/lit/ - Literature

i'll post soemthing if no one else is going to

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AEVa1vHLTk

>>21198930
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Voting is gay.
Pee pee poo poo.

>>21198930
I remember reading "Good Timber" by Douglas Malloch many years ago and occasionally found myself reflecting on it.

>>21200357
I wonder if there will ever come a day when I could just make a post without any typos..

>>21200380
I really like it. The imagery of a tree as a person's growth is very standard but he uses it to reach the opposite conclusion you might expect. That makes it feel really honest to me, he's not trying to teach some higher ideal but express something true, and I really appreciate that. I'm always a bit wary when it seems like a poet is putting on airs and writing what they think people want to hear. But this poem says something uncomfortable in every language that still flows well as a poem.

As a personal point, I don't like that he used a tree to stand in for such a human issue, but that's my own preference since I usually see nature as something operating independently of human thought which is a peaceful thought for me. But that's nto a bad point against the poem in itself.

>>21200461
Thank you, anon. I certainly appreciate your flattering review. I've been going through my folder of unfinished poetry and it really is amazing just how little value can be distilled from years worth of occasional writing sessions.

"
it
takes
a lot of
desperation
dissatisfaction
and
disillusion
to
write
a
few
good
poems.
...
" – Bukowski comes to mind.

Shame no one is posting this time of day, I'll just bump this thread and go to sleep.

>>21198930

"The spiritual confession in the name of Anya Taylor-Joy"

I want to fuck you, but I can't -
My penis aches with lust,
It hurts.

Your sweet clitoris is pulsating,
It grools with crystal liquid
Softly.

I watch your fingers touching lips
Of your vagina, soft
And wet.

Yet I can only watch and wait
Until you'll let me ejaculate.

You'll masturbate few minutes more
And then you'll gift me with your touch.

The pearls of sperm will warm your thighs
As I will beg for more.

>>21200957
Subject matter aside, I like the verse structure.

>>21200380
The wording is nice, but fucking hell, the rythm and intonation is completely off. Count your beats, man.

>>21198930

133. November

Leaves, in fiery panoply,
Lie down as autumn crashes.
Now trees that bare their limbs to me
Lay naked a finality
Upon the season's ashes.

Beauty and mortality
Repose in haunting visions,
For trees that bare their limbs to me
Have swallowed up entirely
Dead summer's indecisions.

Staring, long and achingly,
My gaze has come to rest once more
On trees that bare their limbs to me,
Eyes caught by that serenity
Above the forest floor.

Nature - starkly, honestly -
Allures within an open grave,
As trees that bare themselves to me
Become the only thing I see,
The only thing I crave.

* * *

129. Winds That Burn and Sing

Winds in the weathervane,
Whither do you blow?
This diametric turning
On a contrapuntal flow
Leaves me dizzy
And discordant
Untuned without a bow
Strings akimbo in the storm
With no clear way to go

The systole and the distole
Both sound a different beat;
Two breezes animate my lungs
And fan the lyric heat.1
But only one song may be sung:
One pulse must out compete;
One voice must choke on bitter silence
While its rival warbles sweet.

Winds that cut the nighthawk
Terrorize the hermit thrush.
Shred the perfect, petalled rose2
And blanche its lambent blush;
Twist the spirit til it breaks
Within the tempest's crush,
Snarled and spun by indecision
In that vacillating rush.

The systole and the distole
Shudder their disharmony;
The bated breath screams for release,
The tune demands a key.
The poet's voice can bow the wind
If breathing what must be:
"One bird must die within its cage,
So one might then fly free."

>>21201125
These are great. I definitely connect to the positive but melancholy sentiment of the first one, I love nature walks in all seasons. Interesting structure in the second one. If I'm scanning it right, it's stress-timed, mostly three beats with occasional four beat lines which is unusual, not easy to make such terse lines work so well. Also impressive to have four of the same rhymes per stanza that all sound totally natural.

