/lit/ - Literature

Didn't Nightingale's shine
Expose the silver lines
That hide behind clammy sun

As in the shower
With crystal tiles

Or on the beach,
With crystal lives
Shattering the sky.

>>18580161
>No syllabo-tonic measure
Embarrassing

>>18580161
Still working on this one. Some anons may remember it from the last thread.

>>18580161
I think this revision is on par with the original from the last thread. Where it's good it's great but it still feels abstract imo. Could just personal preference for me though, do take that with a grain of salt. Technicals are so-so as well, hit or miss

Heres a second revision of what I still consider a rough draft, only slightly more polished than at first. Definitely still needs work though, but I think it has a lot of potential:
>The Bone King

Frozen tundra, snow sunken heart-
land--once rich with green grass-and-trees
and wildlife sipping water--

silent lay you, minus the breeze.
That gentle death-filled hymn hums wan
off frosted limbs without their leaves.

No bird flies in those grey skies. Gone
are the mice, and all butterflies.
Bled of warmth who's life, for it, sung

under breath or battle-cries.
When frozen dirt was damp and soft,
heavy feet fell heavy bodies

packing earth--to dry and crust.
Their sightless souls now icy ghosts
whose bony clutch, as snowy dust,

does--from cold chattering teeth--grow,
even in death, tighter each day
in flee of heavy fate below.

Their fingers claw, at glacial pace,
up-on the emerald floor-skirt
of their beige queen's ball-gown,

who's married to the sun, not dirt.
Mirrored in her frost-blue eyes, fires
faint but pure burn but small and short--

Dim beads of dying flames: pyres
alight top a frigid tundra
'tween lifeless-tree-like irises.

Frozen tundra, snow-sunken heart-
land, rest on wounds, to scars in peace.
Pass-by moons and emboss stars

in quiet snowfields hung with trees.
Time, soon again, will warm and thaw,
and radiate with brilliance.

>>18580224
Cool, thanks. I still don't think its quite finished at all yet, still toying around. I feel the same way.

>>18580152
Americas last hours

Hit
The twin towers

In ‘01
We are done

My name is Buck
And I'm here to fuck.
>>18580161
clammy sun? like Clamato? lmao

My meds

No

Now go

>>18580161
Is the theme betrayal and deceit? Or am I just a sperg?

>>18580152
My

Dreams
I live

Your

Nightmares
I give

>>18580255
>My name is Buck

>And I'm here to fuck.
>And Suck

>Breaking news
>Here for (you)'s
>>18580224
>>18580161
I have rated these works previously.
>>18580252
>>18580282
These are mine
May rate some more later if I post again.

>>18580309
I've never posted that poem before

>>18580309
>rated before
It is a revised repost, looking for more feedback as I tweak.

Same as >>18580303
Im just retarded
Here I stand to take a piss
A nightmare no deeper than this

As I stand with with cock through my zipper
Up comes and old man with a weakly liver

Soon he shakes and spills his dues
All over my fine and expensive new shoes

>>18580303
Sure.

>>18580224
I dont like free verse poetry but thats me

>>18580325
I cant tell what you agreed to

>>18580330
Not that anon you replied to, but you just read poems with the same foot or meters over and over again and enjoy that?

>>18580352
I think there is still room for creativity in the constriction, I've yet to see a poem in a 82-52-82 syllable form

Oh look a cringe thread

>>18580370
Probably one of the better generals on /lit/. Why are you salty, my guy? U mad?

Illuminate the silver lines
Hid hung on your pendant

As in the shower
With crystal tiles

Or on the beach,
With crystal lives
Shattering the sky,

You lie restless.
Awake within swirls
Of stars and cars

And a million miles
Of lungs full 'a tar.

>>18580362
And that would sound good or something because of that construction? Or it's just a technical appreciation thing?

>>18580255
Good one my brotha, here's mine

I'm on lit,
Because I'm not physically fit,

On my books, I read very voracious,
Because I'm so self conscious.

I love my books,
For people tend to ignore my looks.

I don't really read literature,
I just lurk on an anime website like an amateur.

>>18580370
Where? Is it obscured
Or out of sight
Behind this posted turd
Mother fucker, a'ight.

