Poetry thread? Original poems?
I'll start.
stormy seas
relaxing sound
3 hours
her liquid red, wet
in the slit and warm
around my curved sex, and
moaning for release
punch me
punch me
>>7959439
I'm not so sure about the scansion; maybe it's just the use of a numeral? It's chill though, if a bit clichéd.
I broke my hollow world
And petulant tears dripped down its curved surface;
Tidal waves that didn’t distinguish between
Fake true blue waters
And verdant lands (and the vermillion deserts where plastic vegetation cannot grow).
It had fallen out of its orbit-stand in my bedroom
Solar system shattered, and it fell out of
23-degree-tilt-spinning-round-with-my-magnetic-shove skies
Of countless unstars not glittering like gravel.
And into my small hands. I extended it to my brother’s (he’d already got the whole world in his bigger, calloused hands).
He took the globe and spun it like a Globetrotter
Balanced it on his nose, barking like a seal
He threw it to me and I did the same; my sad hiccoughs turned to gleeful guffaws as we tossed Earth back and forth.
Hurricanes billowing across Beirut; Berlin; the Red Sea and the Dead Sea; Antarctica.
Pissed off pedestrians were smothered underthumb and flocks and herds and shoals of endangered animals got scuffed into extinction when I dropped it.
The Sun sets on our side of our Earth and it goes black but we go on.
Both sides of my own Earth go black
But it gets no rest until we tire of this game and open it up.
A tectonic bisection:
cutting Africa in two with sharp colonial boundaries
rendering a Mexican border wall obsolete
leaving tourists stranded on the wrong hemisphere (with impotent souvenirs).
We found we could hide sweets inside.
rain
phone
autism
>>7959451
I like this one
>>7959448
yeah wasn't sure if the numeral was the best idea. I hardly feel like I can say I wrote it actually cause it's basically just referencing video titles like "Stormy Sea 60mins natural wave sounds".
I use these kinds of videos for studying but always thought the titles were kinda interesting and hilarious
fee fi fo fum
oh wench of garbage
i'll make you cum
>>7959439
A circular fire,
Bursted glassen pyre,
A yellow myth seen by all,
Echoed in an empty hall
An electric starcross,
Blood and sweat embossed
In its broken round curvature glow,
Shattered and blown
Atoms forged and broke
A tired song envoked
Ringings lost in the momentary dull
So ends the ballad of the broken lightbulb
Proiettile nel vuoto
Indefinito moto
L’ebbrezza della velocità
So, as a context for this, I have a gay friend who recently got expelled from my college for a second rape accusation from two people, the more recent one being a baseball player, and this is to be sung to the tune of "Devil went down to Georgia"
Randy went up to Winston, he was looking for a hole to steal.
He was on a find for a good behind, and he was willing to force a squeal.
Came across this young man, looking for a diddle and feeling hot,
Randy jumped on the first good chump, said, "Boy, I'd get in his butt."
Said "Bet you didn't know it, but I'm a baseball player too,
And if you care to make it fair, I'll take a nut from you.
You pitch pretty good ball, boy, but try my pitching too,
I'll let my diddle unfold inside your hole, because I bet it'll pleasure you.
The guy said, "My man's Jesus, and he said it's a sin,
I won't take your nut inside my butt,
No chance I'll let you in."
Randy do a bit of blow and prepare to diddle hard,
'Cause hell's broke loose inside your head and the young man's shown his guard.
And if you win you'll put your happy diddle in his hold,
But if you lose, you'll be disenrolled!
The young man opened up a case and said "let's get drunk bro,"
Pong balls flew from his fingertips as Randy was aglow,
And Randy put a hand upon his ding and tried to lay a kiss,
And his gland of semen started up and it went something like this.
When Randy started, the man said, "now why's your zipper so undone?"
"Lay down on that bed right there and I'll show you some good fun."
Mire on his mountain, run, boy, run!
Randy's gonna dowse and have his fun,
Dickin' poor man and lickin' his toes,
"Randy it's too tight," He smiled, "No."
Randy hid his head because he'd knew that he'd been seen,
And he knew he had to hold his diddle if he's to get out clean,
The court said, "Randy, you ain't coming back, and do no more cocaine,
We done told you once, then another snitched, we find you in disdain."
Mire on his mountain, run, boy, run!
Randy's gonna dowse and have his fun,
Dickin' poor man and lickin' his toes,
"Randy it's too tight," He smiled, "No."
>>7959439
net—guide us to be
comfortable, and not
afraid of bloodsuckers
who linger over hard
work in our fields, so
we might worry, or not
to taste our paralysis
which needs to come
back, without a single
smelly dinner. 'grace'
if you please, place
kindly a memory of
our dress. better if
night conspires to
eat your beauty. no,
you ate enough. you
are full, you can't eat.
so many restrictions.
have you seen your bed?
i don't sleep there, cool
and yet a ghost persists,
why are you still sorry?
i often wonder if you are
alright. did you get the
prayers on those cold
nights? take what you will.
"what's that sound?"
your performance is
not quite yet light for
spirits and the hungry.
i want to recognize you
all over our farm. when
we see our way back
home. i made up my
trip in the mountains.
green—excuse me,
i have never shown
this new creature.
lost, you communicate
against the ones we
heard when we were
young. mate with a
monkey; my hair was
slowly forgotten. my
face is a butcher's
surprise. there are
pictures by myself.
my funeral in this
bright light. isn't it
by our bed? i see
myself come and
i envy them. i just
stay by choice; yes.
how am i stubborn?
with the good you,
you learn my strange
care for my stares
to clean the poor:
full of pests, i must
register with girls, or
you were the real pest:
the white one? hello.
why don't you sleep?
'that's enough'—you
steal some honey, and
there are still so many
bees: the local is both
sweet and sour; chewy
as a wash of come; yes,
and i know you know a
burden, where are you?
hungry? are you still?
good, this is a result
of my intentions—for
a pain in the ass? i
miss the animals you
visit in your carriage.
>>7959820
wow, this was very well written. i haven't heard the song in years, and i could still sing it in my head by dint of your meter and internal rhyme scheme.
on the fourth line, i might change "butt" to "cot", so it would be "...'boy, i'd hop in his cot';" most of the language is pretty overt anyways. on the 8th line, change it to "my diddle'll unfold inside your hole" to fit the rhythm.
those are the only two things i can think of, and they're just nitpicking. good job on this, anon
well, i'm just flooding the thread at this point, but i've never taken a poetry class or received critique before.
his was a difficult birth
he was vulnerable and liable
he would respond coarsely or
defend the weak, those smaller than himself, and
his mother and sister
he did not seek medical attention
he became more nervous and
unable to tolerate sudden loud noises
he threw a grenade into the stove
he would not sit still
he might strike those who had died
and of their graves, he wept
they had not seen him
hurl ashtrays at them
none of his comrades changed beyond recognition
it was impossible to tell friend from foe
There lived a man whom none could stump
He ran for office, Mr. Donald Trump
"Racist!" they cried
"Bernie!" they sighed
But no-one liked that commie chump
Im stupid and straight so the only thing I seem to ever want to right about is my ~feelings~ like love or rather, lack-thereof
>>7959899
this is just all over the place rhythmically
you can't expect to write anything decent if you don't study meter, i mean even hack frauds like ginsberg knew what they were doing from a technical standpoint
>>7959770
fantastic!
