/lit/ - Literature

Beneath the willow's branches
We rest and talk of loving
Of night and tender kisses
Of stars and soft goodbyes.
Some cry, some laugh, some singing,
Of youth, of town and country
Of days and nights, of heaven
And of the stars above us.

---

I drift along the water
And shed the weight of living
Submerged in moving matter
Carassed by swaying nature.
My face a falcon feather
With joy in every colour.
To live again allover
To make it somewhere else.

>tfw been writing the portions of my big story that are in narrative poetry form
>tfw the next segment is a poetic tale in the pastoral tradition

I'm excited, friends. I love pastoral poetry, it's going to be fun to write some again after a long absence.

>>17856723
would you mind sharing an excerpt with us?

>>17856683
Interesting rhythm. It seems like an 'Ophelia' kind of moment eh?

Here's mine:
Homophone for breaking bones.

Design the mind wave sign rave mine grave whine: tragically split in twine; remind to incline and deign to supine. Bite into the rind right in time: she; once ever so fine - twice stepped over the line.

Thrice the ice Geist paid the price: spilled the dice; ivory lice of lively wives naively tried and tried and tried (died sometimes to ride sometimes to cry) WHY! You cinder mistress fidelity spinstress weaving those tales out of oblivion and wit!

Weirder ways no stranger tilts. He built ranger no yays; no guilt. Backward stays to the back dagger hilt back swagger mill when dirge dragger trills thrills beat back skills sent. Haze of the- blaze in Ra. Phased, so, duh. Soda pop rocker wants to tick tock on my mighty ba-gock not-lock anti-war disposition. Hive commission decision emission detect my suspicion and wish on you stupid hexer heavy hoisting half-wit heavy reaver. Track trick wicked nick in the way to recked renders another fay sundered measle pic pox-ete on your bed.

Eevio effervescence ended declension rip in the dimension I’ve mentioned before and watch those whores wallow in my snoredom; oblique yet clear boredom on my face. Embrace that! Simple nodder. Long path trodder, big bill wadder, old codger with the laugher of nhil.

Whiskers rotted out the ring tree crooning bee sting grown thing wing bat core ding fly wild pony ball ling-ga-ling long King Kong bing bong moan wrong in the instant of detection

Inspector said: ‘read my hips”. She dug them in my grips and I fed on and on on that carbuncle tongue. Depth lizard mistard spelled out distrust his her her his word. Mumbled crap in the butter sack and I wondered: “venomous wonder of the laughing night! Sunset sunder that sick sallow Sammy-Sally wight; ghost light cigga tetra lemme retrace. Wiggin out on that free play dream day real sky pie diamond.

Mentalist mega-hiss dome. Chlor-o-phone cone of the shapes mad hatter. Clatter rap and dapper creams on the winking eye of timorous frog poison. Bog slice here my cogs, dear, my out of sprocket dangling wires of hair. Bare the way glow and say, riddle clay and statues may...

Set you in stone.

>>17856793
I haven't started on it yet, sadly.

>>17856683
Comfy
>>17856818
Rhymes fighting against rhythm, hard to read


You pushed the swing when we were young,
With playful glances, golden giggles;
We pinky promised--our tiny hearts--
A bond as strong as castles.

Your eyes now dipped in elegance
Your quiet words, the years past,
The stormy spring, your youthful glee,
Has been replaced by beauty

>>17856818
I think your text has the same problem as almost all hallucinatory, meterless poems that subordinate everything to the sounding rush of words: You are bombarded with flashing lights and lose the plot. Like the transformers movies in poetry form. That being said: I like your energy. I like certain parts (Soda pop rocker wants to tick tock on my mighty ba-gock not-lock anti-war disposition).

And all you are will wither
Dissolve to pleasant water
And leave a trail of silver
On firs and bending willows.
The moon will keep your ember
Your soul will turn on water
The air will leave your body
Will turn to clouds and wither.

>>17857769
I liked the first half didn't really get the point of the latter half

>>17856905
I like your cute style. I hope you feel that way honestly. I think you could be a little bit more concrete or personal with your images (i.e. castle). I enjoy the first half much more than the second.

>>17857785
It's about dying and falling apart into nature.

>>17857825
Yeah but so was the first half. It didn't seem like the second half developed the first half but rather repeated it and I personally didn't find the repetition necessary or helpful

>>17857842
The repetition is probably due to the nature of these poems: they are not supposed to move, but to step on the spot. As if the reader were pronouncing the words of the poem correctly, but his lips kept forming "I don't want to die".

Portrait 7

Stars to behold
And eyes to behold
Them with are two
Of the greatest gifts
given us;

Of course, the eyes
Come in handy too
For beholding
Beauties on Earth:
Such as you.

>>17856683
This exactly the kind of poetry which I like to read and write myself.
This is really tight and well structured. Simple and effective language.
Good job anon.