>>18580512

Voracious and conscious don't mesh well.

>>18580474

There's a cadence to English speech based upon natural stress accentuation of "long" and "short" syllables. That's a quirk of our language which is unavoidable and even in free verse your phrasing, your imagery, whatever is enhanced by recognizing how the puzzle pieces of that flow fit together. You don't need to rhyme, sometimes they're corny or awkward. You don't need meter either, it's just structure for thoughts and a noble tradition to immerse yourself in. You also don't need a mechanic, but first it helps to know something about cars before you start tuning an engine.

i smoke weed, therefore i am...

>>18581164
Bravo.

>>18580152
Sir, I beg you to please link the previous thread when posting a new one.

Thank you for considering my request.

Sunlight traps the evening
in amber
The tree above me still
holds rain
Somewhere, a tear glimmers
midair

>>18580161
The other day I thought of an image similar to the one explored in your first stanza. I like your execution honestly.

>>18580918
I was literally just asking about that 82-52-82 format that was mentioned

>>18580224
You've done a very good job of displaying desolation, nice!

Here's mine, I've posted here before and got told my stuff was too long, I've absolutely failed to address that:

A sturdy Roman skiff wades through tangled reeds
On the dark Thames, darker still where it leads
The colder climes stop not the sweat on the brow
Of the olive skinned explorer, on a doomed course now

Slanted rain strikes this map edge with a thousand arrows
From the sky thundering cracks drown out the calls of sleek crows
These are not the showers or reeking bolts of Jupiter though
But the work of more alien Gods, wordless, sending the blow

Murky waters hide the reflection of fearful faces
Just so, brambly thickets give to shaky nerves graces
For behind the dense verdure walk barbarian enemies
In fact such deep green would elsewhere these Romans please

As the tangle of ferns, roots and garlic recedes
And the stern ship on it's dusky path proceeds
The pilot spies, with wary eyes, a grassy clearing
Upon which cyclopean granite monuments are rearing

In a circle of stone a trio of sinewy men to prayer attend
Two carry tall brazen horns which into dull skies extend
Auburn was their hair, and upon it gleaming tin for ornament
Billowing lungs within their chests, nought but blue paint for garment

As the towering instruments blew with a deep, discordant cry
The third man, in loose woollen robe, raised hands to the sky
At this moment did the eyes of strangers meet, no longer hidden
One pair from powerful Italy, the other from mysterious Britain

With glowering evening skies closing in on the strangers
Harsh rain beating against their faces, both natives and rangers
Bewildered looks now turned to hostile faces
The Britons sprinting to their shields and savage maces

Romans stood up in their craft, afeared for their lives
Now they had to choose, Caesar's wrath or Brittonic knives
In the end, no matter, for they found upon turning back
Their homebound galleys already far off, on seas icy and black

>>18580152
You suck
my bump
time is over
reeking heart
tear me, show me your eyes
anger only ever seeps
from your dirty
bits

>>18580161
Lots of nice imagery, not convinced you're telling a personal story. But who is?... don't look to close

>>18581632
That's a good idea.

>>18581896
Feels a little half baked. Has potential to be better but that last line is most unsatisfying.

>>18583045
In saying that I think it could easily be a great ending to a poem, the flow just feels off so it doesn't hit as it should

I have but vented loudly unto them
Displeasure, eyes on ashy mountains.
My hope remained marooned o’er many years,
While stabbed before their power, stabbed by peers.
Their parents parted promptly like a cloud
After rainfall, phone had rung, they went out
And shut the sliding door behind their young,
Who turned to face my seat and hurled a hundred
Insults. My smile began to face the fate
My father suffered after winter’s wake.

>>18583189
Blegh. This feels really inconsistent with little artistic intent or general notion of theme. Speckled throughout this are some genuinely good images and thought provoking ideas but this lacks style.

>line 1-2
This just makes no sense and its not in a way where there is abstraction going on, it just doesn't work.
>line 3
O'er feels unnecessary and pompous.
>line 4
More nonsense.
>line 5-6: their parents parted promptly like a cloud after rainfall
Pretty solid and I think it works and flows well. Past "rainfall" we start to go into drivel again.
>line 7
Blegh, could be expressed differently.
>line 8+9: [...their young] who turned to face my seat and hurled a hundred insults
Great, my favourite part.
>line 9+10
Not great. Tries too hard to be mysterious but actually comes off as cliché and un-natural.

