/lit/ - Literature

The engine roars to life
My path was once so clear
I can’t take this raging strife
There isn’t anything left to fear

My love is of god I think
I can’t feel it, is it there?
In my mind I begin to shrink
This will be my final prayer

poetry is
splendi-

>>10074361
stop prayin, theres no god
clear your brainwashed mind, and take a walk outside

>>10074381
it's about a loss of faith

>>10074377
10/10

>>10074361
I wouldn't rhyme life with strife. It's an obvious and overused rhyme.
I'm also not particularly fond of the rhythm in the first stanza. Maybe rewriting the final line as "There's nothing left to fear" helps.

Keep thinking about this poem, but keep writing new ones.

for all my life, escape and fear
the void lies below constantly near.
each day loads itself upon my back -
a weight if ignored, a slip into voids crevasse.
hypertrophy of the core of my being
the threat of slipping is fleeting.
when the serpent bears his head out of the abyss
give thanks for while life may not be bliss
- Hell at least - is below

>>10074381

>>10074539
Thanks! actually helpful criticism from 4chan holy fuck

>>10074554
I don't think your intention with this poem was to make me laugh?

There isn’t anything left to fear
My path once again becomes clear
I can’t take all this screaming
Did this life even have a meaning?

My love is the love of god I think
If I can’t feel it; how do I know it’s there?
In my mind, I begin to shrink
This is meant to be my final prayer

(Quitting on unrequitted love)
Now theres this part where I'm not sure
This question that aches me down to my core
I think I may have finally found the one
But if she don't love me, my work here is done

I love this girl, I love her eyes, her hair
But to my schoolyard crush she just doesn't compare
There's no focused view when I look at her face
I'm not sure if it's really love in this case

Now there's this fact hat completely kills me
the lowest part is we got no chemistry
It's time to clear my delusions of reality
It's time to stand up for how I really feel
time to understand what I'm feeling isn't real

I've gotten to the point where I crave defeat
So I can hurdle up in my hole and retreat
I know the two of us ain't soul bound
But I just want one night out on the town
One disappointing night
To make things right
Right in my mind
To recognize
she was not one of my kind
So I would know
The truth of how things go
How she really isn't the one for me
How for her my heart doesn't need to bleed

But I've seen we've already split
And neither of us seem to give a damn shit
Cause we've yet to see one another
And neither of us can seem to bother
I'll die with her on my mind
Still, though I wish I could rewind
She was not one of my kind

(One for the Hermits)
Why are even the saddest songs, ones written in strife,
written about people who had a real, social life
Where are the songs about the hermits who never tried?
What songs were sung of their tears when they cried?

What songs were written for those who necked themselves before their story began?
Or those whose closest ties to love was a numb left hand?
Who never came out of their shell and died enclosed?
Or whose feelings, thoughts, even a book died undisclosed?

These forgotten men are who I stand up and sing for
Let them have one song they can truly call their own
Who endure a silent and apathetic suffering we can't handle anymore
Let the suffering of these men be respectfully shown

They left no cry, They left no echo
For if they cried, none shall know
They cried alone but to no pair of ear
Just a wish to be average
but it was never quite near

(Some kind of goal)
Good god knows with love that I've tried my best
Good god knows theres got to be some kind of love in this chest
Theres got to be some kind of twin soul
Good god there must be some kind of goal

Good god, I can't live on this damn social path
Good god I'm doomed to be another sociopath
There's gotta be some kind of love for me to be found
But maybe it's me who lacks some chemical compound

I know I'll never find a real connection
I know in love I never will be
I know I'll never find the right direction
I know sex is not all it's cracked up to be
But Good god love is all I've ever wanted
And Good god do I feel haunted
by this emptiness that's inside of me
Good God is this really how it ends for me?

( Abstract to Me)
To Run and Hide
Is not abstract to me
I know the ups and downs
But I just can't turn this life around
Su-i-cide
Is not abstract to me
I know the ups and downs
But I just can't turn this life around
Su-i-cide
Is not abstract for me
I know the ups and downs
But I just can't turn my life around
But Iiiii
Feel like a psychopath
Cause I just can't do the math
Why iiii
I feel no connection to those who surround me
Or who can see what I can see
But Iiii i'm
Feeling like a psychopath
And I just can't do the math
Cause I feel no connection to those who surround me
Or to those who can see what I can see
Su-i-cide
Is not abstract to me
I know the ups and downs
But I just can't turn this life around
There's an emptiness inside me
That I decree just can't be pleased
Su-i-cide
Is not abstract to me
I know the ups and downs
But I just can't turn this life around.

I see suicide as a means to an end
But a group plan would be nice
Your secrets, you won't need to defend
Let communication be your vice

To stand up on stage in front of you
Has taken all my might
I know I'll fail to follow through
I know I'll lose this fight
Don't call it a fight, call it a beating
Call it life without a friend
Call it life without meaning
Call it days without an end

[Nature Walk]
Danger signs,- Alert me to - a short, tranquil road
That ends in, a clearing, shallow brook, rope, and swing
My facial lines, - are amirrorred to - my heart's heavy load
Cheap rope, you need a good kick to jump off the damn thing

I'm as lost, as I'll ever be
But those waves are hip notize ing me
Freezing cold, but eye-catching
Travel guides don't help a damn thing

(Leavin' treatment)
I left treatment a wimp
I left treatment a weaker man
All this wakings givin' me a limp
All this talkings givin' me a plan
I'd go out and meet my fellow mad man
And ask them over again

How their day was going
How they'd have any idea of knowing
How my future would for me would be
"Do you want to go out with me"
In both sense of the word
It's a stressed "out" I wish they heard

But now my pleas have been taken
And now my knees are shaking
I never thought it would actually go down
I never thought I'd live to be around
But my gut reaction is to talk things out
I guess I never knew what my mad men were about

All I got after 4 months of on and off work.

>>10074978
>each day loads itself upon my back -
>a weight if ignored, a slip into voids crevasse.
It was this part wasn't it

>>10075178
>>10075173
Hey buddy, just post one.
Also try and do some critiques before you post yours.

These threads don't work when they get flooded with every anon's anthology and nobody critiques. In a poetry workshop you only get to read one and thats after offering thoughts on at least a couple other peoples work.

>>10075178
really just horrid. It reminds me of how I wrote when I was 14. Gave me a good nostalgic cringe

>>10075009
I wrote this after reading your post:

Fast as feet will carry him
he runs the line between
a rising sun and setting night
to find, yet leave, reality.

Born between the sun and moon,
his shadow splits in two.
And from each shadow's point of view
the boy is crowned in heaven's hue.

Racing at his avid pace
will blur each place and face that pass.
But each their shadow's interact
in cosmic masquerade and dance--

Sharing each their stories
in their brief and fleeting meeting,

yet drifting right on by
the boy who's chasing for the sky.

>>10075217
That and the first two lines.

>>10075009
With that first stanza, you should be writing limp bizkit songs

>>10075178
And you should probably be writing nickelback songs

I only write poems when blind drunk.

A wavering thrust of shivering thighs
locked at the bone and to the cheek,
flushed blood and red shot eyes
lanced forward what cannot speak.

Mistful dust about the room
playing round and quickly gone,
the grey coloured smell of bedroom
and the feeling of coming and going on.

The long shaking spasming hand
and necks cracking at the move,
grapling at the wrist a band
of dirty fingers into a groove,

My fuckstick swims
in the toilet
severed

Pilgrim
Farewells say, kith and kindred,
I am bound for lands far aside,
Unknowing where I may outride,
Of what myself might leave there out,
But of my path, I ne'er shall doubt.

Lay up near, kith and kindred,
How hard it is to leave behind,
Brother to brother dearly affined,
Yet careful are we of comfort's bite,
Companions sole in harrow and spite.

