pretentiousness should always be scored low in poetry. If the form and execution are noticeably bad, the score should reflect that. There has to be a reason certain techniques are used, and there has to be a reason in the context of the meaning of the poem.
There shouldn't be any rewards for an ATTEMPT at conceptualizing the abstract. It has to be a good attempt. There aren't participation awards in poetry. If it's bad, it's bad.
Well now first of all,
I'm the thief who takes all
I'm the man who breaks all
My mind reaches over all
I'm high-rising, high-rolling,
Don't make noise my way
I will choke you
Just to see you suffer
I was walking
The way I do
Straight pimpin'
And so I saw her,
Apparition of the past--
Demon! I will fuck you up
Right here, right now
And she saw me,
Smiled, waved, said hello
And I walked along
Without response,
Praying to hide the
Redness of my face
>>7832673
What.
the.
Do you mean
(Scare quotes)
Actual rater?
(To scare you)
I'm serious,
I'm offended.
There were
Just
Two people
Who, whom, who, it's who
rated his poem.
I'm just.
I'm just
as qualified
as you
are to rate
other people's
poems
you
fucking
asshole.
Don't ever do that again.
I'm seriously fucking
(triggered).
G.O.F.U.C.K.Y.O.U.R.S.E.L.F.
"ACTUAL RATER." -by Pan T. Weist
>>7833548
Haha so your poem was so bad it got one of the 0/10s...?
Here's a run down, fuckface:
0:Pathetic, no hope
1:Pathetic
2:Bad
3:Leather
4:Enchanted Leather
5:Gold
6:Enchanted Gold
7:Iron
8:Enchanted Iron
9:Diamond
10:Enchanted Diamond
You must be new. This is how we rate poetry on /lit/. Stop posting your garbage neuro-backwash in these threads, you utter sissy. Real poets ONLY.
Blankets folded around you,
curling cascades of crevice
and valleys rising, around you,
a giant sleeping in mountains.
So peacefully you exude
the early hours of sleep
still draped across your eyes,
and I hope we never rise.
How I wish we could stay here
with blankets crumpled around us
like giants nestled in mountains
breathing softly like fountains
that spill and spiral and fall,
lines of shadow on the wall
suspended, silent, abeyant---
The blue morning buoyant light
drifts and curls and sways in swirls
above our heads, mixed with sleep,
your fingers in the air carving circles
that descend and dissolve in our nest
of mountains folded around us
They say a few small stones
Felt him resumed, his weight involved back,
All trees now even.
Some iron clots on buses polls are him.
He's the land. And the black end of
The outside blood is him,
And the barked bone and the lied corners in a circle,
Will and slow salt in sea are him.
So they went licking on each obvious strike
Of pose, each change of string in water.
They moved to move in him,
He could be mocked by gait,
Stalked out from pleats and alone beams in morning.
He was one big common arm now, crippled with everything,
Unable to refuse them.
He died, so it was life he had.
Odd thought, he wasn't there often.
But though he always bumped abstract
And went in furnace early,
he found room enough for life
In between the ashes and nourished a folly.
So many children to drop the clovers now
And finally love him gone.
They say
It took one burn to burn him.
>>7833865
funny 7/10
the unnecessary tip-toeing
of carefully chosen words
and deliberate camera angles
it doesn't actually matter
I could have her easy
she is easy
yet I feel bound to
pomp and ritual
to give legitimacy
to tawdry experiments
i, nimbly posturing
invite her input
on the itinerary
of our next encounter
an air of experience
beyond her years yet
more suited to her than I
the elder, the statesman
of the kingdom of mad pussy
Mfw I shitpost
Like nine-dy nine
Of these poems
Feels pretty good
To write words down
When cucks like you
Will read then now
I got four-tay four
Coming, I made a
Fat stack of words
That are fucking
Stupid
Just absolutely
Fucking
Stupid
advised be thou
with such much exclamation
to never sleep
in pragues railway station
When one by one the lights go out
And neighbour children cease to shout
You can hear the things wind down
If you care to listen out.
I can hear a man I know
Who cries alone at night
I wouldn't ever tell him though
It wouldn't feel quite right.
The sighing body next to me
Who's breath plays in my ear
I'd sleep a little better still
If they were not so near.
And when the power outage strikes
I'm sure you're well aware
There are some sounds you never hear
Until they are not there.
Five minute composition time.
>>7834502
4/10, the meter and rhyme scheme are childish
>>7834507
That is to be expected, as I am an amateur.
Teach me a mnemonic for understanding meter.
>>7834525
Just don't use meter. It's ridiculous.
Write free verse. Just write free verse.
>>7834459
made me chuckle.
But honestly, I dont get all of this "i have a dictionary and use it to look at pretty words" writing.
maybe its because i am not a native speaker but this kind of poetry always seems so neckbeardy and lonely in english.
(nothings better than rilke in german btw)
>>7834416
made me chuckle.
But honestly, I dont get all of this "i have a dictionary and use it to look at pretty words" writing.
maybe its because i am not a native speaker but this kind of poetry always seems so neckbeardy and lonely in english.
(nothings better than rilke in german btw)
>>7830180
wait arent those fucking country lyrics you chode
>>7834531
I have and do write free verse.
But now I want to learn meter.
You see, a screwdriver set is incomplete without both the flathead and Phillips.
My legacy lays in dried grass
Cheated by himself;
He's trapped Summer in a jar
Without airholes in the lid.
"Dying's better
The second time around."
He tells him,
As if he believes it.
"We die two times-
Once, when we write the truth
And again, when we accept it."
The sun sets
And they wilt like time.
>>7834547
duly noted, I think what i should focus on is to make the more flowery words blend better in with the common vernacular so the odd 10 dollar word is less jarring.
>>7834557
Yeah I might have overlooked that. The second half of the second stanza, in retrospect, is definitely jarring and a little awkward, especially with "tawdry experiments," like you went from your average teenager with an excess of self-confidence to some scientist/intellectual. I think the poem could be massively improved if you tweak the second and third stanzas. You really have a brilliant rough draft there.
