/lit/ - Literature

sage for tripfaggotry

bump for user taking responsibility for their posts.

>>1842466

YOU ARE THE ONLY FAGGOT I SEE HERE. YOU ARE SAGING AN ONTOPIC "LEGITIMATE" THREAD JUST BECAUSE THE POSTER IS A TRIPCODE USER. IT IS OBVIOUS THAT YOU DO IT FOR THE ATTENTION AND BECAUSE YOU WANT TO FEEL "PART OF SOMETHING GREATER THAT YOU" BY TAKING AN "ANTAGONISTIC STANCE" THAT YOU KNOW MANY Anonymous USER TAKE AS WELL WITHOUT POINT OR PURPOSE. YOU MIGHT HAVE AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX THAT IS WHY DO THIS AND APPARENTLY YOU ARE NOT SO INTUITIVE AND/NOR INTELLIGENT EITHER.

>>1842473

here's one- I always liked its general feel but i feel somehow unhappy with it.

I watched large, slow, spotted cows
trail along the farland
through sun-greyed grass that from a height
seemed to breathe with wind.
A little hut of stone beyond them
in softness angles found.

I had high, sweet tenor voices
roll across pink palates
stamped by birth with shape and teeth
matured for forty years.
The chancel, crossed with light and incense
changing countlessly.

bump

Hey Korohemoth I thought you said you couldn't 'learn' poetry

>>1842504
http://vocaroo.com/?media=vyitCkTAbSqIL5sbW

>>1842568
hahaha. you ignored the way the meter should run on purpose though.

>>1842504
Have you tried making it rhyme?

>>1842573
Better?
http://vocaroo.com/?media=vz2ZDeZHA4dXKbIV4

>>1842581
No I haven't to be fair. How do you think that would help?

>>1842504
There's a few parts in the poem that make it unclear what's going on.
>through sun-greyed grass that from a height
>seemed to breathe with wind.
The grass seemed to breathe with wind? You could say the grass seemed to breathe out the wind, which is a contrast to that's actually happening, switching it up: the wind doesn't blow the grass, the grass blows the wind. Otherwise, I have no idea what the poem's trying to say about it.
>in softness angles found
I like this phrase, but I'm groping with what it means in this particular poem. It doesn't apply itself to the context of the cows, the grass, the wind, or the stone hut: The stone hut has a softness that reveals its angles? Cows, grass, or wind have angles?

>stamped by birth with shape and teeth
>matured for forty years.
You might find a way to revise this part to reflect a little better what you mean by "stamped... with shape" and what I'm taking from the matured part is that you've watched these people grow and pass.
>The chancel, crossed with light and incense
>changing countlessly.
This seems to say the chancel is changing countlessly. Also countlessly strikes me as a clumsy adverb to use, think about rephrasing the sentence to make it clear what's changing and that could be corrected in the process.

>>1842538
Who said anything about learning? Workshops are for discussing and editing. I'm no pro, I've got jack shit to teach anyone here.

>>1842583
Yeah. What are you trying to tell me by recording it?

Coming out in clumped sorties
to the afternoon’s slow drone
of muffled engines soldiering:
all highways lead towards Home.
Minuscule protagonists
of hard, but happy tragedies
march in motley uniform
half-circle through a glass gate.

War-weary, blinking leery
at sunlight beating down from
all these glossy fortress walls
a vanguard full of courage
charge for freedom’s open sky
but they surge not onto earth:

The ranks trudge, then in
an ambling scatter
desert each other
across the pavement.

Mostly I wanted to try and write a poem that sounded musical, without sounding forced.

My time has left me here alone,
to wind through rusted thoughts and tomes
____that worms long since have ate,
and mold has pages green and tore
where gold and ink might once have swore
____to never dull nor faint,
but now they leach and sit and rust
where no one sees them turn to dust
____while no-one on them waits,
and sand in hourglasses fell
too long ago to even tell
____the time they met their fate.
Not shadows dark nor light reflects
on them for me to now detect
____decisions made irrate,
that now were I to recollect
would I myself thereon reject
____my sins to holy saints?