>>7959911
>right
write
>>7959439
She was on a three for three tinder spree
racking up more kills by the week
and if you took a close look at her pussy
still tite as drum believe me
What motivates you guys?
Or inspires you?
Whats your process?
>>7959930
is this a poem or a question
>>7959933
A question but I wanted to be cheeky
>>7959920
I'm legitimately asking if you're being sarcastic. That exclamation point makes me a little paranoid.
>>7959885
man, I love your enthusiasm. You just put your brain to it in the same way that I did without wondering why the hell I made it, the same way I did. I will take your advice for sure.
>>7959961
it was something i wrote for lols during a class to stir up my communist friends
it was the only poem i had readily available for this thread
>>7960019
Oh thanks man. Sorry, which one is yours?
>>7959899
Free verse is trash. Please stop.
>>7960038
free verse isn't trash, people just don't understand it and think it's a license to write carelessly/lazily
if you read pound's free verse for example you see that it's essentially "flexible verse", there are a lot of repeating patterns and the rhythm is still very strict even though it's not consistent
A visual journey through my suffering
grey white black gradient velvet expanse,
strips of light grey tickle the dark grey black,
furious gushes fade to little almost nothings,
breeze blows hitting up knocking down the ripples,
skitterings of spiders scurrying across the top,
pulling the fabric with their sticky treading,
revealing unleashing unveiling the tangle,
the twining twisting jumbled festering mess,
of darkness anxiety doom and unrest,
hurricane unleashing swarm unceasing stress increasing,
gashes widening darkness unlightening tangles mangling,
patterns forming trends unfolding darkness entering,
concrete pours down from the sky setting the spiders still,
the gashes settle and the screams of the wind die down,
quiet consumes the dark grey black,
grey no gradient messy rough mess,
trappings of hope held still,
legs twitching,
setting,
grey
Tattoo
Nick Flynn, 1960
You do know, right,
that between the no-
longer & the still-
to-come
you are being continually
tattooed, inked
with the skulls of
everyone
you’ve ever loved—the you
& the you
& the you & the you—you don’t
sit in a chair, thumb
through a binder, pick a
design, it simply
happens each time you
bring your fingers to your face
to inhale him back into you . . .
tiny skulls, some of us are
covered. You, love, could
simply tattoo an open
door, light
pouring in from somewhere
outside, you
could make your body a door
so it appears you
(let her fill you) are made
of light.
>>7960080
unique and fun to read
>>7960091
thanks
I'm actually surprised that you're not criticizing my use of "messy rough mess". I was very concerned about using that one, but I think that it fits perfectly because it is a messy way to call something messy in of itself and so has extra potency.
There's an evil virus that's threatening mankind
It's not state of the art, it's a serious state of the mind
The muggers, the backstabbers, the two faced elite
A menace to society, a social disease
To brainwash the mind is a social disorder
The cynics, the apathy one-upmanship order
Watching beginnings of social decay
Gloating and sneering at life's disarray
Eating away at your own self esteem
Pouncing on every word that you might be saying
To attack someone's mind is a social disorder
The constitution, the government, martial law order
Superficially smiling a shake of the hand
As soon as your back is turned treason is planned
When every good thing's laid to rest
By the governments hate, by the constitution and their lies
And every time you think you're safe
And when you go to turn away
You know they're sharpening all their knives
All in your mind
All in your head
Try to relate it
All in your mind
All in your head
Try to escape it
Without a conscience they destroy
And that's a thing that they enjoy
They're a sickness that's in all of our minds
They want to sink the ship and leave
The way they laugh at you and me
You know it happens all the time
But it only happens in your mind
The rats in the cellar you know who you are...
Or do you?
Gybe song
>>7960119
Simple yet powerful little tune, and a strong message, but I think it's very lacking in the feel it dont state it department
The devil went to Georgia and I sucked your mother's dick
The devil went somewhere but he doesn't even exist
The devil went to Georgia even though he has supernatural powers
That would act from whatever distance, he decided to go to Georgia anyways,
The devil went to Georgia as i sucked on your mother's tits,
He said it wouldn't matter as he was knowledgeable in this
I asked what 'this' refered to and he appointed me to a dermatologíst,
The devil went to Georgia, but he doesn't even exist.
>>7960104
The "messy rough mess" is the only thing that's good about it. Can't believe you were praised for using the most facile imagery and examples. Try a little harder, would be my advice.
Stranded fortunes, wishy-washy BIM BAM BO,
A flower made out of flower tattoos, strands airless ground,
Desertic Islands where Oasis Found,
drained by cockroachitic Humans that are now pain bound.
Thirt anger and horizons in lovely gazes
As tattoo artist walk in nomadic groups each to their own,
The groups riskey behaviour with booze up to nine and thirty o'clock had grown,
A group of grown ups now violating on fair law
corrupt the system and a Desert's Claw
waiting to strike as stricken as Dirty Underwear
to de-elect the former and strike the few,
and the sorrowful chants that are stricken by you
Midnight Sorrow was wasted in a neverending fight of Kung-Fu.
>>7960227
Worst poem to ever touch this planet
>>7960119
iron maiden lyrics/10
I'm hopelessly devoted to a heartless bitch
I'm a sucker for a stupid cooze
My heartstrings tug for a two timing slut
My goddess is a gutless liar
Dog Butt Dog Butt,
In Cannot Fit A Foot;
Maybe a toe or maybe two,
Out they come stinky like poo;
Dog Butts Dog Butts,
Dog butt opens and shuts;
Hound laying eggs in the garden, Happy Easter,
What sticks out like a sore thumb, their keister!
Why do dogs never butt wipe!
Out their butts come all stinky tripe!
>>7960260
LOL
http://pastebin.com/raw/mZCzYaKg
Cool, soft summer's breeze
Carries whispers through the trees
Singing so gently
>>7960260
I actually like this but I just got off a binge of ancient greek comedies that are full of dick and poop jokes so that's the place I'm in at the moment.
On Donald Trump:
From the heart sprang songs of laden cheer
That stretched for miles from ear to ear
Carrying joy and carrying woe
The obedient crowd they wept in fear.
On the eve of shouting oppression
Rose fourth a splendid mess
To cut the root of mans attention
That we all on earth will one day rest.
The bombs, the bells, the thunders will start
From fear they come and from fear they stay
To pierce the innocent child's heart,
Never to hear the words that they say.