Lathnos het faltern on the high stump
Tious masses rustling their coats in root-eaves below
while Istern hordes trample in a growing spiral
on gods' faces, antipodal.
Sammandrion, sivy settled Satremonger
he may be, lends animate to callowed, mallean Prentics
and holds barred many a mangled law-tracer
but has no heed of his brother
Taphylos, who's none below but the deads' hands
agaze to the primate roil past halted lands.
>>7834574
And with the third stanza, same issue. "Invite her input on the itinerary," sounds like you should have a sip of tea right after you say that. Too British, too formal and intellectual.
>>7834577
Utter fucking garbage. 0/10.
>>7834580
Some of us are British.
You can't really be too British when you're British.
But frankly, as a Brit, I can assure you that "Itinerary" is not a word I encounter in my day to day life.
>>7834580
I thought this was funny and I see the poem becoming political with the whole elder statesman/ pomp and circumstance thing
i, nimbly posturing
invite her input
to set the agenda
of our next congress
>>7834615
I'd add that in, definitely.
gold and glory never forsaken
broken dorothy
beat the crap out of satan
or p.a. his address, almost
trunk behind trunk stink
melting glazy horn of white ink
that writes in blackness
life, in darnkess
strike, and it was your third.
>>7834668
Dreadful. 0/10
>>7834686
Idk how to make poetry, actually I just came here and tried. Who knows... It was a try at stream of consciousness, I'll be back.
Sit simple—
put up your own
shifting sheaves,
and try not to meet
the eyes of those aliens
dancing around you,
with a thousand smiles
for a thousand other paper castles
who totter and leer looking lusting
for gaps that give pry-hold, tell difference
and deviance from the diversity
so deftly maintained.
Sit simple—
find your own
sad sample
who will sit simple too
while the monsters dance and
hunt for sacrifice among
themselves.
Wait and sit simple—
for the ones who will see your face
without killing you.
I wake up in the morning
I am the door, i am this city
brush my teeth with a bottle of Jameson
I leave for the night
I am never coming back
I'm talking
our clothes, clothes
our phones, phones
Drop toping, playing
I am the cd's
up to the parties
Trying get a little bit
Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west
A state that's untouchable like Elliot Ness
The track hits ya eardrum like a slug to ya chest
Pack a vest for your Jimmy in the city of sex
We in that sunshine state where that bomb ass hemp be
The state where ya never find a dance floor empty
And pimps be on a mission for them greens
Lean mean money-makin-machines servin fiends
I been in the game for ten years makin rap tunes
Ever since honeys was wearin sassoon
Now it's '95 and they clock me and watch me
Diamonds shinin lookin like I robbed Liberace
It's all good, from Diego to tha Bay
Your city is tha bomb if your city makin pay
Throw up a finger if ya feel the same way
>>7834772
1/10
>>7834735
>I am the cd's
cd'snutsgotem
>>7834735
this is probably the best one so far in this thread
Me
You
Not he
We
Not you
Hopefully they
I
You!
Him?
But we!
Not you!
They too?
I!
You!
To him!
Not we!
You!
They love...
>>7835624
lol
>>7830175
a death this year approaches
in vane the children cry
her soul still lit but fading
the mind a forgetful husk
she tiptoed around their lives
shaping their future bright
avoiding her walker's rust
she sits and idles days in memory
what little is there is frothy and flies
mother still lives
sisters still laugh
horse hoofs pound the earth
the crops green in her hand
strangers speak freely
they seem to know all about her
her life narrated by unknowns
that suddenly spring back
the voids slowly fill
milky eyes cascade and cloud
atrophy drowns the long hours
a certainty of expiration dances
it abounds
only on bright nights she laughs
when back home in the fields
the dust with her life resounds
every morning a new one
each it's own struggle
trivial spaces fall out of time
baby faces now grown and bearded
her rosary the only constant
her purple veins a river of no
>>7835654
help me out, family. I know it's not great but I didnt edit or anything and wrote it for this thread.
>>7834668
sounds more like a first draft of a Mars Volta song. Just a bunch of words thrown together. Try to say something.
>>7834587
not that anon, but this aint critique. Say why you think it's grabage, other wise sit on it.
When I start to live I think I’ll have a death mask made
And hang it on a wall - probably not my own –
I’ll watch it as it starts to change and
Contort into a different shape and crack in two.
My forehead open like an egg
Red yolk touching cloth.
My eyes will breath like burning postcards
On my birthday, I often think so.
They’ll open and
Dilate in time with music coming from my pulsing
Neck. A hum I learnt at rest.
And then they’ll
Fall, leaving holes, from which thoughts
Bead.
"Bleak"
Days and nights all terribly bleak
A way away from normality is all I seek
A breath of fresh air , something to fill the void
Tar-like despair engulfing all that I once enjoyed
Nights of gluttonous blackness , and days in grey
Tomorrow will be better, or so do they say
reach for the sky
hold your head up high
for tonight
and every night
your a superstar
>>7836094
nice your/you're bait. try harder next time.
Lettuce and bread, all spread
on my tables and red
grapes and 'tomatos
for peoples' to enjoy
Songs and drunkards, all spread
on the tables, and red
wounds of blood flow
--the dead don't enjoy
Music loud, bad tales recited,
the tired and lazy eyed,
the crazy and excited:
Come, come and eat
the red grapes and tomatos'
come, come and dance
laughter, bravado, fight and,
die.
>>7835926
kinda lackin in message as in being only an emo complaint at life but it flows well. 5/10.
>>7832551
beautiful, anon.
>>7835685
i'm not even that guy
but fuck you
Early thine covers
Forever protecting
the
fair skinned perfection
from balmy, dew-dropped air
Nay, but she is forever lost
And I write upon
but a
lingering, languid laugh
a dust of memory
Yet by her once shining hair I do see
A way for my life to go happily
>>7836577
This is actually great, well done.
>>7836602
???
it's cliche garbage lol
>Yet by her once shining hair I do see
>A way for my life to go happily
w e w l a d
>>7836577
0/10, absolute trash.
>>7836602
Thank you! I will definitely keep up the work. Thanks for taking time to read it.
