/lit/ - Literature

Good thread man

Good thread man

>>10613409
>>10613413
I can't tell if this is sarcasm or not. Do you guys just not appreciate poetry? I know this is a literature board, but still, hopefully some of you can see the beauty in poems

Good thread man

good
thread
man

- rupi kaur

>>10613402
Good thread man

Good thread man

man this is a good thread!

>>10613447
Okay, we'll now I'm fairly certain this is sarcastic. What's the matter with the poem then? If you can't even give a reason? Classic elitism

>omg it's not written in the 1800s it sucks

this is a strange
kind
of lyrical_aestheticism__<
the following block is algorithmically~_~ generated
0452228939
4181522597
5824126967
5595797248
3982627182
1219113497
6055832309
4477296184
7124454170
0908477400
more words here
and
a
___________________________________________________ valedictory line

>>10613467
Why don't you start with what you think is good about it, assuming of course that you aren't a troll.

hey i like this thread a lot

If that's beautiful poetry then I am fucking Virgil.

--

- Kiss -

I cannot see your invisible dreams,
I cannot hold your inner desires,
But if you could take them all,
And put them on your lips, for me:
I will press them into nothing.

Good.
Thread--,
--man.

>>10613467
okay,
we'll now
i'm fairly certain
this is sarcastic

what's the matter
with the poem then?

if you can't even
give a reason?

classic elitism

- anon

>>10613475
O think so many people these days are just living out their lives aimlessly, searching for happiness, in sex and drugs and whatever else. When the whole time the real key is right under their nose. But a lot of people don't understand that, not cause they're dumb just cause they don't know. And to tell it to an audience so succinctly? It's beautiful. Look at the rhythm. Each line stands alone. The words trickle down. And the name being misaligned tells me that the author still hasn't found his own happiness, even though he's try to let go of his unhappiness, since the happiness hasn't reached him. I could go on if you wish, but I don't think it takes much inspection to realize the brilliance contained in just a few lines

>>10613487
Does anon have a Patreon or a TEDx talk?

>>10613487
Good response anon

>>10613467

Okay I'll take the bait.

Keep in mind I don't really like poetry in general if it isn't in music form, but here's why I don't think this is good.

The poet says nothing new. There's no imagery, which is traditionally poetry's greatest strength. Too many god damn line breaks. His central message is some shit the now single mothers I knew in high school would post on facebook.

The only reason anyone might think this is good that I can see is because of his presentation. The type writer font on white paper is nostalgic and makes this seem like art.

>>10613478
Dreams are already invisible, obviously. Same with desires. How can you put them on lips? It doesn't make sense. And then you ruin them? You ruin her diesires and dreams? That doesn't make sense unlike the poem I've linked, which actually tries to say something. Nice try tho

>>10613508
>imagery is Poetry's greatest strength
No, conveying platitudes on instagram is

>>10613511
>tfw anon exposes you as a pseudo-poet

;_;

G
o
o
d

THREAD

"man" m a n, m a n MAN MAN MAN MAN

woman

silence

.

Yeah um this is man, good thread

>>10613508
I don't see how appealing to the average person makes it bad. Everything has been done before. If it makes people think (which it made me think) then is that bad?

I've read a lot of poetry (rupi kaur, etc) and I don't see this imagery stuff you're talking about, and I'm a big poetry fan as I've just said. I think poetry is great for expressing something beautifully, that's its greatest strength

>>10613520

fuck, well, I guess I'll rethink my position.

>>10613511
A man without dreams or desires likes this poem.
Good thread man

You're a fucking good thread man

To realize that our knowledge is ignorance,
This is a noble insight.
To regard our ignorance as knowledge,
This is mental sickness.

Only when we are sick of our sickness
Shall we cease to be sick.
The Sage is not sick, being sick of sickness;
This is the secret of health.

this thread feels comfy

thread man good yeah

>>10613536

Like I said I'm not very interested in poetry, so I'll take your word for it.

And perhaps everything has been done before, but when a piece of music sounds the same as something already done, it's regarded less highly--especially if the similarities are obvious.

And there's nothing wrong with mass appeal. Things with mass appeal can be good. However, I don't think this is the case here.

Have you heard the poem "good" by Thread Man?

>>10613511
I agree that poem was crap. But geez you pedantic asshole. You sound not like STEMfag but a stem faggot; that is coming from a math major.