Reminds me of Emily Dickinson, especially lines like "This diametric turning / On a contrapuntal flow"

>>21201357
Man, you have no idea how validating it is to read this. Poetry has been my primary form of catharsis, along with hiking, for several years now. I worked in group homes with the disabled for a collapsing NGO, whose collapse predated but was hastened by the pandemic. I was depressed and miserable for the last two years, and my ability to write poetry flagged almost entirely, except for a few despairing pieces.

Then I quit my job and worked on a schooner with my best friend for six months. Absolute reignition.

These two I provided were written in the last week, and the both have underlying motivation that deal with two women who have become central in drawing poetry out of me the last six months and the struggle of attraction to the one that excites me physically/intellectually vs. the more vulnerable girl who is the most endearing person I've ever met, yet is emotionally closed off despite our mutual attraction. The poems share imagery with other things I've written, which I can share if you'd like to read more.

>>21201085
Thanks. It's my third /lit/-exclusive poem, I constantly try to make the verses as grotesquely explicit as possible. I've never tried it before - thanks to this Mongolian basket-weaving forum I began writing degenerate poetry without any additional preparations. I just write the verses down, not thinking about the subject, very easy and fast. The poetry turns out to be extremely ugly, but still much better than most of modern poetry written by faggots and pseuds.

>>21201431
I don't generally like your gross out poetry, but you giving it a Dadaistic angle like that immediately juxtaposes it against self-involved horseshit like Rupi Kaur and, I have to say, it makes my disposition towards it more positive.

>>21198930
What's a good way to identify if a poem you wrote is absolutely peak fucking trash? Ex, I can't tell if this is one large pile of dog shit or three small piles of goat shit. Inb4 "fuck off with your gay romantic poetry" that's literally all I know how to write the only feeling I feel anymore is unrequited love and it makes me seethe harder as the days pass.

The albatross sleeps across the sea
Your sudden kiss, momentarily
Awakens hope deep inside of me.
Will you be mine, eventually?

The Pekin Duck looks toward the pond
A gentle hug, now won't be long
Your scent your smile, missed for I am fond
The sudden laugh, bright beautiful song

The Lemon Dove flits to leaf to leaf
Your glowing soul, here, my sweet relief
When you are near, gone the painful grief
For you my heart, yes! Indulge the thief

>>21201412
Keep up the good work, our sun shines all the brighter because of you :D

>>21200921
This one is good, a great reminder to treat others with kindness. As per your tree one, I can't escape my own imagery of hatred toward saplings as I jealously relate. So it seems like whinging at privilege. But taken (as in this one) from the opposing point of view, looking down and with pity, it feels much softer and warm toward the trees born of crags.

>>21200957
I wish I could produce such sexual prosody, Im not too fond of the lack of apparent structure but the horny energy makes up for it. Gross and sexy.

>>21201125
On 133, it's not clear whether you mean to invoke the image of the allure of suicide and if you do then It's very subtle. It feels in praise of winter and the journey to mictlan. It seems sad and mad, but perhaps that is me.
On 129 "but only one song may be sung" rhythmically feels off, I think there's some mixed up stress. But otherwise the songs of the wind as described is really evocative. Very pleasant read and frightening and exciting images.
Overall I'm really liking the naturalistic style. Never give up!

>>21198930
---- Solaria ----
309
(imperium)

Transparent, angelic, I float
Like the sun in in the middle of ideal July

Like an an archive of inflection Kew Gardens is the envy of,
Inconceivably personal, your lover bro


And benign despot.

>>21201527
Sure, you don't have to like it since I do intentionally make it as disturbing as possible and, at the same time, very easy to read. I write normal verses also - they won't be there or anywhere else in the web, of course, since I have to publish them first and I consider it not necessary since I am not a man of art, generally speaking.