>>7836607
>>7836612
Excuse me, but this is a critique thread. If you want to do ratings, please go to /soc/ or some other pleb board where they take that nonsense seriously.
On THIS board, we critique. That means you must explain your reasoning.
I don't appreciate being bothered by dilettantes and their endless projecting. Did you catch the Shakespearean couplet at the end? Didn't think so. How about the alliteration in the second stanza? Guess you missed that.
Why don't you take a trip to the library and read before wasting everyone's time, idiot?
>>7836630
oh my god this post is golden ahahaha
ty anon
>>7836517
name a time and place, big boy ;*
>>7836639
hes right though. stop shitting on people and give critique you fucking moron. I bet your writing is shit.
>>7832551
nice close.
>>7836693
you spent way too much time on this anon. it's not even funny.
>>7836688
i just said i like that post faggot stop projecting i didnt say shit about the poem
>>7836630
>I don't appreciate being bothered by dilettantes and their endless projecting. Did you catch the Shakespearean couplet at the end? Didn't think so. How about the alliteration in the second stanza? Guess you missed that.
>Why don't you take a trip to the library and read before wasting everyone's time, idiot?
>>7836699
get fucked. nice double doubles.
>>7836699
>6699
checked senpai
>>7835737
Anything on this?
>>7836697
but you have to explain why it's not funny senpai :)
>>7836751
it's full of cliches :^)
bump this wonderful productive thread :)
I am the jizz
the wind blows me
I come across faces
present yourself
you are the platter
lay myself upon you
silver pearl
the wind blows me
I am the jizz
anyone else here never write a single poem in their life but just fuck around and post in these threads and watch retards critique you?
How can you imagine something totally alien
Composed of components—kill the thought.
How do you describe distress to the unfeeling?
When words fall from lips empty—you ought not.
Rhythm helps, as does a gentlish touch (rescind?)
But a simple shard of humble grace and other unplannednessess
Stifles the wifi: the willingness to will—cut the music.
The skylights percolate sky light and night winces.
The caravan expands and harmony finally convinces
Me, you, us, uterus, to submit to a seared path
Garnished with red wine reductionist platinum platitudes:
Ubiquitous digestibility, palpable gold festoonery,
A trillion Suns set on desolate planets
And a not so supernova puts on its glasses
To shade it's coronal corneas from shabby rays.
Now back to work
For my shabby raise.
P = no problem
I'm so tired and hungry and tired and hungry but I don't know how to make it to the point of having a great way to go out with my life. [sic suggestions]
>>7835926
I quite like this, but the format disagrees with me, it doesnt flow well, maybe something like this?
Days and nights all terribly bleak
A way away from normality is all that I seek
A breath of fresh air, to fill the void
Tar-like despair engulfs all i enjoyed
Nights dark as pitch,
and days sombre grey,
Tomorrow'll be better,
at least that's what they say
Bear in mind I'm a retard so feel free to disregard this
Stupid super abstract nonsense convoluted enough to seem meaningful—though reality bursts at the seems:
Cacaphonous infant cries disrupt Hasting
Hastily drawing a halt to the tumult.
Bloodshed: Google BTK, or have it YOUR way—
I insist that we (I think you (me) mean I) should incorporate more punktuations: I, acquiesce to my,
How you do say? Solidarity of neurons; the second mark points............of no rereturn—fun filters in" pilfered bins//trash 'n' sins:
Meaningless meandering meet critical acclaim.
And yes that statement is absolute—I hate wasps.
What's your fav species?
Just love adore admire and appreciate thee
And me
Of course.
Find human condition prognostications elsewhere
Erstwhile I titillate my Lego box ad hoc mind with sparkling spittle
And the dream to become great.
Follow my Instagram: @anusbomber
I'm on Xanax.
>>7837809
>bursts at the seems
I quite liked it though, im not sure i was able to draw any sensical message from it, but it read well and made me feel something, lord knows why
>>7837761
You're going to have to establish at minimum a sense of critical authority before you pan people's work because purely quantitative critiques on qualitative subject matter do no good other than reinforcing whatever personal bullshit you have for yourself.
Constructive criticism, not haphazard vapid and extreme condemnations.
One minute—biding time with lies;
Don't say eyes. Fuck pedantic skeptics—
Same river stagnates ne'er—titties epic.
HAVE FUN AND RECITE EXUBERANTLY.
the fetal position is for the triumphant:
Lost everything? Talk and see you're blindly right----------------Tourette's tick (not effective out loud)
But dat loud. I smoke a, b, and c's.
Kill your something and ride with me,
Cry and dye with me: let's become hippies
Then investment bank and hunt pheasants in Nova Scotia. I'm
In love with you baby.
>>7837831
Your critique of his critique: 0/10.
>>7837852
-7/10 pure nonsense.
string a ling a ding dong
my king kong sings a
sad song
hark beith thine harpy
you big fat fuckin bitch
yaherdme
I said I'm a meme man
YA
HERRRD
ME??
[end?]
What we wanted was to watch him silver fall
Cut the surface of the water and leave no bruise
Every earth bound angel who was taught his body was a sin
Calculates in his head equations needed to sculpt the air
As he aims from grim height for the promise of blue
I ain't happy
I'm feeling sad
I got sunshine in a bag
I'm useless
but not for long
my future is coming on
>>7837904
is this a poem about diving? It's good anon.
>>7837934
I can see you want to keep things very simple but you made it too simple to where it is cringey. the third and last lines are awkward.
>>7837903
this was a little amusing to read so while I'm not convinced you're not >>7837701 its still better than many here
>>7837852
yep total nonsense fuck off ya cunt
>>7837809
>Stupid super abstract nonsense convoluted enough to seem meaningful
good, I don't have to read your poem now. I think more people should adopt this idea.
>>7837757
let's pick a line out at random
>Ubiquitous digestibility, palpable gold festoonery,
does this sound like poetry to you? read it. read it out loud. no it does not. back to the drawing board, stop reading Eliot.
>>7838006
pretty sure the 1st one you critiqued is the #1 hit song Clint Eastwood by the Gorilaz
>>7838017
damon albarn is fucking shit so I regret nothing
>>7837904
This is oddly nice. 8/10.
