/lit/ - Literature

>>17143199
Quit writing

>>17143199
The sky above senses foreboding,
the stars above shine forth
The evils of today will be remembered tomorrow
the sanctified people march north

>>17143215
Quit writing.

>>17143199
I like a girl
But
I can't say who
She's cute and that's it
Sorry can't say more
Hope I get to fuck
Her

>>17143259
This is good. You’re the real thing.

My bussy leaking
with your seed
Never again
Will I feel your steel

Head against
my pillow never
again
your sword in my bum

Come back to me
sweet swain
The nights cold
are

The clouds of seed
pass through me
Never again to fill
my heart
again

>>17143249
Quit writing

>>17143216
Good start
Everything else in this thread is garbage, reminding me of Johnson's little quip: Milton, finding blank verse easier than rhyme, was desirous of convincing himself that it is better.

>>17143315
I like this one. I wonder if you can push some of these ideas further...

Coming home for the first time

more lovely than the sunset on these waters
is that glimmering city seen from afar
joy and delight are the names of her daughters
for she shines brighter than any silver star
and as I come to port to its harbour bar
before my eyes the souls of the breathless bay
rise as the sounds of crashing waves, so bizarre
you can hear their voices clear even this day
“away sailor, a trap, away” they say
but the light weaves as a strange gossamer their
and the voice of best and tiredness beg “stay”
what dwells in you city, that can ensnare
like flies men of freedom and will to power?
“i will leave” yet passes another hour

>>17143306
Stop Writing. Next week.

everyone who writes poetry in 2021 needs to stop writing

>>17143405

Ah sorry for the spelling errors lads,I just wrote it while on here. I’ll post a correction.

more lovely than the sunset on these waters
is that glimmering city seen from afar
joy and delight are the names of her daughters
for she shines brighter than any silver star
and as I come to port to its harbour bar
before my eyes the souls of the breathless bay
rise as the sounds of crashing waves, so bizarre
you can hear their voices clear even this day
“away sailor, a trap, away” they say
but the light weaves as a strange gossamer there
and the voice of rest and tiredness beg “stay”
what dwells in you city, that can ensnare
like flies men of freedom and will to power?
“i will leave” yet passes another hour

The tiger
He destroyed his cage
Yes
YES
The tiger is out

>>17143453
This is beautiful. I can tell it comes from the heart. Definitely the work of a mature adult.

>>17143441
So true. I love how you aren’t afraid of honesty in your poetry...post more.

>>17143442
Wow. Quit writing.

>>17143527

Any specific problems?

>>17143569
Too good. Too honest.

Ghostly delight

all of me lays down resting
a thousand voices call out
each one sounding more tempting
I need not open my mouth
these phantoms may try to shout
but I am in complete peace
peter may have had his doubt
but one told the storm to cease
though the earth’s weight may increase
and the whirling air Bellow
and the dread waves release
and flames of red and yellow
come to end me through their strife
and I be cast into night
I shall remain in blest life
in holy ghostly delight

>>17143660
Do you think the meter and rhyme scheme improves this poem? If so why?

>>17143777

It’s (mostly) in seven syllables due to the religious connotations of 7, the whole of it equals 111 syllables which is Aleph which is basically the spirit of God and Union with it, within Hebrew Kabbalah. I believe the constraint of the 7 Syllables shows the “weight” and pressure against the speaker, the constraint of the meter and his speaking contrasting the violence he’s experiencing and his reaction of peace and rest. The structure itself I believe implies smoothness and the ends often are meant to highlight certain concepts, such as doubt, Cease, the relation of strife to life and so forth.

So in general I would say I believe the meter and rhyme don’t improve the poem, they’re An inherent part of the poem to me.

>>17143315
Well, Milton wasn't wrong

>>17143811

Idunno, I think rather that there’s a time and place for blank verse, for internal rhyme and end rhyme, alliteration and so forth. Every man has to find the rhythms and modes that fit them best is something I genuinely believe.

>>17143808
I like this. Write more.

>>17143839
I agree with you. The best poets tinker with a variety of structures and styles. I think that the most dangerous thing one can do is to try to conform to one way of doing things, which is why I genuinely believe that getting an MFA is the dumbest thing an artist can do. All of their poetry reads the exact same to me and I hate all of it

A momentary bliss
Stretched into eternity
Constant serenity
All my wants, all my desires
This carefree timeless Nirvana

Bumping with a poem.