A cloud has formed above me; cast
Upon a world of sweetened sky.
The darkest night, this cloud to last
Ash layers the pedals to die.
So upon natures gravestone rests
Suffocation scattered and messed,
A shadow soothes the dying cries
There on the tomb where nature lies.
In the distant view,
On the shores of green and blue
Echoed the muses feign and few,
Along these shores of green and blue.
A dot to my eye,
And their soft broken cry
Bled through the lightened sand to my
Desperate soft and broken cry.
Fading entities,
Once burning for centuries,
May stretch their fading hand to me
To glimpse on their infinity.
>>7960260
I shouldn't have expected better from /lit/.
Transubstantiation
You have to wait your turn
Before the bong reaches you again.
Watch as the light goes around,
Following the glass seraphim,
Longing for the unattainable truth.
The purifying water
Cleanses the soul more
Than any love could.
Confess your sins.
Put the bong to your lips
Take and smoke;
This is my body.
Let the water heal;
This is my blood.
Lean back. The soul is free
To wander, to reflect, to be alive.
Think no longer about death.
Everyone goes to heaven anyways.
Wave hello to grandma.
To your uncle.
To Julius Caesar.
To Ted Bundy.
So is the world. So it will always be.
Just wait your turn.
This little pedal came to me
Living in the land of depth,
Begging me to someday see,
The beauty of its breath .
Little pedal please forgive!
I hear my call to duty,
It is to show the life you live,
The life of eternal beauty.
But little pedal can't you see,
The earthly world in which I'm trapped?
Could you ever pity me?
My human well is tapped.
In what pallid view of mine
Can be a garden sweet as thee?
And can your faithful hue or vine;
Plant a seed to spring in me?
Some roses where my eyes once were,
Body of wooden towers.
Some ivy on my head for fur,
Heart a bouquet of flowers.
My blossoms in day or night show,
The view, that I've grown to be.
One day a child I might know,
Will love the flowers in me.
I am the bone of my board
Sage is my body, and tripcodes are my blood
I have created over a thousand threads
Unknown to bans
Nor known to replies
Have withstood flame to get many (You)s
>implying I'll ever be quoted
Solve the Captcha
Unlimited Shitpost Works
When you take your clothes off
An atom bomb blossoms through my mind
-and I'm sorry
I can't stop thinking about every perfect war
Birds a'e flyin'--birds a'e feedin'
Birds that pipe with glee.
Birds a'e aerie--birds a'e merry
A bird I wish to be!
Us, from the temperate region
of hell, have yellow shadows
and they look happier than us.
At dusk, the sky has
cursed colours,
it's not God's monition
but the poisons
that help us live better.
Our tropical Cocytus
is clear and beautiful;
it has little demons
swimming inside
causing premature births.
Us, the damned in luxury
of the Boreal Demonosphere,
wander around cities
burned down since centuries,
looking at the flames
of the inhospital regions
and envying them,
>>7960626
Can someone take a look at this please
I don't get,
Poetry.
Seems like,
You,
Tap,
Enter ,
Whenever the fuck,
And people think
You're "deep."
>>7960856
It's bad, man.
>>7960856
it's pretty good, a bit dry
it's a slow board and you have to wait to get properly evaluated.
>>7960082
drawing my nails across my arm
grazing my skin like coins
it's dark here
itching for a cigarette
Exhaust!
These fumes
Scratching the surface
mumbo jumbo string of words
I hate myself
for hurting you
>>7960856
Don't think I quite understand it, but it makes me feel something, especially the thought of a "perfect war" and how you said "Im sorry" it brings this violence associated with war to a place of some vulnerability, some real deep emotional honesty. And talking about perfection, gives it the sense that the poem is scraping on the edge of some universal truth. I would like to talk to you about it more, maybe give me your email or something.
We need less poems and more critique in this thread now
>>7960880
>free verse
>>7960901
we all abot dat self expression dawg nigga g 100
>>7960620
love this
>>7960901
Boo hoo.
A baby cries.
Mother's milk has gone sour.
A baby cries.
Boo hoo.
>note the significance of the shape of this poem. Take it to heart.
>>7960924
it has a shape of a funnel
>>7960926
Middle finger brah.
>>7960932
i know i was jjust being a sikkunt brah
>>7960880
man this is sick bro u just need a beat to go with this bro
>>7960921
thank you, that means a lot to me
>>7960961
most welcomed
>>7960939
>>7960952
My brahs, bro. You bros are all right.
>light
>bright
>NIGHT?!?!
>right?
>write
>tite
>despite
>night
>light
I mainly just write lyrics so my attempts at poetry are free verse and terrible. As for feedback just tell me what you hate the most.
Temple of the elementals
Blows, Burns, Bogs
Facet of first fundamentals
Slow turn of the cogs
Innate their purpose
Powerful Primordial
Socratic on the very surface
Only oratorical
To yell or chant or market too
Lava wind and water spew
Persuasive their single mights might be
Under one roof in unity
Utterly in matrimony
Most strength exists in harmony
An element of all of us
Pervades the world entirely
>>7960977
Holy shit. Someone screencap this.
>>7960994
Just take some notes, jr:
>Sweet
>feet
>beat
>meat
>treat
I love you
Amy Reid
I'm sorry
I didn't
Recognize
your ass
my friends
showed me
for a second.
I still masturbate
on your videos
on a daily basis
I watched them
lots of times
especially
the one where
you take it all.
When will you
take all of me?
>>7961010 (daddy <3)
>Elite
>neat
>sheet
>heat
My analysis of your presented works
A man masturbates to feet and then is either "treated" by an orgasm, enjoying the flavors of his spew, or eating some sort of candy. I wonder if the 3rd interpretation is the protagonist enacting Pavlov's dog experiment. Maybe he is tired of not being able to fully enjoy 90% of macro content, and is forging a fetish sort of speak by rewarding his progress with his favorite treat.
>>7960898
Thank you so much as an amateur it really means a lot to me and I would love to talk to you about it
the ass wuz fat
>tfw i actually got over 50 (you)s in a /mu/ thread
>>>/mu/64319377
>>7961105
kek
>>7961105
I'm so proud of you man. I've been on 4chan forever and I'm not even good at making friends on here.
Hey, guys. I thought it would be best to ask in--rather than make a--thread:
I'm writing a story, and I'm going into great detail about a song and more specifically, the musical character of the song. I'm using several musical terms which are, naturally, Italian, and I'd just like some opinions on this.
When they're used in music, they are in a present (non-conjugated?) tense.
I feel very strongly that I SHOULD conjugate these musical terms to fit with my writing, but I have doubts that they'll still be musical terms and not just Italian.
(Gonna post this in two or three other threads; cut me some slack mods)
I saw a coiled rope,
And thought to end my life.
Upon a closer look
I stared into its eye.
Then it bit me.