Yet here I feel it's just the right place to write that shit and don't bother. I feel like I'm creating something like Hogg by Delany, maybe I shall collect these degenerate poems and add them to some non-poetic work to be owned by a mentally deranged character, or a serial killer, or maybe used in some inner political pamphlets.

fucking hell, it's so tiresome to write like that, with all those archaic words and strange phrases, is it /lit/ corrupting influence lol? I never write like than on other boards and never speak this way

>>21202272
>sexual prosody

I think of collecting those Hogg-like "poems" of mine from every poetry thread and maybe include them in some other work. You know, let some schizo character be a poet of sorts (maybe some rich and influential president-like figure making such poetry and revealing himself being a schizo, I don't know yet).

>>21202278
Good, but the word "bro" ruins it completely

>>21202272
On 129. I actually agree wholeheartedly about the "only one song" line. I'll workshop it. Thanks for your critique and kind words.

On 133. the suicide element is present, but it itself is another layer of the poem's allegory. The seasonal transition is representative of two women, one I just worked with for six months and herself loved September, and the one I have been writing poetry for recently, who is a decidedly November kind of person. There is an emotional suicide happening in my life currently, based on physical and intellectual attraction to November, while September has gone on her transient way. The metaphors are appropriate to the women, November told me she read this "dozens of times" yesterday. You're right to detect the sorrow and anger undertones.

The imagery threads through other poems I've written for/about the two of them. November sent me burlesques of her tattoos (and JESUS, she is well put together) and sexually charged letters while I was away this summer, and we had a back and forth of that for awhile. She's 6'1" and looks, at any time, like she could be a faerie in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I've compared her to a tree before.

101. Gemini

Under guise of her sign, she entices
Ephemeral nereid
Willow essence made flesh
Initiating into flesh, faerie lithe
Captures herself an instant
Flits like a celadon moth
A digital caryatid
Carried out to sea
Baring her sign to me

The moonlight luminescence
Of her skin's delicate revelation
Beauty constellated in sparse blemishes
That are an elevating contrast
Like the negatives of stars
Marks to navigate a white expanse
Texturing impalpable curves
That lunar complexion rounded
Rising out in underswells
To vanish incomplete
In bittersweet eclipses
Soft in dreams

What warmth in unseen reaches
Longing to be mapped?
Phantom symmetries assert themselves
In the darkness of unknowing
A pulse for further epiphanies
Venusian dimples bloom
Conjured and reimagined
Turning in my midnight eye
The pretty crease of her spine
Or the plunge of the clavicle down
And again I review that glyph
See anew her zodiac in freckles
And retrace her breast's pale arc

Conflict of the epicure and aesthete
Faustian dipole of restless nights
Somewhere, a nymph is laughing
Having teased out my words
Merciless, she delights.

>>21202272
Also, not to keep filling you with my autobiography, I grew up as a bookworm on a dairy farm in a kind of Mayberry-like holdover area. The naturalistic stuff I think sometimes reads as anachronistic now that less than half the country lives in the countryside, but it's very much part of me rather than an affectation. I've had to come to grips with my space in the societal Venn Diagram.

WINDOW
A frame of artificial eggshell,
Bedecks the lawn
Priceless Jade at dawn

Degenerate invalids
Toothless lapdogs
Nothing left to fix
Mindless machine cogs

>>21203112
>>21203102
Happy to share kind words and I'm glad you have found some success. Can I ask you to look at my poem? >>21202211

Roast this gay ass shit I came up with

Palm tree hair and coconut brown skin
Almost my twin, within eyes bewitching
A sliver of my soul has been stolen
Held in place by that sensuous stare

Hoping to hold and caress that skeletal frame
Her aims and mine aligned
So we became entwined

A sublime time, brief but boundless
Binding our bodies as beasts might
Basely desire, a display almost dreamlike

Or like a dream shared, our souls laid bare
Our bodies melting and melding together
Attracted like masses of gasses and dust
A dance everlasting, or an entertaining thought

>>21198930

Fat girl in a wheelchair:
it has tipped, she is stuck
on her chest, chair on back,
both her arms parascoping
back and forth 'bove her head