>>7838037
that one about jizz was pretty good
120 Days
Claustrophobopolis
Carved up esophagus
Vine swallowed morgues by the Xanadu opulence
Human experiments
Ceaseless inheritance
Scurrilous scoundrels patrolling the residence
Feasting on waste
The scales defaced
Eagles swoop down to lay the nextbrace
Angles acute
Flattened by boots
The compass needle has been rendered moot
I see spiders roam like masterminds
Taking their intricate intertwined works
To trap the weaker ones round the clock
Going berserk, but they only sink deeper
City symphonies composed in chalk
Scrubbed away by a passing sweeper
>>7838083
I don't know why there's no space between next and brace, sorry.
Waiting in silence with amber glass in hand
Arching of the back while lying in bed
The warmth of spring slides down your throat
A fire built from the trees you cut down
Proverbial words you strike with the pen
What did I mean by this?
My ears aloof to noises
All i remember, Moses;
The misty mount, and verses
Written down as he -with God- converses.
The ten noises that resonated
As powerful as Zeus' lighting dessimated
The living and dead -and yet-
More eloquent than bolts, the threat
Was that he who acted in sinful regret
Elohim's rules would not forget
Write a poem about
Writing a poem
While drinking
And writing a poem
>>7830175
upon the keyboard my fingers click
swollen becomes the flesh sword I call my dick
>>7834558
poets who don't know meter are pseuds, who want to feel like a "poet" but don't care for the work
Fear stems from soils below
On the path at which the wind blows
Where will it lead us to?
Only the devil knows.
For its' end is where his garden grows.
The seeds are sown,
At a place the damned call home.
And the wanderers write prose,
Inspired by the beauty of a well trimmed rose,
While the lonely girl weeps like willows.
I profess my lust for you
To wring your black hair
To gnaw on you like a bear
I rage like a tsunami, overpowered
With an unsalvagable appetite
I'm coming for you, so be tight
I feel the red blood rushes
But the cool claws of love
Transpire through my veins
You, my forbidden fruit
We cannot be together
A passion to stay in root
But what would happen
So to say, if you left like a feather
Flew into my lap, as we play in sap
To prepare for our gooey tenderness
What loquacious noise will come
Or are your lips to full of cum
To soft your skin, I'll make it dirt
On your feet I'll kiss the earth
For your virgin soul will shatter
Once I pitch and hit the batter
H-how do you like it guys
>>7838083
if you focused more upon coherence than a simplistic sing-song rhythm, much of this imagery and language would work better.
>>7838129
well at least you have metre. what would help the most is, again, coherence; you're forming sentences sure, but you're not creating a scene - just throwing shit at the wall and hoping you're creating a mood. and leave out the memes.
>>7838268
did you intend to make every line a cliche? if so why?
>>7838285
I feel like this is what you'd write to your crush and put in her locker anonymously and she'd be freaked out and figure out its you and you'd get sent to the office and suspended but not before the principal laughs at it. so, keep trying I guess
No Transfer
Oh why;
jaws caught in a snarl,
slowly gliding into view.
Teeth like talons,
curled and twisted sharp
that drips and oozes drool,
and grins
a crocodile smile.
Where is it?
Fire envelopes the shop,
while I stand there sweating:
the sickly red
of my work shirt
becomes drenched.
Pages curl black.
Covers melt to raw colour.
A sharp dressed man -
not Top -
he grins at me,
a smile curled up too far,
he looks smug.
“Don't worry, I bought the shop.”
His finger struck out from a silhouette.
“You can still work here!”
The fire is too much,
inferno blinds the way.
Acrid vapours tear into me.
The skin stings, welts.
I really need the toilet,
my body quivers with urgency.
Where was that thing,
the one with the predator's grin?
A wall fell through,
the flame licks away the coating.
Through the crevice
I see the night.
Pitch as the tar
that smothers and chokes
all that flourishes sanguine.
It quells the burning.
Slurped out the crevice,
the flame dissipates.
The smug man gasps,
caught between the jaws,
of the curled teeth.
Tore to shreds.
The books, now pristine,
and I no longer need to go.
>>7838303
i am a cliche
>>7838285
I'm giving this one a 10/10 because it made me kek fucking hard.
>>7838336
10/10 for the purposes of irony, 0/10 if a serious effort.
>>7838341
Then how to make it better?
>>7838315
quite lynchian
>>7838315
Bizarre. 7/10.
>>7838342
I wouldn't really say it was a serious effort. I knew how cringe it would be I just wanted to write something, anything.
>>7838345
Practice more until you dont suck. The seriousness and energy just contrast too much with ur lack of expertise making it all the more ridiculous. Keep going though, we all suck at some point.
>>7838358
Dude, just... just read some poetry. You have the ability to write, you just need to have some influences. Look up poets from each century and just read, read, read. Specifically though, these were the cringe parts:
>gnaw on you like a bear
>I rage like a tsunami
>I'm coming for you, so be tight
>gooey tenderness
>Or are your lips to full of cum
>Once I pitch and hit the batter
It's just awkward.
>>7838315
I dont get it so either 0/10 for nonsense or 0/10 to me for being a retard
so since i dun goofed and started a new thread when i shouldn't have...
>>7838381
Again, 9/10. You have a beautiful way with language.
>>7838391
Thanks anon. I have another I wrote around the same time. I'll type it up and screencap again
>>7838381
I like it but i dont get "bereft of comfort and calamity alike"and then the fact u never really connected that lack with anything but just proceded to differentiate then. Seems outta place. 7/10
cuckle fuck
cisses shut
its a white mare
with his white mare privilege
are you kidding me
youre kidding me
save my asshole for a black filling in me
do you feel the bern
I feel the bern
I am a cuck yes I am
my names carl yes I am
>>7838417
0/10
>>7838405
this
also
>black, dark abyss
is bad, excessive, redundant
Your subject matter is somewhat cliche
No prosody
>>7838405
That first line is more about me than about the two halves, so maybe it is a bit out of place in the poem. How it relates to the two halves though is how I feel when acting as each one. I might be happy on the outside but it gives me no comfort, whereas on the inside, I just feel empty when nothing truly terrible has actually ever happened to me.
