/lit/ - Literature

To get things started.

Midnight moon floats down the river,
Floats and whistles out of tune;
Twilight's fiddle gently quivers,
Morning joins with silver spoons.

Oh how lovely is the turning
Of the worldly country side,
When nature drunk and full of yearning
Pulls lonesome songbirds through the night.

>>18041445
faggot

>>18041445
God damn..
Is that yours?

>>18041227
Only ever write poetry while sanguine, never melancholic.

>>18041506
melancholy. it rhymes better.

>>18041445
shakespeared spell it nid't

>>18041227
yesterdae notta good day
don't when a comma nother good dae
today is not a good day
don't know when a comma nother good dae.
tommorrow not a gunna be a good day
don't know when a comma nother good dae

You know it babylon when you wish da sun away
You know it babylon when you wish da sun away

>>18041545
Ja smiling cause he know
Someday the clouds will go
Away dem clouds will blow
And you feel ja rey on your soul

>>18041545
This reads like the lyrics of a trip hop band. I like "You know it babylon when you wish da sun away". The rest is a bit repetitive without the music.

>>18041595
>trip hop
>not reggae or dancehall
batty man

>>18041595
Its okay, its terrible, I'm just too exhausted to write anything with any sort of emotional content. It all comes out as a scream.

Kill myself
in between
pieces of bread

Eat myself,
sloppy. My-
shirt's stained red

>>18041638
t. hogies heroes

A man in the early 19th century, standing in front of his lover's tomb one winter night, holding a torch light.

Wailing on the edge of winter
Late one night december moon
Fire flying up from ember
Burning bright but fading soon
Only stars and clouds of passage
Fill the vast and empty room
Of moon and stars and endless heaven –
Emptiness upon her freezing tomb.

>>18041640
good one

Là où se lève le soleil,
Et là où il se couche ;
Là où se courbe l’horizon,
Et là où il se cache ;
Au fond du charme d’un foyer,
Et dans le froid des rues ;
D’une main qui te caressait,
A celle qui écrit ;
Là où poussent des clématites,
Et là où on les chasse ;
Quand s’efface le blanc du monde
Mais que tu restes là,
Un peu partout, je t’aime là,
Et puis ici aussi.

>shitty translation

Where rises the sun,
And where it sets;
Where bows the horizon,
And where it hides;
In the depths of the charm of a home,
And in the cold of the streets;
From a hand that stroked you,
To the one that writes;
Where grow the clematis,
And where we hunt them;
When fade the white of the world
But you stay there,
Pretty much everywhere, I love you there,
And then here too.

Quick poem inspired by a graffiti I saw in the street.
>>18041445
Several people seem to think it's not yours. I have no idea but I think it's very good too. If it's not yours, could you tell us who wrote that? If it's yours, good job.
>>18041506
"Do not write poems on the barricades" Pierre Reverdy
>>18042343
Not sure how we're supposed to read the first line. If it's not part of the poem, get rid of it. If it's part of the poem, it could be better. The rest of the poem is kind of filled with cliches, and though the intention is noble, the reader gains nothing from reading your poem.

>>18041227
I’d really love to make a tapestry, detailed in gold,

I’d love to carve a statue, chiseled clean and bold,

Making things is special, this little monkey knows,

Making this is the only way a little monkey grows.


The monkey wants to create some beauty,

To fulfil a primal duty, creating as he goes,

But it is not easy, upstream the monkey rows,

The boat shaking as he goes, imperfect,

Full of holes.


But the paddling gets easier, the boat

Travels faster, against the water monkey plows.

Until this monkey realises, he’s rowing in canals.


>Gonna rate in a few mins

I'm a cop
To it

I don't kill
But I should

Clean
The hood

Of my car
Almost to far

For my hose
Who knows


>>18041445
A little hack but ok.
>>18041545
?/10
>>18041570
kinda fun
>>18041638
Its good. Like the style. But I would space it out like this.

>Eat myself,
>Sloppy

>My
>shirt stained red
>>18042670
A French language board would be able to give you better feedback. Unless you write in English only.
>>18042769
Its good. Could be tightened up a bit.

Biggest yacht
In the bay
That's what they say

Sink or sail
Rain or hail

Its floats

Underwater credit

All
That

Be
That

BS
Yes

There is a word
For this
Gnawing feeling
I can find it
If I dig my
flesh

This is my first poem anons be brutal:

And the sun sets on Babylon,
Enveloping, the children of the night.

And the men shriek
Oh Lord; where is our Christ?

But the sun does not rise,
And in the twilight shines the dark all-seeing eyes

That whore,
That bringer of abomination,
Babylon crumbles and consumes itself in perpetual innovation

Where is our angel with key in hand?
Our Lord has gone; but the terrible emanations remain in this blighted land.

To Arms

What have we here in this poetry thread?
Seems like anons sharing what comes from their heads.
To be blunt, let me put forth a test:
combat me with verse to see whose the best.
Under stress I impress with diction precise,
but the rest, I suggest, is fiction and vice
because I have chops and my petulant spice
has moistened a garter but once or twice.
I came prepared with a sampler pack,
a hodgepodge of words just drawn from a hat.
If you think you could crack my smug iron mug,
bring forth your best; I've your mother to fug.

>>18043232
I propose we do battle,
To put an end to your rattle.

Your literary trickery,
Has simply no effect on me!

I notice your fine diction,
Which holds the threat of conniption,

But I reply with my own attack,
To suddenly stump this quack!

Now I narrate from my packet:
OP is, quite clearly, a faggot.

>>18043128
>>18042343
>>18041638
>>18041570
>>18041545
>>18043137
Post and RATE
The thread dies if you don't
So if you have posted.
Rate others.

>>18043057
I like the effect you create with the spacing, it's great. also "too" not "to"

I want to get into poetry. It never clicked with me, and I feel that it's either because I'm somewhat stunted, or maybe it's not reading much poetry that left me stunted in the first place. Is there a way I should approach it?

>>18043502
It all dies
If you don't
Rate

So do it
Or seal
The threads fate

Of 404
Not found

Yes I am
Tightly wound
Indeed

A rate on my poem
Is what I need

>>18043547
The best way to get into poetry is to read some and then try your hand at writing it. It's like jazz; nobody learns to appreciate it just by listening, you need to play it yourself to get the feel of it

Oh, you got me anon!
I'm a doomer, I'm a zoomer,
and most of all a coomer.
Don't you think I know how bad I am?
Gentlemen, I will concede your accusation
That I'm not truly a man,
Or that I'm one too greatly taken with sensation.

To society I'm a tumor; to the businesses a consumer.

And if there's one message I ought to spread on /lit/
It is that in order not to be a prick,
(and I say this truly with no hate)
It's imperative not to masturbate!

Now what?
You see it in a dream.
How space is empty..
Vacuum clean.
Rows of trees.
Eyes in shade..
Tired gleaning..
Bad habits made.
Let me down.. I'll find it still.
Crystal creek on sandstone hill. .
Whispers of laughter from the well..
Too far away to hear them yell.
Now what you? I'm sure blue.
I'm just stuck here on this shelf
I'm sick I'm broken in anger
.. I want to kill myself..

Good bye

Part of a rap verse i wrote in 2014-2015 cant remember

Yeah, I got bitches by the catalogue playing leapfrog
Butt-naked in the livin' room, look like Reese Witherspoon (Real fine classic bitch)
What's up? I'm bumping Dean Martin Christmas tunes
Every time I open up my email see another million (I'm rich)
That bitch wanna suck my dick then she better floss
Clean them teeth for a boss, Randy Moss
Diamonds on my cross, swear to God I'm a God though
I don't mean no blasphemy, Jesus eat at Applebee's
I'm with my bitch in the bed watching Game of Thrones
Waiting 'til Khaleesi's dragon's big enough to take control
Rich as Vince MacMahon, your bitch look like Triple H
Keep that pussy on lock, put it in a safe

>>18043502
don't worry i'll rate

>>18043128
terrible, less functional than an aphorism

>>18043137
why did you go for couplets but shove a random tercet there? pick a better topic, your religious musings aren't very interesting

>>18042343
there's no emotion, though you clearly want there to be. you have a bunch of descriptions with cliche imagery and then you end on the only mention of the subject of misery. it's more like a beginning to a poem than a full one.

>>18043521
>also "too" not "to"
My bad. I'm glad you liked it though. I corrected the mistake.

bump

>>18041445
This is actually quite pleasant -- better than 99% of the rhyming verse I've seen here on /lit/. Sadly I have no critique for something I enjoy this much.

>>18041545
>>18041570
This is actually good. Needs a good syncopated beat in the background with chanted vocals.

>>18041638
Love this. Only critique is that 'kill myself' has lost its sting. I would revise it to something that REALLY evokes the idea of blowing your brains out...something jarring.

>>18042343
You fuck up the rhythm in some places, and not in a good way. Makes what would otherwise be an enjoyable read a bit wonky, lopsided.

>>18042670
I will refrain from critiquing this as I do not understand French and I do not trust translations.

>>18042769
So conventional it comes off a bit amatureish, since your prosody skills don't make up for it, in my opinion. You should think more outside the box. Experiment, get a better feel for the medium -- then return to verse.

>>18043057
This just reminds me of that Eminem Trump diss.

that's an
awfully hot
coffee pot

>>18043064
Literally what the fuck is this. That being said, enjoyed it.

>>18043078
Nice, short and simple, with a cute little rhythm and end rhyme.