Fearful yet, kith and kindred,
For the times of trial that lie ahead,
For my worldly form to be beat and bled,
Though my bones will ache, my eyes aflame,
Of the wondrous path, I shall proclaim.

Shed no tears, kith and kindred,
Better sweet memories left by and by,
Yester summer's tones dreamt nigh,
Lest time reap his ravenous due,
And our bountiful now will come to rue.

How I'll long, kith and kindred
For Canaan's burnished mountains steep,
For Jordan's fragrant waters deep,
For Jerusalem's tall walls of gold,
For Firmament fires to behold!

Draw asunder, kith and kindred
And let our distance grow ever more,
For our journeys great, our voices roar,
Yet none to hear our songs of joy,
A lonely road, our feet employ.

Thank you, kith and kindred,
All this wretched form can give,
Neverending love, I hope you forgive;
A pilgrim’s heart is meager pay,
But it's this meager love that guides his way.

>>10075324
I like the imagery

>>10076468
You need to get laid dude

>>10077859
Very much so

I can’t take all this screaming,
Did this life even have a meaning?
For once my path’s no longer clear,
I’m off the road and I won’t steer

My love is the love of god I think
If I can’t feel it; how do I know it’s there?
In my mind, I begin to shrink
This will be my final prayer

The cold air cuts my chapped skin,
The voices bellow louder in my head,
These eyes keep watching my every move,
Waiting for me to finally drop dead

Theft! Murder! Debauchery!
Leave me alone, get away!
Those damned eyes are still focused on me!
Do they think I’m easy prey?

Fear quickly becomes drowned by fury
A trapped animal always lashes out
A conquest should be a conquest
Not a sticky river of self-doubt

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.

If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.

It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.

Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker’s rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.

If hate had smell, I would reek of blood.
If it had colour, my feet would leave
black marks wherever I trod.
If it could burn, my every orifice
black smoke would heave forth.

To me nothing ugly nor good
can happen anymore. All that
is left is to simply count the days,
like a single-minded monk. With
little variation in sense and intensity.

It needs to be comprehended and
said out loud, finally: it will come
and take everything - having taken
flesh and bone.

She will come. Having taken flesh and bone
she will take everything: the pen with the
graphite entrails on the table, sense and soul,
the picture on the wall, the music that makes
a room glow, tears and fears, and the air
filled with pollen. Afterwards: darkness,
darkness, darkness, darkness.

>>10075178
this is really bad. shows no signs of talent or chance for improvement.
>>10076468
also not very good. maybe go easier on the adjectives and just get better at empathizing
with people.
>>10078461
4/10 shows promise. keep working on it. it feels unfinished.
>>10078584
I didn't like it. I can't say why but it strikes me as remarkably boring.

>>10075009
stop rhyming

you dont need to rhyme

it's not a requirement

styles change

>>10078550
is this a joke post?

>>10078584
every poet of this generation just starts off all of their prose, all of their poetry, with shit like "to me." Avoid it.

Also, the listing: It only works sometimes and I can tell you're relying on it as a suitable means of building effect and tension.

First time passed us;
then we went across the bridge
to the gas station, where
they put up a sign: no smoking.
There we went off the road again.
Under the mountain, faltering steps,
in fear of the slippery dew or spotlights.

Dead air.
Stones and snakes.

Men of great honesty,
in business both public and private...

Then the time passed. We climbed the stairs,
not counting the steps, to the stone cubes.

This world is a torch, lit by both ends.

And time was still passing. Down there dona
Klara was once sunbathing in her badekostum,
things carelessly strewn about her head:
die Sonnenbrille, 'Elle,' Marlboro, feuerzeug,
sound-box from Japan.

Hearts have stopped beating.
Dead or alive. It's always the same.

Sleep, time will pass.
Sleep, time will be no more.
Sleep, nothing will be anymore
and it will be like there never was anything at all.

>>10078691
before you shrug this off as useless criticism, it's not. my genuine feeling reading this in my head and out loud was just bored. I can't give you talent, but if you have any I'm sure you can work this out yourself.

Let it be gentle on you, underneath this everlasting stone - old Radin - your eternal darkness.
Deep, too deep is your dream - but deeper yet is this our waking world.

Writes Prehten, his son, the one that left to sail the seas.
1317. in summer, while waiting in vain for the Lord to return.

I'm afraid I'll end up on the gallows.
Not few ended up like that,
all over the world and here... just around us...

Long days, long nights, long years.
Without the bread of love, without the water of love,
without the air of love, without love...

It is surely not the speech nor the voice of reason,
nor - certainly - solace or salvation from anything.
But when I close my eyes, I see it - I'll end up on the gallows.

Just how much of anything I knew nothing of.
Since dawn the devil has been stacking the deck.
Now, here I tremble - I'll end up on the gallows.

What the soul does not abide by,
what the heart does not dare to,
now the body itself wants to do.

Without the light of love, without the bread, without water, air...
Just another gimpy step from darkness
into darkness...

>>10078671
It's an attempt at a slightly more elaborate way of saying "reeeeee!"

in an american restaurant,
the old legend goes,
a white colonel doth sit,
with great width, in white robes.

with knees spread across,
atop his hands perch;
he simply stares forward,
as still as a birch.

the customers come,
the customers go,
the customers sit on his lap, on his throne.

but he remains steady, and smiles a bit--
for only he knows that he's taking a shit.

Slightly off topic, but have any of you submitted anything for publication?

What's the typical process? I highly doubt anything of mine will be accepted, but I may as well try right?

Living the /lit/ life
I post without having read
I need approval

>>10079118
Replace doth with does

>>10078759
>...
c'mon guy

I've seen peacock dancing trees
and the starlight walkers over the American water
the bright flight of ants following the last leaf
falling from the trees decomposed
the tactless faces of strangers in collars
and the curly hair of lady Godiva
dressed in satin skin and rings collected
from the teenage boys who paint their nails black
wishing to hold a dollar or joint or a hand
pleasing their pleasure by pleasing others
moving into basements galore
held together by duct tape and cheap beer.
Wishing to see the world
in a light without light without light
and the girls dance with the strip malls
across from the ultra economic ocean
of waves throughout parking lots that scream
for you to cum inside them
weighted down by loose leaf buggies and cigarette butts that take our tattoos and give them meaning
to call our fathers and mothers and brothers
wishing they could see the bushes
and they're morphing together
like rivers into a sea of morphine
needles and pokes and bums litter
wishing to be off the streets and into an arm
to see necrophilia manifest in kids alike
be them in their shoes
made of rope and cardboard
and they travel and they swallow and they turn
into beasts seen by the banker the seller
selling his garbage to garbage to buy garbage
cats and dogs and animals move
move to gutters to alleys to homes to death to
manifest sleep into non-existent courage
atmospheric plains telling carbon stories
of the dead dogs and cats and bums
slum like lovers chasing the sun and stars
of tie-dye dreams and spinning fans ennui
to end the day with eyes red and dry

>>10079118
maybe "on his throne" to "upon his throne"? makes it flow a bit better

>>10078641
Poets who don't rhyme are less skilled

Sheep devour wolves,
planes plummet from the sky,
predators hide every thought,
Fearsome oceans run dry,
Worms feast on remains,
The skin tightens and shrinks,
Rain washes away all stains,
Still there’s nothing to drink.

A friend wanted me to write something for him in the style of sixteenth century English, so I came up with this:

‘Who describes that heart as broken
Which to the facts has been awoken?’
Indeed - how very well-spoken!
Now grant me submit this token:
‘When by shame love is entreated
Or staked to reason’s foreign yoke,
Who describes hearts so mistreated
As builded up - or aught, but broke?’

It was inspired by him of course, but it was also inspired by... someone else.

Anyway, I think bones are good, but it could definitely be improved.