>>7961114
i'll be your friend if you post your RYM/goodreads/last.fm/myanimelist
I am the leaves,
The trees, the breeze.
I am the green,
The brown and blue;
Shimmering shades of hue,
Drawn forward by invisible strings,
And yellow dragonfly wings.
I am scattered sunlight
Puncturing treetop,
Painting the path
In golden-gilded beams.
Dry dirt echoing through
Swelling air, surging now,
Nearly still;
Raindrops on the windowsill.
Trickling along the path,
A leaf in the stream;
Sown into seams,
The threaded wind blows.
I do not wonder where the path goes.
I am caught and carried along,
A single note in a polyrhythmic song.
I am the rain, ready to fall;
Walking the path, absorbing it all.
>>7961124
i dont want just one friend dude I want 50 like that other guy
BRILLIANCE
Ill never speak a word
Just keep living in me
Just keep circulating the thoughts in my brain
All my love,
how I love it more with pain
The pain of knowing ill never hold your hand or kiss you on the face
But thats alright cause I love it more
An existentialist crisis as brought me this far
Ill keep pretending youll be here just to listen with me
Youre sore from living
and your head is exploding into all of your giftedness
Your beauty shapes of frame
that if I closed my eyes your face would to come back to appear only in a dream
its extroadinary how in your own mind your just a ordinary
Individual with all these traits to make one want more
I keep thinking out the miles
youre always there but always so far away
your smile holds a rich gesture just in every other day
oh how I long for to be remain
so snow white
so deligate
so rich and remain
so pale in skin, like a cold drop of rain
such a wicked sick crooked smile that falls on your face
couldnt have guessed it faints
oh my god how your eyes burst
into a goddess like-blur
oh my heart how it hurt
when I hear your voice from a-far
Just keep living in me
10 monkeys
jumping
pumping
dumping
There's a familiarity in sadness
when you've felt it for as long
as you can remember.
Like the company of a longtime friend,
who you know is a negative influence,
but you stay anyway.
Or the comfort of living in a hometown
when you know you should have left
a long time ago.
A depression which has left such a deep
impression, the only time you notice it
is when it goes away.
And it always comes back.
It's' all slipping away
I let it go
Please don't come back
It's nice alone.
>>7960286
I'm wondering if I should change the lines:
>A secular
>sight, never seen
But I'm not sure what to. I like how the following two lines feel and sound like what they are describing happen to the lines stated here. But being that they're jarring, I worry that they feel forced, and I don't want that.
>Also, any other tips welcome; I've done a few critiques now.
>>7961447
This is structured fine and there's lexical cognition here; but it's just not interesting. There's no story- no picture being painted, just a description of living with depression.
5/10 for fundamentals.
>>7961301
Sorry. There's some recognition for trying and having some structure. But this just feels like a starting piece for a teenager. Keep practicing, studying, reading more. Never give up if writing is what you feel you love.
just some syllable practice
16 rows of 7 flowers
december, i loved you, though
you were cold and quite angry-
it's spring now. i beg you; please,
understand why i'm leaving.
when the frost hits in mid-may
and the day freezes my bones
i'm still happy you're not here
because you've never been warm.
at least it will be june, soon
the moon will glow blue for me
she'll hold me close in her waves
i will kiss her thoughtfully.
i never really loved you
i was just used to the snow
and now that it has melted
i have finally let you go.
Just wrote a new stanza while waiting for Game of Thrones.
A million years ago (or even more)—
I see a barrage of uncounted years
congesting in their endless file the course
of history, pages of the almanac,
extending to the furthest reaches of
recorded time, where paper frays and frames
the forms of kings, and mounds of plebeian dust
ride the backwards-floating wind of time—in
the primal bush in golden sunshine robed,
perspiring blackened topsoil underneath
to cool the crib, the little feet of lizards
now long returned to loam and dirt would drag
their little bellies through the oozing mud
and scrawl across the land in scurried streaks
a city in relief embossed in dirt,
winding its ways through the swaying tallgrass,
until the primal simian learned that if
he tucked his throbbing thumb against the rock
cupped in his foregathered dactyls, it would
repel the haul of gravity and taste
the glassy higher air unsullied still
by smoke and breath, and fly to where it pleased
him that it fly, to hammer muck from meat,
and speckle red his ragged face through art of
slaughter. The blood of grassland peasantry
made flush the lining of the arteries
that plotted lines awry about his face,
and on his temple set a bony crown,
and fed the marrows of his kingly bones;
the bulbous mouth, the downy cheeks, the squat
phallus resting in its matted nest, like
the monkey-king upon his fleshly throne.
Of morbid curiosity I chase
with eyes the lives of my progenitor,
and deep within my chest begins the drum
to beat at sight of savagery to match
the savagery forever etched upon
my cardiac wall. What in me is human,
whatever masculine, testosterone-
infernos, descended the lines from him.
>>7961714
(+)nice imagery
(+)good flow
(+)good structure
(+)grammar is fairly tight and fits the mood well (stanza three holds strong here)
(-)language could be a little stronger, for that much more depth and finesse
(-)typical subject matter; I didn't gain anything from reading this
(-)there's a picture here, but it's spotty. You could use more seasonal imagery or months to help show more details of why the relationship was bad- not just 'it was cold, and then it wasn't'
Not inherently bad, but not good. Keep at it, and don't be afraid or too lazy to tell a little story hidden in scenery and metaphors.
6/10
Man on the Moon
Waiting to Dry
The Watcher
Optimum reaction times were observed in athletes going through opium-induced comas
What were they dreaming? If at all?
When you fall, you need to fall completely. Throw yourself on the ground with the least of self-preservation you can amount
This tree won't die this winter, should we cut it?
Cut it down
Spin it around
Make a nice small monument to the passage of time
>>7961817
I won't critique. I'll just let you know I did not want to read past the first stanza. And so I didn't. It was like trying to read a poem that an algorithm wrote.
>>7961849
Your loss.
are you drowning in that pond you're in?
wild flowers form pacts,
entwining two leaves.
we drink saliva from palms
while dining on thieves
i think we've gone missing-
i'm forgetting your name.
please do not grieve me
when i'm washed out by rain.
now in the mourning
as the sun shines through vines
i'm leaving you voiceless-
i've taken your lines.
>>7961841
I don't think I'd call this poetry. It wants to be it seems, though I don't have as strong a grasp as some others, when it comes to poetry, to know with 100% certainty that it could not be called such. It's written with some style that has a charm to it, I suppose. Which is opposite of the mood and message. More imagery wouldn't hurt.
Is there a certain meter or rhyme scheme I'm missing?
>>7959770
>glassen
>starcross
check urself b4 u shrek urself
>>7960088
haha, i liked it.
>>7961871
I'm trying free verse. I just like to pour out images, but English isn't my first language so I don't even try metric.
>>7961888
I posted a poem. Would you not call that contributing? Or is it only a contribution when it'sappealing to you?