>>10613558
Ah shit dude, you're so genuine that I can't even keep the act up. Fuck poetry like that, it's the worst shit I've ever read. These dickheads jack themselves off to how smart they are when all the write is the most goddamn inane bullshit that a two year old would be unsurprised by. They've never felt depression or existential angst or if they have, they have absolutely nothing substantial to say about it. They think because they make their bullshit string of words start on newlines, that it's more poetic and it means something profound. And then 6000 retards like it because it "sounds like poetry". And then they always have some gay ass writer name like J.F. Montgomery and they sign it at the end like this is their fucking magnum opus and then they plug whatever stupid ass poetry collection they self-published on Amazon, comprises solely of recycled content from their Instagram account. Fuck modern poetry

man

>>10613536
>Everything has been done before.
t. Uncreative pseud

Day creeps down. The moon is creeping up.
The sun is a corbeil of flowers the moon Blanche
Places there, a bouquet. Ho-ho ... The dump is full
Of images. Days pass like papers from a press.
The bouquets come here in the papers. So the sun,
And so the moon, both come, and the janitor’s poems
Of every day, the wrapper on the can of pears,
The cat in the paper-bag, the corset, the box
From Esthonia: the tiger chest, for tea.

The freshness of night has been fresh a long time.
The freshness of morning, the blowing of day, one says
That it puffs as Cornelius Nepos reads, it puffs
More than, less than or it puffs like this or that.
The green smacks in the eye, the dew in the green
Smacks like fresh water in a can, like the sea
On a cocoanut—how many men have copied dew
For buttons, how many women have covered themselves
With dew, dew dresses, stones and chains of dew, heads
Of the floweriest flowers dewed with the dewiest dew.
One grows to hate these things except on the dump.

Now, in the time of spring (azaleas, trilliums,
Myrtle, viburnums, daffodils, blue phlox),
Between that disgust and this, between the things
That are on the dump (azaleas and so on)
And those that will be (azaleas and so on),
One feels the purifying change. One rejects
The trash.

That’s the moment when the moon creeps up
To the bubbling of bassoons. That’s the time
One looks at the elephant-colorings of tires.
Everything is shed; and the moon comes up as the moon
(All its images are in the dump) and you see
As a man (not like an image of a man),
You see the moon rise in the empty sky.

One sits and beats an old tin can, lard pail.
One beats and beats for that which one believes.
That’s what one wants to get near. Could it after all
Be merely oneself, as superior as the ear
To a crow’s voice? Did the nightingale torture the ear,
Peck the heart and scratch the mind? And does the ear
Solace itself in peevish birds? Is it peace,
Is it a philosopher’s honeymoon, one finds
On the dump? Is it to sit among mattresses of the dead,
Bottles, pots, shoes and grass and murmur aptest eve:
Is it to hear the blatter of grackles and say
Invisible priest; is it to eject, to pull
The day to pieces and cry stanza my stone?
Where was it one first heard of the truth? The the.

>>10613402
my life makes me unhappy

>>10613580

>>10613581
>he took the bait

Come on, fampai, you’re better than this.

>>10613402

It's shit, m8 desu senpai. It's a Buddhist koan with line breaks.

>>10613601
I never pass on an opportunity to post Stevens, even in bait threads

>>10613402
if you wanna
use a computer
you might need to
turn it on
first

Good bait

the
only way
to
not be
unhappy
is
to not believe
in
happiness

In my hand I hold her lock of hair,
With reverence, like a sacred relic:
Dark hairs pink ribbon fastened,
I still smell a faint of her perfume.
They called it strange or sentimental,
Yet I hold a woman's youth precious;
These long wild strands of pure youth:
I would not trade a diamond for each.
I soak them all in my own perfume,
Set them on fire, watch them melt,
Flame making ashes of my desires.
Finally it cools off without bitterness.
I say a prayer for her happiness.

How strange to see
that my dick,
when it has
been engorged with
lust
,
is misshapen
and
points off to
the right

~ A. Nawn

Beauty
is in the
message
and
heart
not in the
form
or technique

burning fire
in those
!
words

Der Mund eines Mädchens, das lange im Schilf gelegen hatte,
sah so angeknabbert aus.
Als man die Brust aufbrach, war die Speiseröhre so löcherig.
Schließlich in einer Laube unter dem Zwerchfell
fand man ein Nest von jungen Ratten.
Ein kleines Schwesterchen lag tot.
Die anderen lebten von Leber und Niere,
tranken das kalte Blut und hatten
hier eine schöne Jugend verlebt.
Und schön und schnell kam auch ihr Tod:
Man warf sie allesamt ins Wasser.
Ach, wie die kleinen Schnauzen quietschten!

that's just a quote

>>10613767
scheußlich

>>10613402
GOod
Thread man

>>10613487
Jej

>>10613511
Dreams
are already invisible,
obviously.

Same with
desires.
How can you put them on lips?
It doesn't
make sense. And then you ruin them? You ruin
her diesires and dreams?
That
doesn't make sense
unlike the poem
I've linked, which actually
tries to say something. Nice try
tho

>>10613796
Unacceptable opinion.

>>10613402
I actually don't
understand,
why this is considered
poetry.
It's just pretension,
not beautiful,
or maybe it's the academics
affecting me.

-Anon