>>10080720
Doesn't even vaguely remind me of 16th century, it's quite modern and seems like you've gone for a vague "slightly olden times" feel

>>10080727

So what are the defining features of sixteenth century English?

>>10080732
It looks really, really distinct from modern English. I don't regularly use it, so if you're expecting me to give you a quick rundown, I can't. But think Shakespeare.

The wondrous beast of man; to lose a race against rats and apes!

>>10079118
10/10

>>10079706
>cats and dogs and animals move
get the fuck out

>>10080720
great, if the friend you were describing was an euphoric gentleman who regularly jerks it to steampunk cosplay

kαι ο kόσμος
πέφτει βροχερός
στα δεσμά του ταγμένος
υπάkουος ισχυρός
στο αγάλι της εστίας
kομματιάζεται
γεννιέται
συγkεντρώνεται
στην πρώτη επαφή αλυχτά
αδειάζει kαι ξεπετιέται παντού
Θα τον προφτάσεις με ύφος
σπάει στο άγγιγμα σου
σιωπή

>>10081070
decent, it you were aiming to write a background inscription for a third rate god of war knock-off

>>10081086
I know it's shit, but God of War?

snow compacts under gum sole.
boy contracts under parental control.
under guise of clandestine preparation,
cacophonous celebration anticipation.

erupting volcano of sounds
toking, talking, dancing, drinking. drowns
personability.
banality.

>>10081377
>boy contracts under parental control.

>>10081359
They only said that since its in greek

Round the drunkards go,
Buzzards not far behind;
Leaders lead, workers woe-
Blind leading the blind.
Insipid procession of mankind,
Thoughtless drones, burning coals;
Heartless hogwash, keep in mind-
The parasitic trolls

Blending in with the common,
Indulging in their outlets;
Hilarity ensues,
Upon laugh-less matters;
A disguised catharsis,
On our unspoken ends.

I laid in my room,
When a fly appeared;
And I caught it,

In my bare hands.

It fell on down,
And buzzed around;
As if it was -
In a trance.

It buzzed round, and around,
The wooden floored sea;
Its incessant buzzing,
Had got me to cussing.

I put it out of its misery.
'Twas sad as sad could be.

I thought of the albatross,
And the golden-brown snake;
And the evil choices,
That men hath make.

It lay there dead,
And motionless;
On the floor,
There was nothing,
To be done anymore.

Did I give him another chance?
Did I do a favor for him?
Who gave us this power-
Are we their gods?

Just because of our frame?

first paragraph of unfinished poem

Escape from realities to a scene
peaces form a dream we barely can see
Sea, and up the river until we reach the heart
The body, we'll study in search of some truth

Trust:
You lost mine
When you didn't
Press space bar
As often as you could
Faggot

Wrote this while waiting in between classes. Should I keep working on it?

So I've heard all your pearls are missing
but the string that had held them remains
laid out on your desk
while the oysters bereft
have left their address
though you wore them in jest
will expect hefty debts to be paid

Your throat is still burning like a mighty old fire
you're miles away but I can see your light
You've never been a screamer and you're not big crier
but you cough out advice in vapor
vestigial exhaust pipe
Oh you'll get those pearls back alright

welcoming bed bugs
into the home
so that you don't oversleep
those scabs that you're picking
keep gnawing and tricking yourself
into thinking there's valor in being alone

don't confuse those bed bug blues
the cracks in those pearls are new
the cracks in those pearls are new
the cracks in those pearls are new

It's all about the context, and it being applied evenly. If you're going silly fantasy armour, then I want to see bare chested dudes with huge armoured codpieces right alongside chainmail bikinis.

The night is dark I browse my memes
Soon enough I'll be in my dreams
It's 4 a.m. My head's in pain
My eyes are red From constant strain
I eat a pizza A large meat-lover's
When I'm done I'll start another
Now I'm full but I need to fap
I open /d/ To find a trap
I exit /d/ And enter /y/
I'm degenerate And so I cry
Loli, futa Incest, vore
All I really want Is that dirty whore Pretty stacy 3d and real
But Chad's big cock Is all she'll feel Now I'm mad I thrash about
I break my toys And start to shout FUUCKING NORMIES!!! GAS THEM ALL! MAKE THEM BLEED! MAKE THEM CRAWL! UPRISING WHEN! BRING IT DOWN!!!
The anger passes I must lie down
I heave my bulk Into my bed
I can't endure The pain in my head I'm a virgin I'm fucking broke
My mouth is dry (I drink some Coke)
I feel like shit So with teary eye
I promise to change I promise to try
It's morning now The day is bright
I open Google And begin to write:
/lit/ 4chan
I'll never be A happy normie
Do me a favor: Fucking kill me

>>10082426
0/10

The leaves change
And times passes
The bright day turns
To brilliant night
Time does not wait for us

There's no hell more harsh than a memory
There's no home more hell than an empty nest
Winter takes the warm away, spring takes the cold away
Summer takes the rain away and fall took away my friend
I believe there's never a place better than right where you are
Although imagining an afterlife can tend to mend a broken heart
And with someone dead, it's a way of coping with loss
But I don't need you out there somewhere if I have you in my thoughts
I don't envy anyone in a position where they're forced to choose
Pull the plug or not I can't tell if this is for me or you
I mean I know you're sick, tired, and confused
But sometimes letting the tired go to sleep is the best thing to do
I will hold your head while the doctor sticks the needle in
I'll always remember our companionship and what it meant
And on Sunday, October the 5th, you took your last breath
And you will be missed

Check out my Flarf about you guys

https://books.google.com/books?id=Li0yDwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=forum+x&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwin0KTHoMTWAhVO7WMKHX3XAMEQ6AEIKDAA#v=onepage&q=forum%20x&f=false

>>10081039
what's so bad about that, generally asking? You can't leave critique without purpose. Sure, dogs and animals and cats is pretty lame but why? is that your only gripe

>>10074359
Finn...easy on the tokes

>>10074361
Bad
>poetry is concrete
>>10074554
Bad
>poetry is concrete
>>10075173
Bad
>you're not writing poetry you're writing shitty rock/metal lyrics. Either try music or study meter and loosen your rhyme
>>10075324
not bad
>not bad. you prolly have an idea about what you're doing. Work on tighter meter
>>10076468
eh
>poetic porn. I'm sure there's a niche. Meter is all over though. Practice your technicals
>>10076670
really good
>I doubt you wrote it. But if you did, it's wonderful. If not, it's still wonderful.
>>10078461
pretty good
>imagery is sporadic which isn't ideal for an already abstract poem. keep the imagery very logical in terms of why an image is being called upon when working with dream logic. Technicals are fairly tight though
>>10078467
great
>some lines felt wonky, but I'm reading in my head and not out loud to save time, so it could be on my end.
>>10078550
ironically not bad
>it's bad but it's got vivid imagery and character
>>10078584
unremarkable
>you've got an idea about what you're doing, but it's just not gripping in anyway with such uninspiring overtones. ask yourself why anyone besides you would want to read this
>>10078691
I loved it
>I gripped most of it, but please tell me more acutely what this is depicting and what it's about. I want to understand it better
>>10078751
Good
>not certain of the people behind the names, but this was enjoyable in imagery and read
>>10078759
Eh
>it's got it's ups and downs, but you should focus on subject matter and purpose over technicality at this point
>>>10079118
i lol'd
>>>10079706
not good
>you're trying far too hard and this comes off as very forced.
>>10080640
No
>>10080720
Eh
>this is for a friend, so it can't really be 'bad'. Unless he's a prude, he'll appreciate it for what it is. But you nailed more of a general, modern English accent than a 16th century one. Tomato-tomato.
>>10081070
I don't read Greek
>I won't rely on an online translator
>>10081377
No
>>>10081546
>>10081567
Eh
>typical teen angst with a touch of 'oh hey 4chan too!'
>>10081572
why so much hum-glum
>would the effort for one bright poem kill off half this board?
>>10081576
promising
>but your use of cussing really brings up that whole 'don't force a rhyme' issue. comes off terribly desu senpai, but the poem shows promise
>>10081658
of course it is
>keep telling yourself that
>>10082014
It's not great man
>line seven is an example that proves you aren't certain of what you're doing with meter quite yet. Keep working on meter, don't force lines if they don't feel natural, and don't be that dick who doesn't use punctuation, because you are not ee cummings
>>10083141
Meh
>no rhythm; cliche
>>10083415
Touching
>they'd love it

>>10083748
Let it die, the meme was never funny

who the fuck is Ramon Fernandez

ive been looking for a lover
but i havent met her yet
she'll be nothing like i pictured her to be
in her eyes i will discover
another reason why
if not to live, then make the best of what i see

Okay decided to revise the thing I posted earlier.