My life has left me in the now
and even still I have somehow
____the memories I need
to do my work and learn and write
about my will and goals inspite
____my lack of past decree.
The page's dust and shadowed musk
of rotten books and thoughts whose rust
____spurn tree as well as seed,
are brushed asside by scribing hands
wherever new writ ink might land
____and paper there acceedes
the imprint of a moment gone,
crescendos of an ended song,
____and moments to yet be.

>>1842598
Thanks for the criticism :)
the grass "breathing with wind" was supposed to convey something through an image really. When you look at long grass from afar or above and wind runs through it, it shifts as if breathing. But I see your point.

The "softness angles found" is the contrast of the hard, small, dark stone hut's shape and physical presence to the soft, shifting grass, the slow spotted cows, the wind, that stuff. Taking it literally, the hut "finds angles among the softness." I tried to convey that through language and the sound of words a bit as well.

As for the chancel changing countlessly, it is. By having light and incense moving across it, the image of the chancel is a forever transient thing. That's what I was trying to say, but I agree that "countlessly" was a bit of a strange word to use. Did you like the poem in general?

On Our Way

I left the house, no map,
to find the moon.

speeding near wheels
and when surges loomed,
the shoddy grip tore my hands.

halfway with that sun hill down, down;
"I just won't turn around."
ahead the rusty junker

my spindles bumped the bridge,
old on the dry sewage,
itchy on the sudden breeze.

pale soaks powered buzzing oaks;
the music for straight road stripes,
flashing under fiery dusk lamps

park trees rustle house sleep
and two feet stumble on carved craters;
the moon sailing aloft

I cry in my laugh, standing on your reflection,
beaming at your evening stare.

>>1842504

Your meter seems inconsistent

>>1842656
yo...

>>1842619
Your use of iambic hexameter every third line makes for a little stumble, so it's not really musical. I would suggest changing it all to hexameter or seeing what you can do with dactylic hexameter, which might also get rid of a lot of the filler words, the many "to"s, "the"s, and "and"s. I don't have much specific to say about editing it, consider revising and also proofread.

>>1842626
To be honest, I didn't get much from it. I thought the comparison and contrast you were going for was interesting, but a little restricted in how you tried to express it while also playing with the meter. It reads kind of cold.

I don’t know why they are them

But there they are

Lounging in the high castle

Peaked mountaintops away from sight

They sit
I don’t know why they are them

Gambling lives with fancy jewels

And new sunglasses, new robes

As daily tasks take up the day

We will float
I don’t know why they are them

But there they go

Indian givers laughing to themselves

As drifters left unknown

We will sit alone
I’m not sure if I want to know

Why they are them

Because I fear

They will be

Too much like us

>>1842656
I don't know what to make of this. I have no idea what you're writing about here. I keep reading it, and I can't figure it out. The best I've got is that you tried to find the moon, on a bicycle(?), you crashed(?), and you're sadly laughing because you were on the moon the whole time, already in its light?
This is the sort of abstract poem that I just don't know how to give any suggestions for it. I'm not insulting it, I just don't understand it.

>>1842691

When I was writing it, the theme I was really going for was "use a journey and a goal to explain the course of life."

In simple terms, the whole thing symbolizes our travel through life THROUGH the image of somebody biking off around his area, with the moon sort of acting like our looming deaths ("I went, no map, to find the moon." = our entire lives are aimless roads to finding death.)

When the main persona finds his end, seeing it almost face to face from his place on Earth, he shows mixed feelings towards what we look for all along (the end.), both of relief and sadness - it is both awesome and disappointing.

Every stanza can basically represent a jump of like 15 years or so; hope I helped.

some moons glitter
harsh in his wake;
[star-ripped iris
shrinks and bleeds ink]
boots dancing with
nightingales and
adulterous
lake to the song
of charred voyage
and cooled braziers.

>>1842711
>square brackets

SO COOL AND EDGY AND DIFFERENT

>>1842734
>mad about using a more aesthetically pleasing bracket

>>1842599

That you posted the poem, mostly. No critique intended.

>>1842619
http://vocaroo.com/?media=vUk4MCrJ732EiFW7H

>>1842624
http://vocaroo.com/?media=vBtQjuo0wQDfNwfDZ

>>1842656
http://vocaroo.com/?media=veRloUC4YQYsa2RcJ

>>1842656

>>1843114