Snail with legs
Snail with feet
Snail with toes

Snail with arms
Snail with hands
Snail with fingers

Snail with neck
Snail with head
Snail with face

Snail with brain

Snail with body

Snail

>>21201242
alri manley hopkins

rate / hate / etc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwZvG3w2sEQ

...

the fall of this scattered awareness
brings a call to my aching mind
spiritual, ethereal or unreal, therefore
an idea or an inside

this retching, wretched, stitched-up session
a kvetching of a spiraling tide
a demise of endless horizons
bitten off,
curdling,
glaring as a thousand eyes

kept walking across a thousand stalks
with a stomach full of prize
for this funnel held by a cruel universe
turned worse
kept pouring until I finally died

>>21203625
WHY CERTAINLY
>>21202211
I don't know if this poem is absolute trash, it's got some stuff that works, but it isn't very coherent as a whole.

GOOD
>The repetition of "to leaf, to leaf" is a nice choice that linguistically captures the action of flitting better than "from leaf to leaf."

NEUTRAL
>You've got AAAA, ABAB, AAAA stanzas. This is a stylistic gripe on my point, so take it with a grain of salt: if you write a poem with three stanzas, the oddball one always reads to me like the author got lazy and didn't try hard enough to make the rhymes consistent. A fourth stanza with the rhyme scheme of the second one to give equal pairings has a symmetry to it that then looks intentional, brings balance.
>Stanza 3 also reads very thesaurusy, that's the danger of quadruple rhyming (I don't know my fucking proper terminology, sue me) and why whenever I employ it (like in 129.) it's a challenge to make it sound natural.

BAD
>The bird imagery doesn't really lend itself to the following lines in any stanza or find any kind of culmination anywhere in the poem.
>Meter is wonky in several places. The pause for "momentarily" works, but "bright, beautiful song" is a mouthful and "gone the painful grief" is shoehorned.

>>21207096
I think I agree. I struggle to rhyme naturally and I tried to force it here I think. Plus the meter is a bit strange. I think the first stanza alone sits well and the latter two can and should be scrapped. I don't think it can be massaged into a good execution. But having quatrains that have only one rhyme is probably not a good idea. Even Shakespeare didn't do that.

Bump

I don't really enjoy poetry that isn't 200+ years old, so please don't be offended by my lack of interest in your writings, lads.

>>21209685
Fair enough but consider this: in 200 years someone with a similar opinion will come along, so let us rejoice for tomorrow's readers and take care to lay out our prose in such a way as to allow them to partake in this tradition

>>21204204
what’s this about? i can’t tell what mood or idea you’re going for

>palm tree hair and coconut brown skin

this metaphor doesn’t work very well, try to find another. it doesn’t create a clear mental picture and the palm tree hair comparison makes me think of picrel

>almost my twin

assume this is meant figuratively and refers to spiritual similarity rather than physical. could be phrased better

> skeletal frame
the word skeletal has a strange and off-putting connotation. assuming this is about a romantic interest, ‘slender’ or ‘lithe’ would sound more fitting to describe her, unless she really is painfully thin

> Binding our bodies as beasts might
>Basely desire
this seems stilted and opaque, i’d revise

last stanza is nice

bump

Anal analytics dot co dot uk
Deconstructing everything I build
I took a shit and mailed it to them
Analysis complete: it's shit

>>21201242
could you please repost in green text thank you

>>21200380
Love this idea, very thought-provoking

>>21201125
Great work. stet

>>21204204
This is actually beautiful, not shitty at all

Only two issues: first line and last line

First line, the tree metaphor that you use is too disparate from the rest of the poem. Consider choosing something more related to the images in the last stanza

Last line,
>entertaining thought
takes away from the rest of the poem and cheapens the deep feelings you’ve expressed. You’ve just said you want to totally enmesh with this girl forever, and then reducing that sentiment to simply an entertaining thought makes it all come off as meaningless. Captivating might sound better, or just replace it with something different