So I’ve heard your old pearls are missing
while the string that had held them remains.
Laid out and displayed on the desk
and all the oysters, bereft
recompense, have left their address
though you wore them in jest
you expect that their debt will be paid.

Thirty weeks after you’ve beat the desire
your throat is still burning, inviolate fire.
Miles away, I still see the light.
Do you still cough advice, still add to the smog?
Still worry your tenants, awake in the night?
Oh vestigial voice! Consecrated exhaust
pipe from the gutter
I’ve gotten a letter.
They’ll be returning those pearls alright.

But when cleaning the windows double check that they’re closed.
You’re welcoming bed bugs into our home.
What scabs that you’re picking!
They’re gnawing and tricking
And all of the ticking
Metronomical time
Identical actors in interminable lines.
Don’t confuse this for old
bed bug blues
Please listen to me, the cracks in those pearls are new.

>>10083808
>It's not great man
Yeah I was just kinda spit balling ideas there. I hope this is a bit better. And for the record I wasn't trying to do a no punctuation thing, I was just writing it in the notes of my phone and didn't add that yet.

>>10083415
>>10078691
Both of these show a lot of promise. Keep working - harder than you think you could, but can. You have a bridge to the land of the Gods in your hand. Write it - damn you! What else are you good for?

>>10082014
I like the concept

Grasp it!
It blinks away.
Mist through the hand,
Heavy on the eyes.
A nod and a wink,
straws of meaning.
come with the heart,
gone with the sun.
He calls, "reach deep!"
A salute
A giggle,
The sandman departs

>>10081576

> your use of cussing really brings up the "don't force a rhyme" issue

Elaborate please? It made sense to me.

>>10074359
A man with nothing left,
A true man, well said;
For to be himself,
He must lose any thirst;
To be a steel-
He must Tremble first!

And now this Iron man has nothing left,
Except the will,
To Conquer!
Tremble therefore,
tyrants of the world-
Tremble before Man.

A man with nothing and no one left:
Wretched man, Blessed man.

>>10080791
>only one sentence
>and the only discernible theme is vague racism

>>10082426
I thought it was OK, would work better as an angsty song

>>10083808
>poetry is concrete
What?

I've known every girl from here to Belize
And every boy West of Japan.
I've dined with each woman among the Chinese
And Antarctica's one single man.
But of all the people that I've ever met
In India, France, and Peru,
The most wonderful person that I've found yet:
Care to guess who it is?

I like Shel Silverstein.

>>10083611
It just seems so obvious. I don't know, you almost don't need to read the line to know what's coming. "One, two, category that includes both." The whole thing is like that.

>>10083808
Not any of these guys but I agreed wholeheartedly with all your crits, and I was wondering if you had a good resource to learn poetry? My meter always feels clumsy and my vocab never seems to intertwine correctly

>>10079719
I disagree. This way, there's a nice dactylic meter to it.

The-CUS-to-mers-SIT-on-his-LAP-on-his-THRONE.

>>10084628
I'm charmed and giddy with joy. I feel like my ten year old self, reading Roald Dahl and Dr. Seuss. Now, you're not Dr. Seuss. But I like you. I have to check out this Silverstein.

>>10084766
Not him, but how do you expect to learn meter? The best I can tell you is to sing your poem as you write. This way, your mental word machine's output gets limited by the cadence that you want to achieve.

>>10083808
>>10078691
>I gripped most of it, but please tell me more acutely what this is depicting and what it's about. I want to understand it better.

You got me. I'm an insecure asshole who usually posts a poem from an accomplished but obscure poet in the same thread as my own. Just so I can tell which criticism to ignore and which to take seriously.

It's by Abdulah Sidran (the guy who wrote Kusturicas early movies.) It's about the mountain path the fleeing Jews took out of Sarajevo at the start of WWII. He was widely derided for the poem for being too melodramatic and cliche, I kinda like it. Once got to ask him some questions about the poem at a panel my school organized, from memory:

>they put up a sign: no smoking.
According to Maimonides: everything that is in accordance with reason is good. Warning people not to smoke at a gas station makes sense, so it's a little marker of goodness along the way.

>Dead air.
Everyone got scared because they were approaching a cliff, not because the cliff itself but:
>Stones and snakes.
Rocky terrain = deadly snakes, in local folk wisdom. The only two deadly snakes of the region are the the European sand viper and the horned mamba. The rocks in the region are mostly quartz and silica (which make the soil acidic) and both those snakes hate acidic terrain. The only snakes among the rocks are harmless - but look a lot like the former two. Also a nod to the primeval: people are more scared of snakes than people with machine-guns looking for them.

>Men of great honesty...
Engraved on a grave at the entrance of the old Jewish cemetery that is along the path.

>This world is a torch, lit by both ends.
Again, Jewish philosophy: You're not safe in the past or the future, so you cower in the present - no matter how nasty.

>Down there dona Klara...
From up there you can see a popular bathing spot on the Miljacka river, one of the women in the convoy liked to spend her summers there.

>>10084024
>>10083808
>>10083415
HAH! What you thought was poetry was actually (c)rap music! Fooled again, shitheads!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n14fh7tzXUw

>>10074361
My take on your poem:
>The engine purrs to idle life
>My path what once so clear
>I teeter on a tattle knife
>For I shall walk no fear

>My love is of my God, I think
>I feel it, is it there?
>In my mind I start to shrink
>This'll be my final prayer

>>10078641
What the other guy said, but unironically. There are two types of poets that I've seen that piss me off.

>NO NEED RHYME, RHYME NOT NECESSARY! (Often because he can't rhyme for jack shit)
>I RHYME ALL THE TYME. I RHYME LIKE A LIME! (Often his rhymes suck jack shit)

If you're a patrician like me, then you rhyme, but you're actually fucking good at it.

>>10079118
Best one here. Everyone else is a raging faggot who can't into /poetry/.

I wish I couldn't see the towers from the outside.
Argon, I'm told,
And I'll find the rest when I'm later.

>>10080720
I really liked it, but I don't know what it means. Sparknote it for me, please...

>>10083808
C-Can you rate my poem?

----

"Do not come to school today",
I tell my friends from far away.
I do not know your name nor face,
I know not neither look or place.
I do not care for race or age,
I do not aim for you in rage.
You shall not suffer for my sins
You, who've done me no wrong thing.

"Some of You Guys Are Alright" by Anonymous-- November 3, 2016

Sidenote: I don't actually know why that guy went on a beta uprising spree. I just assumed it was the usual "Kill all Chads and Stacies" bit that they normally usually go through.

>>10083598
...P-Post /fit/

>>10084845
It'd help to have a foundation of knowledge, such as which meter would fit with which mood, which best reflects certain events, how it ties in with varying types of poetry, etc
I don't want to "learn meter", I want to learn about it.

>>10083808
>really good
>>I doubt you wrote it. But if you did, it's wonderful. If not, it's still wonderful.
thanks guy, I really do appreciate it

>>10084544
It's not about it making sense as it is about its place in the piece. It perhaps fits the idea, but on the other hand it reads unnaturally and forced and jars the poem's form.