>>7838381
Here's the second one.
As though appending lines, none that fit,
To a shoddy sonnet quickly shelved, late March
Into a fury snaps, one coldly writ,
And down dry streets does rage, the finches parch,
And puddles cruelly shrunk to pools of sand.
With a sadly smiling gaze, the Moon her son
Is watching rampage through the lonely blue land,
And wonders when his learning shall be done.
>>7838434
Also fair warning, this is some emo bullshit, but I needed to write it.
>>7838417
0/10
>>7838434
I can relate to this and am alright with your writing style.
8/10
>>7838417
laughed too hard m8
please go back to /pol/
Desperately running across a maze
Defunct castle walls that crumble
Rise blocking our escape
Me, my family all hastily escape
Behind, in front and around
Starving rats on us prey
"Faster, Dad!" I screamed as he lost pace
Brother sister and mother left behind
But my life i must save
We reach the corridors' end
But my noble father tired and breathless
"We must return" -had to say.
>>7838303
Hey, >>7838129 here, you are correct, I threw that poem together in about 5 minutes. It's about lying in bed, drinking Jameson and writing a poem, mixed in with a little bit of biography (me and friends/family made a bonfire today, I wanted to incorporate that into it.)
The last line wasn't supposed to be part of the poem, I was just wondering how someone might interpret the poem outside of personal context.
Thanks for the feed back though, I do struggle with every line fitting together and making sense within the whole whenever I do write this stuff out, which usually only happens when I'm drunk or tipsy.
Plz Bernie free abortion
Tyrone just left me
And now im preggo with aids
Bernie set me free
Plz bernie free abortion
so i dont have to pay
maybe i stil have aids
doesnt mean im gay
Plz bernie FREE ABORTION
so i dont have to live under the opresive standerds of the white islamophobic transphobic racist misogynistic ableist capitalist patriarchy
Plz bernie free abortion
Cuz my kid will be a darkie
>>7838494
This shits about a dream i had were it symbolizes my father's virtue as opposed to my fearfulness and indifference. My fear is symbolized by rats and my horrible morals in that i prefered saving myself that aiding the rest of my family.
There were also zombie babies that chased after us in the dream but i couldnt include that
>>7838474
last one for the night. Also, it's too long so I can't screencap it.
How I long to cry out
To declare my suffering to anyone who would hear it
To expel this from me
The agony I create for myself daily
The abyss does, in fact, stare back.
It takes up my entire field of vision and enters thoughts
It becomes me. I become it.
There is nothing. Never has been, never will be.
No force can shake its inexorable grasp
Its subtlety combined with brashness
Its paradoxical nature
Able to be seen and clearly perceived
But as smoke, never to be caught
It melts the minds of mortal men
The will dissolved, a soul in its end
A click, a step, a breath, a fall
To end it all
Do you understand now?
Is it clear why?
While some would rather live
Others wish
To die.
>>7838503
hardmemer
you lack subtlety
impact comes from contrast. your poem is monotone, and so is robbed of impact.
in order to really get to people, you must first gain their trust, and then brutally betray it
>>7838513
plz bernie fre abortion :'(
Privilege ma village
stamps on ma billage
fuckin ya women
cuckin ya lil white dick willage
ooga booga
I'm a nigga
with a baby mama
I'm nigga
with alotta drama
I'm nigga
want ma dick wit a side of pasta?
ooga booga nik nok oo oo ah ah
>>7838518
>>7838503
>>7838417
>>>/pol/
>>7838518
first i park mah car
then i fuck your bitch
cuz im niga as fuck bitch
and u be actin like i dindu nuffin but
i got yo white girl friend pregnant now she got aids
where are u now bernie sanders
nigga say black life matter
but that shit dont matta cuz im in favor of gun control
cuz u know i be getin my fire arms illegally anyways
so i can do sum armed robbery while im flexin my huge ape dick over your moms face
now u got a niga for a step dad too bad im gona bandon dat hoe too
>>7838522
whats your problem with /pol/etry?
FUCK NIGGERS
FUCK NIGGERS
MY WHITE DICKS BIGGER
FUCK NIGGERS
FUCK NIGGERS
MY WHITE BRAINS TRIGGERED
FUCK WOMEN
FUCK WOMEN
CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE
FUCK WOMEN
FUCK WOMEN
LOOK AT MY RED PILL REDDITERS
FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK LITERATURE
FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK LITERATURE
I DONT NEED TO READ
I SPEAK PHILOSOPHY
>>7838534
it still comes off as a caricature all the way through. imo it should start off more credibly. attempt some rhythm and rhyme, even if you abandon it later for the sake of humor or whatever
>>7838540
you're lucky reagan shut down state mental institutions for that shit bud, autism off the charts
“What are your thoughts?”
Lurid neon to the eyes,
that is the nature to confront.
Swollen purple,
bulging beyond boundaries.
I can feel it pressing against me,
brushing past my face
and it's making me shiver.
I'd known my thoughts,
a phrase or an image,
turned incandescent.
It burns with a brilliance
that I wish to scream about:
hold it up like a forlorn banner.
Though in the end,
it may not hold up
under scrutiny.
Sever the link,
which binds the thought,
which minds the throat.
Your child is not as bright
as you would believe.
It withers and wilts,
like wafer-au-chocolat
plunged into scalding coffee,
served for those at exuberant
yet ludicrously overpriced
downtown cafes.
The fear
of that paper thin cast away,
made to toss around in the swells
of nimble yet vicious minds,
sets wonders for one who must
create the link
which minds the thought,
which binds the throat.
I don't know what to say,
it's probably wrong anyway.