Bloody shit
Bloody shit
Bloody shit
Bloody shit, bloody shit
There's blood in my shit
Im not a britbong.
>>7961849
I also didn't want to read that guys one either but I didn't read a whole stanza.
Oh man I am in pain
But no one wants to hear me complain
I have no right
To feel as bad as I do
I want someone to tell me
They feel this bad too
short sweet and effete, just my style
>>7961901
Dude look at all these poems with no replies you think those guys poems were any worse than yours?
>>7961901
they actually post really thoughtful critique, which is a lot more challenging than copy/pasting some words. your sense of entitlement and weird ideas of what constitutes contribution is unsettling
>>7961637
>>7960286
i don't see the value of this poem, it doesn't have an identifiable meter. its rhymes are too near each other to resound. many of the "sentences" are just fragments or dependent clauses. it's got an intolerable ratio of adjectives : everything else. its meaning is obscured by rapid-fire images, janky and dense clauses, and the veil of mythology. i have taken nothing away from this "poem."
>>7961913
>>7961910
Entitlement? What the fuck are you talking about? I posted a poem, and instead of a thoughtful critique I received something that was decidedly not a critique of any kind, but simply an insult. I understand how challenging critiquing is, and you will notice how I didn't make any comment of any kind about the critics in this thread in general, only you.
>unsettling
confirmed troll
>>7960898
and my mail is liderogulcankara@gmail
>>7961901
It's contributing when you post a work, like I did here >>7960286, but then actually try and help others. Not by tearing into them, but by trying to be constructive.
You can be offended by what I said about yours. Or maybe you can take the consideration with a little heart, which is coincidentally what I was saying your piece couold use more of. I didn't want to critique yours only because I don't want to deter you from writing, nor stifle whatever you may be going for with the piece. I just gave a small piece of unbiased, constructive criticism. Take it or leave it.
>>7961927
why do you think you deserve someone else's time? why, on /lit/ do you think someone else should abstain from telling you how boring your words are?
>>7961941
That is exactly what I think someone else should *not* do: abstain. What I think someone else should do is read the whole damn thing and then not abstain from telling me how boring or interesting my words are.
>>7961953
>What I think someone else should do is read the whole damn thing
no one owes you that.
>I deserve to have people waste their time on my behalf! I'm THAT important to this community or in real life!
Go fuck yourself, kid. This is the most retarded attitude I've ever witnessed from someone in this kind of threads. I bet you're american and should be listened to only because you're giving an opinion or merely participating. Fuck that mentality, go get raped and killed in a FEMA camp.
>>7961922
The meter is 4/3, and is more overarching than packed into each line. (16, 32, 8, 24, 9, 18, etc,) I'm not going for proper sentence structure. Each piece of punctuation is very important in maintaining rhythm and tone. It's just images detailing a story of a drunk guy thinking he's masturbating when he's really being lulled into a godly realm and unknowingly raped by a succubus (I won't spell out anymore of it). I've gotten other critiques and I know comprehension isn't as weak as you claim. But I am aware of some lines like:
>Curtained windows bellow
>flying contrive
>lame brain shanghai
...coming off as clunky. Which is why I said, it's intentional, but Im considering they maybe be too much so.
Thank you.
I'm very new to writing poetry, but I wanted to try my hand. Any feedback would be great!
---
I hide behind my words.
They are my impenetrable fortress of solitude
But there’s nothing super about me,
Nothing super about someone who is made
Of what other people want to see.
I spin a web of lies to feel some kind of normality,
But a small vibration brings it all crashing down.
But I can’t help it.
When I try to open myself to the world, I’m buried.
I’m lost in the lives of those around me,
Who would rather see themselves reflected back
Than who I really am.
I understand. I get it.
If they knew how much they mean to me,
How much it hurts when I’m forgotten,
Shoved under the bed like a childhood toy.
I like to believe they care, but who actually gives a damn?
Why would anyone care who or what I am?
Why is it so hard to just say the things on my mind
And to tell you the truth, but who I’m really lying to is me.
I am a mixing pot of ideas and personalities,
Molded into an ideology of who I want to be,
But I’m dying.
I’m so tired. Not tired of the classes and the responsibility,
But I’m tired of trying to impress everyone else
And not even impressing myself.
Through transformations, I have lost myself
And even though I’m sifting through the rubble of my life
Trying to find who I am,
My face in the mirror keeps changing.
Don’t try to find me. You won’t succeed.
How can you when I’m even lost to myself?
I’m just waiting to be found again, like a childhood toy.
>>7961953
But see, I'm trying not to be like this guy: >>7961922
He gave out 80% personal opinions on the piece and didn't actually critique based on the guidelines of 'is it poetry? why was it good? where was it lacking fundamentals? what may help the piece improve without choking the writers freedom? Is the idea worth writing about or good enough to supercede cliché?'
I'm trying not to bury you under personal opinions like most people do here.
>>7962009
But you didn't do any of that either. Honestly, I didn't understand what you meant by your critique at all, and it was no more helpful to me than that guy's critique probably was to the author of his poem.
>>7961982
that reads like shitty emo white rapper lyrics
>>7961817
>>7961901
>>7961927
>>7961953
>>7962017
here u go
>waiting for Game of Thrones
absolutely awful. this phrase applied to yourself should never be mentioned to anyone.
>barrage of uncounted years
barrage is not a word that lends itself well to anything other than projectiles, and lends itself especially horribly to something as abstract as a year
>congesting the course of history
history is not congested, this is a meaningless phrase
>course of history
almost a cliche
>furthest reaches of extended time
almost a cliche; boring
>frays and frames
proximity mutates rhyme into an ugly thing; have you ever tried speaking this?
>plebeian dust
what does this even mean? (rhetorical question; don't answer)
>in golden sunshine robed
a really stupid inversion of word order, for no apparent reason; OR, you are using robed as a verb, which makes even less sense
>perspiring blackened topsoil
confusing imagery
>lizards now long
odd phrase; word order
>primal simian
can you just say "ape"?
>dactyls
why are you using this word whose primary meaning is not "finger," when you really mean to say finger? are you thesaurus-surfing? it's obvious you're not using dactyls in the poem.
>repel the haul of gravity and taste the glassy higher air unsullied still
you're being unbearably purple
>grassland peasantry
once again you're trying to shoehorn this classist metaphor into images that don't support it
>bony crown, kingly bones, bulbous mouth, down cheeks, squat phallus, fleshy throne
repetitive adj-n combos tire the ear with their monotony
>lives of my progenitorS
>begins the drum to beat
unnecessary inversion of word order
>cardiac wall
just say heart; cardiac is an ugly word
>descended the lines from him
this sounds odd; descend isn't a transitive verb as far as I know
Read more poetry and get back to us when you command the English language. This is not an unreasonable request.
>>7962017
I did though. Something writings have to choke down is the fact that other people need to be baited into reading your work. They don't have to. So you're job, if writing for others to read, is to write either about something or in a way that lulls them into reading.