>>18043128
This is good, but your imagery is lacking. 'Gnawing feeling' is idiomatic, and it comes off as lazy rather than evocative. "If I dig my / flesh" is good but "flesh" is a bit weak on its own, comes off a bit too 'edgy' and not in a good way -- I would revise for something more bodily, more familiar. It would juxtapose better with the act of digging, and perhaps make it even more abject.

>>18043137
This is good for a beginner. I can see you are tasting the words, seeing how they feel in your mouth and on your tongue. I think you should go with a stricter meter, you would probably find it rich and rewarding, though it is hard work for a beginner to start working with stresses. Here's a quick tip -- shorter, punchier words are better than longer, more flowery words. "Emanations" is a cool word, but "overflowing" (what emanation means in Greek) is more evocative, it is richer precisely because it is more familiar.

>>18044118
The stop-and-go rhythm actually works in your favor here, though I'm not sure you intended it to work that way. "I'm stuck here on this shelf" is a particularly interesting line.

Here's a couple of stanzas I wrote earlier.

peering things

like the patina

of earthy dust on gold

perched above

a bit of cloth
peering things

rich, lavish

harsh, ashy

lovely

like the swarthy buds of

wild mota

that grow so thick

in the carcass of riverbeds

>>18044138
Sick verse dude. Honestly you sound like a rapper I just found

>>18045604
You're messing with me but its okay not good idyu but thanks

Silver plates and crystal carafes,
Naked bodies, candles, song;
Forty beings, soft and bursting,
Eating, fucking all night long.
Drooping guts smear shaking mirrors,
Asses spread on hairy lips,
Piss and shit in tilting goblets
Washes over boyish tits.
...I'm just a bump

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.

>>18044138
This is actually really great. People will remember it when you've died.

>>18041445
One critique to do with the form: I feel like for closure the last line should return to the headlessness of the ones preceding the penultimate one. Feels wrong as it is. That’s all for now

a stripe hangs wan and red across horizon's bottom blue.
two women sit on wooden blocks beneath a naked pine.
they softly talk, tentatively, and hold each other oh so tight.
at the chicken coop, one man stands and smokes cigars.
gray puffs waft in lantern light.
dead his eyes, except what light they mirror,
his crotch hangs stiff and fondled by a glove.
poor dog, buried your bone and forgot.
now you lie on kitchen's dirty floor of tiles.
what smells! but not for you, stupid dog.
the fleas tickle your asshole but your mother is christian.
a booklet lies open on the nightstand and says:
i am made of trees and dinosaur blood,
but that is no reason to treat me like this,
no reason at all.

>>18041227
So it is destined that the spaceship orbits around mans hubris until it glides into the sea
where a ritualistic rebirthing must take place
For the branching choices and decisions Fate presents unravel in curious coils with the wind
eternally pushing pulling whispering raging
all according to the mimes act
Entombed in a manhole poured over with concrete
the remains of an invisible city enclosed by gold gates for which every man holds a key
Forgotten has he the knowledge to pluck it from his own bosom
To crack away at the particles that bind and isolate
To trudge through the fowl and terrible decay
Catching a glimpse of the light through the thick window to which we owe our gratuitous fantasies
Bloody hands rise to lift stone after stone
Rebuild the rebirthed man, fallen with mercy before her death eyes

>>18041227
What boy holds you and touches skin, so soft?
His slender body soothed with fragrant oils,
Desires command, and raising him aloft.
You thank the rose wall, a grotto loyal
For love that spurs you yellow hair in weaves
So simply neat! you blow a breeze from lips
Inlaid with red that finds his love in heaves,
Now gently raising, falling, all in ships
Of real infatuation, daring gods
To send the violent wind and wrathful waves
To make him weep at finding love in odds.
Illusion hides this fate from him and slaves
Before the slender boy kept in your gale.

Death!
Plop.
The barges down in the river flop.
Flop, plop.
Above, beneath.
From the slimy branches the grey drips drop,
As they scraggle black on the thin grey sky,
Where the black cloud rack-hackles drizzle and fly
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop
On the black scrag piles, where the loose cords plop,
As the raw wind whines in the thin tree-top.
Plop, plop.
And scudding by
The boatmen call out hoy! and hey!
All is running water and sky,
And my head shrieks – ‘Stop,’
And my heart shrieks – ‘Die.’

My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them – and fled
They all are every one! – and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
And dizzy me dead.
I might reel and drop.
Plop.
Dead.

And the shrill wind whines in the thin tree-top
Flop, plop.

A curse on him.
Ugh! yet I knew – I knew –
If a woman is false can a friend be true?
It was only a lie from beginning to end –
My Devil – My ‘Friend’
I had trusted the whole of my living to!
Ugh; and I knew!
Ugh!
So what do I care,
And my head is empty as air –
I can do,
I can dare,
(Plop, plop
The barges flop
Drip drop.)
I can dare! I can dare!
And let myself all run away with my head
And stop.
Drop.
Dead.
Plop, flop.

Plop.

>>18043856
Society wants consumer coomers therefore to society you are a groover

>>18041227
Any anons willing to critique the following poem?

Of elegance and grace, you near,
Beaming light ‘fore my widening
Eyes, as the dawn, you are rising
‘oer the amber horizon clear

Beholden I, then your spirit turns,
Sol’s rays, so reverend and strong,
Engorges my heart with splendor burns,
Devout, lose not my sight for long

Held in place by your portrait gaze,
Coalesced drops of solar dew,
Gold flecked eyes light and set ablaze
My long-forgotten hearth anew.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,
and I will pledge with mine.”

>>18048918
>Where the black cloud rack-hackles drizzle and fly
flow broken, remove a syllable.
In general, love the pacing and rhythm.

>>18048264
>with fragrant oils,
Why not make it singular?
>kept in your gale.
awkward ending. Really good imagery all throughout.

>>18048183
You can trim a lot of this to make it read better, ie.
>So it is destined that the spaceship orbits around mans hubris until it glides into the sea
where a ritualistic rebirthing must take place
You have a good draft of a poem, but there is no musicality, and the aesthetics is bogged down by its bloat.

>>18048168
fun read. I enjoyed this a lot.


Any anons willing to critique the following poem?

Of elegance and grace, you near,
Beaming light ‘fore my widening
Eyes, as the dawn, you are rising
‘oer the amber horizon clear

Beholden I, then your spirit turns,
Sol’s rays, so reverend and strong,
Engorges my heart with splendor burns,
Devout, lose not my sight for long

Held in place by your portrait gaze,
Coalesced drops of solar dew,
Gold flecked eyes light and set ablaze
My long-forgotten hearth anew.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,
and I will pledge with mine.”

>>18041445
Gay.
>>18041545
>>18041570
Nigger.
>>18041638
Funny.
>>18042343
Lovely.
>>18042670
Very nice.
>>18042769
Disgusting doggerel. Kill yourself, retard.
>>18043057
Too political.
>>18043064
Lame.
>>18043078
2/10
>>18043128
Meh.
>>18043137
Nice.
>>18043232
Funny.
>>18043366
Doggerel. Try harder.
>>18043547
Think of it as a song without music.
>>18043577
3/10
>>18043856
Terrible. Like something Eminem would shit out.
>>18044118
Edgy teen
>>18044138
Couldn't even finish this one.
>>18045604
Like something Rupi Kaur would shit out.
>>18046521
>>18047709
Degenerate
>>18048168
"The fleas tickle your asshole"
>>18048183
No.
>>18048264
Kind of homoerotic. Okay.
>>18048918
Too much onomotoepia.
>>18050192
Nabokov-esque

>>18050768
Ty for the criticism
Except not really

>>18041227
This is my poem. Now rate it.

A soul within me, not just mine,

a little soul in that boundless world,

was growing, fed by the joy

.

of one who loves, though his love is unrequited.

And everything filled with light because of this love.

It was perhaps still a young boy's heroic love,

.

and yet matured by experience

born at the foot of history.

I was in the center of the world, in that

world of sad Bedouin slum towns

and yellow prairies chafed

by a relentless wind
from the warm sea of Fiumicino

or the countryside, where the city

disintegrated among hovels, in that world

which could be dominated only by

the penitentiary, square ocher

specter in the ocher haze,

pierced by a thousand identical

rows of barred windows, amid

ancient fields and drowsy farmhouses.

Dust and trash blindly

lofted by the light wind,

the poor echoless voices

of humble women, emigrants from the Sabine

hills or the Adriatic,

camping here with swarms of tough
malnourished shrieking kids

in ragged undershirts

and faded grey shorts

in the African sunlight and the agitated rains

that made streets muddy torrents,

buses mired at the end

of the line, at a corner formed by

a last bleached grass-streak

and some fermenting garbage heap ..

this was the center of the world,

as my love for it was at

the center of history: and in this
maturity only then beginning, there was

love nonetheless; everything was

about to become clear -- in fact, everything

.

was clear!

>>18050768
It's not homoerotic, its written for a woman, from the perspective of a recurrent, but at the moment lost lover.

>>18051120
I will let you in on a secret, women do not care about men at all. They do not care about their emotions or mental well being. If you had made it entirely sexual it would have been more believable.

>>18051142
What does your "secret knowledge" pertain to? I am just the creator of the poem, not the the perspective voice. This woman, or any women, can feel however, but the poem's narrator details the romance in his own way. Get off your high horse you dum dum

>>18051228
Women don't care about you and never did. If your face was mutulated tomorrow in a car accident and your testicles and penis crushed would a woman be by your side even after that? Well would she?

>>18051239
ok very cool!