>>7838435
>tfw post poem I took time to write and revise
>tfw thread shitposted to oblivion
>>7838540
they think im a fedora
they think im a meme
i just get a big erection
from making posts obscene
they think im just a worthless cuck
who doesnt have a yob
but for my man donald j trump
my beating heart does throb
i had a hot gf once
and she sent me nudes
but when i found out she fucked tyrone
i gassed her like a jew
maybe one day ill get the chance
to get my message clear\
lighten up and loosen ur butts
you scrawny left wing queers
I just fapped and forgot how to love
a darling I have seen a while ago
on a subway train headed
to somewhere I don't know
I have bumped into her;
and with soft bend she bled a beam
that said the sweetest sorry
and I smiled, too and lay awake
a while before trying to dream
eyes casts beauty under their peel
detailed divine turn abase on her kneel,
innocent subtlety shift to something obscene
as restless beats peaked and receded serene
and with a heart delayed and brood set free
resolved all the planned intimacy
it's all mutual in my reverie
as sullied beauty is enough love for me
>>7838435
this is great anon, made me feel
>>7838560
>Lurid neon
stealing this term, whatever the fuck it means
>>7835737
Anything on this?
Crushing craneums consolidate the cold musseums of a lost world;
Fallen from grace as we are inevitably woven in stress and disgrace.
A slimy substance corrodes our bones as we are displayed to ourselves:
as we are made a separate being. By mere reflection, we sadly duplicate our pain.
The animal flourishes and dies; we unknowingly flourish just to die and know ourselves as dying;
every breath is ominously contaminated by the light of decay; every smile, every symptom.
Every pathology is duplicated as humans are bloodily sliced into a cold mirror;
Crushing craneums and spines now form the solid foundation of our lost world
Not exactly a poem but just a thought
> Winter wind was weakly woken.
> Spring surprised some selected scenery.
> Summer sun strongly sang serenades.
> Autumn augmented awesome orchids awfully.
What do you anons think?
the red clouds blaze across
the horizon, helping raise the dark
pillars of the city.
the air is warm and does not move
and the cicadas are calling
in the distance
and the sky is sliding into night
the bats commute overhead
you thought they were crows, but
they fly too slowly - their
cobwebbed wings trailing
like a banner in the wind
>>7838863
it's certainly alliteration
I feel the hope running low.
We never found our way home.
There is no more world, the land is gone; water is all that survived that one.
There are no escapes; gone are the days of mistakes, our mistakes.
And did you see? The night wore on.
And became the days that never begun.
The disappearing days, you know where I'm from.
Its the only place that forever stays young.
Lost at sea, we're lost at sea.
I wouldn't know my face, if you all were me.
All we have is all we see.
There is no more hope, there are no dreams.
acid inspired desu
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
>>7838876
...thanks
>>7838901
Not sure you understood, so I'll explain. Alliteration is when you begin consecutive words with the same letter.
>>7830175
I met a girl a long time ago on a windy road.
She was a woman who was beautiful in every sense of the word.
Yet she had never been told that fact.
So I was the one who told her that
I would how different things would be now
If I hadn’t been the one who turned her world around
If I was not the one who turned her life upside down
For now in front of me she stands
With blood on her hands
A smile of gleaming red
And a voice which says a line of utter dread
“I love you” she states, her voice lovely and sweet
So as I feel clothes come into my spine covered in sweat
I respond in the only way that I know how
I whisper a line, a line so quiet
That I wonder if she could hear it
In the place that we are alone
That is line is
“Please, god no.”
I just wrote some fucking love haikus. The meter on all of these is terribly off, but fuck it.
>The wind comes and goes
>as our romance waxes and
>wanes, strong then nothing.
>The sun rises and
>sets, stars align, but still you
>think nothing of me.
>Our love is fleeting
>as all life ends quickly, the
>rose blooms then withers
I'll be waiting for some anons to tell me my shit sucks now.
>>7836424
I was going for nihilism but thanks anyway
>>7837807
Your version is not bad but you deleted some of the meaning I intended but thanks for the review
"Class"
A prison for the soul
As black as coal
A hole that swallowed me whole
A death
A resurrection
No room for imperfection
12 years from my life you took
Trapped between the pages of a book
12 springs came and went
And for my freedom I cried and wept
When will my freedom dawn?
When will I be reborn?
>>7838568
This should be the official 4chan anthem
>>7839054
The first one I really like, but that punctuation at the end - get rid of them, please, both in the first and second haiku, it's fucking triggering me it's so horrible
The second one is very okay as well as the third.
These are very competent haikus, anon.
>>7839097
delete this
>>7838381
8/10 reminds me of Harry Haller from Hesse's Steppenwolf
>>7839122
Why?
>>7839116
Thank you for the feedback and constructive criticism. I'll try to figure out what I did wrong with the punctuation and fix that next time. I wrote these on a whim so I didn't put much thought into anything else but their message and 5-7-5 structure.
>>7839097
I wrote this while sitting in physics class in high school so I know it may not be that good, but I never got any critique on it and I'd appreciate some
>>7839135
lose both those final dots in the first and second haikus, the rest is fine, even the commas. The content itself is pretty good, really. Don't want to inflate your ego or anything, but they're pretty, pretty good.
>>7839140
It's an exercise. Nothing more.
it has no artistic value. But it's not "bad" - it's just a piece, a poem. It's an exercise in poetry. You have to do a great deal of them before you can stumble upon something with value.
No poet writes masterpieces or good stuff without years and years of practice.
When I was in highschool I wrote more than 100 poems in the span of three months and, having read a few months ago - it's been more than ten years now - I realized they could not be used in ny way, shape or form. But they were essential in making me get better and write the poetry I write today.
>>7839206
Thanks
I planted a row of trees
Lining with care, each new bud
Beside the walls of a new home.
They budded up so high
Those dreamy saplings
Though no rain had fallen.
'When it is Summer they shall be a cove'
I said
When it is Winter they will catch the snow
I wished.
But Autumn lingered
And grey in the sky
It rained
And the saplings did not spring
I lingered awhile. prodding the trees
They were stunted
shrinking
I left.
Sometimes I walked past that house
Looking for Winter Growth
Finding Summer bones.
Season's came and went away
Taking the memories of seeds and saplings.
Sometimes as I wander
With seeds in my palm
A house passes by
And so many steps after
The past jumps out at me
Like an amnesial scare
Reminding me that
Leaving the future
Loses the past
Such musings too are fleeting
For there are seeds to foster
Wishes to water
I planted a row of trees.