My (non)critique was, in fact, a small critique simply trying to point you towards the fact that it didn't draw me in. I wasn't nice about it, but at least it was genuine criticism. You'll come to find how rare that is here.
Tfw your stuff never gets critiqued.
>>7962036
Auden said the only good you can do for non-poets who write poetry, is to ignore them.
>>7962034
>my (non)critique
>one sentence about how i dont wanna read a poem
>genuine criticism
>so rare
You sound incredibly full of yourself.
>>7962028
>absolutely awful. this phrase applied to yourself should never be mentioned to anyone.
fuck off.
>cliches, purple prose, basically everything you classify as "unnecessary"
tomato, tomahto
>which makes even less sense
robed is the past simple of robe?
>it's obvious you're not using dactyls in the poem
count again
> as far as I know
which is clearly not far enough
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/descend
>>7962037
>>7962045
not that guy, but do not fucking argue with someone who is reviewing your shit, especially when they're doing you a favor putting so much detail in and being honest.
>>7962045
You know what, if you're gonna be uncharitable about critique then you can be the one to fuck off, bitch-ass nigger. I spent twenty minutes writing that shit about your stupid shitty poem. You wanna continue putting your head in the sand? Fine by me. I don't even care to point out to you how shitty your defense of your own poem is.
>>7962045
Look m8, your shit is boring and nobody likes it. Write something that hasn't been writen already, faggot. Don't waste anyone's time anymore, now. Be a good kid and go suck your uncle's dick while you wait for you parents to tell you they love you for the next 10 years, kek.
>>7962028
Thank you for making the effort, though.
How am I meant to ever be
Canonized and become
A respected author,
Afforded immortality though the endless circulation of his books?
When I sit alone on my bed
In a city nobody knows
Sans the fame of Paris or New York
Without even the gothic charms of the deep South
As my roommate gets high and plays ratchet and clank below me
The era of disposability
My phone, my extra limb that never leaves me
I try to pull away but I'm lost without it
Navigating a world of pixels
As mindless scientists push humanity further towards a binary world
Virtual realities achieving impossible symmetries and shapes, the true forms of Plato
We create them,
Or they do,
And the rest of us are left behind
In the dust, left to rot among brand names and targeted advertising
Everyone's someone to sell to
Everyone's selling something
They think it's themselves
But it's just participation in capitalist subjugation
Lining the pockets of the delusional devils at the top
Spending it on simulacric recreations of rich people things
Yachts, jets, islands, sports teams
Flashy toys to fill the void
Not interesting enough to do anything more
To be creative or sponsor creativity
I guess Megan Boyle's alright in that regard
I've had sex with beautiful women
It was good, but overhyped
Maybe I just have low testosterone
I'll do it again, probably enjoy it
But as the old cliche goes, it doesn't fill the void
I hate the fractured monotone of free verse
But my attention span has been destroyed to where I don't even have the patience to compose rhyme schemes
Or break up lines sensibly
Each ugly punchline landing with a dull thud
Post-modern posturing
Stuck in an endless hall of mirrors reflecting myself
Fractured, the postmodern subject like synecdoche new york
Metamodern? Not yet. How?
Maybe by typing out a poem for a Japanese image board on a notepad app on my phone as I lay on my bed
The modern evolution of hunched over at a desk with a bottle of whiskey and clanging typewriter
Or feather quilled pen
Or berry-derived dyes,
Whatever the cavemen used
Neanderthals
Or as they now say, Neandertals.
The original artists, painting caves
Its decent I guess, I think,
As I contemplate my evening spent
Making mock vaporwave art
On Photoshop,
Speaking in the vernacular of Spongebob and retro video games
Neon kitsch
Everything's recycled anyway,
Gaddis was right.
Maybe I ought to read another meme book
Seeing as I live a life lost among memes
Everywhere memes
Everything memes
Eternity an empty dream
Passing time, wasting minutes
Infinity plus one is still just infinity
Is this all there is?
>>7962051
ignore butt-hurt posters, this happens every single fucking thread. you're doing good work reviewing anon. don't think it's all for naught.
>>7962056
Do not write about things so you can put into words the shittiness of your world and life. Write and read so that you may transcend them.
>>7962028
Not him, but I do have to disagree with the proximity of rhyme. If you keep rhyming in quick succession for no reason, then it's jarring. But if done so in a way that basically acts like a polyrhythm to the main metric standard of the work, then it's very stimulating.
Is there an official poetic guideline that strictly states that rapid rhyming is utterly decriminating? (Mmm that bounce) Because at that point, it feels like alliteration (though not technically, I know).
I keep all my pencils
Arranged and sorted
To try and forget
I wish I was aborted
Are you hidden here, Splendor?
Is this sad life mad at you?
Or am I damaging too?
We once were friends, remember?
I can't read you like a book
or your lips' secret reveal
for every thing I unveil
comprehends another spook.
Why are you, Splendor, so shy?
Let me sing our words, I ask.
I'm begging you, ditch the mask,
but if not, don't tell me why.
>>7962042
And you sound misunderstood.
>toemaytoe
>tahmahtoe
Maybe just take the advice instead of looking whiny and unable to accept reality.
>>7962067
Kek/10
Nice.
3
here is a three
in the thirtiless world
as black when soon at ease
and dark the blossom green that brought
these purple eyes to please.
and nine, the farthest man can't square,
to powers one and ten,
that curves the whole in roundabout,
soon runs end by again.
then so and so inspiration goes
for another upper middle low.
>>7962067
I raffed
Blankets folded,
Curling in cascades,
Of crevice and valley
Rising up around you,
A giant a-sleep and
Supine in the mountains.
Peacefully you exude
Early hours of sleep
Draped over your eyes
And I hope we never rise.
And I wish to stay here,
Blankets crumpled,
Nestled in mountains,
Breath of soft fountains
That spill, spiral, and fall,
Lines of shadow on the wall
Suspended, silent—and abeyant
Buoyant light, and a-diaphane blue
Drifts in curls, and sways in swirls
Above our heads, sleep mixture,
Fingers in the air carving circles
To descend, to then dissolve,
In our nest of mountains
Folded around us.
>>7962081
>as black when soon at ease
>and dark the blossom green that brought
>these purple eyes to please.
Not sure what I'm supposed to be seeing here. But I love the rest of the work, which is why I want to know specifically what these lines mean.
>>7962084
I don't see anything bad with one or two anons writing something funny in a creative way. Poetry can also be made to make people laugh. As long as he doesn't make 30 in a row, it's alright, IMO.>inb4: some fucker actually writes 30 of these now just because I said it.
>>7962084
And here you are, being *that* much better.
At least I was entertained with the other.
Now please, flutter away.
Give me money.
Money me.
Money now.
Me a money needing a lot now.