>he complains even about good doggerel verse
Honestly, if the word didn't have "dog" in it and had a nicer animal like "cow" or "goose" you guys wouldn't invoke the name "doggerel" so often. It's more descriptive than pejorative when you think about it

>>18051372
>Honestly, if the word didn't have "dog" in it and had a nicer animal like "cow" or "goose" you guys wouldn't invoke the name "doggerel" so often
but that's what gives it the connotation lol, that's the point of the word.

>>18050768
ew

>>18051239
Man, shut the fuckcicle up. You can keep the trip, but take your own name

>>18051493
But I do have my own name. You are the one impostering me.

>>18051493
If men did not have sex to give then women would not kiss up to them so much. That is my point. Every man on Earth should go abstinent until women can prove they are worth it.

>>18051615
Go abstinent. Hold your collective breath for 80+ years

>>18051651
I am clearly exaggerating but that aspie woman would never even think about apologizing for her past rude behavior if she did not want to sleep with me. None of them would. Should I be okay with that..

They come sucking up to me but don't want to actually apologize just pretend it didn't happen...

Please God there cannot be two of them

Soprano saxophones hiding in the trees
A cool breeze down by the quarry where they break rocks, break rocks
Then they go to lunch and say break rocks

A place where we walk uphill and construction never stops

The old ladies trip but never fall so I never stop to ask if they're okay
And the owl poses the same question I ask myself every day


I went down to the railroad tracks and I kicked rocks, kicked rocks and I danced and I cried happy tears grimacing along with the pigs and birds and those to whom it may concern

Every earned check, learned lesson, left turn and stone left unturned

Close calls and empty lighters among other debris littering the streets

>>18042670
>And here again, too

>>18043137
>The sun sets ...
>...Lord: where... [consider: your Son?]
>That [Mother] of; or [That abomination of desolation]
>... angel[,] key in hand
>has gone, but
>His terrible emanations [still] blight the land
Images good, pare it down for efficiency

>>18043232
>fireball and mullet
>they are anachronisms
>2021?

>>18051120
>It's not homoerotic, its written for a woman,
Simp

>>18052614
Nice

Forging imaginary landscapes
Beneath waters of plague
Atop altars of scourge and affliction
Between transitory dimensions
Built by sonic slaves
Reincarnate

Feel the conquest and nourishment
Of your incorporeal vessel
Your ego is convulsing
Shatter and devour yourself
Recognize your duplicity
Dissociate

Further isolate in static
Capture the wavelengths transmitted
Signals barred by feedback
Shower resonant divinity
Through the skull, beneath the flesh
Rupture organs, sunder spinal discs
Frame of existence
Terminate

>>18041445
Faggy whimsical shit
>>18047709
Zappa-esque masterpiece
>>18051445
Commendable

>>18052704
Reads like a instruction manual. Connect the tube to the T-piece. Attach the carrying handle underneath the tray. My poetic nerves remained untickled, except for "Shower resonant divinity / Through the skull". Don't ask me what "waters of plague" are supposed to be.

>>18053010
>Reads like a instruction manual
Well, yeah, it's in second person.
>Don't ask me what "waters of plague" are supposed to be
Seems pretty self-explanatory to me

>>18053070
>Seems pretty self-explanatory to me
I'm glad that atleast one of us gets it.

When i die and
my corpse becomes the earth,
in what way will my mind disperse?

>>18053399
Your mind is an electric glow.
Death shatters then the fragile bulb –
The filament sinks down in wormy pulp.

>>18053419
Take my remains to the sea, and the mountain's head.
Those are where i want them spread.
Take my soul in your heart, and my mind in your own
and give a piece to everyone you know.

Insipid yellow light that aches upon the eye,
Curtains drawn fast against the sunlit sky,
Crust, crumbs, and shavings of tobacco littering,
The floor, and just outside the window, chittering,
Chattering, the neighbours sillhoutte, how I hate that boar,
One day to leave this place behind, awaiting celibratory roar,
But in this momenent, before me is no end in sight,
I must await the future for an ending to this plight,
Knuckles turn white, the seething in my soul,
Generic pop I hear too loud, music for an undeveloped fowl,
My reliquary compromised, by the crass and shallow,
Croonings of a the commercial, nothing left hallow,
And if I do not escape this place, trapped forever,
Know my soul was never here, not once, not ever.


(If I never edit I can just tell my it wasn't complete if people don't like it - aha)
>>18052614
I think rhythm needs improvement, there are moments it is present and moments it seems to completely dissapear - it wasn't always nice to read outloud

>>18052704
The langauge of the opening stanza was too edgy for me, plagues, aflliction and sonic slaves filters me to some extent.
Rest quite nice, but the poem needs to flow better as well. When reading aloud it's hard to poinpoint the rhythm.

>>18053399
>>18053419
>>18053491
I really liked this, but in one post next time bozo.
Only thing I'd say is to maybe change the second verse a little to it rhymes better. It slows down the poem a bit.

>>18053566

>>18053616
oh my

Well no wonder the second one felt so unrelated

Philosophy is much like choosing furnature,
The overture a choice, like a painting,
on the wall, choosing that which fits the house,
A problem oft espoused, what if no picture,
contains the aperture, to illuminate the self,
No matter ones wealth, perhaps money cannot buy,
A tender peace inside, what if I am destined to be,
Undecorated.


>>18052704
Very violent imagery for what should be a peaceful process - but I do like it. Although it could flow better.

>>18052614
I like it, and I can see the imagery - but the intention behind the poem is lost on me

>>18050937
Pretentious, it seems like you are trying to write about feelings you have never had and experiences you have never felt.

>>18053491
Look at the cows in the meadow:
They rub their heads together,
The way that lovers do –
And moo.

Time turns them into milk,
Meat and leather –
And so will it do
To you.

We rub our heads together,
And think we know us well –
We're only rubbing leather.

And look at the grave in the meadow:
They burried an empty shell –
And kept the shadow.

>>18041227
Young beauty of the West
I am not in touch with your traditions
The proof is in this flower and in this touch
I give to this golden-ornamented head of yours
I am in another place, I see you but but not
The culture that imbues and animates you
I am so very distant from you, especially
When I am closest to you, touching your head
As I would if I were truly to go acourting you
The gesture of this flower and this touch
Is symbol of itself, of true desires & imaginings
It is temporary expression of a permanent
Undertaking I would embark on
The wooing and courting and making love
To you in the old fashioned Victorian sense
I would wait a couple of years to let
Your beauty reach its childish plenitude
All the while obsessing over you
Keeping a wary eye for rival suitors
Hitting to your father in my respectable
Interest in you, and of the money I
Have saved up for the connubial house
I am building for, dare I tell him, Us?
Your childish golden beauty has won
Me, it dominates and overpowers me
And causes me, man that I am, to
Pursue it in turn so that I come to
Dominate and own it turn, and
I satiety and satisfaction finally
Be done with this sickness the
English call 'primrose love'

>>18041227

Young beauty of the West
I am not in touch with your traditions
The proof is in this flower and in this touch
I give to this golden-ornamented head of yours
I am in another place, I see you but not
The culture that imbues and animates you
I am so very distant from you, especially
When I am closest to you, touching your head
As I would if I were truly to go acourting you
The gesture of this flower and this touch
Is symbol of itself, of true desires & imaginings
It is temporary expression of a permanent
Undertaking I would embark on
The wooing and courting and making love
To you in the old fashioned Victorian sense
I would wait a couple of years to let
Your beauty reach its childish plenitude
All the while obsessing over you
Keeping a wary eye for rival suitors
Hinting to your father of my respectable
Interest in you, and of the money I
Have saved up for the connubial house
I am building for, dare I tell him, Us?
Your childish golden beauty has won
Me, it dominates and overpowers me
And causes me, man that I am, to
Pursue it in turn so that I come to
Dominate and own it in turn, and
So in satiety and satisfaction finally
Be done with this sickness the
Poets call 'primrose love'

>>18052614
Lame
>>18052704
Lyrics to a Cannibal Corpse song.
>>18053399
>>18053419
>>18053491
Decent
>>18053566
Edgy teen
>>18053854
Okay
>>18054098
Funny
>>18054343
Smashed together from a thesaurus

>>18054612
Are you really so dumb that you thought there was one word in that poem that needed to be mined in a thesaurus?

Fumes of nightshade

when the day is darker than any night,
its pale light covered by a corpse coldness
and the flowers seem a cancerous blight


the power of strength dies in that darkness,
your fear becomes a many eyed spider
who wraps your brain in his webs of stillness

i am become a black horse, my rider
is named dark desire and bitterness,
daily do I taste his whip of hunger.

I am lost, roaming in a wilderness
accursed by the twofold tongue of twilight,
frostbit but burnt by flame like a furnace

blinded, but I am filled with a false sight.
faces of the trees laugh and lift their hands,
why do they strike at me with all their might?

oh serpent who empties her venom glands
and lays her ebony eggs in my ear
which hatch as lying whispers which commands

“you are nothing, return yourself to not
and everything lies and dies back to naught
nothing remains when you unbind the knot”

fumes of nightshade fumigate my each thought
I am gone, phlegm has robbed me of my breath
I am suffering’s slave, I have been bought.

by fear to be wed to his daughter, Death.
yet dainty are the black fingers of Death
and sweetest is her kiss, the kiss of Death

>>18054639
To be fair, your poem is an old hiking stick: a piece of wood nailed shut with crooked copper plaques. Nothing is easier than writing "golden-ornamented" instead of blonde. The fault is not in the system you are using, but in your application: it's stale.

