/lit/ - Literature

>>17672851
first for posting
i'll rate as the posts come in
https://theanthill.carrd.co/

>>17672851
I'm kinda a newfag, so I'm not sure how this works, here's my submission

"•У нeё ecть"
Eyes akin to dark chocolate, but unlike the aforementioned heavenly creation, they’re sweeter than any candy found in Wonka’s factory.
Eyebrows like cute fuzzy caterpillars, but not the ones you’d accidentally squish. Instead they are the cute bugs you’d find in a David Attenborough documentary. Worthy of all the admiration on God’s beautiful Earth.
Freckles, which, I would love to believe that every placed on her was a kiss from an angel. Each one—a blessing.
A wonderful smile. Two rows of smooth shining teeth that hide behind a pair of pink plush lips, which, when they work together—on accident or not—create the second most perfect union—only second below the Holy Trinity. When that miracle happens, the Apostles in heaven cry aloud and say: “She has smiled, praise Christ our King and our God! Praise and exalt Him throughout all the ages!”

i'm a sappy ass dude and I have alot of love for this world.

>>17673015
This isn't really poetry. It's long-winded clumsy comparisons to things that have no bearing on the subject matter of your writing. It more comes across as an awkward attempt at being artsy, but really it's just a bunch of bumbling statements with absolutely no imagery.

>>17673015
This is awful. You need to start researching verse, meter, and form. Free verse poetry is fine, but you have to master the principles of your art form before you branch off into the more abstract styles. Also, stop with the similies. You used like four in the first two lines, stop suffocating us with your (lack of) imagery.

>>17673146
And what makes you an authority in calling out what is /really/ poetry and what is not?

I wrote some limericks. I'm most proud of the last one but I'm not sure if it's too subtle, lemme know what you think.

There once was a boy in the sewer
Who for breakfast and lunch ate manure
A burger came down
That fell below ground
But the boy wanted nothing to dowithher

A fellow who hailed from Beirut
Was severely lacking in fruit
Jaundice he had,
But for that he was glad:
"Yellow Fever on the rise in Beirut"

Perhaps you will come meet my friend
Who knew not banana from bellend
While eating a peach
Down there on the beach
He stuck his tongue in the back end

>>17673170
>And what makes you an authority in calling out what is /really/ poetry and what is not?
The fact that you are already monumentally asshurt.

>>17673170
Sneed

>>17673146
>>17673169
I am OP:
I am listening to your criticism and you're absolutely right. I feel like I'm a hack

>>17673205
I really need to rework plenty of shit. I've been surrounded by yes men all my life. You're what I needed to hear in a while. Any tips?

>>17673221
Read poetry from a variety of genres and writers. And don't just read poems, also look at prose within novels and essays.

Obviously not something I could ever write myself, just something for any of my Polish boys in this thread to enjoy.

>>17673171
I'm doing an out of five score, because out of 10 is dumb. 3/5.
Rhymes seem very abrupt, but you definitely have the right idea in making limericks. Need to work on making it less forced. Oh, and don't use pronouns meant for people with inanimate objects.

Here is mine. I wrote it awhile ago though, during the days in which I was seriously considering suicide. Thankfully those days seem to be behind me now. As you can probably tell, I am a huge fan of Edgar Allen Poe.

Gott War in Dieser Nacht Abwesend

A malady oft’ plagued my slumber
From precious respite they bade me, cacophonies drowned out the thunder
Impelled I was, to cast off the sheets and bed
But dwarfed this tumult was by a most singular dread

For something stirred near my prostration
Betwixt the longing and the ruminations
Shattered silence of ill portent
The interlopers would not relent

His name lost to memory, the visitor I fear
From the black he beckoned, but no utterance could I hear
No gesture was made, yet certain I remained
Familiar I was with what was conveyed
Through countless nights spent so alone
His kinship was always known

Pale was the other’s pallor
Two voids for eyes and snakes as fingers
This otherworldly mistress was wont to haunt and linger
Her concoction of which I doth partake
Did naught to satisfy nor slake
The maw that gnashes, that keepeth me awake
‘Midst mires most foul whence she waits

Within my chamber there is a presence
They haunt me still for recompense
In perpetuity they sling the blame
I see them in the corner there, shadows unbeknownst to flame

POLUCIONA CON CARNE AJENA

ZOÓFAGO LA CARNE PROPIA,

DE EL PRÓJIMO HACIENDO SIN PENA

LÉJIMO SUYO: DESAYUNO, ALMUERZO, Y CENA;

QUE EL HUMANO ES ANIMAL, CLAMA,

MIENTRAS GUSTO, Y SALUD, ESTRAGA,

DE SU ESTÓMAGO HACIENDO TUMBA

—VERDADERAMENTE ESTE ES LO QUE TRAGA.

>>17673496
>don't use pronouns meant for people on inanimate objects
That was a play on burger being a derogatory term for American. Obviously it didn't work though, I'll look into it
>pale was the other's pallor
This line doesn't seem to fit
>shadows unbeknownst to flame
Brilliant imagery

A burning scarlet touch
My arms left in embers
Heat drying into thirst
Longing for your glowing
Coals to hold

My ashen body swept
By hapless wind away
Pass through that which once was
In azure skies,
dance

>>17672851
Winter is behind, Spring is ahead,
And there are 10 off-topic threads.
Through shitposts, to the final page,
Where all the threads will autosage.
Bait and shitposts
Gets, and HE...
All for free
He does it all for free...

>>17674663
4/5, simple, yet very effective

The lion is ahead
The lion is behind
It is at my heels
It won't let me heal
We are the lion

>>17675058
i like this a lot

Calculus

If I could let P equal Q,
the secant would become the tangent
But I can't.
So I'll get P close enough and say:
there's no real difference to me anymore
between P and Q.
I didn't even know Q
until I got that pathetic P close enough.
All that hard work,
and there's P.
Looking like a million bucks.
But you know what. Actually.
I'll take Q.
Thanks.

>>17672851
>my rates will be next post.

For you I fell
That is true
I do like you

But love
Only time will tell

So lets make it
And things might turn out swell indeed

It is you who I need

>>17674663
Based/10
>>17673999
>My ashen body swept
>By hapless wind away
Only good lines
>>17673496
To fucking long. Did not bother to read.
>>17673171
Queen's english disgusts me. Just suck each others cocks already.
>>17673015
More prose than poetry.

>My reworking of a thread classic

Give me your ass
No I didn't ask

You give
I take
You scream
I rape

Now I am done
I'm on the run

And your sore
My whore

I'm out the door
Time to improve
my score

>>17672851
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

>>17673169
>You need to start researching verse, meter, and form
any book recommendations?

In up the snow tree
You'd lie low
And I monkey

Up in the jungle tree
Rain filled up
Jungle jakuzi

>>17676398
needs more symmetry
>>17676374
the last line seems unnecessary. and when you say "like" after saying "for i fell", its like youre backing out and you dont really love them. the second last line sticks out too much and maybe the last verse could be 3 lines to reflect the first. i like the lets think about now sentiment
>>17676035
the ending is good. especially "looking like a million bucks". the only rhymes in the begining are q with q and rhyming the same thing without rhythm sounds bad. the periods are unnecessary and interrupt the flow imo
>>17675058
>We are the lion
was this neccesary
>>17674663
gweat
>>17673999
nice trips
>scarlet
>embers
>ashen
>azure
these are way too cliched

>>17673773
el vegANO

First poem, which is probably obvious. Going to put some time into learning the fundamentals.

>>17676661
I really liked this. Short and sweet.
>>17676398
I laughed and then felt bad.
>>17676567
Beautiful.

>>17676661
>when you say "like" after saying "for i fell", its like youre backing out and you don't really love them.

I'm saying that I like them to the point of almost being obsessed. But only time will show if I love them or not. Its too early. It could just be another passing fancy. So we should spend more time with one another to see if it is love or not, And if were lucky it could just be. That was what I was going for.

I sacrificed symmetry for rhyme and flow.
I think it was worth it.

>>17676795
>I'm saying that I like them to the point of almost being obsessed
then dont say like, say love. the rhtyhm flows well but the ending doesnt feel punctuated enough. like it wants to keep going. it sounds more conclusive for me if its slowed own with a coma like this: "it is you, who i need"

very new to poetry, what do you think?

Rundkørsel:

Fremad er fremmed!
siger den rundtossede - han har aldrig ret.
Amphetamin ikke Cyclizin!
3 timer og 14 minutter til ankomst til afgang.
Du er fri!
fra viljen - frakørslerne er blot en illusion.
Blinklyset er defekt!
hvor der kun er en vilje, er der kun en vej.
Tjen Laplaces dæmon!
selvkørende biler uden håndbremser.


Translation


Roundabout:
Forward is foreign!
says the dizzy- he's never right.
Amphetamine not Cyclizine!
3 hours and 14 minutes to arrival to departure.
You're free!
from will - the exits are just an illusion.
The turn signal is defective!
where there is only one will, there is only one way.
Serve Laplace's demon!
self-driving cars without handbrakes.

>>17677124
Det er fint, men måske lidt for fragmenteret til min smag. Men det er vel også på mode.