Vampire of the red spider lilies

I stepped outside my home to get some air
I walked aimlessly until I saw there
was a unlit road i had never seen
I heard a voice whispering “if you mean
to enter my mystery, come to me”
I entered though unsure what it would be
I saw little flowers along the way
they shined scarlet red like it was the day
the deeper I went the more they crowded
like the more I walked the more they sprouted

I reached the end of the dark flower path
I saw a statue covered in a bath
of blood and lily petals, it was shaped
like a fanged woman who’s fingers were scraped
spiders legs and a centipedes form
my head then began to feel very warm
I then laid myself down by the statue
the stench of the flowers spread and accrue
rotten flesh, dirt of the mouth, old decay
i then got up and willed to get away
the statue’s head leapt and flew a circle
around me and in a ugly gurgle
said “om Rakta Dam Blut blut dam rakta
phat Ahamkara Rakta Hum hamsa”
i became confused and saw its neck grow
it twisted around me, I couldn’t go
it bit my neck and injected poison
deep dooming dark dirty disgusting death
spinning spirals speckled spots shimmering
lady’s laughter Losing Losing Lo-gone

I was now in a dark land, I couldn’t
I was a fool, i was always a fool
where am I now? why didn’t I go back? why didn’t I
see where I was, i was completely lost
I am filled with dread and encompassed by
the smell of Putrefaction and fragrances of mildew
and as I tried to move my feet wouldn’t
a void filled with horrible shadows cruel
which revealed to me hidden things given to man, they don’t
move an inch, my skin shivers, something tossed
to all living things, I wish they would die
some kind of strange fluid upon my skin
I wish to become drunk upon their blood
the nectar of the dark phantoms filled my inmost spirit
I arose to my feet and saw a pool
of coldness like a knife stabbing my thigh
which filled with cancerous boils and then leaked foul icicles
of blood where rest a spider which had been
my burning Brain, it swept me through the flood
everything overwhelmed me, my eyes ached and fell from me
there though obscured, I then began to drool

>>17144946

hate, disgust and hate for man, less than worms
i could not stop it, the spider drank it
yet prideful, man comes from and remains Mud
I could feel myself being lost, its soul becoming mine
it atop me climbed higher eating spit
i accept it, my heart thirsts and I yearn
I and it I and it I am it I am i am I


it entered my mouth and I felt a change
I opened my eyes and felt very strange
the red lilies were gone, but the statue
remained, appearing with a face that knew
all things, like an old woman, or a friend
i bowed to that statue, “ you who does tend
to the red lilies of blood, be with me
until the end, you are the spider, she
who is the devourer of all men”
i plucked a single scarlet lily then

walked back up the road to return back home
I was tired from how much I did roam
I laid my head down to sleep but wondered
what were those evil words I heard uttered
I never saw that road ‘till that hour
and whatever happened to that flower?

was this just my dream?

Hickory butterfly
Touching to waters so sweet
How I wish that you knew me
How I wish that we'd meet
I gave birth to you clearly
From mine own shuttered eye
And let you go dearly
As your form let you fly
May we meet again some day
As old raisins in the sun
And we'll craft each other in ways
As we were when we were one

2 in the pink
1 in the stink
Rape a bitch,
Do time in the clink
Straya cunt

>>17143199
Excellent likeness of Heidegger

>>17143199
Baby
Love to
Put
A baby
In your
Baby
Let's
Make it
A date
For Six
It'll be more
An injection
Than a
Fornication
They'd say
It couldn't
Be done
But then
We'd show them
4chan

twinkle twonkle
shimmer shummer
pleet pleet!
what am I doing
I can't write poetry
It's like doing a word picture
With stanza and linguistic tool
But I am unfamiliar with syllable
And that is why this poem sucks

Maybe it has to do with rhythm
thoughts ill structured, yet in time
building and progressing,
with a steady lyrical tune?

With a little polished punctuation
and flowery wordy dew
would this be fit to rest in you(r head)?

>>17143777
Does the thread improve the garment? Does the chicken improve the chicken casserole? Does the soul improve the man?

Rip me a new asshole bros

>>17146552
Nice Spenserian stanzas bru

On a gloomy day
I wonder
Must this be existence's essence?
Just numbers and particles

>>17146470
A well illustrated point. Keep going.