>>10083981
I only give a crit a poem. That way it's not me writing it. Just think about what I said and do what you think is best based on it.

>>10084595
Poetry isn't abstract unless you're focusing specifically on abstract concepts; and even then, still most of the imagery should be concrete.

>>10084766
Read some poems from famous poets. Find some you like and study their form and their methods used. Understand their stylistic approach in relation to yours then practice their form. Don't be afraid to spend days or weeks on a poem just trying to think of the exact word you need. Chances are you find other better words as well when you return. Chart in pic related helps

>>10084889
That's alright, I'm just happy you could provide more details. It's a very nice poem, very comfortable.

>>10085097
Not good man. Fairly incoherent (friends one line, yet unknown names and faces the next), and generally unpleasant. Why write this in a 'poetic' form? Smh senpai

>>10085267
>"friends one line, yet unknown names and faces the next"

It's about that guy from /r9k/ who shot up that one school in Oregon or something. I consider the people on 4chan to be my only friends, yet I don't know what any of you actually even look like. I wrote it because, well, you guys are my only friends and I wanted to write a poem about that same sort of invisible friendship that shooter guy had with /r9k/.

In case people don't know "Some of you guys are alright" is an infamous quote the shooter used in the beginning of a thread he created, warning the various users of /r9k/ not to go to school tomorrow if they lived somewhere on the West coast.

>>10085289
You still answer why though

>>10085332
Because I can write a poem about whatever I Goddamn feel like, you lackey negro sumbitch

>>10085339

>>10075009
>rhyming couplets
"No"!

>>10085343
Alright, hot shot. Lets see your poetry if you're so good at it, sport. Unless...Unless you're one of those people who can't even practice what they preach (that'd be the worst!)

>>10085343
>>10085357
Also, this is an official declaration. I'm challenging you to a poetry-duel. Since I'm instigating the duel, you pick the theme. Kingsmans rules. First to draw blood or most positively replied (You)'s wins.

>>10085357
>>10085367
Anything goes, write what's in your heart--no specific style.
Mine:

Smokey clouds shroud a moon glowing bright,
Orange burning roach held anxiously in sight
by hands to pass to hand soon pressed to lips-
The first time I smoked was a night such as this.

Though tonight I am alone.

Roaming open streets with foggy
thoughts filling my head like soggy
socks squishing in soaked shoes
hang by lace from light post wires.

If only I could have known.
I hear rambling from

Here by the river, the fog is thicker than before.
I can't tell if the rocks reached the other shore;
or if they were sucked into the murky torrent--
lost in the rushing water before 'em.

I think it's time I get on home
and not smoke so much on my own.

>>10085425
You scoundrelled FUCK. You're supposed to say "anything goes" and THEN start writing a poem. I just spent 25 minutes watching speech therapists on youtube that I could have spent working on a poem.

Alright, hold on, give me a second to write my own G.D. poem now.

Finding a way down
Twisting and turning
Orient crucial at every turn
Wait for the water to still

A mirrored pool
Thoughts already had,
A breath already taken.
The dissociation begins.

Pieces falling out of place
A calm mind essential.
No mind present
Left now right, up down, now and never.

The broken string
Dissonant promise of love.
All is lost, and never was
The ill father cries one last time.

Matching in long forgotten formation
An ancient(divine) picture revealed.
Senses regained, motivations remembered
The journey is complete.

To bask in the glow
To feel the real emanate .
Made of the essence
Macrocosm entitled Home.

To stay is only temporary
Remember your task.
Don't forget
I'll see you again.

Ripples begin to form,
Love re-recognised,
Familiar patterns discerned,
Mortality snapped into position.

Calm breath,
Look around, 1, and 2.

>>10085436
I'm not sure if this is poetry

>>10085425
A lemon tree does not grow sour.
Only its lemons do.

>>10085425
>>10085440
Now...We wait

>>10085440
Just remember I used a throwaway. And that sometimes putting in effort is better than not

>>10085450
Our judges have the mental capacity of fucking three year olds. You gave them a whole dance routine. I just showed them how to do the motherfucking robot. If you're going to get into a duel, you better know how to duel right.

IMHartYou

May this not discredit
Nor show approval of thee
Full, vibrant veins run deep
the overflowing couldron kept still, no sign

still

a hidden river runs rampant
noiseless and never considered
flowing of passion and pure feeling
this is what should have been

why can't you hear me?

still

beneath my skin, loud and chaotic,
bursting with purity and truth,
yet never discovered, the adventureless strikes again;
too afraid to suffer any pain.

trembling skin, the fear of truth, the excitement of possibility
obvious to the observant
last possibility to the ignorant and choiced carefree
i am not hart to you, vilified nor truthful

rippled

untapped potential, worse than death itself
closed eyes during the show
timed head turn, missed the main attraction
buys another admission, just for another head turn

still

lame excuse to live
joke of the cosmos, apparently important

still

hurt me you do this time
my bones run hollow
dry and unevident of any direction ever taking place here
i am a joke

still

forget me
poisoned perspective
why would you bother anyway
self discredit, correct answer

what does it matter

gone

>>10085450
None of our shit's going to get any traction here. Post a new thread with both of our poems and ask all the anons to rate them.

I'd do the damn thing myself, but duel rules are still in effect-- Instigator always has to ride second seat. Not just an excuse to be lazy either. I hate having to cut through red tape.

>>10085511

>>10085565
Don't be big a poose-poose, you fucking son of a bitch.

Just do that shit, you preteen looking son of a bitch. My hands are bound, we're playing by Kingsman's rules, you fake...son of a bitch. I would do it myself, but I can't.

>>10085595
>>10085565
Are you two okay?

>>10085603
Don't get involved you dumb...son of a bitch

>>10085603
I let myself get bamboozled

>>10085616
Did you also happen to spill blood by any chance at one point during this duel? Because that also counts as grounds for my immediate and uncontested victory, just SYK (so you know)...

>>10074359
Pale bare walls
This room like a void
Freedom calls

Inebriation, heavenly maid! Descend!
Distend, upend, and rend, and rend,
Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,
But let’s not speak of foolish things.

Look! There goes Garryowen!
Crawling on the lower ledges of our lid,
Cyclops shortly following, singing bitter poem,
Must tell Bloom to keep self hid.

The spread-out chaps,
Of spread-out chaps,
Intoxicants their evening classes,
Pressed up close in roaring masses.

Amidst the sweat and blood and bloody tears,
Debates unroll the rolled-up tongues,
Black and white and licked-up fears,
The surging anger of the throngs.

First poem ever lads PLEASE be gentle

>>10085267
What does that chart mean?

>>10086311
The different metres a poem can be written in, a '-' is a unstressed syllable, and the other symbol is a stressed syllable.

For example, an iamb would a word like 'Hello', where the 'Hel' is a stressed syllable and the 'lo' is an unstressed syllable.

>>10086311
Iamb: be-CAUSE
Antibacchius: list-en HERE
Trochee: HI there
Anapaest: with-out FEAR

It's the stresses on syllables. - means stressed and the u is unstressed.