>>7962096
Hamburgers
Pizza
Tacos
>Murricajk anon
>>7961935
Hey you sure thats the email?
>>7962089
This is an old poem of mine and so forgive me if I don't remember my exact intention with the play on colors. What I do remember is that the poem itself is cyclical as indicated in that the final four bars of the first stanza are meant to refer to π, and that "nine the farthest man can't square // to powers one and ten" is the 100,000,000,000th (10^(1 and 10)) decimal of π, being 9. The poem also cyclical from what appears to be its final stanza.
The poem was meant to fool around more than experiment, the latter still my objective. I hope my commentary didn't confuse your unique reading of the poem.
I no longer see graceless truth naked.
I have enjoyed another life, and I have a new world;
I find myself in a wide meadow of dreams-
Give me to drink
>>7962128
I should note that this is not my poem, but I really enjoy the works of Cavafy.
>>7962115
I don't know. I didn't send that post.
>>7962118
No, your commentary was fine, and exactly what I took from the poem. You write somewhat how I do, and, it seems, think similarly to me also. I'm upset you don't remember the colors, since number and color theory can make wonderful imagery puzzles. Maybe it'll sink in to my mind by the time I'm dozing.
>>7962135
Fuck you guy.
Poetry I write
And diddle kids at night
>>7962146
Fucking with /lit/
It's fun, quite a bit
>>7962139
>>7962149
People think they can write
But they can't, not tonight.
>>7962153
Zabba zee zabba zoo,
Behold the curse of jigaboo
fuck this board man...
memes and literature are literally irreconcilable
all of you are idiots and you deserve your shitty lives
>>7962156
I'll post a poem about some gay shit,
Hey, in this thread it'll be a nice fit!
>>7962142
thank you that means a lot! Those are all mine
>>7962159
For a loser like you,
4chan's the best you can do.
So shut your lip,
Or go fuck yourself.
>>7962165
Ey b0ss.
>Palm to forehead I bash,
>Because your poems are trash.
The tread is derailed for tonight.
Bookmarked to check at first morning light.
Hey, I know I'm just a young boy,
but can I still be your sex toy?
Based on 100 red gallons, the song.
Righteous be we,
Who cannot beleive
What happens to thee
As the comrodderie
When the sirens slow
When the fat bombs go
Now no one knows
How it was long ago.
The spark was the end
The trenches avenged
How beautiful it snows
The black snowflakes of woe
>>7962203
Baloons fuck autocorrect
>>7961196
I liked it, but its not quite there yet, the first four lines read very well, perfect iambic. I think the word "polyrhythmic" could be changed to something a little more digestible, because that kind of sticks out and breaks the flow, I try to use shorter syllable words, and words that are not super obscure, polyrhythmic isnt super obscure but im just saying because you want the reader to have the words just flow into their mind with a steady stream of thought, so they dont have to stop at every line and really think about what was just expressed.
>>7959916
Not OP. Are there any resources which you would recommend to learn meter? Especially more complex applications of meter in ill-defined forms?
>>7962287
not the guy but, The Poems Heartbeat, by Alfred Corn is awesome, also I haven't read it but Rhymes Reason is supposed to be good too.
The Faceless rose, spoke, and so came forth this:
"There lies a land, near, past reach nonetheless,
where mournful peaks glance to ley below,
and roads no feet have tread nor builders kept
in memory of page or scribe. Yet said,
’tis no empty land, though stirs naught within.
Scribes, it has, and builders and fathers and sons.
A King, it had, and courtiers and pipers and drums.
Tables, there are, set beneath still faces,
and no food, though untouched by creature or beast,
but mouldered and rotted to stain.
Those scribes, they hunch, over parchment gone to dust,
their hands stayed, in monument unwilling,
of those deepest crimes for greatest cause
wrought in vain, and none left to lament."
>>7962396
Learn how to comma, you disgusting piece of human waste. Not even gonna read the rest, topkek.
>>7962396
beautyfully, excecuted, nigger. I oppose my niggers interperetation of your coma usage: poetry is supposed to be alienated from common verbiage, and the coma in spoke gives more emphasis to speech.
8/10
>>7962203
Bait
:/ all of these are really bad
>>7962451
Yeah man
I had a good one but then I posted it and it became shit
>>7962442
You too deserve to be raped and murdered in the name of your country by the hands of a strong and manly FEMA camp officer. I can only assume you're american given your terrible opinion.
Anyway, in case you're not THAT culturally sheltered, then go read a book without pretty pictures, or poetry that isn't by the same 4-5 authors that your 8th grade teacher talked to you about while he penetrated your innocence.
TL;DR: Suck my gigantic vagina, daddy.
Niggers running on a treadmill, a newly developed torture method:
High risen, a rope clung to their necks,
Beneath it are a tread of thrusting spikes,
For when feet flumsily and unstable grow
An abyss opens up,
clayrvoyant eyes are shown the fall,
the scream, falling; oh poor tired heel, poor toes:
Exhaustion creeps in like larvae, flesh eaters,
The rope tightens, panic strikes their black fast beating hearts,
The treadmill stops.
>>7962457
Good men with good linguistical abiliteis are given the respect they diserve when licensed to abstain from linguistical barriers held thro and fro comprehension's sake, nor beauty nor Jewfros on the page, require such, grammatic, compositions.
Just read my poem titled "niggers on a treadmill" to see what i, speak, of.
>>7962462
I'd rather go kill the sun with a thrust of my hardened cock than reading another word of your Jimmie-rustling eggspert memer fingers, motherfucker. Go get gangraped (it's not rape if you desire it, slut) by obama and his political friends, including, but not limited to, Bill Cosby, JesusChrist, and Ronald McDonald, asshole.
What are testicles?
Spheres? Supra-Lunar bodies Aristotle thought eternal.
Or the Octaedrus, Plato in his rustled toga hid,
Atoms of Democritus, unseen but everywhere:
Men, Eunuchs -may i be mistaken-, and Women who wore strap-ons:
Balls, Billiard Balls! Or the giant rocks kindling lava, next to the near-explosion-peak,
Testicular cancer shatters it all! The geometry, Oh the Thomsons' indivisible Balls,
May one man be claimed to have them, if he manages to find a meaning,
in this poem,
for
there might be none.
Upon fox's back did rooster hop, a lance cocked within his wing
To charge the lobster-mounted fop, so of him the hens would sing.
His comb sat stiff upon his head, and plumage rustled on each stride,
Towards the blind fool he sped; this fowl postured with pride.
The blind fool yelped, hit with such force that the cock's lance bowed,
And having hit the mark, the fox whirled about, and the rooster crowed.
The fallen fool wept bitterly, for he was worth less than a sparrow,
And fool-dogs ran about him tittering, while the rooster next mounted an arrow.
His eye retained its fortitude, if but only for the fool's pain,
Spinning now on his brass mount, though certainly not in vane.