>>18054756
Totally went over your head, didn't it? There's even a picture accompanying it, of the "writer." A proletariat Indian immigrant in twenty first century Florence.

>>18054907
>I'm only pretending to be retarded

>>18054920
Like you literally can't read the poem: "Young beauty of the West
I am not in touch with your traditions..."

>>18054612

"If you're a straight white male, ok. You can shut the fuck up, ok. Know what I'm sayne!"

https://youtu.be/tr8ShDbnpaA

>>18055326
Ah, I get it now. Let me rephrase my critique: The poem of the indian prole is an old hiking stick...

What does /lit think of the poetry of Leonard Cohen?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D97OxHZzBeQ

Bump

I wrote this while working at a Foundry.
-Wasteland.


I hate this place.
where metal turns to dust
and flesh to stone
Where discarded memories run off
and wild flowers bloom
forcing their fragile bodies
out of the poisoned ground
blind to the filth of human kindness

I hate this place.
where wild things pass thru from time to time
sharp things that want to hurt me too
i pay them all my mind
a welcome sight for dry eyes

i hate this place.
with dirty hands i catch myself
pleading, cursing, wishing silently
my hopes and dreams muffled
under the sound of burning
and the whirring of spinning blades

i hate this place
this hole where I come to waste my time
this place where I slowly come to die
and with heavy lungs i watch
as pieces of me get lost
amid the piles of rust and ash
swept away with the rest

i hate this place

I sucked the shit out of her ass
And I didn't even smell the gas
Fuck shit eat
I'm like a pig
Except I don't eat meat
My cock looks big
I'm a big beefy Man
Stand there little girl
while I fuck you on my command
You are my one true pearl

Hellishly walked across the frozen waste, my brother and I
Looking towards the white death stillness, my brother and I
Halted in tracks, feeling only the warm iron taste, my brother and I
Lobbed a challenge to the great emptiness, my brother and I

Demanding to witness the form of the formless, my brother
Danced in the great white nothing, still and stormless, and I
Gazed upon the formation of frozen pillars around my brother
Gleaming tips lit by the setting sun betwixt the astound him and I

>>18043064
only good one in the thread, you guys are tryhards, chill out

Big dig nigga named david james,
come round ya and calls ya names,
big dicks in your booty it aint frooty
tooty best believe we playing call of
booty

>>18057716
It's kinda hard not to be a tryhard, especially if you are trying to "express yourself" in someway.

>>18057716
>only good one in the thread
Why?

MOOD, ENVIRONMENT INFLUENCED, WE BLOSSOM
GUIDED BY LIGHT,
COLORS, FREQUENTCY,(WAVES) THE QUANTUM
COLORS DEFINE US
COLORS FROM THE SKY
WE ARE THE LIGHT
THE SUN


i DONT RIGHT

>>18041227
An ass that with enchantment fairly glows
Her mountains palely front a bushy morn
Around whose cleft a mohawk has been shorn
Accenting wet and quivering lips of rose,
Despite the whoring past that plainly shows
Upon her vulva blasted-out and worn,
My passion's fire is nonetheless upborne
By inhumanely slamfucking such hoes.

Betwixt their mountains, ramming in my ire,
While screams erupt with every violent smash
Though well I know such passions shall not last
With each bitch, hoe or slut I would aspire
To unrestrainedly hammer down her gash
Then melt upon the mountainously assed.

i don't believe trannies are insane, but
wanting the dick off of your body cut
does make you sound like a demented nut

>>18059272
The testicles removed with a sharp knife,
this wound is draining blood leading to my strife,
Too masculine in frame I will never be a wife,
the only option a gun to prematurely end my life.

>>18059314
I wish the real butterfly would post poetry in this thread

>>18059318
I am the real Butterfly.

>>18059314

>>18059318
I once tried to make one using spoonerisms
Is there any poems like. That already?

Oy vey, why does no one believe anymore
That gas can't leak out of a wooden door?
Why must they put things under a microscope
And no longer trust tales of lampshades and soap?
These goyim nowadays, they question, they heckle,
And they hinder a merchant who just wants a shekel.
They scoff at the six gorillion while rhyming -
By the way, goy, can I sell you a diamond?

I look up from the ground to see your sad and teary eyes
You look away from me and I see
There's something you're trying to hide
And I reach for your hand but it's cold, you pull away again
And I wonder what's on your mind
And then you say to me you made a dumb mistake
You start to tremble and your voice begins to break
You say the cigarettes on the counter weren't your friend's
They were my mate's
And I feel the color draining from my face
And my friend said
I know you love her, but it's over, mate
It doesn't matter, put the phone away
It's never easy to walk away, let her go
It'll be alright
So I asked to look back at all the messages you'd sent
And I know it wasn't right, but it was fucking with my head
And everything deleted like the past, yea it was gone
And when I touched your face, I could tell you're moving on
But it's not the fact that you kissed him yesterday
It's the feeling of betrayal, that I just can't seem to shake
And everything I know tells me that I should walk away
But I just want to stay
And my friend said
I know you love her, but it's over, mate
It doesn't matter, put the phone away
It's never easy to walk away, let her go
It'll be okay
It's gonna hurt for a bit of time
So bottoms up, let's forget tonight
You'll find another and you'll be just fine
Let her go
But nothing heals
The past like time
And they can't steal
The love you're born to find
But nothing heals
The past like time
And they can't steal
The love you're born to find
I know you love her, but it's over, mate
It doesn't matter, put the phone away
It's never easy to walk away, let her go
It'll be okay
It's gonna hurt for a bit of time
So bottoms up, let's forget tonight
You'll find another and you'll be just fine
Let her go
It'll be alright

>>18059336
Butterfly, you'll never be as pretty as her. Even in your prime, you were less than her right shoulder, and now, everyday, you age more and more ugly.

>>18060193
Best poem here. Congratulations.

>>18053566

the first and third were me, the 2nd someone else replying to the first, and the 3rd was a reply to theirs
>>18053491
>>18053399

>>18058237
not true
>>18058290
it's more fit for the medium imo, its 4chan, i don't expect to read a long pretentious poem about someone's feelings, this is more of a bite sized thing that doesn't overstay it's welcome and is recognizable, if you can't write short poetry then you probably can't write long poetry either

>>18061319
>it's more fit for the medium imo, its 4chan, i don't expect to read a long pretentious poem about someone's feelings, this is more of a bite sized thing that doesn't overstay it's welcome and is recognizable
I see.
I wrote these as well.
>>18043057
>>18043078
>>18043577
>>18051445
What does the boat poem have that these don't. None of them are long or hard to understand. What did I do right? What are the other poems lacking?

Eat
Enough
Chicken
And
You'll
Become
One

>>18061497
they're funny but too memey, the boat one is funny but also vague enough that you could ascribe more meaning to it than just "its a lit meme", also i like the more irregular division of the verses

>>18061860
>they're funny but too memey, the boat one is funny but also vague enough that you could ascribe more meaning to it than just "its a lit meme"
I see. Does this reworking of the cop poem make it less "memey"?

I'm a cop to it

I don't kill
But I should

Clean the hood

>>18061860
to be more precise cause im bored, the division in 3-2-1-1 has a more natural flow to it while still not looking too irregular, as for the meaning maybe it wasnt even intentional but thats the beauty of it, it could be seen as a poem about someone who has a lot of money, more than the people around him, but doesnt really care for that money, its just there, and the ending verse might be seen as this money actually "not floating" and being underwater, so kind of the triansience of physical possessions, and on the other side i find it funny to also think of "credit" as like "street cred" so the only cred you have is among fishes cuz it sank
also dont know if "its floats" is a mistake or intentional, but i would use proper grammar in a poem

>>18061930
eh idk, the subject matter makes it kind of a /pol/ meme by default, it could still be funny in a good way. i do like that kind of division more, but i also liked the fact that "the hood" was that of the car, it kind of subverts expectations, but you could re-subvert them again by implying that the hood is dirty because of running criminals over in the hood or something idk just shooting shit at the wall

>>18061950
by "that kind of division" i meant the new connected one btw
also forgot that "rain or hail" is at least a bit poetic as a verse so it kinda adds to it, while still not being tryhard

>>18061932
>its floats
Its a mistake and a stupid one at that.
Thanks for letting me know.

bump

>>18064114
You don't need to bump threads on this board

Hi /lit/ here's my poem that I worked very hard on.
I appreciate any input or suggestions, thanks

Bro, do me a solid:
Shut up, eat a dick,
Go sit on a bollard
You make me feel sick
Stop being a dumbshit
That's why you're reviled,
Your parents were unfit
To raise their own child.
Back then in their backyard
If I'd been their friend
I'd say, "give that fagtard
his much deserved end."
'Cause now we're stuck with you,
You gay laughingstock.
I just want to hit you,
Go choke on a cock.

>>18065604
I do not like the perverse imagery. The male member goes against my lesbian anarchist lifestyle.

I’m agressively focus tested
Full of the funny words that have already been pre selected
My Pitch perfect form is a sounding call horn for the bastard modernity x
Screeching and horny
Turn the phrase, aloof and turn the page,
Late nite self hate but on the right side,
No proof of God but goodness will still arrive, as long as the fashion police are paid their due overtime for keeping the score online

Scorn online is business as usual when everything’s fine is the proper line, and everything’s porn when you squint your eyes, and everything closing at 9, never 10, never been the kind to find heaven as a place, I think maybe heaven is a time;
Heaven is a time and hell is a race,
Purgatory’s empty space
Multiplying endless face
Personality cut and paste
Reality lay waste in casein
Vegan protein shake, it’s moral
It’s just. It’s right. No problems,
No blemish, no stepping on toes
No finger proof gaslight
No art, just dogma, just purpose,
Just come together, just get back,
No Lucy in the sky just 10 dollar sacks,
Just grocery store pulls at the fizzy lifting station rack, big vacant eyes flying under a heart attack, or the slow ticking clock growing wider in step and the staircase gets steeper as deeper we let ourselves go in the depths of grinding our teeth in our sleep, wondering if life is a cheat, if death is like sweat soaked sheets, if brain is a fact or a myth, if anything comes after this...