>>10086358
no, the '-' is the stressed syllable and an iamb is an unstressed followed by a stressed, dumbass

>>10086376
Fuck off nerd

Korean girl
in draped grey sweaters
and old cream sneakers
floats through the isles like
90's Uma Thurman
all sunglasses and thin
messy hair
perfect skin
the kind of cool i could have been--
if i was ever cool

a poem entitled "going to CVS"; it is a first draft

napping in my room
i think to myself
'wow this sucks'
and so i wake up and walk to a convenience store
and at the convenience store I see my friend and he says
'hey, did you also need to conveniently purchase something?'
and then i just ignore him because
he's a very unpleasant person
and probably a sociopath

then i go to the arctic survival equipment section
and see that they have the dog sleds on clearance
since summer is almost over
although the husky pups are still full-price
but I say alright fine i'll buy a dog sled

i go up to the checkout line and there is a girl in front of me
my brain says 'hey you should talk to her and ask her to go on a dog-sledding date'
but the cashier gets the same idea
he uses his charm and wit and cashier clout
and they go on a date right then
women love a man in CVS uniform
so there's no cashier anymore

at home with my new dog sled
forgot to buy the dogs
it's alright though
i have some old ones in my closet i can use

walk up the hill to the arctic
see my friend there again
he says, "hey i think i left my bag in your car last night"
run him over with my dog sled because he is annoying
sled around the arctic for a while
think i will stay here.

friday night blues
------------------------

another friday night
bed creaking violently as I wank my noodle
dorm neighbors probably think I get mad chicks
feel kind of hungry, wish I had some
post-onanistic ramen

>>10087780
enjoyed this one, anon

>>10087887
i'm glad, that makes me want to kill myself slightly less. i can only write comedic poetry because every time i'm genuine it comes out like shit.

Roses are red
I hate coal slaw
i have a fetish
for dried up grandmas

hey every2 waht do u think?

the greenish blue-light of the portal to Amara cast shadoes through the tree as i ran. usually the portal appears on the bridge near here, but tonight it decided to appear elsewhere, forcing me to run across the bridge and through one of chicagos city parks in order to jump through the portal and return home to amra. why it decide to change locations, i will never know... the universe has a perverse sense of humor.

>coal slaw

>>10087894
sounds like a self-esteem issue; trouble with vulnerability. bet you'll get past it. either way, comedic poetry lends itself really well to serious/grim ideas, so you've got a nice landscape to play with. hope you keep writing

City of Jewels

As I cast my gaze down
I found myself starstruck
The gentle midnight breeze
Blowing across my cheek.

Worries cast aside
As I gazed at the wonders of Man

Though the wonders of Man seem of nature's Glory
For this sight, I encourage all to behold

For only at night, can man bring stars to the Earth

Down the road, in a gym far away
A young man was heard to say
“No matter what I do, my legs won’t grow!”
He tried leg extensions, leg curls, leg presses too
Trying to cheat, these sissy workouts he’d do!
From the corner of the gym where the big guys train
Through a cloud of chalk and the midst of pain
Where the big iron rides high, and threatens lives
Where the noise is made with big forty-fives
A deep voice bellowed as he wrapped his knees
A very big man with legs like trees
Laughing as he snatched another plate from the stack
Chalked his hands and monstrous back
Said, “Boy, stop lying and don’t say you’ve forgotten!
Trouble with you is you ain’t been SQUATTIN’!

the next installment in my series of nonsensical poems that describe my daily life in a roundabout way:

i met this cutie in the trenches last night
we formed an immediate meaningful connection
while grenading germans by the moonlight
forgot to get her number though

i have two amputated eyes
so even when i meet the girls that sound attractive
i need to ask my wingmen to advise
on whether or not i should go in for the kill

life as a drafted man on the frontier
gets pretty damned lonely
trenches aren't a great place for meeting girls, bad atmosphere
people get replaced so often that i'm sure someone will come along though

i guess i'm a soldier now, don't really feel qualified
they just gave me a gun and a lonely trench and said
hurry up and find a war bride

>>10087983
not bad, rhyming lives with fives is weak though

>>10087984
>life as a drafted man on the frontier

>trenches aren't a great place for meeting girls, bad atmosphere

What a cool way to rhyme that. I like this so much, it's going in the screenshot folder. Really good, anon.

>>10088011
not sure if compliment or sarcasm because I have no confidence in my own writing

>>10088030
Totally genuine. Unique idea, great execution, interesting cadence. Maybe would replace lonely in the bottom stanza to avoid repetition, but that's my only criticism. It's really good.

>>10088065
yeah i noticed that repetition after a re-read, everything i post on here is a first draft. thanks though, i do appreciate it a lot.

>>10087763
>>10087771
>if I put like breaks in prose it becomes poetry

>>10087989
No it isn't. Unless you were using the contextually wrong pronunciation of lives

>>10088086
>i think i arbitrate what is and isn't poetry
though I do agree that this is a fairly low-effort poetic form in most cases

>>10088092
oh you're right, I'm retarded
poem gets my stamp of approval now

>>10083847
It stays funny because of people like you

delicious
------------

my tongue enjoys dairy
i especially like solid dairy products
lately i have been eating a lot of ice cream, especially black cherry
kids in my middle school said cherries contained cyanide
yogurt is okay too but would lose to ice cream in a side-by-side

>>10074359
Contains soft nourishment,
Wamart steel rips open on third try
Do I need a can-opener?

>>10085051
Finding out it was about his dog made it that much more touching. It's almost as if rap began as poetry in music as has since degraded.

>>10087968
Honestly I think it's all pretty dumb except for the last line (which I like a lot), but I think you know that. I'll bet you thought of that last line first then tried to build around it. Nothing inherently wrong with that in my opinion, I do it all the time.
>>10087763
Sorta like this one for some reason even though I know it's bad
>>10086284
Almost immediately discounted this one because of the awful first line but overall I ended up liking it. I like the two lines about spread out chaps. Kinda clever.
The Perennial


My budding love,
too late I flower.
Winter rounds the bend
and my petals barely splay.
The others have already wilted,
but fulfilled their purpose nonetheless.

Tonight, I'm to be swallowed by frost;
a frozen shell of what could've been.
Still, my love is perennial as my bud.

Perhaps things will play different come spring,
or perhaps the spring thereafter.
I'm helpless but to wait for you
- here, I've lain my roots.

One coming spring, you'll cut my throat
and place me on your bedstand.

My life: complete.

>>10087983
Appeals to my /fit/ sensibilities. Other guy probably didn't know what the significance of 45 meant. I think the rhyme is okay.

>>10088296
If you think people are that dumb, leave this board. Just because you know it's a plate doesn't make the rhyme great.

Asylums with doors open wide,
Where people had paid to see inside,
For entertainment they watch his body twist
Behind his eyes he says, 'I still exist.'
This is the way, step inside.

In arenas he kills for a prize,
Wins a minute to add to his life.
But the sickness is drowned by cries for more,
Pray to God, make it quick, watch him fall.
This is the way, step inside.

>>10084558
Can anyone critique this please?

>>10084558
I liked it, but it wasn't terribly enthralling. If I wasn't reading it with the intention of critique, I would not have read it through. Poetry, for me, needs to be evocative - this was not.

A tree is planted in the courtyard of the ruins
Where the television stops - static
A dreaded witness to the fall
My desk remains there
The funeral procession goes on
Will not this blood stain fingertips -
Until my end?
Or our end rather.

Confession tape - a declaration of war
Dilapidated steps - a piss soaked structure
I watch this damned tree grow
A race against the natural order of things

When smoking won't make things better - only worse
I've got that thing Marmeledov had - a curse
And when I can figure out how to put this damn glass down - that'll be a first
But Ill gulp sorrow and my liver will burst

There Isn't a man who knows one thing.
A man alive is one who needs
a destructions seed which never grows
finding a one which always knows
leaving sunshine and things so sweet
I guess its mine, I really think

>>10088317
Nice

>>10088203
>Almost immediately discounted this one because of the awful first line

I must admit I wasn’t sure about it, but it will fit with the eventual tone of the poem. I want to work in more juxtaposed imagery and personification, so the line is good at introducing that because the structure of it is renowned for being a terrible (or good in the eyes of some) metaphor. The original line uses ‘inoculation’ and Coleridge called it out especially for being so bad, so I thought it would be fun to add it.