Sachicute
By: Poet Master
Steam: xXxPoEtMaStErXxX

Sachiko, oh Sachiko
No other idol can matchiko
Her hair reminds me of a dick
But I'm not gay, you stupid hick
Her sweat probably tastes sweet
As does her hot and stinky feet
Her pussy's probably really tight
'Cause she's one-hundred fourty-two in height
Her pee is more precious than gold
But I don't think I'd drink it cold
I want to stick it up her skirt
And keep on going 'till it hurts
I'd hold her close and kiss her deep
And we'd snuggle close until we sleep
And in the morning, when we wake
Once again in sex we'll partake
Her mind turns white, I do assume
Just like my semen inside her womb
And on the stage, when she appears
Inside her legs are my semen smears
And when she gets off the clock
In her mind is full of cock
And like she was controlled by charms
She once again falls in my arms
But then I punch her in the gut
And treat her like a filthy mut
She really loves it, that dirty whore
And begs and begs me for some more
I swing my leg into her cunt
Like a football in a punt
To pain and pleasure she succumbs
And on my leg her pussy cums
When I'm through I'll leave her there
Just as if I didn't care
But I love her, yes I do
My one and only Koshimizu

yea... you're the strange witch, with the red horn, staring back at me like silly putty
silly putty like charms in brown eyes
I met you when our lines stood apart a good distance, just close enough to wave

.. and the baby blue balls went wild like mad cows on green grass under the sun, warm winter day.
where warm winter days look sullen in noontide heat
and oysters oysters moist her panties swollen thick with goo
underwear bulges fingers slipping ... through?
and warm winter days ate meatballs....

sex on sex on tired eyes and hands, girlish hips and shoulders, small solution sucking in through a roof in the tip top of my mouth.
Hello!
hello young world, hello mother! I love you mommy!
hello ... world?

divorce in ten years once the kids are out of their teenage diapers, onto suicide beds and motel sixes with blonde-haired jennifers.
tell me a good secret, little-big one
And I love you daddy. Good night!

It wants to surface, empty without words
It sounds so plastic, unfit for overworld
Unmixed, unfinished--aborted and dry;
At least a fetus slips and slides as it dies.

gliding gleely along the desert floor
stars nestled in towers above seas of bluebirds
above oceans of gold
we glide, through hay and smokestacks
I, with, you, my love, glide through a dry land scattered with smog.
Dressed in tatters we walk.

You, in an orange dress and I, in a desert smock
Walking through vast valleys of barren.
Gliding gleely along

Come my dear and walk with me.
Let us walk, through valleys of dry bones, over graves upon graves of cannibals.
Let our feet crack the brittle remains of our forebears.
Let us walk through a world, this world that has eaten itself times over.
That has sucked the marrow dry, and licking its chops has set out again to work.

Proud and young and drenched in colour, we live among the ruins of life.

Which modest and old has tucked herself in to sleep, beautiful mother lying alone in her bed, dreaming, the sun lapping at her skin through the curtain.
Organs and organelles and fruit in time and you, my dear, lovely Esther, come with me, let us dream.

Let us dream in oceans of shapes, in colours of babies in the dawning of the world.
A yawning symphony surrounds us as we stare open-mouthed at the sky
Time and again we stay up all night, though miles apart, together in hatred we slime.

For ever there wasn't.
Then one day, the world rose, settled on a direction and sailed.
In an old barge with curtains as windows it sailed through night-time.
Piloted by itself, or the young man who dreamt serenely in its cabin.

Cruising by desert islands, the curtain opened to take a peek.
To take a peek and back to sleep, he thought, drearily.

To suck the marrow dry, he thought, as he circled his cabin searching for an answer.
Blinking his eyes to focus his vision, Where are the controls and the wheel?
Where is my family?
And what is this phone on the wall?

A red pyramid
Of Tenga-masturbators
2 million sold

>>17676642
Ode Less Travelled. Thats all you need for theory. And read all the poets in the wiki.

Affectation measured by a steady hand which
knows, as I, the thought before its wrote;
whose inspiration, sent divinely bland,
eschews the beauty fore it were provoked.


everyone is posting superficial garbage poetry there is no beauty in these
my verse is my opinion of all above

>>17677137
tak for svar, troede ikke jeg skulle møde en dansker her..

follow me down south
follow me into a
hell mouth.

I see smoke, fog, and rain
the dammed crying
in anguish in pain.

there he sits on his frozen throne
crying, eating, moan
ing

>>17677385
cringe

>>17677706
hate the enjambments and what they do to the rhyhtm, "the frozen throne" is a warcraft3 expansion pack, but i like the 2nd stanza

bump

>>17677706
>>17677385
>>17677275
>>17677218
>>17677194
>>17677193
>>17677153
>>17677124
rate others

>>17680050
i did in other posts

>>17677706
agree with >>17678506

enjambments should be based around typical clause syntax. of course, it's not a strict rule, you can get away with weird enjambment, but twisting your lines to fit an end rhyme scheme is not a good way to approach it. internal rhyming exists, you don't need to baby your reader by showing them where the musicality exists.

>>17677706
i think this is good, is the -ing at the end intentional, no need for it
>>17677194
ugly and stupid
>>17673999
laughable, cringe, extremely faggy

>>17680163
This is not valid unless you are a tripfag.

>>17680335
i do whatever i want retard i don't care about your feedback i post what i want when i want go fuck yourself

>>17676389
>To fucking long. Did not bother to read.
filtered

Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again,
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone –
Man has created death.

original

was an adventurer, made into a soldier,
I entered as a man, left as something,
I came back to a land, of familiar faces,
so much patriotism, but they don't let me work,

I gave an arm, I gave an eye, I gave everything with pride,
what's left of me, other than stupid young man?

Google:

was an adventurer, made into a soldier,
I entered as a man, left as something,
I came back to a land, of familiar faces,
so much patriotism, but they don't let me work,

I gave an arm, I gave an eye, I gave everything with pride,
what's left of me, other than stupid young man?

I used to eat
small pieces
of bread
until
one day
mom taught me the toaster

I started making
whole Sandwiches
with a
whole bunch of stuff on them
that went really well
with the rest of the stuff on them

bacon lettuce tomato
flaccid american cheese
always wholegrain
for solid stool
to balance out the mini pizzas
and the can of monster

when morning came
I'd eat
the little bit
that was left
and feel bad
there wasn't more

But I wouldn't
get out of bed
Even though
I couldn't stop shaking
George was online
and George understood

I miss George sometimes
I wish he'd log back on
He took a few pills
and flatlined
The server closed down
I don't play anymore.

I don't make sandwiches anymore
I'm back to butterless crumbs
being a waste of space
is fine when you're young
That's the microwave beeping
I hope it flatlines too.

>>17681688

im not smart


foi um aventureiro ,feito em soldado,
entrei como homem , sai como algo,
voltei para uma terra,de caras familiares,
tanto patriotismo,mas não me deixam trabalhar,

dei um braço , dei um olho, dei tudo com orgulho,
o que resta de mim,para além de jovem estupido?

>>17681688
I'm >>17681689
Strong imagery anon, a story I'm sure a lot of people identify with. If it's you I hope you're doing okay.

>>17681695
Nice italian.

>>17676389

>>17673773
tomate tus medicamentos

>>17673773
Basado

bump

>>17676756
There's a certain point where poetry, consciously conceived, can actually reach through to a more mythic imagination. You're taking a particularly laden theme and you're working it with borrowed phrases >saw that it was good but I believe this was done not from your own choice but as a sort of unintentional sympathy. if so, then by all means it reaches to the heart of poetry. What you consider as >learning the fundamentals is really just flourish, so don't rob your work of its value due to what you perceive as a need for definitive poetry. I like it, man, keep going with it


We are the wasted thoughts of a lonely mind,
That sits and plays with images of our kind,
Reckoning in eons, a collection of our past
Built one atop another, these thoughts that can’t last

Cry, once more, this mind sitting all alone,
Conjure up a story, or two, which we wish call our own
You tell its ending so perfectly and well,
And leave the small details for us to fuss and dispel

It simply never was, nor can ever be
Anything other than what your mind would like to see
We shades of no sun gliding past your vision
Under the scrutiny of your disaffected derision

Topple us, one by one, pour us out on the ground
Let our fashioned bodies quake with unnatural sound
Stir our feet to some ancient emboldened dance
And set our hearts a’trembling in some timeless trance

You once were a god, and gave us our daily bread
Took into your heaven our good and noble dead
We wrapped in fine clothes their bodies cold to the touch
And gave yearning, unto you, their souls as such

Let beat the drum of forgotten primitive races
The timely measure that brings forth and erases
Our night-bound worries warded by bonfire’s light
Drown us in our rapture, our percussive plight

Dare you quench this flame you have sought to sear
You may see things you’ve feigned so round and clear
In the dark underbelly of that which you most fear

>>17673381
co to? asnyk?

>>17673496
Keep it up anon we need more decadent aesthetics and it’s a good pastiche/influence. There’s only a few major cases where you feel bloated and your mistress character should have started a bit earlier to develop but otherwise I thought it was pretty good.

>>17684578
nie to norwid.

To my Muse: an invocation

oh thou Daimon of delusive delight
careening in your silent mental flight
fill my mind’s night with thy delusive Light
and my words with Divinized David’s Might!

give thou me the Red of the apple tree
hid deep in the orchards of En Gedi!
give thou me the White which adorns the free
as they dwell ever in eternity!

Illumine thou the dreaded Tartaros
filled with laments of oblivion’s ghosts
weeping for their now-forgotten sorrows

Illumine thou the Purgatorial Coasts
where the soul’s purple robes are paled of Shame
and are made the same as the Starry hosts


illumine thou the Firmament of Flame
where dwell seraphim and spirits of light
who ever worship the Christ’s secret name


reveal to me the memories of Rust,
and the long lost verses of Orpheus.
the ancient city which dwells in the Dust
seen only in the eye of Morpheus.


imbue my heart with Dawn’s own innocence,
with shining eyes lit until the evening.
in the night invite the Glowworm’s image
to enlighten the face of Erebus
which holds every star above the earth.
make my words as delicate as the dove
but ever drunken on divinity.

envelop my flesh with experience,
face and form transformed as in my dreaming
develop with deep darkness my visage,
my voice made the sounds of storms roaring thus
I may rejoice as they who know not birth.
then I may sing to the king whom I love,
Of Virgin womb, Bridegroom and Trinity.

come then! Daimon of delusive delight
with a strangeness seen not by human sight
of fiendish flowers infected with blight
fill my mind’s night with thy delusive Light
shining brighter than the empyrean height
of ultimate rewards of the Upright
fill my words with Divinized David’s Might!
fill my words with thy daimonic insight!
for then will be sacrificed as I write
I

>>17677706
This is not bad,
maybe without the enumeration at the end

Bump

>>17673999
Anon you gotta justify your use of azure and crimson due to how common they are.