>>18065604
I do not like that perverse imagery. The male member goes against my lesbian anarchist lifestyle.

Here's a hymn to Apollo that I threw together in my spare time, the rhyme scheme is mixed:

Hearken my words, o fair healer
sprung from queen Leto's seeds
In thy name, o blessed revealer
I'll sing your praise and deeds
The barren land that bore your birth,
where your abode resides
now bristles with proud mirth,
kissed by its graceful tides
Delphian God, great giver of life,
Of thy effulgence Earth be rife!
Be my torch, herald of the day
And shine upon my winding way
The warbling of crows prize thy youth
as the first morning's gleams
descry the skies of truth
and wake mankind from guileful dreams
O, far-shooting Phoebus, child
of almighty Jove who slayed
The vile Titans in wars so wild,
grant me your divine aid!
For naught but thee, eternal blaze
that shines above the ground,
Love's lush buds sprout all the year round,
Under thy sheen, the ewes graze,
and men at thy bright carriage gaze
as your beams Night confound
Golden Loxias, fend off my fright,
pierce the black veil of doubt
with thy dazzling rays of light
that put dark hazes to rout!

>>18041227
I thought I did I thought I didn't
I didn't eye the I I did
I hide myself, hide is not hidden
I hide myself where hidden's hid

COPIMPS

Bird and Twacked Bob were partners in a pimping operation
There was only one horse in their stable though
Bob used to do air duster in this huge trailer park
It was like the labrynth, but full of white trash
(although it wouldn't have surprised me if the child of women who fucked farm animals lived there)

So Bob met this girl who lived in a trailer there
And she would fuck him for $25 dollars.
Bob told Bird about it, and they got an idea.
They would find horny men to pay them $150
To fuck the girl and split the money three ways

The operation ended abruptly
Turns out some dude they found
ended up giving the girl some kind of disease
and Bird and Bob were scared, because
both of them were fucking her too.

Technically they were pimps.

>Why I Believe In Ghosts author here with a different piece, finally

I must've known that evening,
and maybe long before,
that you would never be mine,
or I, yours.
Still, I watched you there,
in that impossibly bright room,
where the air itself seemed to bend
around your form to take the shape
of not your body, but the tomb
of that which within you, I knew,
would soon leave me.

And now, sometimes at night,
when I sleep until I can't anymore,
my capillaries screaming,
I use the window, not the door.
My gaze is raised to find stars,
the way they stain the sky
like boxcar graffiti, beautiful
but distant in their long voyage,
to know the pain of their light,
that it has died, now dies,
is always dying upon us.

But we are bound by gravity
and neither of us can be sure
exactly where our bones will rest,
in graves, or just dirt.

>>18066625
Goddamn.

>of not your body, but the tomb
of that which within you, I knew,
would soon leave me.


This is insanely fucking strong, cheers!

I have been doing blackout poetry for fun lately and it has gotten me interested into poetry as whole. What are some similar poem 'exercises'?

I want to post my sonnet here but I'm afraid I will be raped for my Shakesperean language and hopeless romanticism.

A translation of Horace’s third Ode, by myself, not as faithful as it could be.

the northern wind wanes as does winter’s sting,
warmth waxes, weakly the western wind blows,
boats are brought out again, for it is spring.
no longer shall the flock flee from the snows
no more will ploughmen peer over fire,
no more will meadows mingle with frosts white.
now cyntherean Venus leads the choir,
while dance the graces with the nymphs by night,
vigorously Vulcan ignites the air,
now is the time to wreathe with myrtle green
or with the earth’s flowers your love’s sleek hair
or sacrifice, where shady branches lean,
a lamb to faunus. both palace of kings
and poor men’s huts, both bear death’s demon Mark.
Fortunate Sestius, Brief life bars the things
that we long hope for. soon comes forth the dark
clad legions of cold pale faced phantom ghosts
to drag you to Pluto’s ancients palace,
where hushed are every human’s vain boasts
envy is silenced as is greed’s malice.
the glow of Lycidas shall leave your eye
as you enter into eternity


Soluitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni
trahuntque siccas machinae carinas,
ac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igni
nec prata canis albicant pruinis.
Iam Cytherea choros ducit Venus imminente luna iunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes
alterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis Cyclopum
Volcanus ardens visit officinas.
Nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire myrto
aut flore, terrae quem ferunt solutae
nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,
seu poscat agna sive malit haedo.
Pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
regumque turris. O beate Sesti,
vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.
Iam te premet nox fabulaeque Manes
et domus exilis Plutonia, quo simul mearis,
nec regna vini sortiere talis
nec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo calet iuventus
nunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt.

>>18067948
Don’t worry about it dude, I just literally posted a Horace translation and here’s a sonnet I wrote. I’ll be sure to rate yours and a couple others as well.

To the angel of my poetry

oh angel who opens the gate of hell
where dwell the subterrestrial demons
for a season bound in their bitter cell,
thou who’s voice is the spell of aeons
poured out as molten bronze for eidolons,
each Idol affixing the soul of time
just as the ritual bell’s chime beckons
beings from briatic regions sublime,
and binds them in the limestone blessed by thyme.
come and anoint my rhymes and their reason,
each syllable in season and in prime,
as I sing of climbing back to Edon
then my tired tendons will have repose,
I will have rest in the heavenly rose

>>18068014
First sonnet ever. I couldn't make the iambic format work, but I stuck to 14 lines of 10 syllables.

>>18066625
I like the idea and the aesthetic but there is no reason to direct it to a unknown you, the romance angle feels cheap, if you want to write about graveyards, ghouls, ghosts, bones or the like you don’t have to bind it to a romantic side plot and thus limit your creativity.

Otherwise the line breaks seem fine and your language fits the aesthetic you desire well.

>>18066269
I like it a lot! Just there’s two lines that I am suspicious on and feel like they exist only to make a rhyme and naught else.

>thy name, o blessed revealer
> and men at thy bright carriage gaze

These two are probably the weakest of the bunch, very utilitarian.

>>18056995
Your repetition game needs work, I don’t feel an affect when you repeat brother and I and you aren’t substantially changing the meaning of the phrase; if it’s neither hypnotic nor to demonstrate some change, then repetition can be hard to do well. I feel you struggling against it. Also remove “betwixt” the rest of the poem has too simplistic and normative wording to merit betwixt.

>>18068030
I think the flow is okay and the alliteration is a nice touch

>can a modest veil

Good that you begin with an image but “modest” doesn’t add or produce any imagery to me and just distracts with a conceptual element, making the first line sloppy.

The second and third lines in isolation seem fine but they don’t feel connected to each other, the second half of the third line feels like it’s just to rhyme with thieve.

Whenever someone sees your structure or knows what you’re going for and doesn’t just enjoy it, there is in general a problem.

“For it to “ feels very wasteful of precious syllables for a line who’s entire meaning is to denote “brightness” let me quote an important thing from pound. While I don’t exactly love his work I think it’s good advice.

“ Don’t be ‘viewy’ – leave that to the writers of pretty little philosophic essays. Don’t be descriptive; remember that the painter can describe a landscape much better than you can, and that he has to know a deal more about it.
When Shakespeare talks of the ‘Dawn in russet mantle clad’ he presents something which the painter does not present. There is in this line of his nothing that one can call description; he presents.”

The Sisyphus line doesn’t fit the imagery projected with the rest of the poem so it’s a poor simile, study some Pindar to see how to use mythological simile in the most refined possible way.

>most futile
This line’s English feels strained because you’re saying “most futile is its”

>were our minds
Feels like another line that’s forcing a rhyme and just trying to fulfill that rhyme. Rhyme’s should make a satisfied feeling but they shouldn’t be your entire focus.
>thine soul

Not enough solidity here; it’s too fast to be effective which makes the term Stygian feel cheap.

My final complaint is that the last three words don’t flow well enough “truth will out” feels like you wanted to keep going but you ran out of lines so you just tried to make do.


All In all? Very good first attempt! Certainly better than mine. Hope to see you write more.