Joust now finished, but no end in sight for the rooster's journey,
For the wind he would continue to fight; this champion of The Fool's Tourney.
>>7959928
a true work of modernism
Bit of a meter scrub but there's only one way to get better.
Grey, a crayon drawn across board,
An insulating cover like the
Hot, thick Venusian atmosphere,
Blocking out sun and sky.
Any good?
Saw this thread and wrote this one for it.
At night your nautical thoughts
Submerse the room. The walls
Rot and shimmer with the spore
Warpath you and your roommates
Spend no energy cleaning for whichever
Students live here next. People come,
People go. They crowd your thoughts
And pull you into the carpet where
There is no space to swim and
Every day is a hot and breathless
Effort. Let's trepan your head:
Empty the fizzy brain-liquor you
Brought to bed. Submit to the cool
Suck of stale apartment air. It will
clean the mesolimbic with its
Gentle muzzle and limbering tongue.
You'll fall asleep and start again.
I'll say goodnight and see you then.
>>7962666
pretty good nigger. Really transmits the aura of pleasurable tiredness very well. It seems as if the alcohol let's the person in the poem accept the shittiness of life well.I feel it kinda transforms life into pleasurable slumber by perceiving it in a state of sleepiness.
>>7962637
Too short to tell desu. "Blocking out sun and sky" sounds to cliché for my tastes as well, desu. Doesn't flow well when you cut the "the" to form a verse out of it, i understand it's a technique some people use but it generally is complemented by more passages with 'incomplete' verses. In a way incompleteness is completed when it becomes a concept inside a poem, in this case since there's no more of them it's just shit sounding.
>>7962666
that enjambment tho
>>7962637
Thematically I like this poem. It's very fragmented and I think a very hot and stuffy classroom, heavy eyelids around, some boring old person writing on one of those green-tinted blackboards.
>Grey, a crayon drawn across board
"across board" feels needlessly compacted. Putting the comma right at the start makes this poem very slow to start. The next line builds up some rhythm and energy but the third line suffocates that too much.
>Hot, thick
I don't like this. Use one word, if you must (you're already using a pretty heavy metaphor so you don't want to sugar this line too much).
>Venusian atmosphere
Two big, polysyllabic words. There's a very, very soft iamb here but it's not strong enough to make these words flow into each other.
You could change the middle two to be like so:
>An insulating cover like
>The wide Venusian atmosphere
Then it's iambic tetrameter which builds up this vast, marvellous skyscape.
>Blocking out sun and sky
Too sentimental and cliche an ending for a short and grandiose poem. This line stifles the build-up in the previous two. Go for something really invigorating (maybe personify the atmosphere by making it do something human, like sit on the sky or something).
To be honest I'm not that sure what's being described. I thought it was a blackboard but the ending talks about sun and sky so I don't think so.
>>7962676
Thanks man. I meant "fizzy brain-liquor" to be a metaphor for whatever thoughts your brain conjures at 2 in the morning when you're trying to sleep, not actual alcohol. But that could be another angle to play up.
I wanted it to feel like a suffocating apartment night where the air is almost alive and malevolent and smothering you alive. I had sleep paralysis once so I tried to make it like that: some shadow-dog holding you down and raping your ear.
![Pedal_FL-Mag[1].jpg](https://i.imgur.com/Ppgbn6z.jpg "Pedal_FL-Mag[1].jpg")
>>7960613
For every good poem,
there are a thousand pretentious "literary" poems posted on /lit/
-Anonymous
>>7962738
To clarify, it's not bad the poem starts slow but the current version strangles any metrical build-up.
If you post a poem here and the archives pick it up, will a poetry journal reject it?
>>7962780
probably not if it's like shakespeare or something
>>7962056
why is this a poem?
>>7962056
>You will immediately cease and not continue to access the site if you are under the age of 18.
>>7962115
My Gmail is [email protected]
And outlook is
[email protected]
That barren tree stands by herself,
Stands tall and strong but in bad health,
For remove her bark and roots so deep
And what worth having has she to keep?
Planted there by some cruel soul,
With rough worn hands and heart of coal
And urban planning in his veins -
Its tarmac roads and rusty drains,
And blaring noise with nought to say,
And a million clocks to regulate the day.
But pity him and spare your rage
For he only does it for his wage
And she reflects her planter when all is done:
A cold and lonely forest of one.
Impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, selflessness
All I wanted was an icecream
I know I posted my shit in here yesterday but I don't see it.
oh well here it is again
To Cody Lane
im sorry
i masturbated
to your rape video
a few minutes
ago
but if its as bad
as you say it is
it would have been taken
off pornhub
by now
(and yeah
you were molested
as a kid
but what pornstar
wasn't?)
PS: i thought you were great
but you could have kicked
a little more
Just wrote this, also high as fuck, this is the first time I've written high also:
The madness has sat itself above us.
Unwieldy, stormy, the raging winds,
Turns its belly an busts;
The whole of mountains; a million men.
An onlooking colossus of chaotic clouds
Thrust its spirit into me,
To breath its whirling, sacred vows,
And know what it means to be.
Grauhesch leers from his chamber, unbidden,
as we slink the shade of his view, unseen.
Grey king abed in his prison, unchained—
as our fear far stricter bids us silent.
That courtly mock: a wrinkled brow in thought,
repeated in bulbous and reaching flesh,
scornful wet facsimile of our own.
What hubris took hold and drove us here—
to cower before the insensate?
Long severed and silenced and bound but still,
the echo remains and shackles in turn.
Foul prophet those mouthless lines to lay,
not in mist and shadow but statute and stone.
What fault is this but ours, and ours alone?
Hosts like dark clouds, in iron grey arrayed
with flashing hauberks sparking in fierce hail
Made mountains of the dead, the foe dismayed;
Fled their homes and put desperate ships to sail.
And storm clouds sheathe their roaring lightning blades
Made blood for rain enough to salt the earth
Cast down their spears and turn their swords to spades
To till the strand and reap it's meager worth.
Spelling
Margaret Atwood
My daughter plays on the floor
with plastic letters,
red, blue & hard yellow,
learning how to spell,
spelling,
how to make spells.
I wonder how many women
denied themselves daughters,
closed themselves in rooms,
drew the curtains
so they could mainline words.
A child is not a poem,
a poem is not a child.
there is no either/or.
However.
I return to the story
of the woman caught in the war
& in labour, her thighs tied
together by the enemy
so she could not give birth.
Ancestress: the burning witch,
her mouth covered by leather
to strangle words.
A word after a word
after a word is power.
At the point where language falls away
from the hot bones, at the point
where the rock breaks open and darkness
flows out of it like blood, at
the melting point of granite
when the bones know
they are hollow & the word
splits & doubles & speaks
the truth & the body
itself becomes a mouth.
This is a metaphor.
How do you learn to spell?
Blood, sky & the sun,
your own name first,
your first naming, your first name,
your first word.