>>17677124
Is this meant to sound energetic? Could work okay as a song.

>>17677706
Everyone already told you your line breaks are bad but I’d suggest elaborating further on the dark imagery, be more sensuous.

>>17673015
Read more poetry, poetry is about the manipulation of form in order to maximize the force of the content and using the best words to express your conception.

It seems like you didn’t bother at all to modify the form.

>>17684329

Before I begin, the major good is that it flows quite well, the major bad is that each line feels relatively bloated.

It’s also relatively unique in meaning in comparison to the other stuff posted here.

>We are the wasted thoughts of a lonely mind,
>That sits and plays with images of our kind,

These two lines go into each other well but while this sets up the emotional/conceptual ground there’s not a lot of image impact which isn’t essential but often helpful.

>Reckoning in eons, a collection of our past

This line feels less refined, Specifically “reckoning in eons” is too much in comparison to the voice of the other two lines

>Built one atop another, these thoughts that can’t last

Feels like you broke this one in half because you was struggling to fit it in. You could probably drop “these” and “that” and reformulate it either shorter or jam deeper imagery in there.

>Cry, once more, this mind sitting all alone,

Too much repetition of previously produced imagery without expanding or extending it.

>Conjure up a story, or two, which we wish call our own

“We Wish call our own” sounds ugly because it doesn’t sound like correct English.

>You tell its ending so perfectly and well,

A utility line, progresses just the narrative and does nothing else.

>And leave the small details for us to fuss and dispel

Feels like it’s only here to rhyme with the previous line and go into the next, again, a utilty.

>It simply never was, nor can ever be

A fine line if its surrounding were a bit more impactful.

>Anything other than what your mind would like to see

Said to plainly, you can say this definitely more beautifully. It creates a bad contrast/jagged feeling when the next line is a simile

>We shades of no sun gliding past your vision

Other than”no sun” this was said pretty well. Think of a more striking idea than “no sun” even if it’s the same image just worded different.

>Under the scrutiny of your disaffected derision

Nothing is here for me other than utility in narrative. Also you didn’t really justify the change/modification of the speech in who it’s targeted towards.

>Topple us, one by one, pour us out on the ground

I like the idea but remove one by one, explicitly saying numbers is almost never beautiful.

Cont

>>17687933

>Let our fashioned bodies quake with unnatural sound

This line flows out of the last line well.

>Stir our feet to some ancient emboldened dance

It’s fine though I’d cut emboldened

>And set our hearts a’trembling in some timeless trance

Good flow but “a’trembling” is too radically different from the rest and ruins the line.

>You once were a god, and gave us our daily bread
>Took into your heaven our good and noble dead

These two are fine but they remind me of song lyrics.

>We wrapped in fine clothes their bodies cold to the touch
>And gave yearning, unto you, their souls as such

Two good lines but the second line could be made better. “Souls as such” doesn’t really do me anything.

>Let beat the drum of forgotten primitive races

Fine

>The timely measure that brings forth and erases

I don’t really like this one, measurements and temporal stuff doesn’t really often work in short poetry and the rhyme doesn’t produce satisfaction.

>Our night-bound worries warded by bonfire’s light
>Drown us in our rapture, our percussive plight

These two are fine though percussive sounds unrelated and ugly.

>Dare you quench this flame you have sought to sear

I would consider even removing the repetition (sought-sear) since it distracts from how serious you wish to come off which produces a bathetic quality.

>You may see things you’ve feigned so round and clear

It’s just not strong enough for this late in the poem and feels like it only exists for the last line.

>In the dark underbelly of that which you most fear

Too bathetic and generic.


All in all good flow and fun imagery Anon, don’t take my critique the wrong way.

Farts I

Liquid sharts on marble steps,
Bubbling moors and misty braps,
A flame, a sound, a sudden flash,
A body, writhing, turned to ash,
The smell, the taste, the tasteless cum –
A madman's cry, his mistress' song...

Farts II

Her breeze strides soft as heaven's feather
On leather fields of flesh and smell -
A bell is rung and water run - to tether
Together her smell and my song.

>>17685129
kinda gay and larpy desu, archaic and lifeless, rote and uncreative

What did he mean by this?

>>17688208
I get the archaic and the like, I also get how it seems repetitive/mechanical, my question is, how would you recommend I make it full of life and what means gay specifically? I personally like an archaic and old feel. Are you saying the subject matter entirety is lifeless or just my presentation or what. Like how would I actually refine it in your opinion?

>>17688296
Unsure without the context but the vast majority of English poetry is traditionally in blank verse or in heroic couplets etc. so I reckon he’s just saying if you removed these, there would be substantially less English poetry due to how common these three are and nothing really beyond this.

>>17688336
That's mean to Luxembourg

>>17688356
Who's your favorite Luxembourgian poet?

>>17688362
I'm not Luxembourgian

>>17686646
honestly, i didnt think much about meter, rhythm or rhymes when writing, I was just focusing on creating interesting sentences and conveying a theme. But idk what im doing, its basically my first poem.

Post a poem to make me feel something, just a brutal poem please.

>>17688449
Oh dude it’s completely fine, I mean you don’t have to start writing iambic pentameter sonnets or something. I’m more saying the key to poetry, especially free verse (where you’re not binding yourself to a particular meter or the like) is matching the ideas with a rhythm and condensing them. Check out Edgar Allan Poe’s philosophy of composition, it’s a short read and he goes through the steps he used in composing his famous raven poem. Don’t be discouraged at critique, iron sharpens iron. Just remember that at minimum when writing poetry you ought consider the form, the delivery of the information.

Good luck with your future writing.

>>17688469
Depends on what you mean by brutal, heres written by Baudelaire and one written by ligotti+David Tibet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltFoi4gP5lo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7vWLz9iGsk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxZpEFJhO6k

>>17688481
Its not like i'm an aspiring poet or anything, I just felt like trying out, but thanks for the answer anyways. Any specific way I could make it flow better, or should i have though about that while writing it initially? What do you think about the theme?

>>17688508
Oh don’t worry about it, I consider it a hobby myself and I assume most people here write as a hobby and not to be published or something. Think of it like learning the basics of wood cutting or sculpting, gonna need to know these if you want to make something you can feel satisfies your creative impulse; otherwise there’s no artifice, no beauty and it feels like mush.

>should i have though about that while writing it initially

Yes, you need (in my opinion and in the opinion of a good number of poets but not in the opinion of others.) to completely first decide on the affects and meaning you wish to impart, then select a corresponding rhythm/syllable length and the like, and corresponding imagery to fit the imagery and sound and structure you wish to convey. It’s an act of complete control just as much as a painter paints with complete control.

As for the theme, it’s some sentimental lovey dovey mush with not really anything connecting it, the similes/metaphors are weak because you’re over talking in them.

Let me just break it down bit by bit.

> Eyes akin to dark chocolate, but unlike the aforementioned heavenly creation,

Eyes like dark chocolate sounds too childish with the rest of what you’re trying to say which makes the more serious sentences come off as Bathetic, which is a more fancy way of saying, try-Harding it and falling flat on its face.

>they’re sweeter than any candy found in Wonka’s factory.

You already mentioned candy, Wonka’s factory again makes it seem more like this speech should be said by a candy obsessed child and not one talking of heavenly creations and divinities, you can mix contrasts like that but you need to develop it. The poem is not much different to say a short story, it has a narrative structure, a progression of images and emotions and feelings. But this much proximity doesn’t combine the flavors, it confuses them and muddles them both.

>Eyebrows like cute fuzzy caterpillars, but not the ones you’d accidentally squish.

Again are you trying to sound like a child, I don’t mean to be offensive and as the other anon noted I have An archaic/anachronistic taste, but say this out loud and tell me if this feels right.

>Instead they are the cute bugs you’d find in a David Attenborough documentary.

Too much information that doesn’t convey anything beautiful in terms of imagery, sound; or emotions or the like.

I’ll continue in the next post and post a write up on the basics of writing.

>>17688610
Oh, I wrote the roundabout poem, not that one lol. Sorry for making you write all this, but i guess he can appreciate it...

>>17688610

>Worthy of all the admiration on God’s beautiful Earth.

Just feels generic.

>Freckles, which, I would love to believe that every placed on her was a kiss from an angel. Each one—a blessing.

Maybe this works on a woman already smitten on you but it feels like a generic hallmark movie to me, and like a movie you’re writing this as a character’s speech.

Poetry is closer to chanting, songs and so forth than normative speech in many cases. You need not do this but again, that’ll reduce the beauty significantly.

>A wonderful smile. Two rows of smooth shining teeth that hide behind a pair of pink plush lips,

Feels like you began to run out of things to say, do you find calling a woman’s teeth smooth particularly lovely or erotic? Pink plush also does nothing for me.

>which, when they work together

Comes off more sexual than you realize

>—on accident or not—create the second most perfect union—

I honestly find elevating a woman to a pseudo-Goddess a tired theme but you don’t have to innovate as long as you do the old formula particularly well.

>only second below the Holy Trinity. When that miracle happens,

Again it feels disconnected to the Earlier candy and wonka stuff, feels more like cheap romance.

>the Apostles in heaven cry aloud and say: “She has smiled, praise Christ our King and our God! Praise and exalt Him throughout all the ages!”


You’re trying to be too exalted and haven’t earned it with the rest of the poem.

Don’t take my critique the wrong way, this is simply iron sharpening iron, constraint and concentration and refinement are the keys to development in any art.