All in all, you obviously have some inspiration which is telling from the small nuggets of goodness. If i were you I'd keep trying and focus on expressing your images or themes in ways outside of the box, the first expression or articulation isn't always the best and is usually the most predictable.

She’s looking at me.
No matter where I move to,
her eyes seem to follow.
I look back.
Is that a smile?
A little inappropriate for a married woman.
I smile back anyway.

She’s beautiful.
Ratios and resemblances aside,
She would make angels sing.
I look into her eyes
And I see what no one else can.
Her soul. Her true self.
It’s just as beautiful as she is.

No one else.

Everyone else.

I look around me.
Dozens of people are looking at her.
Phones out. Cameras pointed.
They can’t see her.
They just want to look at her.
A selfie and a t-shirt are all she is to them.

Will she think I’m like them if I stay?
Gawking, rubbernecking.
They shove and push me
Just to get a clearer shot.
Can’t they tell I’m in love?
I need to leave.
Show her I’m not like them.

It’s been a while.
I thought about her.
On the drive to the hotel.
On the flight home.
On my bed.
She won’t let me sleep.


I have a picture of her.
On my phone.
Probably taken by one of them.
Sometimes I just stare at it.
I sneak off in the middle of the night
Just to look at her for a few minutes.

What are you doing?
She’s dead.
She’s been dead for hundreds of years.
This isn’t even actually her.
It’s a picture
Of a painting,
Made by another person,
Of a woman
You don’t even know.

I know she’s not real.
I know the painting is fake.
But the woman in the painting is real.
I wish I could have known her.
I wish I could stop looking.
I wish I could stop wishing.
But I could swear she’s looking back.

I need to stop.
Why can’t I stop?
Stop looking at me.
Get out of my head.
Leave me alone.
Let me leave you alone.


I finished her Wikipedia article for the fifth time.
This is stalking.
I’m stalking her.
I’m no better than those animals on their phones.
I thought I was special.
But this is the only way I can get to know her.
Why do I even need to know her?

She’s already dead.

And I’m not even in Paris anymore.

Sunshowers;
a sepia tint
to a backdrop
of skyscrapers
and staccato traffic.
Through the dog
nose smudge marked
windows
and the screams
of a treacherous fan
I feel like my brother
is watching
for the first time in years.

>>18580314
Am I confusing you with another wall of text.
>>18580319
What's the difference?

>>18584586
Dang bro this is a bit much. Yes, I get that it's about the mona lisa, and you were trying your darnedest to hamfist some contemporary references in there, but as the immortal bard said "brevity is the soul of wit". You're doing that Walter Benjamin "Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" aura khorra shit, which I personally like, but you wrote it like a horse with a keyboard; plodding and meandering about without direction. Get to the point, say it in as few words as you possibly can, because the idea is good and should stand alone without that coy nonsense.

>>18583263
Thank you. Do you have instagram or an email because I'd like to correspond with you some more about writing?

Also, are metaphors best when they correspond of nature?

>>18580512
On lit
I quit

The game
Of life

Fame
Outta frame

For
No pussy
Just books

I get
Wired looks

>>18585180
On lit I quit

The game of life

Fame outta frame

For

No pussy, just books

I get wired looks

>>18585153
Yeah cool. I have a throwaway email called:
batchoneil42@gmai.com
We can go from there, don't want to put my real info on here

>>18584586
Idk, i kinda like it but its not really great poetry.
>>18584621
Clunky and rigid. Could use some work. The line breaks don't serve the poem well.
Treacherous fan, really?

Les nuages rougent
Je ne sais si ma
Soirée finira
Il faut que je bouge

Big ol dank ass dumper
plump and crass pig ass
BRAPATAP thunder claps
a sniff, a gift of gas

>>18585597
>best in thread.
>Here is my take on it.

Big ol
Dank ass
Dumper

Plump and crass
What an ass

BRAP
Thunder clap

That's a wrap

>>18585461
Nice.