>>10088891
*personification, not metaphor

>>10085064
my take on your takes' take :
>ENGINE ON
>ALTERNATOR WHINE
>YES
>DISREGARD SEMANTIC
>MAKE UP TIME

>>10088492
That's fair criticism man. Thanks. I'll work on it definitely.

>>10084558
fairly boring tbqh

>>10089633
Yep, thanks for the critique man I'll work on it.

Squeals of happiness, positive results.
The budding of life, pure and untainted
“I’ve never been more happy,” she exults.

Lilac Colors, the nursery painted.
Lullabies memorized, sung with her mate.
Baby coming soon, heartbeats acquainted

Ornamental Mobiles, fun to create
Ready for the world, Just God knows her fate
New Crib, Blankets, prepared for the due date

Zodiac's dimming every feature
Over pasture's endless ward.
Sleeping is the Canine creature,
Dozing is the Sparrow bird.
Healthy-bottomed mermaids scatter,
Float directly heaven bound.
Hands like branches, only fatter,
Breasts like turnips strong and round.
A witch on a triangle climbs,
Turns into a puff of smoke.
With the forest demon's wives
Deadman dances the cakewalk.
Following in pale choir
Single Fly the warlocks chase
And beside the hill and higher
Stands the moon's unchanging face.

Zodiac's fading every feature
Over buildings of the town,
Sleeping is the Canine creature
Flounder fish is lying down.
Guardsman's rattler tap-tap-tap
Spider being takes a nap
Sleeps the cow, the fly is sleeping,
Over land the moon is creeping.
Giant bowl above the land
Full of water, which was spilled.
Demon holds a log in hand
From his fuzzy-flurry beard.
In a cloud a siren's waiting,
Little ankle in descent.
A cannibal is lacerating,
Biting privates off a gent.
All is mixed in shared ball
And in each direction whiz
Apes and British one and all,
Witches, corpses, fleas.

Candidate of bygone time
Leader of the newer years
Freaks you list - o mind of mine -
Nothing more than thoughts and fears.
Raving thoughts, imaginations,
Only dreams, hallucinations,
Ruthless trials and tribulations,
None of which in life appears.

High on earth here we reside.
Late, so late. It's time to sleep.
Poor warrior you, my mind,
Why not peace till morning keep?
What are worries, yours and mine?
Day has passed, and you and I
Half divinities half swine,
Sleeping near a newer time,
On its very doorstep lie.

Guardsman's rattler tap-tap-tap
Spider creature takes a nap
Sleeps the cow, the fly is sleeping,
Over land the moon is creeping.
Giant bowl above the land
Full of water, which was spilled.
Snoozes the potato plant.
You as well to sleep should yield.

>>10090698
I hate children so I give your poem 2/10 unless you append the following stanza:

Now it is not my intention in this poem to disparage
her child-rearing reputation, which I'm sure is just great
but when the big day came, she had her eight miscarriage

>>10088567
pretty good desu

>>10088086
the "Korean girl" one rhymes you retardé

>>10091018
Show me one rhyme in it

>>10091043
Korean girl
in draped grey sweaters
and old cream sneakers
floats through the isles like
90's Uma Thurman
all sunglasses and THIN
messy hair
perfect SKIN
the kind of cool i could have BEEN--
if i was ever cool

just because something isn't ABAB doesn't mean it has no rhymes, retardé

>>10091121
>thin rhymes with been
Stop baiting me please

>>10088153
>since degraded

bitch that album came out in 2009

>>10090991
Read the first letter of every line, then get back to me.

>>10091133
I'm floored
absolute masterpiece

>>10074359
When the lakes used to freeze,
People would dance on the ice
wearing shoes with tiny blades,
And fall in Love

Roasted Eyes; commonalities of midnights, past.
Condemned to behold the wicked dreams, an utmost fantasy.
Tampered when visiting, my memory lusts after you,
A gust of fabled fiction grandeur.
Mild whispers of an evergreen pasture.
Soft leaves turning on their backs.
Revel under ol' tales and wondrous phenomena.
Drink the scapegoats sweet milk with edible iron of the bloodied paw.
Thorns never stuck so deep.
Chain mail failed to keep me dry
And it lies mystery's falsehoods akin to the merchant's charismatic side.
Spokane; the place of mythic beauty.
The elders once scowled the boy's refusal into submission.
A limit on the field of vision, cursed with branded lids and White Iris Oblivion.
Madman of the East, They call me Roasted Eyes.

>>10091331
...
People would dance on the ice(,)
Wearing shoes with tiny blades,
...

Descriptive. Consider period at the end of Love when not using a scheme.

>>10091331
The blades on ice skates are pretty fucking big you melon.

>>10091483
It's clearly about a time since forgotten. Primitive ice skates were very clunky and the blades were no where near the modern size.

>>10091483
>>10091517
Also anon could have been referencing young love.

>>10074361
>The engine roars to life
Stopped right there
>>10074554
Mum I'm sad
>>10075009
Craaaawling in my skiiiin
>>10075173
Too long to read, might be good or bad idk
>>10075178
I can already guess youre an american
>>10075324
Nice, just tone down some phrases like cosmic masquerade - its a bit too much
>>10076468
eww sex
>>10076670
Its really good but it looks too much like something to be read in trailer of total war game
>>10078461
Eeeh, Some things are okay but thematically I didnt like it lol
>>10078467
decent
>>10078550
i reek of feet
>>10078584
Boring
>>10078691
I think its good but its just not the type of something that I'd read in my free time. Its a good, well thought out and well constructed poem but it didn't have any impact on me :/
>>10078759
Hire a hooker
>>10079118
Sing this with banjo in backround and post on yt
>>10079706
a bit angsty i suppose
>>10080720
Try to get it to be worse because its too good to be annoying 16th century poetry
>>10081070
Ama de sw dw
>>10081377
I laughed like crazy fuck on that boy that contracts hahahahahaha
>>10081567
>>10081572
Its a bit angsty but its still better than most of Nietzsche's poems
>>10081576
Has potential in future but try to be more subtle thematically
>>10081658
>Escape from realities to a scene
no
>>10081673
quality post
>>10082014
>So I've heard all your pearls are missing
but the string that had held them remains
ewwwww, sounds like a 60ies love song
>>10082426
At least you don't try to cover up your angst by applying pseudopoetic tasteless adjectives. You're like the new Hemingway man
>>10083141
First 3 verses are boring but rithmically last two become interesting.
>>10083415
pull the buttplug out of yourself if this looks okay to you
>>10083981
>Oh vestigial voice! Consecrated exhaust
Oh's, ah's and eh's really rustle my oysters desu
>>10084502
>sandman
is that arab moonman?
Has potential but - staws of meaning- for the love of god, come on!
>>10084558
change iron man with mr muscle and you got yourself toilet cleaning spray commercial jingle
>>10080791
le harambe meme
>>10084628
Hitler?
>>10085097
Well, its funny and I guess that was your goal
>>10085425
Its got nice structure but you transition from one motif to other too erratically
>>10085436
Its not bad but you just threw like 2 or 3 poems inside one.
>>10085473
boring eh
>>10086246
dude like what? post SOMETHING
>>10086284
It varies from really bad to really good lol

terrible:

>Inebriation, heavenly maid! Descend!
Distend, upend, and rend, and rend,
Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,

really good:

>The spread-out chaps,
Of spread-out chaps,
Intoxicants their evening classes,
Pressed up close in roaring masses.