Next post will contain some basics to use when writing, consider them.

>>17688637
Whoops. Yours definitely was better though again it comes off less like a poem and more the lyrics to some rock or punk song.

>Roundabout
>Forward is foreign!

No real imagery but this could be fun with a loud fast beat right? Something violent.


>says the dizzy- he's never right.
>Amphetamine not Cyclizine!

You probably like your cyberpunk stuff if I had to guess? Again these dont produce mental images nor do they really have a lovely sound but they’re not written to right, they’re just designed to get a feeling of energy/speed, right? So it’s fine.

>3 hours and 14 minutes to arrival to departure.

Again, no one likes numbers in specific units in the majority of cases.

>You're free!
>from will - the exits are just an illusion.

Could have sworn this is from a song itself, again there’s no real attempt at producing a narrative and no deeper emotional impact because of that.

>The turn signal is defective!

You could probably develop this into more of a theme if you harmonized if more, feels too jumbled

>where there is only one will, there is only one way.

It’s fine but generic.

>Serve Laplace's demon!
>self-driving cars without handbrakes.

Last two lines are the weakest.

Apologies for the mistaken identity Anon!

“The Coping”

Nerves twist infinite within
Yet the feelings are dulled
Scorch and burn my skin
Or a bullet through my skull

Hope courses as blood flows
And blood seeps like wine
Pleasure and pain within grows
As the Baird he snaps my spine

Death wakes for those who sleep
I rest my tired soul
One day soon my eyes will weep
Until then I reside six feet below

>>17688706
Thanks a lot for taking your time to write this. I wanna defend myself a little though, it doesnt have a narrative on purpose because I wanted to convey the theme of a mindless society repeating itself, with the individuals having no free will or ability to change the system through a metaphor of self driving cars forever circling a roundabout. Hence the dizzy is not right when saying that forward is foreign, and any arrival is just to a former departure (3,14 is pi). I agree that its not a beautiful or technically good poem, but i like the metaphor.

>>17673999
Change these
>scarlet touch, longing, glowing, azure
Glimmer > glowing. Otherwise decent image. Seconding Ansemen’s remark.

>>17677124
>Du er fri! — You are cleared!
As in “Cleared for departure”
>Blinklyset er defekt! — Turn light is out of sight
>—With a singular will, there’s only one way:
>... vehicles with no brakes
Big dick energy, nice and vigorous

>>17677218
>gleeful gliding OR gleely glide
>nestled stars on towers, seas ... overhead
>an ocean of gold OR gilded/gilt skies

>>17677706
Couplets, end on “moaning, dying[italyics] . . .”
>in anguish [and]

>>17681689
Enjambles .... read .... like... a stroke victim.
>I used to eat small pieces of bread
>until mom taught me the toaster one day
...
>with a whole bunch
>of stuff on them that went really well

>>17688145
Exquisite

>>17688778
Again it’s fine, I really do think it would be a fine song if adjusted a bit and you picked an appropriate instrumental.

>>17688805
Are these suggestions for different translations or what?

This one goes out to the lads.

O urge to the endless, evening hour,
Blooming over empty clouds, bursting in violet glow,
And swaying amber arc lanterns, lofty in tandem,
The tepid flickers of summer stars.

All mute things speak softly glowing their souls most woeful litanies along
The milk-light lowlands, from which your pipe plucks the great miracle-flower-song.

The future wil not be the same.
The future rhymes on the past.
Everything will go over go over go over.
but over our heads.
It is all a witty joke and I enjoy it while it last.
but everything wil go over go over our heads.
Thank God for this lovely game.
>>17688753
7/8 very emo i like it.

>>17681689
Idk about taught me the toaster what does that mean

>>17681407
nice

>>17688895


The future wil not be the same.
The future rhymes on the past.
Everything will go over go over go over.
but over our heads.
It is all a witty joke and I enjoy it while it last.
but everything wil go over go over our heads.
Thank God for this lovely game.

>>17688906
i like it, you miss an l in will

>>17688916
fuck thanks man

>>17677124
i liked your poem untill i read >>17688778. i guess i still like the poem itself. it has that naked lunch sci-fi spiriling out of control style. though i despise the "metaphor for a society" interpretation, i did want to state my disagreements with >>17688706. imo, the abstract statements do paint a picture and there doesnt need to be a narrative at all. they sound good too except the "amphetamine", "youre free" and "where there is only will" lines. and i personally loved the 3 hours 14 minutes. but it does read like death grips lyrics

>>17689017
Well yeah, again I really don’t think it’s bad it just more fits a song than anything else. That isn’t a bad thing Anon.

>>17689017
Thanks dawg, reading like death grips lyrics isnt the worst thing in the world

>>17689024
poetry encompasses songs and is allowed more freedom, no? also im angry at u for making me read the scarlett letter im quite enjoying it

>>17689072
>poetry encompasses songs and is allowed more freedom, no?

There’s no hard divide between song lyric, highest quality prose and poetry at the highest and lowest levels of these. However in general, the average lyrics for a song are more focused on purely conveying the energy and emotion of the song and a loose connection, they’re basically a harmonizing instrument along with the others. They don’t have as much stress on them as the dedicated poem which needs to have all of the music and feeling and experienced contained within the poem. Of course these poems work usually very well when put to instrument usually only needing slight adjustments if any. But the best song lyrics can stand up on their own as poetry and some of our best poetry was written as ballads and the like.

>also im angry at u for making me read the scarlett letter im quite enjoying it

Glad you’re liking it! Hawthorne’s a good writer.

Is it better to write long poems or a lot of short poems ?

>>17689504
It depends, they do not convey the same feeling. If you want to exercise, do both.

She love you
She love me on my D
She swallow it G
All for me

love you I bet
I get her pussy wet

Just a little fun
Yet im done

She's seen a ton

>>17687933
thanks once again based Frater I don't think anyone has ever broken up my work and tried to look at each line individually before (I mean hell I don't even really do that when looking back at it) so to see you do this and with useful critiques is a breath of much needed fresh air when it comes to the state of sharing and critiquing fiction on this board. I will say that I wrote this pretty fucking hammered, as I do a lot of poetry lately, which can help explain the abundance of utility lines and disjointed voices at times. If I have any strength I agree that its my flow, but I really want to nail the confluence of flow and image and I appreciate your critique because I can see how one might not get what I'm saying.

>>17689537
>thanks once again based Frater I don't think anyone has ever broken up my work and tried to look at each line individually before (I mean hell I don't even really do that when looking back at it)

Not a problem anon, I feel it’s the only way to really interact with a piece is to break it down to its components and see what the parts create. Even when I’m making my own stuff I’m autistic about every little syllable doing something.

>I will say that I wrote this pretty fucking hammered, as I do a lot of poetry lately,

Drinking can help pour out the lines, it’s well known that Swinburne (one of my favorites mind you) wrote only his best when addicted and his work declined in quality after he recovered and sobered up. As nasty as that sounds, that’s just the reality of the situation. Seems like the strategy is that drinking loosens and relaxes the mind, let’s you feel less worried about certain lines and you just write a ton, then afterwards you do clean up duty and polish it when sober.

>which can help explain the abundance of utility lines and disjointed voices at times.

I mean must of them wouldn’t take too much effort to turn into actually interesting lines on your part.

>If I have any strength I agree that its my flow, but I really want to nail the confluence of flow and image and I appreciate your critique because I can see how one might not get what I'm saying.

Once more, glad I could help, I would really recommend Swinburne to see what a master looks like who can really control his syllables, his sound and imagery imo.

Je te vois, immensément nue,
Sur la rive naissante.

Les vagues affronts de la rumeur,
Tu les chasses d'un souffle.

Ou vais-je, sinon dans mon pays,
Aux vignes promises ?

La joie du nuage incendié,
J'en connais le secret.

J'ai mêlé tes mains à ma terre,
Et ton rire à mon vin.

>shitty translation

I see you, immensely naked,
On the dawning shore.

The vague affronts of rumour,
You chase them away with a breath.

Where am I going, if not in my country,
To the promised vines?

The joy of the burning cloud,
I know its secret.

I mingled your hands with my land,
And your laughter with my wine.

Could probably gain from being a bit longer but I'm unsure where to take it.
>>17688906
>but over our heads.
Made me laugh. I like it but I'm unsure verse is the best form for this, or maybe bring more imagery in.
>>17688874
>All mute things speak softly glowing their souls most woeful litanies along
This makes me think your poem is about this kind of secret tension. I feel like you should try to make that tension more obvious by creating it with the word you use. Your first stanza uses kind of an overused imagery it is counterproductive in doing that.
>>17677124
You posted another version of this in a previous thread right? I think it's better than your previous version if I remember correctly. The "3 hours and 14 minutes" line is nice.
>>17688753
Just read Frater's critic about another poem feeling like a song. Well, I think it would works well as a song.
>>17688145
Love me a good fart poem. Read Apollinaire's Réponse des Cosaques Zaporogues for the best poem with a fart I know of.

>>17674663
What kind of redditor rhymes "page" with "sage"?

>>17690300
Do you pronounce wojak as "voh-yak"? I know how its pronounced things correctly but sometimes I'm just too lazy

>>17690182
This one strikes a chord with me. I've fallen for a Quebecois girl recently and it's inspired me to try to learn French. I already like it, but I'm sure it sounds even better in French!

Anyway here's a sonnet I wrote about said girl

When we met one another last season,
The seeds of my desire began to sprout,
And against any shred of good reason,
It is you alone that I think about;
Like the keen thorns of a freshly grown rose,
A gentle beauty bartered for in pain,
An elegance that no other hand knows,
Fairness that no hand of mine will obtain;
I look at you as a pretty young bud,
Your innocent youth that I once boasted,
Washed away like a garden in a flood,
Memories of my boyhood eroded;
Now the evening rain pours from my old eyes,
Trying to keep away from your blue skies.