Guarded secrets are too frail,
Sad to say i never knew,
you were searching for the words
yet the moment never came
You could have held my fragile frame,
But you dissapeared into the darkness
And the darkness turned to pain
-it never went away-
and all that remained was buried,
Deep beneath the surface.
There's this thing called the world that we all agree exists
But we can't agree on what it is—and this persists.
Is it the planet, globe, or some universal gist?
I say it's all and none of the above—more like a cyst
Or a tryst in time between skin-trapped arbiters.
"Just look around you," a vague feeling insists
while syncopated thoughts distract.
Rhyme and Reason: characters in a children's book,
hopelessly compelling the compellable just to look
and see the sea of seeming, the things of dreaming,
before believing in the wraith of faith the cook
of the things we name and blame and stain
like the exalted saints turned malted crooks.
The story goes the world arose
In a maelstrom of biblical prose
In a hail storm of explosive throes
In the hindsight of battered woes.
We create what we do
and produce something new—so it's news.
We fall and shout and mend a bruise
before the end of this titanic cruise,
so frightened faces in heightened places
we peruse, then, unfortunately, abuse and abuse.
Entranced by the savage
forest that entangles my gaze
I see a rose deep within its chest
Chase, chase
I walk the lupine path
each raindrop on each petal
tells a tragedy
I reach its bloody
heart a reddened rouge rose
and pluck it like a harp-string
Swift, swift
back to her bosom
before the thorns engulf me
like the grasp of slumber
Entranced by the savage
body that entangles my gaze
I place a rose gently upon her breast
wrote in 10 mins + im new so be kind
It's taken too long for us to get here.
Those tuliped lenses have turned to grey.
Your laurel of willows, now a waterfall,
Same as it ever was, touched by no-one
Our eyes will not meet, or our hands brush.
Spectres of bygones, just passing by,
With terraformed hearts, that pull away
All memories to an ashen sky
I had always hoped for your eyes to see any foreign battle scars of mine.
In the fields of my home, or the streets of your town,
Any memory of me would be stained with doubt.
Cursed with the sleepwalker's daze,
May we both find peace.
In the ravaged fields of my home, or the mouldered streets of your town
>>7838942
...thanks
>>7830175
No snow but all cold:
alongside the lake
the deer scamper across the
skein, black hooves clacking,
brown bodies steaming
shore-to-shore.
I like to run on the path
that hugs the bank, I like to
listen to the slowness
of winter, the only sound
the stomp of my shoes on
the frosted dirt.
The sweat on my lips
the only liquid thing
outside my skin, like the
lake under its inch
of ice. The deer leap
into the bracken while
behind them comes
a cracking.
>>7835654
crit this
Lest we dissolve into the bleakness of static
Lest we disperse all our pieces and links
Note down all the exemplifications
of Time's curvature
and the delicate disruptions
of its decalogue
We supposedly should have the right
not to succumb, thus renouncing the light
to the disjunctive theses
of the adiaphane &
the adiaphanous delight
Our longevity rushing in an awry manner
Wavelengths submerged with an encircling stammer
Minute sparks of mediocre notes
Lest we dive & drown forever
Inexorably scatter
commute the winding mountaintops
of earnest importance and grand matter
Lest we disperse into curved air
>not a native English speaker by any means
>>7835654
It's good but I want it tighter--give me the imagery (which is there) and let me figure out the tone on my own. For example, you could start this at the fourth line and lose nothing, in fact it would be sharper. Likewise I don't need "and idles days" or "freely," or "the voids slowly fill."
It's powerful stuff--doesn't need the frills and puffs.
>>7841068
7/10
quite nice, you have an eye for words and concepts which similar poems itt lack. would be greatly improved with less wordiness though - you got the balance in the first 6 lines but the rest was tiring to read.
>>7841054
8/10
also quite nice, a delicate touch to your imagery and diction. only suggestion is to be more careful with where you put your line breaks - sometimes they seem a little arbitrary.
>>7839054
your haikus actually refer, at the least, to nature, so you automatically trump every other shitty haiku here. also stop writing haikus.
>>7838963
4/10
makes my eyes roll, but your rhythm is fairly natural. write about other things so you don't sound like a more literate La Dispute or some shit.
>>7838896
definitely my favorite Frost poem why you posting it in a critique thread though :0 :(
>>7838891
JOHN FRUSCIANTE LYRICS - Hope - A-Z Lyrics
also they suck
>>7838871
5/10
straighten up your metre aka get some metre in most places. also try to tie your different images together more clearly
Now if I fuck this model
And she just bleached her asshole
And I get bleach on my T-shirt
I'mma feel like an asshole
I was high when I met her
We was down in Tribeca
She get under your skin if you let her
She get under your skin if you-uh
I don't even want to talk about it
I don't even want to talk about it
I don't even want to say nothing
Everybody gon' say something
I'd be worried if they said nothing
Remind me where I know you from?
She looking like she owe you some
You know just what we want
I want to wake up with you in my eyes
>>7841100
this is good. I have a problem with cutting out fluff, mostly because I dont notice it. thanks.
>>7830175
always i feel empty
never am i full
do i have to be this way?
however hard we try and fail
interests never succeed
so we're stuck to no avail
"nihilist" that must be me
always they think im bleak
me? oh silly youre mistaken
ecstatic as i could be
into the void i always go
so there i must always stay
Jolly i march, head first than toes
Oh how merry i am
he's always watching when i go
never do i forget it
ceasar would be quite disturbed
ever i must search for his name
never have i though to think
at the beginning of each line it lays
They wrote on the walls despair
Despair wrote in red
Red for all to read
Read for all their brains
Brains for all their heads
Heads for their function
Function, were all wait for a direction
Direction, we choose and path and thats where we go
Go in hope
Hope they wrote in red
Red from the blood they gave after despair
Despair is what was not given
Given was hope
I saw the yellow moon
I saw the black of sky
I drank the green of the morning
And saw her shining eyes
I sat and talked for hours
We spoke in myth on death
I rode across the evening sun
And collected the souls and sign
Now laying still in silence
No one, no thing to know
With heavy falling eyelids
And nothing left to know
>>7841780
Anon, I really like this.