>>21198930
She grew her lungs on Daisy's fiels
Filming tales on concrete plates
from glassbreed forests to desert storms
sryngers are my rockets
pills are my bombs

>>21198930
roses are red
violets are blue
/lit/ sucks ass
so do u

Like a snail with leaden legs it goes, with block and rebar shell and air
as hot as gallant chamber maids may glow
when subject to the Tyrant's mighty glare
A heaving of the chest against the locking door in either case,
this of snot, the other lace

The ire, the hatred of the iris drags
on and on like iron minutes born of ore
Slow eons gouging great within the earthy belly
As if to gain the treasures of her store
when swallowing all does borrow
Borrow from the minutes like the hours,
And drag like the breech of continents wherein
His heady might could make its mark at last
If only the mines were not so vast,
And each connecting to more tenfold still,
On and on and on and led to nowhere,
Dreadful, deadly, wide aways to go
And no matter efforts there, always dreadful slow

Never spoke in poetry my whole body is mismatched.
Left shoulder slumped an old stubborn one.
Can't walk straight with a bad hip
Bad skin hairline receding.
People try to be nice but I feel like a fool.
Someone is laughing behind my back.
I want to be mean and live in a world of fear.
A killer with a gun on my waist
walking around with dry blood on my face.
But I'm lazy to try so hard
I want to curl like a cat and sunbath
Eat my cat food
I don't know
Where do I go from here?
Yawn
I might be losing brain cells too.
Slowly turning into an animal

>>21198930
There once was a snail with 5 legs,
Once 6, now 5 plus 1 peg,
One eye had a patch,
His shell made of thatch,
And as for a dick, he still begs.
-Schnecke88

>>21205723
stop shilling, fag

>>21211399
I loled
me when I post & my work gets ripped to shreds

>>21204348
I don't care about trees or lost loves. This snail thing is the first post worth remarking on itt. Nice slime.

>>21213503
>>21213699
post more snail

my gf rubs herself off on my thigh and leaves a trail of slime
she’s like a snail with legs

>>21214355
Invertebased and shell pilled

>>21212634
what does this mean

>>21213699
Good poem

Bloodthirsty old lords
The first and final hurdle
Patient faith melts iron swords
Eternal glory to the turtle

>>21198930
Alas, the wind is like the fingers running slow
Across the face of baby children crying loud,
The world is something dark, and not to be so proud,
And I begin to wonder: where does honour grow?

>>21216415
meter is awkward, full of redundancies, no coherent theme

>>21216739
The meter is perfect. Show me any syllable that is off.
>theme
Lol. Start reading.

>>21215118
Nothing really, just something that came to mind a few years back.

>>21206584
nice, like the subtle rhymes. reminds me of times when i felt like i hated the the whole world and the whole world hated me.

Nowhere a black angel sings
Nothing really nothing
Under the weight a hardened heart sinks
Nothing since

>>21217531
this doesnt really make sense man. what were you going for?

>>21217583
Nothing really you useless retard.

>>21217624
is the black angel meant to be evil, like a demon that steals your happiness

>>21217640
You're so retarded it blows my mind every time. Any explanation will reduce the thing to your retarded level of thinking.

>>21217654
NTA but I liked >>2121753. It carries a feeling of ennui

>>21201125
An absolutely masterful grasp of vowel sounds. Tumultuous. It's alliteration just stops beyond the point of no return, so it is forceful without being comical.

>>21199914
>>21200957
>>21204255
>>21204348
>>21211399
>>21213395
>>21213907
>>21214685
based

>>21200380
>>21200921
>>21201125
>>21203102
>>21206584
>>21210222
>>21212634
>>21213503
>>21213699
>>21216406
>>21216415
>>21217531
gay

>>21202278
>>21202211
>>21203419
>>21203440
gay and retarded

>>21204204
extremely gay

>>21205723
fuck off, faggot

Have the great fairytales been put into verse? Will the form ruin them? I love La Fontaine for what he did to the fable and I was wondering if the same could be done with the fairytale.