>>17690182
>>17690424
If you would translate it to French, I'd love you a lot......

Bump

>>17673171
This is exactly fairly unimaginative, but good of you for trying!

Feel free to eviscerate my own:

There was once a trollop
Who liked to ride at a gallop
Precociously tempted by a loll'op
Her story of sin so begins:
By the time of thirteen
She was thoroughly unclean
By the time of sixteen
She was a practitioner supreme
By twenty twenty four hundred
Had moaned her name
Whilst conveying her
In her bed's ample frame
To the end of lecherous fame.
How it happened, no one knows,
But the story so goes
She was found by her pantyhose
Hanging, in a sort of improvised
Gallows.
No longer riding but rigid
The hunt quickly grew cold.
But the story by its cunning
Never grows old.

Posting this just to bump.

warm like the waters of amber
vast like two reflecting mirrors
ancient like the daughters of Flame
veiled like the dew in the night cloud


I am wrapped about with a shroud
i search lands of sleep for your shrine
“forgive me if I have been proud, dearest friend “
your bliss is the bliss of fine wine

virgin as the fruit of the vine
elder than evening’s reign above
like sacrum and skull of the spine
the true nature of love divine

though I rest in a bed of shame
I rise by the call of your name

My mind is full of fucking porn
It is they who I scorn

Others I must warn
Minds calm before the storm.

>>17691198
>Posting this just to bump.
Cool.

I like the poem. stanzas 2-4 have a nice flow to them.

Bumping

>>17673169
Based rhyme poster. Good on you for keeping the old ways alive. FUCK these zoomer "freestyle" poets (aka "fagstyle" poets)

(PS: I call them fagstyle poets because I think they're fags)

>>17673178
This guy has sex

>>17673170
This guy needs to have it

>>17673999
Kinda gay

>>17688895
>Idk about taught me the toaster what does that mean

Not him, but c'mon man, you'd have to be ESL not to deduce what he's trying to say. It's just a poetic way of saying "I was taught how to properly fix myself a meal".

>>17672851
>he writes poetry without rhyming

>>17692196
Poetry that doesn’t rhyme is great.

Bros, how the fuck do I get into writing poetry? I've been writing folkpoetry-like shit in Trochaic tetrameter for some time now, but I still feel like a brainlet who hasn't got an idea how to do this shit
Can some of you more experienced poets tell me how did you get started, where did you find the words to write your thoughts?

I was lying on the grass of Sunday morning of last week
Indulging in my self-defeat
My mind was thugged, all laced and bugged, all twisted, wrong and beat
A comfortable three feet deep
Now the fuzzy stare from not being there on a confusing morning week
Impaired my tribal lunar speak
And of course you can't become if you only say what you would have done
So I missed a million miles of fun

>>17692249
Bros...do zoomers really?

>>17692249
Euthanize yourself

>>17692406
Pussy is poetry and poetry is pussy
Penis is prose and prosology is penisology
Paris is pussy and Washington is penis
Penis is the pen and the tongue is the pussy
Prose inseminates and poetry germinates
Penis, pen, and prose can rape but poetry and pussy cannot.
Vaginal sex is prose copulating with poetry
Anal sex is pure pornography
Self pleasure is self-plagiarism
To orgasm is to give up
Not to orgasm is the task of all great art
Onanism is thus the defeat of art
Whilst copulative sex is only its temporary betrayal.
Lolita was art until Humbert slept with her
From that point on she became the end art
And the beginning of the end
For sex is the end of art
And the beginning of madness
And madness, as Foucault explains, is never art
But rather always its absence, sex is both the passport and entrepot most forms of madness
The above only ever applies in the case of the true artist.

>>17688315
i meant the poem as pure language, ignoring subject matter, the only thing make it classifiable as poetry is the rhymes at the end of the lines, like try reading it aloud as pure sound, on that level i can't see anything creative or inspired in the word choice, i mean some bits work better than others but overall it's a rote selection of dead words chosen for meaning's sake alone

>>17692062
>>17692249
>>17692293

In my eyes, alliteration, rhyme and so forth all have specific and particular usages which make them highly valuable.

In general a lot of poetry you’ll encounter will use things in the following way.

Alliteration=speed and sense of importance/rightness
Rhyme=importance and satisfaction
Sibilance=soothing and sometimes sinister


Leitmotif theory=stock phrase which produces A motif/myth that only occurs with a association with something (Homer=rosy fingered Dawn)

Myth=a poem created by narrative

Chiasma=rhyme on a narrative level

Parallelism=repetition with subtle change, whether vocal or narrative

Pentameter=speech
Tetrameter=controlled musicality/artifice
7 fold syllable=song
5-6=bursts of euphoric bliss
11=descriptive
12+ wrathful and terrible, overwhelming. (Resist the urge to produce mushy schlock, these must have more power and force on a word by word level than any of the other to justify the length.)
1-4=Sighs, exasperation, name calling, quick declarations “oh baby, my sweet, AH! My dearest, etc)
+sing-songy speech

As such, you’ll notice that in works of delayed satisfaction, of wrathful and terrible speech, the delay or lack of a rhyme fits perfectly with the sense of force being implied.

I myself like a heavily rhymed poem in which every line has tons of alliteration, rhyme and if possible multiple internal rhyme, sounds hypnotic, you can see a lot of this in Saj/Fu poetry in Arabia and in Asia, also things there are designed to sound like incantations in the west. But again in general delayed gratification is a big element, Arnaut Daniel (whom dante considered the greatest of poets ) would often write in a form in which none of the words of one stanza would rhyme, but they would all rhyme with the next stanza.

In general I agree that metrical writing his great importance but not always. The totality of ancient Semitic Poetry including the Old Testament was written without any counting of stress but vaguely word units, rather they counted the weight of concepts and extremely used repetition and parallelism. And yet these are the Gold standard from which so many poets have taken inspiration. I think what’s most important is the natural rhythm and sound.

There was studies done (I’ve looked a bit into the topic) of whether people can notice the use of meter, rhyme and so forth. The result? Normal people can hear and gain satisfaction from rhyme, and if I remember correctly alliteration. But they can’t hear meter and it doesn’t actually improve the quality of the writing. Thus while it is a blunt instrument, I prefer to use tools which people can actually hear (rhyme, etc.)

For the anon asking how to write, I’ll post an in progress introduction to writing of which I’ve written, though you may not consider my own writing of any value I think it covers the basics well and good enough

>>17692521
First, let it be understood that all literature whether prose or verse is an act of rhetoric. This is what divides the textbooks and ice cold analytical works with the works of great literature. All aesthetic properties and powers of a piece of literature lie within its rhetorical prowess towards certain aims and agendas.

Rhetoric is the art of persuasion, you are convincing the reader of the reality and depth of an image, of a vision, the writer’s job is to use words to craft an illusion and the power of his illusion determines his merit as the writer.


The common rhetorical scheme and the one which we ought to use is the following.

Logos
Ethos
Pathos
Kairos


Briefly speaking, logos is the fact or reality or raw data of the thing being argued. The raw information of your story and its formulation are governed by the Logos determination. This is the most foundational aspect of the story and thus is the bedrock from which the other forces stem.

The next level is the ethos, the stature and personality, the believability, it is not enough that I hear the raw material of the story, the speaker, the writer, the one whom I’m reading needs to convince me by some means that I should listen to him, that the story he’s telling is worth while and he has the capacity to tell it. Consider Dante, was there ever a poet more fit to speak and say that he really went to hell, purgatory and heaven? Who he was in real life and within fiction, his manner of speech and the way he told his tale harmonized to give him the stature of Arch-poet, and his own poem granting him the laurel among the other greats (even while not accomplishing anything of importance yet) that non-vain pride and self-assurance of his own merit, that is an ethos level par-excellence.

Of course, every story will depending on its own particular aspects require a different voice from the writer, a difference in character, another reason to be believable.

The Third element and this is the basic requirement for any literature to be art, is to have an aspect of pathos, of passion, of movement of the emotions in some regard. This is not the be-all and end-all of Art, it is simply the bare-minimum. Your art work must leave an impression upon the soul of the reader, even if only for the moment of reading. If you can induce a moment of ecstasy or sadness, anger or gladness, you have achieved the taste of beauty.


The fourth element and perhaps hardest to manipulate is Kairos, the manipulation of a moment or slice in time, to capture either the experience and quality of the current time period or an imagined form of the future or of the past whether personally (such as in coming of age stories) or historically (period pieces, those works which strive to encapsulate the current zeitgeist. Etc.)

Cont

>>17692526
These four elements are neither atomic nor simply built on each other but are built and dependent upon one another for power. If the raw facts of the story are poor, it’ll require a titanic effort within one or multiple of the other 3 elements to justify it. And this can be used for certain works and contexts depended on the desired aesthetic result.

These four elements manifest chiefly through the following four aspects of the writing.


Prose/verse style
Narrative
Character
Motif/myth

While not directly correspondent, these four aspects do have associations with the four elemental powers.

Prose style of course being a reflection of the Logos, As the logos is the raw facts of the story, the prose/verse style is the raw content and form of how you transmit the facts of the story. If William McGonagall wrote the Aeneid who would remember it? with his level of verse, no one would. In this same regard if nabokov did not have some mastery over English, no one would find his common overly educated characters believable.

Narrative has a reflection in both ethos and kairos, as the chain of events, images and so forth that occurs will not so pleasurable if they are not justified and this justification must occur in a logical pattern, if not, the artifice of the piece will become visible and one will see through the illusion, rending the piece an absolute failure. Who would enjoy a play in five parts if the third act came second, the fifth came fourth and so forth ? Almost no one unless extreme power is used to justify the manipulation of time and narrative. This thematic manipulation is very tricky and often will strike the consumer as artificial and at worst pretentious (a complete rhetorical failure.)