>>17856905
>We pinky promised--our tiny hearts--
>A bond as strong as castles.
Damn that's some good stuff right there anon. Though I feel like it's missing a beat, unless that was intentional. I think it would flow better as
>A bond as strong as castle walls.

The same goes for the last line of the second stanza, I'm assuming that was an intentional choice for your structure.

>>17858286
I like your poem, anon, especially "Them with are two" and "given us". The wording is unusual, but it works. While the first stanza was archaic, the second is non-chalant, and these moods clash - deliberately I'd guess. I'm not entirely sure if it works.

>>17856683
first poem is a hallmark card

second one is all right

>>17856818
>Design the mind wave sign rave mine grave whine
this already reads like really corny jazz-scat poetry. i don't think anyone wants to read that, especially when you're not working with any real imagery so the only thing that appears in the mind is this shit
https://youtu.be/ZaGm0OvxTss?t=330

>>17856905
too many cliches. read more poetry, you'll eventually be able to draw on better constructions and images

>>17857769
each of your line has the same cadence, you can see it more concretely if you look at how each line is constructed, which is basically:
subject -> (will) verb - predicate clause
this leads to very monotonic music, you need to either vary your line breaks or learn more compositions other than "A then B"

>>17859313
>each of your line has the same cadence
>this leads to very monotonic music
That is what I wanted to achieve. The poems follow the style of Anacreon: one theme, one melody, one tone. The poems I posted are still to sprawling (for my taste).

A translation from Anacreon, by Byron

Mingle with the genial bowl
The Rose, the flow'ret of the Soul,
The Rose and Grape together quaff'd,
How doubly sweet will be the draught!
With Roses crown our jovial brows,
While every cheek with Laughter glows;
While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite,
To wing our moments with Delight.
(...)

>>17856683
I like the imagery however the phrase allover confuses me. Do you mean everywhere or all over again

My mummy-girl slept
Down all quiet and careful
As the sunset easy to be missed
Blushing, I entered where
I could dearly kiss her
Fragrant head of honeyed hair

Why does it have to be "post and rate"?

Why can't it be "post and give feedback" or "post and reviee"?
"Rate" doesn't encourage useful feedback. You might as well send it to a publisher at that point.

>>17860782
>reviee
*review

>>17856683
I really like that one anon

>>17856683
but the word is "caressed"

If you ever find a cork that fits the vial of your body, never put it on. Let always that brimming cup be proffered freely among men and women.
Libations must be poured for Dionysus. Christ must have his body and blood as well as his Spirit and Soul and his Kingdom.
Let never the stopper find
The wells of tender feeling and finer understanding. The enchanted word

Je ne me retrouve jamais aux table des pitiers.
Je suis un horloge, une cloche sonnante
Depuis que je chante


You asked for life to be described in all its immensity! You asked for a great work of art that reflected the power and the scope of human enterprise.
You asked for music that would befit the halls of Hyperborea in the antique age.
Grand ravenous nations of men, oh but what else were they?

>>17856905
>Your eyes now dipped in elegance
>Your quiet words, the years past,
>The stormy spring, your youthful glee,
>Has been replaced by beauty

this is kino not sure what to say constructively

>>17857769
this one is really pretty "trail of silver" "firs and bending willows" "moonlight" the head pictures you use fit really well together. the last few lines remind me of Phil Elverum's The Glow Pt 2 album. I like the concrete reference to "the air will leave your body"

>>17862222
Nice fuckin quads bro
this poem sucks tho

>>17862366
i know it sucks objectively just felt like posting something

>>17860623
there's a vast difference between this and your poem, there's way more music in the byron poem, look at these lines (n = noun, v = verb, p = predicate clause)

Mingle with the genial bowl (v p)
The Rose, the flow'ret of the Soul, (n, n)
The Rose and Grape together quaff'd, (n + n v)
How doubly sweet will be the draught! (p v n)
With Roses crown our jovial brows, (p v n)
While every cheek with Laughter glows; (n p v)
While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite, (n + n p v)
To wing our moments with Delight. (v n p)

your lines are
n will v p
v p
v p
n
n will v p
n will v p
n will v p
will v p

this is monotonic, the byron poem is not. your eyes rush through the lines because you employ the same construction repeatedly

is it just me or when you write a poem about animals does it automatically become more subtle, nuanced, impactful while flowing and rhyming better compared to your other poems? write a poem about the first animal you see today

The one who failed

Who all thinks about my failure? Many fret for own skin‘s allure.
Many fear if that’s my fate,
so cursed they no better may.
Others look in envy still, nothing good for me they will.
Still surrounded by all turbulence, alone I stand in turmoils eye. Looking sadly driving by.
And so I was and so I stay,
Far away from all that may,
One day bring me luck that my heart wants:
Sweet something.
Sweet something.
Sweet something beyond.
If I can just go on, I can still believe that something‘s on.
That something‘s on the table for me,
beyond all that work and blood and sweat.