Roses are red and based but gay
Violets are blue and retarded they say
At least they're alive my dude
Being nothing is worse than being a pseud

>>21218400
pathetic

>>21219013
As bad as it is you somehow manage to make even worse posts. You can't make anything, not even shit.

Violets aren't blue,
Violets are PURPLE
What's the matter with you?
Oh- wait- I think I get it.

>>21219214
whatve you made, if you wanna act so high and mighty?

>>21219224
This is possibly the dumbest reply you could have possibly made.

>>21219239
youre just triggered that i insulted your faggy shit. if you think youre so much smarter than me then prove it, share your masterwork

>>21198930
Go, you! Little snail with legs,
tap your little feet upon the barren floor
and leave your prints a rhythmic trail!
You little snail with legs! Go!

>>21219328
The poem was about you and the predictable braindead replies you continue to make.

>>21210222
Genuinely made me sad.

Speaking of being made sad.
Rate both the poem and my reading. k thanks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHGCAgrhhc8

>>21219928
u sound like a girl

hello poetry general. may i have some tips for begginers? everything i write seems to have no rhyme, milk and honey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AEVa1vHLTk

if we're sharing poems

>>21220737
stop shilling this YouTube shit. post the text of the poem here if you want people to read it.

>>21219892
She deserves a poem that's less depressing than that, but it's hard to write a happy one with any impact.

I went to the Starbucks' bathroom
After another line of coke
And paid heed to
the duty
the desire
the dream
Of my ancestors -
A real ass CD.

>>21221372
I'm >>21201412 and my work included people with alzheimers. It's an awful disease, man. I'm sorry for you and this person and all friends'/family's sense of growing loss. I had a poem I tried to write a few years ago about my clients with cerebral palsy, but I wasn't able to finish it for the same reason, it was too depressing.

This is a poem I wrote several years ago about three ladies who lived and died over the course of my time at the group home, two of which had alzheimers (one had bipolar type schizophrenia).

42. Room Two

A little bird with a broken wing
Cannot fly
But still may sing
If tended well with loving hands;
A kindred heart which understands
That both their forms are passing brief,
Vessels frail half-filled with grief.
Mere wisps adrift within a storm –
Kindled motes, an instant warm

Yet past the crossroad of their lives,
A truth remains and out-survives.
It is the wheat within the chaff
Which forms the vessels’ other half.

The paramount of human toil
To till in harsh, unyielding soil
The seeds of mutual joy sublime
Whose growth – alone – might order Time.

A recompense on misty days
Sweet winds to dissipate drear haze
Uplift this melancholic veil,
Our common pall of falling pale.

By our own acts we stir this breeze
When we tend well
And love with ease.

For what is weak can still be strong
A voice in an unending song
The Spirit’s tone far grander rings
With notes that nestle in all things.

Pray shelter give the little bird
Who suffers absent any word.
Enrich the garden of your hearts
With seed and song, ere form departs
Wisdom fills the steward’s role
And tops the vessel of your soul

Gift and giver, granted heir:
All three transfigured.
All made fair.

Oh! You snail with legs!
You soft moving, gentle giant, ELEPHANT OF DEATH
All I desire more than to pass is to push you into the PITS OF ASMODEUS
BE OUT OF MY WAY you slug!
You slimy dog whom would bark at every stranger.
Ah yes the most interesting thing upon that shelf there-GET OUT OF MY PATH YOU WHORE
Is your shopping cart not full enough? It strains it's back nearly crushed by the piles and varieties of SUGAR AND SALT
YOU MOVE TOO SLOW YOU GELATINOUS GIANT
your vile stench clings to my nose even as your vile body clings to THE CENTER OF THE AISLE
I cannot fit betwixt you and the side yet my milk and honey lies beyond your humongous figure.
YOU FAT BITCH
Can you not tell I urge you forward? Your cellulite legs, nearly collapsing from compressive force.
I must resign and accept this was my fate
For it was I, who chose, to shop at Walmart.

a snail with legs is most like a man,
content
between his legs snipped while,
laughing, moving on,
a snail with legs can't be salted by time,
tomorrow turns to manana and what
does it matter to him?