>>18068030
thats a touch too shakesperean and hopelessly romantic for my tastes. i have to rape you now ;(

>>18041227
clanging is the sullied whisper
tumbling down a jagged quartz
seldom sleepy, wanton insister
carmine is a fine resistor

brain soup feeds her festered warts
contracted from a game of twister
sick of the libidinal sports
when i was little i gave book reports
at the library for gold coins

>>18041445
nice
>>18041545
>>18041570
smok da herb
>>18041638
first stanza is ok
>>18042343
trite
>>18042769
good start, either lean into humor or make it more image-based
>>18043057
>I'm a cop
>Clean
>The hood
>>18043064
my favorite
>>18043078
second favorite
>>18043128
extremely gay
>>18043137
>Babylon
>Christ
write with fewer abstractions and cliches. try writing a completely image-based poem to practice
>>18043232
I'll take up your challenge and swiftly defeat it
I came in your mother and made your dad eat it
>>18043366
praying for your death
>>18044138
bitches with buckteeth give toothy head
facefucked a beaver and she tore my dick to shreds
>>18045604
hate the word patina
>>18046521
SIMILAR to my poem
>>18047709
third favorite
>>18048168
mediocre
>>18048183
first line made me stop reading
>>18048264
sometimes convoluted
>>18050192
no
>>18050248
no
>>18050937
>This is my poem. Now rate it.
good if this is part of the poem
>>18052614
>Soprano saxophones hiding in the trees
i like this image
>>18052704
yucky abstractions, go take a walk or something nigga
>>18053566
I like the inversion of the aubade, but the execution gets kinda sloppy. you're trying to convey to the reader that the speaker is seething; don't use the word.
>>18053854
I would rewrite this purely about choosing furniture, and leave the connection to the reader
>>18054098
I think you should cut everything after the first stanza besides
>We're only rubbing leather.
>>18056692
feels monotonous, but that's a good thing given the subject matter
>>18056717
based vegan
>>18056995
meesa hate this
>>18058709
i like it for some reason
>>18059174
nice
>>18059762
terrible
>>18061587
new favorite
>>18066531
prosey but not prose......hm. i like the last line

>>18066277
And then, although it was unbidden,
I Zykloned each and every yid.

>>18068327
Your poem begs to be read as if its in meter from the beginning but by the end i realize you have no idea what a trochee is. The reading will get stunted for anyone who knows anything about poetry.
Is the sullied whisper tumbling down jagged quartz? Clanging is the sullied whisper? That literally doesnt make sense or sound good. Sullied by what? How does a whisper clang? Theres no internal logic linking those things. Rhyme scheme feels incredibly unnatural.

What do you even want this to be? Its so unfocused that you better have written this with 3 grams of weed in you. The reading experience sucks, it isnt disgusting, tragic, beautiful, serene or funny, theres no meat in the content to dig into, and i feel like every part of this is designed to induce eyerolls.

>>18068619
This is me^
>>18068327
Showing your poem before those criticisms seemed a ridiculous move that only cheapens them. If thats among the top 9/11ths of poetry you got, why should anybody take your criticism seriously?

>>18041445
gay
>>18041545
cool
>>18041638
Nice imagery, kinda surreal
>>18042343
cringe
>>18042769
cringe
>>18043064
I like the "underwater credit" part. Gives it some assimetry, makes the prose interesting.
>>18043128
Not quite it
>>18043137
The first part has really nice imagery. From the "whore" part forward its a bit too much, it could be more "delicate". Kinda lost the flow of it.
>>18044118
The last two phrases are extremely cringe
>>18044138
Shit
>>18048183
nice imagery
>>18050937
My favorite one in the thread. Has life to it.
>>18052614
Cool rythm. Has a nice flow to it

>>18068327
Re: your poem
Did you recently have a stroke?

Where in the fuck is frater asemlen? We need him to post some good shit and redeem this.

>>18041227
The
Sex
Were

I
Stare

>>18068820
>Were
Where
Sorry
And bump

The papers are signed, and a handshake makes final.
I turn slowly back to what was taken from me.
A friend and my comfort, the arms where I shivered.
When cold winds came out from the sea.

A lad at the time, when my father had sold her,
Just to drink for a time and forget of his shame.
He drank to his death, till his crimes were forgiven.
Lost too much to escape the blame.

For a time growing up, I thought of returning.
And to pry from the years what I had left behind,
But life pulled me far, for the times knew no kindness.
And I worried for what I might find.

Dulling with the times, while my memories faded.
The connection we had was too frayed now to save.
What once was my world, is now just a shadow.
If only I'd become more brave.

A dream in the night, I drove hundreds of miles.
I remembered again what it meant to be young.
Embrace all the hardships, and learn from time's passing.
To not ignore what once we clung.

Arrived in the morning, a day late to see her.
What's left to be seen were but her secrets lain bare.
With nails and a purpose, they built her from nothing
What I loved was no longer there.

I turn once again, and return to my anger.
Ignored it for years, now is my unending scorn.
They took her away, and rebuilt it for others.
Tis a loss that only I mourn.

>>18068731
Posted three already, but I’ll post another that’s much longer. I wanted to make a long poem based on one of Dunsany’s action-adventure stories, this is the result.

The Sword Sacnoth:a tribute to self-indulgent action-adventure.

past the old wood, where the village has stood
since the river’s soul first shined so Golden,
the blind wizard sang his song of thunder:
“hear me, every spell and scourge of Hell
I am armed with God’s dreaded almond Rod,
blessed by red lightning and bornless Fire.
hear me, for i have bound your crimson thread,
you shall not harm the hair upon the head
of the little children resting in bed
nor the simple workman threshing his field
nor even the elder waking in Eve
be confounded, for i weave the wondrous
curse on the fortress unconquerable
fulgur Vidyut Blitz Barak Molnia!”
thus the wizard kept the spirits away
and everyday he would repeat the steps
until he slept the everlasting sleep
weeping filled the streets until the sky wept
cloud swallowed cloud, Aether dyed ink black
the shrieking blast of Typhonian horns
shook the vastness of black sky and black earth
then the veil was torn and the lid opened
in air appeared the hell-born evil eye
who’s cataracts is the clashing lightning,
who’s Iris is gates of blood stained iron
who’s sclera is a host of skull bearers
who’s sharp pupil is the stone black palace
thus past the wood, where the city has stood
since the river’s soul first shined so Golden
elders proclaimed an olden prophecy
“Gaznak who claims the fortress for himself,
Gaznak who’s rage is a flaming comet
Gaznak who’s age is from the beginning
comes with the fortress unvanquishable,
unvanquishable save for sacnoth’s Sword”
and none stepped forth to face the demon Lord
save for a single youth who’s root was base
but he bared the royal crest of courage
“strike the dragon’s breast and bring back his spine
nine times will the flame give birth to sacnoth
be warned, for by no means shall you hurt him
his limbs are Adamantine, his head bronze
his tongue is lead and he eats of the dead
go then, past the old woods, down the red road”
thus he sped to fight down the road of red.
his feet then slowed as he saw the dragon
he grasped an old branch and began his fight
he striked the beast right on the nose and ran
the raging fiend would not cease his charging
thus strike, run, strike, run, over and over
for three days they fought till the beast lowered
his head in exhaustion and ceased the fight
the youth still filled with might moved with great force
pressing the branch straight into the beast’s breast
now slain, the Great spine he pulled from the beast
nine times was forged the greatest sword Sacnoth
and nine times did the eye of evil weep
the tears froze forming a nine link ice chain
“the time has come, for the demon legions

Cont

>>18070260
shall descend Yon ninefold chain of frore tears”
thus the youth fearing not pain climbed the chain
his sword the means to gain ascendency
and poured down upon him the devil darts
but neither could they pierce his head nor heart
as a thread finally pierces needle
so did the youth pierce the stone black palace.
he beheld the bone bearing garrison
the sorcerers wearing wrathful malas
warriors wrapt with serpents for necklace
the white skull as the cup of the drunkards
but as hungry flame devours forest
so did the sword sacnoth devour them.
and as he entered the central tower
he was soon overwhelmed by a shower
of delusive lamps lit like astral light
false stars, a false arcane Cœlestia
he heard baleful chanting, bestial roaring
“the sun now black and the moon now bled red
stars now fall by my song of things long dead “
each star fell as if lightning from the height
but the sword sacnoth slashed and crushed each lamp
the youth poured his wrath upon the wizard
and tore the tongue of him, leaving him mute.
as he past the illusion of fixed stars
he passed betwixt pillars to the throneroom
he saw two vast gates, ivory and horn
and between them fiery gaznak’s throne
gaznak sat, wielding the greatest of swords
save for the greatest of all swords, sacnoth
gaznak sat, wearing unbreakable plate
save for the greatest of all swords, sacnoth
gaznak sat, with strength unsurpassable
save for the greatest of all swords, sacnoth
Gaznak striked the sword sacnoth and each strike
was like an earthquake, the air like typhoon
as the typhonian force met sacnoth
and not a single blow blew the youth back
“I, All-devourer, all-begetter;
I, with the grip of the terrible snake
i who with hooves of steel race on the rock,
I who by my own force rip, rape and rend
this world until it passes to the end,
by my force this world shall pass through the horn
the gods will be withdrawn, then only I
I alone shall remain and all else, Dead.”
and as this was said, off was cut his head
and the fortress faded, the eye was closed
the youth fell from on high and though he died
he was proclaimed savior, and great hero
but later, men made lore and spoke of him
of the man who left his no name village,
fought feverishly hallucinations
seeing trees as spirits of damnation
shouting about a sword for salvation
never doubting himself, he died alone
murmuring about a sword named sacnoth

Clicking, clicking, on
rarely even typing, why
The faggots fighting,

>>18065370
It was a short poem.

>>18070260
>>18070265
Thanks frater, i liked it! Keep it up.

No rhyme is so gay
That's what I thought
Until I tried it this one time

Oh
Nevermind
Still sucks ass...

And this is why I must rhyme fast!
Get the gat and blast
at the faggots walking past

No mercy,
This ain't new jersey,
Show shitty prose and you're leaving in a hearse, B

Your lack of rhyme is a crime
Sit your ass down and prepare to pay the fine
Yeah,
Its a real big charge,
Hard to make change with a brain that large?
Heh
well, nothing personnel
But imma teleport behind you
And take your ass to hell.