>>17856683
First one is very comfy and nostalgic gives me a content feeling reminiscent of times where you could still go outside with groups of people

>>17862493
You make an effort and I don't - sorry. What you say is true. My example was poorly chosen. Here is a better one, I hope. Regardless of the examples, I agree with you: the poems are monotonous – and that is how I want them. Thank you anon for taking a sharp look and for reminding me of my errors.

>>17856683
Incredibly comfy, very nicely done. The ending seems almost a bit too lofty for the beginning, unless these are separate poems, in which case they're both very nice.
>>17856818
Reminds me of Christian Bök's Eunoia; despite his being prose, there's a speedy sort of rhythm to both. Similarly, they're both hard to read at points.
>>17860721
IDGI, but I also enjoyed reading it, it's a fun read but the meaning is lost on me; presumably it's about sex but Idk what a mummy-girl is.

Here's mine, first poem I've written in 5+ years.
>If love is a prison
>Should any man desire to be free?
>If to live is to suffer
>Should any man pursue painlessness?
>No, if these both be true
>Then man ought to delight in his dolors

>>17863857
I like this contemplative verse. You could recall it standing naked and semi-erect in a stream as you watch birds drinking from the edge of the shore rock and the water. I object to the use of the word dolors. It's kind of rasping. Like my use of the word rasping at the end of that last sentence.

>>17863820
I would like a setting, more scene. I can't get into that place where I can hear the flute and smell the wine, or see the boy for that matter. Would it ruin your work to give me a room, and a idea of the lighting. Not a novel worth of description, just a hint.

>>17863738
I fell asleep half way through. Which is good because the second half makes me want to go back to sleep.

>>17863221
>write a poem about the first animal you see today
My wife hates my love poetry.

>>17863899
Sad. What makes it bad?

>>17860721
Expand the mummy-girl idea.

>>17858286
It's the kind of poetry that gets printed on a t-shirt you give your mom for mother's day.

>>17863912
Has too many unnecessary things. The title, drop it. Get right into it. The repeated sweet somethings, one will do "Sweet something, beyond." Would work better than the triple phrase, and also a better title. The "if I can just go on line, is pretty bad, especially the last word being "on" again.

Apart from all that structural shit, the over all tone is too personal, hyper focused, I don't want to read a poem about you, I want to read a poem you wrote but it's somehow about me, or about everyman, or God, all of whom are me. Unless this is some kind of incel jesus on the cross poem. Because you nailed that.

>>17860782
The worst poem in this thread. Congratulations.

>>17857769
A-

>>17863940
Oh it was a poem about my girlfriend who is suffering from depression at the moment. So I guess I will take that as a compliment.

>>17856818
It's like a second grader wrote out all the words he knows, in no particular order.

>>17863962
Hope she gets better. Tighten up the poem and then paint it on a ceramic heart you decorate in the mall and then they glaze and fire it for you. Give that to her. My wife loves hand decorated things.

Asleep in quiet gardens
By twigs and ashen leaves
He dreams of autumn's longing
Of distant sounds and leaving.
So peaceful seems the garden
Within his heart of marble
As if the turning winter
Will join his peaceful yearning.

Morning at the Window
T. S. Eliot

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.

The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

Jet

Obsidian blackness of the sombre Night

Where dwell the shades of dark illusion;

And sullen Wings of evil flap about

In leaden, drooping Flight.

J Michaud

>>17865099
>black black dark black black
very chuuni, this reminds of a corpse husband song

What do you guys think about using thesaurus to help with rhymes? I always feel dishonest and can't shake the feeling that the poetry looses soul and feels forced.

>>17856683
I really enjoyed the imagery in this. Also the hopeful turn at the end had super comfy vibes.
Here's one of mine:

Though oft I tread the lonesome path
I sought my joy, my distant friends
Round the bank my feet would carry
My toilsome soul to restful ends.

In winter haunts I heard the monster
That sickles honey with his paw
Dipping his toes into a streamlet
And guzzling fishes with his maw.

Lonely he crept that hulking mass
'Cross fallen leaflets scattered all.
A shrill soughing reached my ear
Could I fail to hear the call

Of a silver wolf over the fen
Scamping up a pallid knoll
And owls hooting in the boughs
Each beast plucking at my soul?

Soon I found a warm enclosure
My feet weary, my eyes sore
Sitting at an oaken root
My head began to gently snore.

My friends, my friends they approach me
With open arms and blushing faces
They smile and sing and cheer and dance
They joke with wit and charming graces.