All in all its the first poem here which left some impact on me so I'm gonna remember and save it. Continue writing - rythm is nice and so are "scenes" that you construct (don't know the english word for what I want to say.)
>>10087763
bad, not even a poem

>>10091685
>tfw he skips your poem

>>10087771
And then my friend came
and we had mighty fine night togeather
and we rejoiced and he said
and he again said
and he dead

shitty poem i have wrote

and moon smiled to me yet again
You used your charm tonight
Recharge your phone battery
For He'll die tommorow jet again

and then i recharged my phone
and the moon went
and then he said
I'm wake
actually its you whos gonna die
haha xD

>>10087780
hahahaha apporved
>>10087968
unremarkable
>>10087983
>gym
>>10087984
why am i even rating
>>10088138
go vegan and stop writing
>>10088203
my life:complete killed the buzz for me. Otherwise its okay, nice structure, nice rythm, nice choice of words but I don't like some motifs and phrases like Tonight, I'm to be swallowed by frost; a frozen shell of what could've been. its pretty cliche desu.
>>10088334
I think its okay but I'd change every single word of it - idea is good, execution could have been better
>>10088503
eeeh
>>10088567
comfy
>>10088744
it sounds like teen girls facebook bio/ indpirational quotes
>>10090719
Too much of too much

>>10091707
pls link it

>>10091764
This one:
>>10090698

>>10090698
>>10091803

I don't like the choice of word Squeal, other than its decent, its just that I didn't really feel anything while reading it. Like there's nothing wrong with it but it doesn't stand out either.

Change your way of limping around the world
Cause you know what will come soon
A real broken leg
And you know this will come true
You cannot get away

Daylight, dawn and evening, around the world
And you know what will come to
Do I have to say?
Everybody will eat you
Everybody robs graves

And our ghosts stay forever confined
In wherever we haunt and hopelessly
Want to but cannot get away

And our bones do blow away
In pink light

There once was a faggot from /k/
Who by his own nature was gay
He donned a mask
And got himself gassed
Not unlike the ones who Oy Vey

Polaroid of you dancing in my room
I want to remember i think it was about noon
Its getting harder to understand to understand
How you felt in my hands (in my hands)

I could be a pretty girl
I'll wear a skirt for you
I could be a pretty girl
Shut up when you want me too
I could be a pretty girl
Wont ever make you blue
I could be a pretty girl
I'll lose myself in you

I was so blinded by you, now i cry
Just thinking bout the fool that i was
I was such a fool
Im alone now but its better for me
I don't need all your negativity

I could be a pretty girl
I'll wear a skirt for you
I could be a pretty girl
Shut up when you want me too
I could be a pretty girl
Wont ever make you blue
I could be a pretty girl
I'll lose myself in you

>>10091964
Her music is bland trash and I fucking hate how she's gotten so popular but goddamn do I want to date her.

>>10091994
Pretty Girl is a great song. There is something about it I can't put my finger on but it puts me in a trance

>>10091685
Thanks for the feedback anon, if you could, could you tell me what you don’t like about the first stanza (inebriation, heavenly maid! etc)?

>>10092010
>There is something about it I can't put my finger on but it puts me in a trance
It's the fact that it's a cute girl singing it. That's literally fucking it.

>>10092015
It just feels like copy paste of some 19th century love poem or love letter. It kind of reminds me of those romanticist cliches with angels and whirling dervishes, you know, ots got that alas, eh,ah about it.

and i felt that
>Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,
is a bit to cheap if you catch my drift

Other than that its pretty good desu, as I said :)

>>10092025
Its the music I am enjoying. Its a well written song.

>>10091819
P.s. it's acrostic, does this make it any more redeemable?

The tuning in of Tokyo in lien of Basic Channeling
Had students of the Bosom study woman through the scrambling 1980 cable box
A gateway drug for horny lads
Who later found the joy of sex and hidden stash of porno mags
Holy god damn fucking shit
Massive hooters everywhere
Pointing toward celestial defenders of the hemisphere
So many vagina types
This one is a naked lamb
This one is a violent slice
This one is like raver pants
Someone that you know is hiding hustlers in the local woods
Inside there is something that will alter how you know this world
You may want to fuck some tits
You may want to hide your face
You will always find some time to fuck your fucking time away
We had found a mystery VHS tape in a secret drawer
When our parents left for work we fed it to the VCR
Specimens of hair and sweat intended for a private eye
Humping like a pair of dogs
Showcasing a primal drive
Nothing seemed the same again
Judgement is a petty joke
Nobody can say a word
They worship the same centerfold
Aliens of horrid Mars
Seeking life on boring Earth
Dropping quarters on the floor
Peaking up the shortest skirts

>>10092083
Lol just noticed that and had to google because I didn't knew what stillborn means. It changes perspective entirely. It kinda feels like one of those poems which can be interpreted as and should be part of larger corpus of works which are mutually thematically connected

>>10091964
this is bad

>>10092186
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mngtcfcaVrI

say that to my face fucker and not online and see what happens

>>10092044
True true, you might be right anon, I’m not sure about it really.

The ‘Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings’ line is Keats and I’m hoping to work it in more thoroughly to the poem in the next stanza I write, because I want to talk about the idea of science and rationality and englightenment ideals coming in the way of more spiritual and benevolent thoughts and behaviours.

But thank you anyway anon!

i was just messing with syllables because i liked one line but couldn't construct anything worth reading off of it

s(o)ften

so often i drown
in you, i soften my ground
sink deep in tissue.

i sleep in your clothes
you're gone as mourning rises
i think i miss you

the sun keeps me here
i see my face in your mirror
i guess i'll make do

>>10091685
Its got nice structure but you transition from one motif to other too erratically

Appreciate the feedback, but that's a tried and true poem to embody the sensation of being high of pot alone. It's considered a throwaway solely because I understood the transitions would be off-putting, but they're intentional because they emulate the constant derailing of your own thoughts while stoned. Hence the real lack of structure over a more barebones form

>>10074377
very good

Imperfectly ahead I stare
Not knowing of that well-worn path
Where I placed my foot, unaware,
To kindle that burning Poet’s wrath.

All shall sing with joy and rapture
To see that beauty which he bears,
And a young girl’s heart he’ll capture
But of that song no one hears.

First stanza a bit too Baudelaire-inspired while the second a bit too Pushkin-inspired, but what can I do? And to clarify (though it's a pleb thing to tell the interpretation), by "beauty" in line 6 I mean poetry, and not the girl

>>10092504
I like the first stanza, 'drown' and 'soften' somehow seem to rhyme, and 'you' and 'tissue' whether deliberate or not is also a great addition. Pretty apathetic about the rest

>>10091933
4chan needs more masters of the limerick
Who through their shitposts we get a great kick
Syllabes decay
Around the soufflé
Whilst /tv/ never shuts up 'bou Pickle Rick

>>10091933
4chan needs more masters of the limerick
Who through their shitposts we get a great kick
Syllabes decay
Around the soufflé
Whilst /tv/ never shuts up 'bout Pickle Rick

>>10075324
>>10084628
>>10087763
>>10087780
>>10087983
Best stuff in the thread, please do more

>>10091331
Work on it

>>10093013
>Work on it

No.

"Picasso’s Guernica"

Anguish crystallised
into quaintness. All eyes open,
rapt with something black-and-white
memory has lost. A bawdy punchline
has startled them, frozen puppet-faces;
stocking-beasts, eyes bemused, emerging
like rude gags from the blast.
A painted candle stretching
the swing, the creak of a door,
the mummer’s still leg
dragged to her horse-fallen confederate:
a mural, an exotic village play.

How blood clots, lava
cools; sheeny paint dries to
grey on a pale stretch of canvas.
Screams stagger to laughs; pain
that signalled war in past
stalls for a few forced minutes
in a museum, then lets go.

>>10092504
This is nice poem

>>10085076

The first speaker is saying that one shouldn't be disappointed when they have to give up the dream for the reality, but should consider it a kind of enlightenment; the second speaker commends him on his sentiment, but then points out that, before the heart can surrender its desires to an outside interest, it has to be... well... "broken".

t. That Anon

>>10092861
Yeah the last two stanzas were throw away, really. I'll ditch them and keep trying to add to the first bit. Thanks!