>>18066531
I like this shit and I don't know why

>>18044138
Really rough transitions, could be pretty funny if you cleaned it up

>>18047709
Masterful

>>18043577
Thematically appropriate and cool enough rhymes to dig it

>>18043366
Please control your rhymes fool

He sat on the porch, he seemed well fed.
A cap of red perched on his head.
He leaned back with eyes full of glee. “Nice car you’ve got there” he quipped at me.
Into his store I tried go, too many crops I had to sow.
I pulled the door, but it would not heed! How could I get into this seed n feed?
“Now there partner” he said with a grin “just what kind of store do you think you’re in?”
How could this happen?! Just my luck! It wasn’t a seedery at all, just another suck n fuck!

>>18068619
>>18068647
>>18068719
filtered. jk lol I just posted word vomit, but good point about doing so cheapening my criticism; when I give critique in the future, I'll post a real poem alongside it. I should also probably only post actual critique.

>>18071229
>I was only pretending to be retarded

Post an actual poem

>>18071246
I’m a mid-summer insect symphony,
a pitbull doorbell, a Buddha bobblehead
parked in the grass, a lazy ritual in Pagan
July, missing film from surveillance footage,
suspiciously stained curbside furniture–
good enough, a sudden whim to build
a shed and steal the lumber from Home Depot,
a music video I’ve seen ten-thousand times
before, tonsillitis throat swelled shut,
a garbage cornucopia, graffitied Thanksgiving
table, grooming dogs in the garage salon
for extra money, empty streets at 4:00AM,
a Christmas tree strung with shoddy lights,
driving to California, aging faces recycled
in the back, a psilocybin mushroom cloud,
a year-old, unfulfilled “See you again soon.”

I need to tie these images together better, but let me know what you think. Also looking for feedback on whether psilocybin mushroom cloud comes off as smarmily clever. If you want actual critique on one of your poems, feel free to post it in your reply.

>>18068327
thank you friend

>>18071350
>>18071350
Before I begin let me say my major complaint, as you say the imagery doesn’t flow but that’s because you’re trying to make a lot of high-speed based one/two liners with a lot of heavy imagery in it but with no real narrative. This is a common weakness to modernist poetry, Rap works in the same way but the imagery and subject matter and bravado of Rap matches the low-narrative form common to most rap, your attempts at being clever are undercut by the short narrative because it isn’t justified. Anyone can write a single line that is, in isolation rather clever, quality occurs when the cleverness makes sense in the context and adds value, otherwise it’s a pointless ornament, ornamentation is not bad, but ornamentation that feels pointless is gaudy, if you want elegance you need to feel smooth, restful, not strained at all. And while I appreciate you actually paying attention to your sounds, it feels like you the sound takes more precedence to you than the actual meaning of the line. This is fine in music but not when the poetry is Isolated.


>I’m a mid-summer insect symphony,

Example if you would continue with this imagery or follow with related imagery, this would be an okay line, the sibilance/s repetition sounds swell but I’ll say the same Ezra pound quote over and over again, you’re not a painter but you also cannot make a mush of Concept and image. This line “midsummer insect” would have been fine but the line’s progression is wasted because you turn it from the image of a bug in summer into the sound of a bug, this is a choppy progression, like a jump-cut.

>a pitbull doorbell, a Buddha bobblehead

I get you’re going for how hollow and coomsoomerized religious stuff has become, but it honestly feels like an afterthought because Buddha and bubblehead both begin with a Bu.

>parked in the grass, a lazy ritual in Pagan

Parked in the grass feels utilitarian with more weight on the lazy ritual in pagan line, you can’t just fill a line with mush so you can get to the good part.

>July, missing film from surveillance footage,

Stay noided eh? Kek. Other than July it’s a fine line just feels more like prose.

>suspiciously stained curbside furniture–
>good enough, a sudden whim to build
>a shed and steal the lumber from Home Depot,

Longest it feels like you were able to develop a solid image and narrative, however it has the quality of chopped up prose, the line break adds no value, no vocal elements of note; but “stained curbside furniture” is the most concrete image you have been able to produce, I would remove suspicious since it feels meaningless.

Cont

>>18071350
>a music video I’ve seen ten-thousand times

Working on sentimentality and a conceptual high, while there’s nothing wrong with this kind of pathos appeal, it weakens the line for anyone who doesn’t care much for music videos and other such in repetition. Basically this serves lot put a date to your work, the Home Depot line also does this, while not inherently a bad thing; it relies a lot on the reader and not on you being able to drag the reader into your world.


>before, tonsillitis throat swelled shut,

Very empty line. Feels like you could remove it and nothing would change about the poem.

>a garbage cornucopia, graffitied Thanksgiving
>table, grooming dogs in the garage salon
>for extra money, empty streets at 4:00AM,

Poverty and urban imagery intensifies here, “graffitied thanksgiving” sounds like you’re trying to make some kind of saying, while the empty sheet line feels unrelated in terms of imagery I will say it does “rhyme” as an image with the last two.

>a Christmas tree strung with shoddy lights,
>driving to California, aging faces recycled
>in the back, a psilocybin mushroom cloud,

You do this kind of dirty Californian guy flavor well in these three lines but it isn’t very pretty. Aging faces recycled is too vague compared to the other lines, mushroom cloud isn’t too clever it just feels unrelated to the tone and other imagery built up, if you had more virility in the poem, more bravado, it would have sounded fine but you don’t have enough “energy” to warrant it.

>a year-old, unfulfilled “See you again soon.”

An okay ending.

Imo, consider it you want to write Rap, modern poetry, contemporary poetry or poetry with a more standard narrative or if you want sentimentality or the like. Figure out what direction you’re going for.

My first attempt at putting a poem of mine to music/a beat, reverbs a bit much.

https://vocaroo.com/14PoGUYq9dq3

>>18071774
>>18071838
>it feels like you the sound takes more precedence to you than the actual meaning of the line
true, I need to work on that
>This line “midsummer insect” would have been fine...
very interesting critique, I'll have to keep that in mind. If we took this line in isolation, and for the sake of simplicity, does something like
>I'm a sound,
>a mid-summer insect symphony
remediate said choppy progression? does it do the work to prepare the reader for the sound of insects rather than an image of an insect in summer then jump-cut to its sound? similarly, would a line like
>I'm a symphony of insects
or
>I'm a mid-summer symphony of insects
do the same thing? or is there a deeper issue in the idea of a symphony of insects? like to make this work would I instead write something like
>I'm a mid-summer symphony of cicada shrills
In my head, symphony of insects works the same way symphony of violins would; the violins aren't sounds, but instruments, the same way the insects would be instruments. the more I think about it, though, insects might be too disconnected from the concept of symphony for that to work, while violins are not, so the whole making a mush of Concept and image is starting to make more sense to me.
>feels like an afterthought
In combination with your first critique about sound, it probably feels like an afterthought because I'm not properly employing musicality as tool to convey, and sometimes have lines that are more musical than meaningful. I wonder whether fixing that misprioritization of sound would alleviate this feeling.
>Parked in the grass feels utilitarian
>..., a Buddha bobblehead
>parked in the grass,
was meant to be a complete image with Buddha bobblehead acting as metonymy for a car, but I can see the weak metonymy + image split between lines + splitting the weaker part of the image from the stronger part has led to disaster. also makes me consider the extent to which my poem is prose with line breaks; I need to keep in mind the form of the Line of poetry.
>Stay noided
haha
>it relies a lot on the reader and not on you being able to drag the reader into your world
that makes sense, I should probably choose a direction to go in here
>Very empty line. Feels like you could remove it and nothing would change about the poem.
true, it doesn't convey meaning to anyone who isn't me
>“graffitied thanksgiving” sounds like you’re trying to make some kind of saying
in a bad way? is it cringeworthy?
>You do this kind of dirty Californian guy flavor well in these three lines but it isn’t very pretty
thanks haha. by isn't very pretty do you mean it lacks beauty? or is ugly?
>Aging faces recycled is too vague compared to the other lines
vagueness does seem to be the most pervasive issue
>if you had more virility in the poem, more bravado, it would have sounded fine but you don’t have enough “energy” to warrant it
that makes a lot of sense

Cont

>>18072120
Thanks for the in-depth critique. If you'd like, reply with one of your earlier posts in the thread and I'll do the same for you. Also, your critiques make me want to rework the poem to purposefully convey a feeling of directionlessness; do you have any suggestions for doing so without a result that just feels like a vague stew?

>>18072120
You’re correct that insects are too distant, while saying
“A sound” would remedy the problem, that would produce a utilitarian line, not a single line in poetry should be wasted or just for build up, every line has to stand up by its own merits. So if you DO use a line prior, make sure much thought is put into connecting them.

As for choosing between sound or meaning, I mean, I think it’s a false dichotomy, the point of it being a poem is that the rhythm and sound assists with the meaning you wish to transfer, so I would more say, focus on making your musicality relevant to the meaning and vice versa. Form and content must become One.

As for the thanksgiving line, not exactly cringe worthy it’s just a different cadence; you need to keep a singular tone or voice throughout the poem unless some thorn happens to justify the tone shift.


>does it lack beauty

More or less yes, you painted the picture of a dirty Californian but didn’t do any thigh with it to make it an interesting aesthetic experience. A key to much art is that by consuming it, a person can see mundane things become beautiful and highlighted, the author’s brain remixes it into something uniquely of his own mind and character, even if that character is fake. Not to say the feeling of “honesty” matters, sincere poetry is weak poetry.

As for how to maximize the directionless feeling, make patterns then abandon them; more variable line lengths, pastiche a bit of TS Elliot since he does the feeling you want well.