Lost in loving myrth I danced
To flute, harp, voice, and reeds
So long we spent in the cedar glade
Until I woke from a chilling breeze.

My rattling bones like twigs and branches
Sent shivers all o'er my skin
The birdies chirped upon the treetops
How I miss my singing kin.

Up I started to follow the stream
The waterflow my only guide
Along my way so many souls
Would come and go with tumbling tide.

Where are those who once I loved
Who once embraced me in cheery mood
Who once remembered all my cares
And succored me in solitude?

O lifeful path let me tarry
No more the way of empty care
Take me to eternal rest
And let me pay the boatman's fare!

>>17856723
Kino, will you post it when it’s complete?

>>17866070
post two of your poems (preferably similar), anon
one which you wrote with the help of a thesaurus and the other without
don't say which is which and have anons try to guess

Everything you see
Is your own
The train that passes you by
Is yours to keep
The burials of dogs
The shovels kept
As tokens of gratitude
There is no movement
Like leaves on a tree
When night falls
Distant lights grow
Cover your ears
There is no movement
Ready or not
Here it comes
Passing you by

I wrote this poem for a friend of mine who I haven’t seen him in ages, but suddenly passed away few days after we met...


Out of nowhere you came back

And ignited a banter on crack

And we drowned an old tale’s reminiscent

Though the memory wasn’t consistent

You shared your desire to match up with your future plan

Unbeknownst to you, death was plotting your demise to match with your God’s plan

And as we’ve taught scholistically
God’s plan ensues accordingly

And angels took your soul punctually

I hope it’s mercifully and swiftly

You’re an orphan in this world

InchaAllah you’ll lounge around with your parents in the everlasting next world.


My friend was an orphan and both his parents passed away before him.

Disclaimer; English isn’t my first language

A work in progress, any criticisms would be appreciated. I had to divide it since it had too many lines.

While walking in the park
one evening

A moment of hesitation
Stops you dead in your tracks
Inviting you for the recollection
Of that, which was left behind.

You look, and it vaguely resembles a phantom
With a white blanket involving his face.
He seems to be familiar with you,
And, strangely, he seems familiar too.

You stretch your arm with precaution,
That secrecy must be unveiled,
But as you have taken away his disguise,
With horror filling your eyes,
You find that distortion,
It’s all that awaits you under there.

In his face, a static appears
And almost a shape it resembles.
It looks like an image gets formed
Just to die and get muffled

But you know what it means
It’s an instant in the life that has passed
A moment gone by
Of your own relative youth.

You focus and see,
Something has to be there.
But no matter how you try
That memory comes out blank.
And now you dread this realization:
That whatever was lost,
Was lost to time.

Was his visage hiding the feeling
Of a long-lost lover’s kiss?
Or perhaps an instance of your mother tucking you to sleep?

Was it a bitter and painful last goodbye?
Or the image of your Mamma crying in her dreams?
It’s impossible to tell, all you know is
That he is a piece of the puzzle of your soul,
Which you now find amiss
And yet, while looking from afar
You seem complete.

Impotence overwhelms.
And sadness inundates.
For nothing remains to be done
When something from the heart is truly gone.

Still, the phantom clings with teeth and claws
It refuses to go away
It is violence he is enacting
And with his actions, all he tells
Is that he is afraid.

As it should be,
since perhaps starting from tomorrow
or the day after tomorrow
to the day before the last one
and a week after that
Its absence won’t be felt
For this death may be its final.
For this judgment was severe.
Marked by needles forgiveness.
And nothing but unjust revenge.
His penance?
Well... now the phantom disappears.

The phantom begs to be reformed,
With gnarly laments of pure and utter pain
And shakes in fear for what’s to come.
He knows the void awaits.
(1/2)

>>17867031

What a shameful act is to forget.
How ingrate is to abandon
That which made you who you are
Letting it rot alone in a pit of only dark
Where its existence turns inane.

While this reflection eats away your mind
A tiny butterfly decides to flutter by.
This makes your gaze fix on its path.
Which seems erratic as it flies.
Is something weighing the creature down?

All of the sudden, without anticipation,
The tiny butterfly raises to the sky!
All the heaviness in his efforts seems gone,
And the struggle dissipates.
Has the insect just forgot?

You behold how freely it’s moving now.
And, inspired by that flit,
That strangely puts your mind at ease,
you decide to keep on walking.
To keep on walking in the park.
(2/2)

The time is mine
A diamond in the sand
Anything I want

You know they say
Another day
We're born again

>>17863738
>>17864967
>>17865020
>>17866136
>>17866560
>>17866965
>>17867031
>>17867049
>>17867936
Rate others you faggots. No, a one sentence of just one other poem doesn't count.

>>17866965
Put a copy on his grave. Condolences to you, fren

>>17868133
>No, a one sentence of just one other poem doesn't count.
Sure it does