>>7841804
I like this
>>7841830
Its my first poem
Ides of March
I don’t know
Where’d I go wrong, what did I do
Why do you all have me feeling so blue?
That’s an epitaph
To my ego, arrogance
And memory.
I wanted to leave
But now I have to go.
Maybe I did fuck your ex
But what does that mean, what do you mean
Why would you trust me
To remember a promise, let alone honor it.
I’ve been so dissociated for the past 3 months
I cant remember the past 3 months.
What really upsets me though
Is how upset you are
And how calm I am.
I loved you more than my family
Hell you all were my senpai
Why are we drawing lines in the sand?
Wait
Wait
I’ll just let you all take your side, you won’t understand mine.
And that’s cool.
Just pour one out for me
When you think of your dead homies.
I’ll be elsewhere, fucked up
With nothing to do.
>>7841874
>that senpai filter
lel
>>7841874
Hey look, the filter caught you being a moron.
Based off something I read in the Bible. I don't write poetry, but for some reason I was inspired
A fool complacent in wisdom's presence
Forever will remain a scoffing fool
Contempt rewarded with disease and death
The threads of life cut short from long life's spool
>>7841874
>Senpai
Legendary
>>7841329
>also stop writing haikus.
Can't stop won't stop
Before I was born
My mom and dad used to Smoke strange green chemicals in the California sun
I realized now that they were young once to
but after a night of too much liquor
Clothes came off quicker
Than those people holding hands falling off the twin towers
Smashing into the earth with raw power
In that instance in my mother’s womb
Lust turned into life
And my mother found Jesus
But during my mother’s newfound Pentecostal praise
My old man stepped out and started drawing up his veins
My father left us for days
That turned into weeks
Then months and then years
So in the end you could say I was a momma’s boy
Ever since I was tall enough to reach the phone perched and mounted against the wall that I thought could never hurt me
I was old enough to answer it
And every time I cradled the talking piece of plastic between my ear
I was always greeted by somebody on the other end calling me “ma’am”
And for the longest time
I thought they were saying man
Because I was cool and hip, man
When entering grade school, I found a correlation between being cute and long swishy hair
So I grew my hair out like Samuel
like how optimists learn never cut their dreams
But this lion’s mane became
And remained
A gender peek and boos mystery to some store owners
Asking my mother and me “So. How are you young ladies doing tonight?”
I was always a crier
And with a mother manlier and tougher than I
With a mother that didn’t need a man to kill the scorpion that snuck into our house one
With the mother that would later have breast cancer without a mans support
With a mother that went through every chemo treatment by herself
With a mother that cut off her hair and breasts
With a mother that cut off the very thing that made the world think she was a woman
With this mother
It wouldn’t be strange to hear “shut up or buck up”
I heard the words “Stop being a girl” so often
She said it like it was a bad thing
A fact that’s at least a little bit close to the truth
My mother believes gay to be synonymous with the feminists
So it wouldn’t be odd for her to question my sexuality due to the clothing I wore
Or how much time I spent on appearances
“Why don’t you go do boy things?”
“How are you going to take care of your wife?”
I didn’t come out the way she expected
I think I was a failure before I was even conceived like every election for a new senator
I was always a crier
I was always so mad at myself for being so sensitive like it was my fault that I never had a “manly” example in my life
Why wasn’t it okay to play house as a boy
I made a great mother
I was never good at cops and robbers
I could never pull the trigger
I was a disappointment before I even began like the sequel to any hunger games book
I didn’t come out the way she expected
I didn’t come out the way he expected
I didn’t come out the way the world expected
>>7842083
So now I’m at some variable of a number wondering if it still makes a difference that i've changed
My hair is shorter
My voice is deeper
And I still don’t do the things a boy does
But hey
If you want to question my masculinity
like a schoolyard circle of idiots
like a swordfight with lightsaber erections
save your breath
Because contrary to what you may believe
not every problem can be solved by “growing a pair”
You can’t arm-wrestle your way out of depression or any other mental illness homie
And I promise you my dearest basketball shorts wearing friend
There is no lite beer in the universe dudley enough to make you love yourself
‘Man up?’
Oh that’s that new superhero,
right?
Mild-mannered supplement salesman Mark Manstrong says the magic words “MAN UP”
And then transforms into THE FIVE O’CLOCK SHADOW,
The massively-muscled, deep-voiced, leather-duster-wearing super-man who defends the world from
I don’t know
Probably
Feelings.
Of course
Why would guys fight to remove their chains
When we can simply compare and boast about their lengths
Why step outside the box
When the box has these bad-ass flame decals on it
Men are cigarettes
Dangerous
Poisonous
costly
and stupid
hey You ever notice how nobody ever says “woman up?”
They just imply it
Because women
and the women's movement
They figured out a long time ago that being directly ordered around by commercials,
Magazines
And music
Is disgustingly dehumanizing
Why has it taken men so long to figure out that they are still in the same prison cell
The phrase “Man Up” suggests that competence and perseverance are uniquely masculine traits
That woman
not to mention any man
Who doesn’t eat steak
Drive a ford pickup truck
Or have lots of sex
Are nothing more than background characters
Background noise
Comic relief
Props
More than anything though
it suggests that to be yourself
Whether you wear skinny jeans
Listen to anything other than Metallica,
drink some other brand of light beer
or don’t drink at all
or write
is taboo
How many young boys have to kill themselves before this country acknowledges the problem
How many women have to be assaulted
How many trans people have to be murdered
We teach boys how to wear the skin of a man
but we also teach them how to raise that skin like a torn flag
and draw blood for it
Boy babies get blue socks
Girl babies get pink socks
…What about purple
I want to have meaningful
emotional relationships with my brothers about sadness
hope
love
I want to be weak sometimes
I want to be strong in a way that isn’t about physical power or dominance or how many people fear me
If I have a son
i want to talk to him about something other than sports or dirty jokes
My hair is shorter
My voice is deeper
And I still don’t do things a boy does
I do what a human does