As for one of mine, the ones I posted are all too long or a translation so this is the only one short enough, thank you for offering:

>>18068014

>>18068014
don't have much to criticize on the grounds of content.
>soul of time
is a bit overwraught for me but it fits, and makes sense, in this poem. I do think you have some problems with your meter, though, but maybe it's just my scan. Try to read lines as if you were speaking them in a removed context to see whether you're imposing meter; often I think you might be stressing an unstressed syllable in your head, which leads to accidental anapests and hanging feet / not enough feet in the line. My scan probably isn't perfect though. In the fourth line, I think you're injecting a pause between "thou" and "who's" to make "thou" its own foot; I can't give you a prescription here, ie not sure if that's good practice, but just letting you know that's how it appears, at least to me. Assuming this is the case though bc it's your only line lacking ten syllables. Also each line containing ten syllables led me to the assumption that the anapests/dactyls I was detecting were not intentional, assuming you were writing in pentameter as I understand sonnets to be.

- / - - / - - / - /
oh an | gel who o | pens the gate | of hell

- / - / - / - - / -
where dwell | the sub | terr es | tri al de | mons

- - / - / - - / - /
for a sea | son bound | in their bi | tter cell

/ - / - - / - / -
thou | who's voice | is the spell | of ae | ons

- / - / - / - - / -
poured out | as mol | ten bronze | for ei do | lons

- / - - / - - / - /
each I | dol a ffix | ing the soul | of time

/ - - / - - / / / -
just as | the ri | tu al bell's | chime be | ckons

/ - - / - - / - - /
be ings | from bri | at ic re | gions su blime

- / - - - / - / - /
and binds them | in the lime | stone blessed | by thyme

/ - - / - / - - / -
come and | a noint | my rhymes | and their rea | son

- / - - - / - - - /
each sy | lla ble in | sea son | and in prime

- - / - / - / - / -
as I sing | of climb | ing back | to E | don

- - / - / - - / - /
then my ti | red ten | dons will have | re pose

- / - / - - / - - /
I will | have rest | in the hea | ven ly rose

>>18072783
ah shit the formatting got fucked up on my stress marks

- / | - - / | - - / | - /
oh an | gel who o | pens the gate | of hell

- / | - / | - / | - - / | -
where dwell | the sub | terr es | tri al de | mons

- - / | - / | - - / | - /
for a sea | son bound | in their bi | tter cell

/ | - / | - - / | - / | -
thou | who's voice | is the spell | of ae | ons

- / | - / | - / | - - / | -
poured out | as mol | ten bronze | for ei do | lons

- / | - - / | - - / | - /
each I | dol a ffix | ing the soul | of time

/ - | - / | - - / | / / | -
just as | the ri | tu al bell's | chime be | ckons

/ - | - / | - - / | - - /
be ings | from bri | at ic re | gions su blime

- / - | - - / | - / | - /
and binds them | in the lime | stone blessed | by thyme

/ - | - / | - / | - - / | -
come and | a noint | my rhymes | and their rea | son

- / | - - - | / - | - - /
each sy | lla ble in | sea son | and in prime

- - / | - / | - / | - / | -
as I sing | of climb | ing back | to E | don

- - / | - / | - - / | - /
then my ti | red ten | dons will have | re pose

- / | - / | - - / | - - /
I will | have rest | in the hea | ven ly rose

>>18072783
Ah I should probably explain, I write according to Semitic poetics and more in pastiche of dudes like William Blake, I prefer basically a free verse which only considers syllable length and the relation of conception, sound and the like on a line by line level, something like Hebrew poetry which I consider the greatest didn’t use meter whatsoever, so I try to do a similar style.

Muh sonnets are usually just 14 lines of 10 syllables but not even necessarily that many syllables. In fact the way I would speak the poem is in a monotone chant. And perhaps there’s a confusion, the poem has precisely 140 syllables by my count.

Thank you for the scan anyways!

But yeah, how does it “sound” just in of itself? Does it produce a good imagery and aesthetic unity? Does the sound and repetitions and so forth fit?

>>18072848
ah ok. is aeons pronounced differently from eons? that might explain our syllable discrepancy.
>how does it sound
"bound" and "bronze" in lines 3 and 5 set the reader up nicely for the onslaught of
>bell's beckons being briatic blime bind blessed by
and I think that consonance ends at the perfect time, and we get
>back
in line 12 to tie things up. I think the way you used this really gives the reader a sense of movement, action, something happening, something /ritualistic/ happening
>and binds them in the limestone blessed by thyme
the ime sounds here get to be a bit too much for me
>my rhymes and their reason
I would normally hate this, but, like the soul of time example, it actually makes sense in this context
>each syllable in season and in prime
my least favorite line, just because I don't see much meaning added that isn't captured in "rhymes and their reason."
>then my tired tendons will have repose,
>I will have rest in the heavenly rose
abstaining from sounds used earlier in the poem give this couplet a sense of resolution, it blends very well with the image of resting after a long journey. Perhaps you could rework the beginning of the final line, though,
>my tired tendons will have repose
and
>I will have rest
seem to be more or less the same thing. Overall though I enjoyed it, especially your use of sound to convey movement for lack of a better word. It creates a frittering of sorts, like a crescendo

>>18073171
Thanks a ton!

>aeons pronounced differently from eons?

Ah I see, I intentionally was playing with the different mispronunciations of Aeon, one of the forms has three syllables, I forgot that I went with the mispronunciation “Ay-ons” my mistake for mixing them up.

I would actually say the line I feel the least confident about was


>binds them in the limestone blessed by thyme

Because I fear, the imagery here is a bit too obscure.

> each syllable in season and in prime

Fair critique here.

And yeah I should probably try to make tired tendons more aesthetic.

All in all thank you! If you like my use of sound you should check out Swinburne as he’s many many times better, Swinburne shill’s the use of more or less how music/composing works in motif and so forth as the key to great poetry and i find from reading him I’ve grown to want more unity of form+content. Check this out.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45288/the-garden-of-proserpine

And desu, I think that I can make things which normally sound cliche to you or overwrought fit and be aesthetically, well I think it means my build up is decent. I’ll try to keep refining.

>>18073294
No problem, thanks for the critique + rec

page 9 bump

>>18074589
Use the goddamn catalogue

Do you actually browse the board page by page?

>>18074589
Bump the thread with critique

>>18070265
>I who by my own force rip, rape and rend

Well lopan, aren't you clever?

>>18074593
Eat shit, I want to see someone critique something someone else wrote, no promise it gets posted on any other thread.
>>18074765
Is it any better than bumping it with complaints?

Oh, the grand old Duke of York
He had ten thousand crimes,
He led the kids to the top of the world
And he ld them down again,
And when they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only half-way up
They were at a pizza express in woking

>>18074805
Critique of a poem - i.e. the purpose of this thread

>>18074792
Whole story’s point by point a re-telling of a Dunsany story originality isn’t a concern of mine.

if it raises quality I see no problem with reworking and reusing lines, this can be seen very much in milton who doesn’t go 10 lines without referencing, translating, imitating, inverting or the like some other work. My question is, does it work? Did it make the scene?

Me I find
The things things
Come to be to be
Hilarity.
They seem to me
To be, of a quality
Which
When thought of,
In a different way
Reveal
That things seem
Severe—but lack
The severity

>>18074911

Unironically clever. I love hypertextualizing. Particularly in the form you've chosen.

>Did it make the scene?

Thematically, yes.

Linguistically, it should be evident to you that your own handling of alliteration is somewhat more complex and sophisticated than AC's and that it does draw the eye to a reader who knows the source material. But I don't think that precludes it from belonging there.

>>18075196
Thanks Dude in two regards, the Io pan references and the Whole gates of ivory/horn thing was pretty important to me in terms of the kabbalistic implication of Chokmah, so noticing it was nice! thank you also for the consideration of my stuff as more sophisticated than Crowley, not that he’s the greatest but being told you’re more sophisticated is still a high praise.

I hope I can keep getting better at poetry, I feel at times that since I’m not like, idunno, Pindar or the like, too much references and intertextual stuff can come off cheap.

Bump

Just posting it to bump the thread.

It’s a prose poem I wrote.

https://pastebin.com/GbbtBTY9

>>18041227
Returning Rains

There has been no rain this month -
From pavement to sky
Dearth abounds. We drink heartily still;
Wheat sprouts from sterile emporiums
In mockery of the
Principle that in plenty
There lies a steady happiness.

Downpour halts at the concrete soil -
Swelling nothing but puddles.
The dry sky lends an ethereal
Sickness to this land; another day and
These bloated beings will be hanged under black ice.

>>18070157

First stanza

A pelican came whizzing from
The mighty clouds of Absalom.
His feathers blue, his beaker gold –
Or so the fisherwomen told.
He flapped his wings with magnitude.
His prideful chest,
With thousand hues of blue imbued,
Came soft to rest,
As if in jest,
Atop a seagull's galleon crest.

>>18077557
Second in the thread I cared for. Naisu

>>18041227
Curly Willow Eulogy

Sun-drenched plant rooted in the earth
Proudly wore her green drops of rain
Denying darkness, she radiated powerful life
She rose gently from the land, curling upwards

How she waved in the wind lonely and elegant
She carried a burden and walked on unpaved roads
What they call downfall, was for her a blessing
Let everything that says no return to sand

Oh big willow, you don't know how much I loved you
How I looked at you through wet windows
How great your praise was, I sing you

I will forgive myself and I will never be ashamed
Oh in this golden light you were like a heroine
I will have courage and obey your will