So no one told you life was gonna be this way
Your job's a joke, you're broke
You're a fucking snail
It's like you're always stuck in second gear
Tinny speakers in the Starbucks bathroom
Smell of chlorine and shit
The call of the ancestral ass CD

>>21221657
Thank you, anon, both for the poem and for looking after people who needed it.

>>21198930
There once was a snail with two legs
Who wanted to fertilize eggs.
But a hermaphrodite he,
No leg middle there be;
He was doomed to never have segs.

>>21222521
consider:
>There once was a snail with two legs
>Who wanted to fertilize eggs.
>a hermaphrodite he,
>No middle "leg" see?
>Twas doomed, he'd never have segs.

one-leg tranny
slimy trail
tiny townhouse
tiny snail

penis duel
around the head
snail is breeding
snail is bred

apophallation
snail is beaten
penis severed
penis eaten

how do u write a poem for a girl that doesnt sound lame? i wanna give one to my gf as an anniversary gift but cant think of anything that isnt sappy

>>21222877
roses are red
violence will lube yer
please can I shove
my cock in that pooper

>>21222903
fuck u, im being serious

>>21222918
what poetry do you and she like reading? what makes it not lame?

>>21222877
Try to think of four or five images you want to express, then imagine the details as precisely as you can. These days meter can be ignored, but you don't want your work to sound dull, so still listen to the way it would be read. Then work one stanza at a time, construct the image then construct a more subtle allusion to it. Try not use teen girly metaphors.
Ex: the leaves on the trees are turning orange -> the gold appears on the branches, slowly at first, then in a rush -> the glints of brownish gold fall down sparkling in the sunlight / as if in slow motion the snow rushes to meet the ground.
You might want to make an analogy then telescope it: you eyes are to my heart as the silver ring is to a raven -> the smart corvid of my heart binds it's gaze to the glint of your eye.
Now you have something that equates to something else (crow and heart) and can draw new images using only one: my heart desires not to migrate as the days grow shorter, the crow is warmed by your broad smile.
But keep in mind existing cultural metaphors. Often crows are harbingers of death, so this image here, "the corvid of my heart," has built in darkness to it, and perhaps implies that the writer is apathetic or depressed. So be careful, perhaps the poetic image become happier when we substitute corvid for blue jay, or robin.
So try, simply try, to write a poem, then write another and perhaps retain your favorite detail. Push and pull, and read a book about it, or look into a dictionary, often simple words have poetic definitions. Such as vibe leading you to atmospheric auras and so on.
Take this with a grain of salt. I'm not particularly good at writing poetry.

>>21222942
she likes old victorian stuff like elizabeth browning, emily dickinson, lord byron. im not as into it as she is and i dunno how to copy that old fashioned style. bukowski is the only poet im a real fan of. she thinks his shit is lame tho

>>21222969
Soft as velvet
Brings me to stupor
Warm as the sun
Ye olde timey pooper

>>21222969
Your girlfriend has better taste than you. She should be my girl.

>>21223077
i know her taste is better, thats why im worried that if my poem doesnt turn out very good she’ll compare it to all the good poetry shes read before and will think it sucks.

> She should be my girl.
u wish

>>21201125
I'll give you a dollar if you've ever used the word 'panoply' in a sentence once before writing there

>>21202211
It’s decent, keep working
The bird references seem weird though

>>21204204
Not bad, a bit awkward in places
Could use some revision

>>21213699
Boring, whiny, very little descriptive language
Start from scratch and pick a different topic

>>21222965
This is helpful, thanks
Will experiment with this method

>>21199746
Stop plagiarizing

>>21202211
You stumble with the meter on the 3rd lie stanza 1, 3rd line of stanza 2, and the whole 3rd stanza.