Character is most often the easiest link to pathos possible, it is common knowledge that require a human element to associate emotionally with the story, even some of the most abstract and most alien fiction will still require a human or some form of character in order to create the Pathos link.

Finally we have Myth-motif as the pure representation of Kairos, this in my opinion is the most difficult portion in all of literature, for the myth-motif is nothing less than a poem created purely out of moments in time, a condensation of eternal force into a singular moment or the extension of a singular event over a large portion of time.


Grand examples of these would be the Association of Winter with Death, the hero and the dragon/serpent, the old sickly woman who, when given alms, transforms into a being of great and terrible power. simply naming these alone floods the mind with images, visions of events that are perfectly conjoint. Creating these from scratch is of extreme difficulty and comes in a variety of modes.

Cont

>>17692531
In fact, all of These are not a question of quality but of types, example the Ornate prose of John Lyly has its place as does the simplistic prose of someone like Hemingway. The style must reflect the aesthetic, the mood and cadence. If these do not have a role with your story, they are working against you.

Prose/verse style can be divided into three types.

Simplistic
Ornate
Complex
The simplistic prose work will speed along and try to turn both the language/prose style as invisible as possible but also the beauty of the events shall be lessened. Simplistic prose is best for plot heavy and action heavy works because it gives speed to the work. Many dramatic works also benefit from a simplistic prose style, you would not like in your murder mystery to be bogged down by a beautiful description of the snow or of the blood trickling when there is 100 times more force dedicated to the mystery and the plot elements. (Roughly, the simplistic style reflects the Logos, as it seeks to give the facts of the matter and cut off everything else.)

The Ornate style is similar to the simplistic style, but is often slower, richer, heavier in use of stranger adjectives, it focuses far more on induction of aesthetic beauty through events and experiences. The ornate style has an association with the Ethos but not completely, the simplistic style will tell you something is beautiful, the ornate style will explain in detail how it is beautiful, but not as the painter but rather, he will expertly in his usage of strange terms, combinations of sounds and so forth produce a vision of beauty. Consider homer’s “rosy fingered Dawn” that is perfectly ornate; not so much so that it is confusing or colored, but it produces a detailed experience, an infusion of conception of beauty with the material vision of it. Once again, there is a time and a place for this, you would expect a divine hymn or something like a-rebours to be filled to the brim with ornate beauty, in this regard the ornate is an evolved form and not an antagonism against the simplistic prose style.

The final style and in my belief the most difficult to do successfully and even if done successfully often has a weak effect is the complex style, consider Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, everything’s has been sacrificed to produce a complexity. The advantages in this is word games but also if done Properly, stimulation of differing modes of perception/consciousness, you can show and overwhelm the reader by giving them so many details about how the characters or event feels. Those who get accustomed to the complex style can also find an elevated beauty similar to that within the ornate but increased by a magnitude of force. However for the majority even those who grow accustomed, the complex style by its nature breaks the illusion of the Art,


Cont

>>17692535
as such it has the lowest chance for aesthetic pleasure and appreciation of the three styles, at worst receiving empty technical praise.


Now let us consider narrative/plot structure.

the plot structure/narrative must reflect the result you desire, an interesting story is only as interesting as the effects it can have upon the reader and this will be informed by the other 3, complex and interesting fast moving plot has no superiority over the plotless stories where only the other three are put in the forefront. In general though humans enjoy repetition with slight variation which gradually builds up. Consider how music works and integrate the method of the leitmotif.

There are again, three forms of major narrative constructions

Simplistic narratives (the simplest being slice of life stories which have no real plot to speak of.)
Complex narratives
Partial/mysterious narratives


The simplistic plot/narrative exists solely to justify the interaction of various characters and the movement of images and ideas, the plot will have either no existence or a vestigial existence. Once again, these plots will seek to be invisible to allow everything else to breathe, example the bulk of Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship has no real motivation, the plot is as lazy and pushed around as the titular character. You are absorbed however into his lifestyle, into his interior, his passions, his daily life. This style of narrative can be used for those with extreme skill in character creation, or for those who’s goal is nothing more than exploration of common tropes and cliche character archetypes (this has extreme popularity in YA especially but not solely within Asia) the downfall of the simplistic method is that it is subject to repetition and the range of emotions and extreme emotions are usually very limited within this form. It (although not always) often will have a small range of ideas it may explore. Fundamentally all forms of narrative are stances towards time, and the simplistic narrative seeks a small amount of common/normative events, producing a feeling of smallness, closeness, lack of space and usually transience (as such these works often have a high potency in producing nostalgia and strong reader relationships to the character.)

In contrast to this, though built from the same cloth, is the complex narrative, which takes more and more narratives, enlarges the amount of Time and space to an incredible vastness. These complex narratives can often make a world feel more alive, consider how dream of the red chamber will take you into an oriental world or how the structure of Joyce’s Ulysses effectively creates a miniature Dublin.

Cont

>>17692542
This living breathing world requires open and examinable complexity and can at times accidentally become encyclopedic in the wrong (or in sometimes, right.) hands. The complex narrative is attractive to the weak writer, he feels if he can throw enough against the wall eventually something will stick, this is a lie, the longer a work is, the less a person is willing to give it attention and the more attention it requires. Longer narratives also require much more energy to be memorable and not just utility, the strands of plot also can be entirely neutered if there is no reason to care about it. (Lack of character development, lack of beauty in the prose style, the events themselves not being as fantastical or fascinating as the author mistakenly believes, etc.)

While the level of narrative power is not identical to length, it is a simple fact that longer works have the capacity for more strands of plotlines, more characters and fundamentally more fat to trim. As a general rule the novel requires the least amount of effort to produce memorable moments because it has so many chances to induce one if someone DOES invest the attention needed, more complex than this is the creation of the good short story, which concentrates all of the imagery, elements and depth of the novel into a coherent unity that can be consumed in one sitting, and superior to this is the prose poem/short poem, as this can in a few short words paint an entire novel, but built upon itself with such a complex image and conception that you remember it entirely as a singular imagery, it has absolutely no fat/waste. For this reason the most extreme and most skilled literature possible is the long-poem, as the long poem proper if isolated at any point should be sufficiently condensed and self sufficient, that it may be considered a worthy poem alone. This is why the cantos of Dante can be so praised. In any case, the complex narrative has its own particular usages, chief among them is creating an experience of a living world.

Finally there is the partial/mysterious narrative, if the simplistic narrative can be marked by transience and simplicity, the complex narrative by length and multiplicity, the mysterious narrative can be summarized as in incompletion and feelings of loss/mystery, it is when you read the Papyri Graecae Magicae and notice the links of various lost-ancient lore but never the full picture. (Such as the soul of Ursa Major being Typhon the destroyer.) consider Dunsany’s episodic God’s of Pegana, you are given little to no information and gradually are given no more than glimpses into the world, slices and slashes of events, wills and powers.

Cont

>>17692550
This narrative style is most fixated on the past or the relations of parts of the past to the present, it reaches its full majesty only in the mythic form. However it can be done in small form, a good example of this would be much of nabokov’s narrative puzzles usually concerning one person or a group of events. (Pale fire and The Real Life of Sebastian Knight would be prime examples.)


Now let us consider character

These are chiefly

Hollow/simplistic
Complex
Character also need not be rich, ornate and deep. There is equal value in different cases, the more deeper your character, the more particular they are. The more like individuals you must write them and thus they must be in some regard appealing to a broad audience even if not universal themselves. Consider a-rebours or tristam shandy, those two books work because the odd peculiar man in them befriends the reader and proves fascinating.


However the more vague and empty your character is, the more universal they are, the more archetypical they become/ these vague characters work best in the mythological and symbolic works. Who will complain that Aesop’s fables don’t have the character depth of Goethe’s work? This universal structure is also much more useable for the hardest and in my opinion strongest aspect of story telling.

The creation of a new myth/motif, these transcend all mediums and can be transmitted through any way and will be left mostly intact. Thus they are abstract, crystalline, like nature and the world of ideas concentrated into a singular narrative-poem. The strongest stories can balance these four, some unifying the harder character-with-depth with the universal-motif creation and this is largely what many modern authors try to balance.

Still need to write more but that about covers it.

La Naomo no toma del pomo,
es señorita y tiene aplomo,
va a la misa y no le da risa,
ni parece tener prisa.

La Naomo es niña buena,
casi todo le da pena,
y cuando le dan polla,
no cuestiona a quien la folla.

Asi que a la Naomo
le montan mucho el lomo,
pero ella no es dejada,
pues también les da mamada.

En fin, ejemplar es la Naomo,
pues nunca se le va el palomo,
siempre hace fresca la velada,
aunque la vuelva una guarrada.

Bonita señorita la Naomo,
porque mientras que se corre
y yo me le vengo con desplomo,
hasta me hace sentir que no onions homo.

I think of you
As the hall empties
of all daylight
Chrome half bright
appearance of sentients
As mirages come true

>>17692521
>>17692526
>>17692531
>>17692535
>>17692542
>>17692550
>>17692554
Thank you very much, this is more than I expected. I will read this thoroughly and consider your teaching. Thank you!

>>17692602
Not a problem anon, hope it helps!

Yuh, ooh, brr, brr
Gucci gang, ooh
(That's it right there, Gnealz)
Yuh, Lil Pump, yuh
Gucci gang, ooh
(Ooh, Bi-Bighead on the beat)
Yuh, brr
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (Yuh)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (Ooh)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (Brr, yuh)
I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (Ooh)
Rather go and buy Balmains (Brr)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (Huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (Brr)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (Yuh, yuh)
I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (Nope)
Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (Brr)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (It do)
Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (Brr)
Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (Yeah)
Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (Huh?)
None of this shit be new to me (Nope)
Fuckin' my teacher, call it tutory (Yuh)
Bought some red bottoms, cost hella G's (Huh?)
Fuck your airline, fuck your company (Fuck it!)
Bitch, your breath smell like some cigarettes (Cigarettes)
I'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects (Yuh)
They kicked me out the plane off a Percocet (Brr)
Now Lil Pump flyin' private jet (Yuh)
Everybody scream, "Fuck WestJet" (Fuck 'em)
Lil Pump still sell that meth (Yuh)
Hunnid on my wrist, sippin' on Tech (Brr)
Fuck a lil' bitch, make her pussy wet (What?)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (Huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (Yuh)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (Brr)
I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (Huh?)
Rather go and buy Balmains (Yuh)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (Huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (Brr)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (Yuh)
I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (Nope)
Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (Huh?)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

>>17692572
Pas mal, mais ce n'est pas Neruda.

>>17692610
heh, it sure will.

>>17692521
>>17692526
>>17692531
>>17692535
>>17692542
>>17692550
>>17692554
tl;dr

>>17692614
>these "people" are considered poets by their drooling fans

>>17692622
>Pas mal, mais ce n'est pas Neruda.
La Naomo no es puta
solo le encanta la follen en ruta.
Y bajándose del camión
caga la leche de un pedorrón.

Le gustan todas las vergas,
chicas y grandes le dan espermas,
mecos, lefa, semen, esborra,
toda polla le encanta a esta morra.

Y puede que si la ves un día,
hasta lo incel te quite esta tía.
Y si te la encuentras de noche,
hasta la coches sin reproche.

La Naomo a veces es medrosa,
pero cachonda se pone desmadrosa.
lo mejor es que siempre traigas condón,
o de enfermedades sexuales te dará lección.

>>17692649
Poetry that doesn’t rhyme is great

>>17692652
Wet Ass Poets Society

a sneaky breeze
between the knees
lifts the hem
gifts a peek
yes, indeed!
i saw a cheek
thereupon
my dick did sneeze

>>17692730

>>17692708
ts;dr

I've been writing something about spring in Kalevala-meter (Trochaic tetrameter). I'm a complete newfag when it comes to poetry, I'd appreciate if you'd give me some feedback on this work-in-progress.

Rejoice my friends and all people
For the spring is soon to begin
Finely flowers soon shall flourish
Finely woodlands spring with new life

And the world will bathe in colors
Colors illustrating rebirth
Colors that make my mind elate
Colors thawing frozen feelings

O and how the songs will be sung
Songs of skylarks, doves, and swallows
On their path back to their homewoods
Home to their beloved northland

>>17692730
>>17692736

will smoking make me a better writer?

>>17692730
>The superior version

A sneaky breeze between the knees
lifts the hem and gives a peek

yes, indeed!
I saw the cheek

thereupon
My dick did sneeze
Cum all over my knees

And its small
Cause Im chinese

>>17692860
It could indeed in the short term, nicotine has nootropic properties.
It can also made you a better student of poetry too.
But on the long run it will be bad.

>>17692860
You’re better off just reading what you consider the highest level of prose or verse and studying it like a textbook. That and writing every day at your strongest. Grind it like you would any other skill.

>>17692864
>"""superior""" version
>can't even keep the rhyme scheme

Embarrassing

His submarine
Was a girls' latrine
They were young & mean
And clean
While he was forty
Filthy of mind
And half submerged
In a pit
Of shit.
Looking up
With both eyes
He used to spy
On their behinds
While onto him
Rained nameless
Excrement
Since high school
He'd been made
To feel like shit
But now he was
Truly in the thick of it
Then he heard
A chilling scream
For a lass had seen him
As if in a grotesque dream
She called the cops
But rather than surrender
He went under
And was never seen
Nor ever did offend
Again.
The end.

>>17692958
>Embarrassing
It flows better. Try reading it out loud. Rhyme schemes are for fags. Most people neither notice nor care.

>>17693169
The "cum all over my knees" part completely disjoints the rhythm that you previously had going.

Fix that shit and then get back to me.

>>17692864
You ruined a charming little poem with poor taste and wanton vulgarity.

What does 'prosody' refer to?

>>17693737
It's that feeling you get when you gargle your mouth out with diet soda right after you wake up because you're too lazy to brush your teeth

"Tell me what you believe,
and it may be something.

Show me what you do,
and this will say everything"

>>17690424
>>17690640
I'm glad you liked my poem anon! Here's a little translation of yours, I took a few liberties to keep the rhymes and the meter but I tried to stick as much as possible to your text. I also changed the rhyme scheme a little bit.

Quand je te vis la dernière saison,
Mes grains désirants crûrent en silence,
Et contre tout vestige de raison,
C’est à toi, à toi seule, que je pense ;

Comme la rose pleine de violence,
Qui donne sa beauté contre douleur,
Dont nulle main ne connaît l’élégance,
Ni ne peut en obtenir la blancheur ;

Je te vois égale à ces jeunes fleurs,
Je me vantais de ta pure jeunesse,
Comme un jardin noyé perd ses couleurs,
La mémoire de mon enfance s’affaisse ;

La pluie du soir naît de mes yeux fanés,
Et veulent éviter tes yeux carnés.

Check the text to be sure I didn't do any misinterpretation if you want to show it to her, and if you do, tell us what she thought of it.
Now concerning your poem, I won't lie I'm not a big fan. Firstly there is the problem of punctuation: it's really bland and sometimes there are commas for no good reason imo. This created a problem for me when translating your third stanza: because it doesn't really serve the text, I thought at first that your line "washed away..." referred to the previous line "your innocent youth..." which seemed kind of mean for a love poem, it is in fact far more logical if it connects with the following one "memories of my boyhood...".
The other big problem IMO, is that it's not really creative, it lacks tension. All this imagery of flower, love, youth, fairness has been done and redone. It's fine if you want to just show it to her, but it will be more rewarding for you and for her if you try to take some risks, if you integrate surprise. See Nobody not even the rain for a good example of poem using this imagery in a formidable way. Translating this also made me think about a very famous (and excellent) poem by Ronsard which has kind of the same themes. Here it is:

Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au Soleil,
A point perdu ceste vesprée
Les plis de sa robe pourprée,
Et son teint au vostre pareil.

Las ! voyez comme en peu d'espace,
Mignonne, elle a dessus la place
Las ! las ses beautez laissé cheoir !
Ô vrayment marastre Nature,
Puis qu'une telle fleur ne dure
Que du matin jusques au soir !

Donc, si vous me croyez, mignonne,
Tandis que vostre âge fleuronne
En sa plus verte nouveauté,
Cueillez, cueillez vostre jeunesse :
Comme à ceste fleur la vieillesse
Fera ternir vostre beauté.

“Who am I?”

Then this is the door!
for despair.

Okey, I’m nothing.

despair…

What about being right now!?

despair?

No, I want to be someone else.

despair?!

Let’s ignore the failure and frustration…

despair.

So this is the Absurd of being?

despair! (Yes)

I’ll embrace you.

Life"

>>17693898
>dissing /lit/neets who read philosophy

>>17693912
haha, sry, most of my poems are in my native tongue, so this is one of the few in English

At the witching hour,
I meet a Witch.

Her mesmerizing eyes|
resemble death.

But not that kind,
of sorrow and fright!

More like:
life and delight

A sight,
for my sore eyes

Throughout the hideout,
of a cry longing.

How long then,
to we boot become,

what we're meant to be.
can't you see?

So come forth,
be my guest!

In our lodge in the woods,
Along all eternity.

>>17693939
>At the witching hour,
>I meet a Witch.
>Her mesmerizing eyes|
>resemble death.
i liked these, didn't care about the rest

>>17693904
Thank you so much anon. This means a lot.
>seemed kind of mean for a love poem
Yeah I totally get that. I need to find a better way to get the subtext, but I wrote this poem because of some inner turmoil about liking her. She’s 15. which is why she’ll probably never read this, but I liked writing it.

>>17694072
Okay, pedophile.

>>17694072
>I translated a poem for a pedophile
>A little Quebecoise could be raped because of me
>I could be in trouble for that
H-how old are you anon?

>>17693169
Okay, no, seriously, I'm desperately trying to figure out how you think it's better. Can you try reading your version out loud in a vocaroo or something, because the way I'm reading it, your "superior" version becomes disjointed as fuck after the "cum on the knees" part.

>>17695086
Ouch!

Well then, here’s a song to fit the current theme! Young girl by Gary Puckett

Young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl

With all the charms of a woman
You've kept the secret of your youth
You led me to believe you're old enough
To give me Love
And now it hurts to know the truth

Whoa, oh, oh, young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl

Beneath your perfume and make-up
You're just a baby in disguise
And though you know that it's wrong to be
Alone with me
That come on look is in your eyes

Whoa, oh, oh, young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl

So hurry home to your mama
I'm sure she wonders where you are
Get out of here before I have the time
To change my mind
'Cause I'm afraid we'll go too far

Whoa, oh, oh, young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl

Young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl

Young girl
Get out of my mind
My love for you

Rating poems on a binary scale (0=no, 1=yes)

>>17693939
0

>>17693906
0

>>17693898
0

>>17692960
0

>>17692755
0

>>17692730
1

>>17692614
1

>>17692583
0

>>17692406
0

>>17691198
0

>>17690930
0

>>17690182
1

>>17689535
0

>>17688895
0

>>17688753
0

>>17688145
0

>>17685129
0

>>17681689
1

>>17681407
0

>>17677706
0

>>17677385
0

>>17677218
0

>>17677193
1

>>17677153
0

>>17677124
0

>>17676661
0

Pic related is mine

>>17695173
0

>>17695086
Gave me a huge kek
I’m only 19, it’s legal since it’s in the 5 year age difference below 21 years old.
https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/rp-pr/other-autre/clp/faq.html
And like I said, she probably won’t read it. I’m just pining over someone
>>17694820
Do you have any idea where you are

burnt field

these flickering sparks have turned from red to blue
to claim I killed them, but I got them from you
wearing a red-checkered coat ahead a white-checked sky.
the bird taps the shell of the world, but can't remember to fly.
the warm wind whispers a thousand long-forgotten names
carrying dust embalmed with memory of a thousand long-dead flames.
we both watch the moon melt the horizon of this lonely burnt field
with only embers to plant seeds.

>>17695115
>vocaroo
https://voca.ro/11KSwPOVxvpS

Its fine.

>>17695115
>wrong person
>>17695094
>correct person
>>17695907
>post in question.

>>17695907
hahahahaa what a faggy voice is this

The apothecary burns as the sick lay in wait
The priest held the match which did seal their fate
"God will save ye so long as ye believe"
"And if ye convert now your soul will reprieve"
But God did not help, and the sick died slow
All of them, each one, taken to the firey depths below
"God, why did ye not help them? ye left them for dead"
"Priest, why did ye burn the apothecary you stupid dickhead?"

>>17695190
Based

>>17693939
I like the feel, pretty comfy
>Her eyes resemble death like life
I think I know what you are getting at but it sounds a little dumb instead of poetic

Just wrote this:

Mephistopheles! Come to me
I cannot fill this hole alone

My head is hurting, can't you see?
Show your muzzle, you'll get a bone

My soul is burning, I need thee!
I thirst, I THIRST for the unknown

The sunrise bounces up and down,
Up and down the concrete floor.
I sometimes feel like the smiling clown,
Down by the liquor store.
It ain't too bad ... it's just that I'm sad.

>>17695173
1

I'm annoyed by how all (at least 98%) Jazz standard lyrics are related to romance.

What non-romance topics would you want to see in Jazz lyrics?

>>17696639
songs about shooting smack

>>17696639
The death of jazz. It’d be very topical.
F to Chick Corea.

>>17696639
I want more self referential jazz pieces. Birdland, Swing that Music come to mind.

Also, tunes about locations ought to have lyrics about them like On Green Dolphin Street or Take the A Train.

>>17676756
love this, don't like the turn of phrase with larder though. maybe basin? That was it references the sea too
>>17677124
great for being new, I don't speak snownig tho,
>>17696329
lmao, stupid dickhead is jarring for the ending m8. ik thats what your going for but maybe try something more in line.
>>17695155
post ur own shit tripfag
>>17693939
best one in the thread, first stanza should be reworked I think. "Witching/Witch/Hour/Meet/At" don't really combine well. Maybe try something more dreamlike to go with the rest of the poem?

>>17692860
Nicotine supposedly is a mild central nervous system stimulant, but the effects are marginal and you barely notice them after a long enough addiction. And it will be offset by the decreased blood flow and oxygen levels delivered to that silly little brain of yours. Not recommended
t. former smoker of 6 years

>>17696479
really like the simplicity and the flow. it would be better without the "the" in the begining. also it feels like its one or two lines that rhymes with -ore away from completion.
>>17695173
>old fashioned
>what you might call his chest
>if fictive beings can have chests
are all unnecessary. otherwise intriguing

>>17673015
try visual art instead anon. you are too focused on visuals

somewhere, a crab is wandering into a thermal vent, on purpose.

this isn't mine. i saw it on a thread a long time ago, and this is the only line i remember, but for some reason it stuck with me.

>>17695190
Oh by the way I realise I just made a mistake while copying the last line, it just be "cieux" and not "yeux" again.

Quand je te vis la dernière saison,
Mes grains désirants crûrent en silence,
Et contre tout vestige de raison,
C’est à toi, à toi seule, que je pense ;

Comme la rose pleine de violence,
Qui donne sa beauté contre douleur,
Dont nulle main ne connaît l’élégance,
Ni ne peut en obtenir la blancheur ;

Je te vois égale à ces jeunes fleurs,
Je me vantais de ta pure jeunesse,
Comme un jardin noyé perd ses couleurs,
La mémoire de mon enfance s’affaisse ;

La pluie du soir naît de mes yeux fanés,
Et veulent éviter tes cieux carnés.

>>17697278
Thank you. Also, what do you use to learn French?

When I get back I’ll critique A few more.

>>17696967
Already posted two of my own anon, but sure have another. I posted this one last thread but I never got any criticism of it.

The night sacrifice of a Taoist priest:an imitation in honor of Li-He.

the Sapphire lion sings invocations to spirits of the glass dome,
the jade Dog howls as incense smoke rises, trigrams are traced from Great Yu’s tome.

the shores of parting pour their nectar as the palace beyond night opens,
blossoms of light whiten the ocean’s face as Chang’e reveals her Specter

Vapors of cinnabar redden the fading white breath of the first titan,
the blooming flowers brighten the prayers in his mouth given to seven.

the First father is bowed before, all impure winds are banished below earth
and the dreams behind the scarlet door reflect for the half mirror’s own mirth

perfumed priests wearing yellow caps roar a thousand thunders and thousand wheels
but the autumn silence wraps a earthenware vessel in white ancient seals

no one mentions the Toaden tears of poor Li-he, I wish to call his Ghost
then we could share a roast of green Fox liver and laugh without any fears

may your rancorous bone house not be a place of misery but of rest
may you come to me as a guest, as your name Li-he, I have not forgot

>>17697405
>Also, what do you use to learn French?
Being French and living there. Sorry I cannot help you.

I.

The train that passes by at night
Reminds me of my aching heart,
The rumbling gravel in the dark,
The screaming sound, the fleeting light.

II.

The faces and the figures blur
And dissappear into the night.
I grab and hold her graying fur
And cry.

>>17697481
>dissappear
Fuck.

>>17697448
The verses feel mechanical. I'm too tired to strain my head, though. Maybe you chose a strict metre? Anyway, I'd prefer it to be more fluid and flowing: away from the mechanical and towards the swaying of the pines. As for the content, I vaguely remember you explaining the images in the last thread. Without the explanation (and in my tired state) they are beautiful, sparkling nick-nacks. The mechanical and the sparkling clash, like monkish litany and wine (well, on the other hand, I suppose...)

>>17697178
No.

>>17698042
See what I posted here, I thought I was replying to you. I think you just need refinement.>>17688610
>>17688664

Writing poetry alone
Listening to deep purple
Browsing 4chan
I have no shirt

All skin
22
Bored and smoked
Pilled and coked

Wonder if I should
Change the way
I think about things
It’s easy to be fat

Jerk off all day
Do nothing at all
Kentucky fried chicken
These niggas be fishin

For the replies
Y’all are fake
Drinking water
Bitch I’m a whale

Hoe

So I find this thread for poets and reprobate writers
to my surprise, two-hundred replies and nary an end to the many lines
some adhering to convention while others ignore
this bustling bazaar of words can never bore
while writing a paragraph can be a chore
I still offer this token effort and not much more
with hopes to goad others to undertake a similar endeavor
we share our hearts and minds and strive to know better
this poem may not rhyme as well as the others
but you're welcome to try and create another .

>>17697481

I like the second one, probably just me projecting because my dog is getting old and the people around me are growing distant, but the only thing that bothers me is the thought of losing my dog.

>>17698116

*finger snapping*
Poetry about lethargy is done to death, and I EXCLUSIVELY drink water, thank you.
>calories
>flavor

>>17698319

I've never been much of a fan of meta poetry, I'd like to see more of your serious work, if you want to share.

The lake was still, the waters clean.
Upon the surface starlight gleams.
Though far above, both sea and shore.
A peaceful place for those made pure.
We claimed a place for us to sow,
The seeds that grow by starlight's glow.
Now far beyond both home and land,
We strangers here on stardust stand,
Alone in all creation's eye;
All those who would dream for the sky.

We peered beyond, the mortal veil.
And pierced beyond on starlight sail.
To reach the light, that Milky Way.
And share it's warmth with those who stray,
From home and nation now made strife,
We promise you a better life.
A star beyond, we've left our home.
To lead you here where peace is known.
On our return we'll lead you there.
By glow of night and starlight flare.

Not plagued by sin's own providence,
Reborn in light and cognizance.
By sip of star and land unclaimed.
We seek to see all that remains;
Beyond the seas of endless streams;
Of starlight, passion, joy, and dreams.
We've built a home for kin and kind;
Forsaken souls time left behind.
Their courage now is one with ours
In the pursuit of shining stars.

Should wind buffet, don't build a lee
Let all your worries carry thee.
Where nights are long but light is found
On shining streams of stardust ground.
These tiny cinders; ember souls.
Of life beyond in warmest cold.
We find these souls and bring them here.
Where poisoned time is stricken clear.
This beauty now, offered to thee.
To those who choose to sail with me.

The time is now, the sails are set.
We've many more to bring there yet.
Your home beyond is close at hand.
If you can leave these poison sands.
The pain and purpose placed on you,
Just cast them out, to oceans blue.
Our ship takes flight only if we.
Can leave behind what poisons thee.
They're waiting there on stars we claimed.
They shine for us, while still unnamed.

>>17696455
Based and faustpilled

Experiment with Edge.

“The demon summoning”

“BEAT the drum, Blast the Horn, Now they come
Bound by the oath i have Sworn, they come
Fiends fill this Field with your Unborn hate
Behold I yield to you eagle bones
Obey me by the blackest of stones”

forms from fumes follow the femur flute
fire transforms into darkest face
and he comes bearing a heavy mace
and wearing the wreaths of twisted thorns

“I am he, Girth with the Serpent green
From the four corners of earth I come.
behold I am the door of the end
and many have passed beyond my gate.”

>>17699918
Impressive girth.

I asked the girl behind the counter
why she called me a nigger
She said “nig-A, nig-A
That means we're friends
I don't use the hard-R
My kid is half black”

I said first off, gross
Secondly, I bet
If you went to the middle of Orange Mound
and said “hey nigga” to everyone
they'd give two fucks about an r
and you'd get dropped in the grease