>>21204204
What is palm tree hair? Relating skin to coconuts makes it sound hairy. The second line changes the tone from ridiculous to traditional, which then keeps going in cliché lines. Skeletal frame does not sound attractive, but rather, reminds me of Halloween or of Eugenia Kooney or whatever her name is. The images are not unified by any greater conceit or idea, they come out scattershot. The only good line being the second to last, which actually is a good line, and could be part of a much better poem, but then the last line follows. Where before there was some haphazard rhyme, which did whatever it could to elevate the poem, you follow the best line without even a half rhyme.

>>21216415
Baby children? "And I begin to wonder:" takes the reader away from the images. You could have a more complex line, instead of filling it in with that.

>>21223515
The intended meter is -/-/ /-/-/, not iambic pentameter. But since I posted it I have revised the poem to be the first stanza alone with small revisions.

The albatross that sleeps across the sea
A sudden kiss, it momentarily
Awakens hope that's deep inside of me.
Will you be mine although I am guilty?

>>21220628
Paul Fussell's "Poetic Meter and Poetic Form". Read more poetry you like and try to write more poetry you like.

>>21222040
I like the last 3 lines. Kinda funny

>>21222597
The last stanza is funny

>>21222877
If it's personal, and she likes poetry, then it wont come off that way. I've written plenty of poetry to my now wife when we were dating and she loved them. I may post some if anons are interested, leaving out the personal lines

>>21222969
She has better taste

>>21222877
Also, read Paul Fussell's Poetic Meter and Poetic Form

>>21223546
Are you saying you are no longer trying to use that awfully specific scansion for each line? If so, that's good. Variations in lines can be a very good thing when done correctly. That meter is essentially iambic with an awkward stress thrown into the middle. Makes no sense.

>>21223573
I wanted to try to press the lines into a stressful meter but I found it didn't have the intended effect and just sounded unintentional. I'm really interested in spondees and dispondees and pyrrhic feet but I don't have a sensation for making it natural yet. I'm experimenting. Also I see after the notes I've gotten here that the bird symbolism is largely lost and I should establish it more clearly instead of relying on my readers to have kinda niche knowledge.

>>21198930
How pale and frail
The snail—and slow!
A shiny slime trail
Is left as she'll go
Among all the dregs,
Nibbling plants
Do not wish you had legs
Else you'd have to buy pants.

>>21223590
That's true it's niche, but I like it. Not every poem needs to be understood by everyone on the first read. As for spondees and pyrrhics, do you like substituting iambs and trochees for them? Or do you mean in a larger sense?

>>21223611
Substitution but moreso using them to modify the subconscious energy. I have a poem hidden somewhere in my hard drive that has a pyrrhic foot in every line in hopes that the poem starts in a warm space but ends up deeply depressed and apathetic. Or here >>21221969 where I try to use spondees and dispondees to build the anger. I dunno what the fuck I'm talking about, I'm sure that's clear, but I hope what I'm trying is working in some sense.

>>21221257
no.
poems were made to be read out loud

critter courageous sails on trail
wet as an aroused labia,
small like mole, like
jiminy's bowler hat.

does nimble jaunt (slosh slosh slosh) and
totters with an ease suggesting limbs and
branched phalanges. oozes dedication

flirts with the pavement
impregnates the earth
the gastropodic vagabond
will never get there first

>>21222969
>girl in the year of our lord 2022
>likes old good poetry
>thinks bukowksi sucks

Send her in a time machine to the theater pseuds I hung around with in high school, plez

>>21224093
I don't like him either. bukowksi bores me

>>21223545
I was just following the meter and didn’t think about the content. You should stop thinking about content too.

Silent sits
snail assassin
found his legs
fated to fall.
As it was
abandoned again
wait with us
withering away.

>>21224351
Think about both and elevate your work

>>21224664
"Think about both" the faggot said
"And elevate your work".
What a pseudometric phrase.
What a fucking jerk.

I'm a different anon and I don't actually disagree with you, I'm just sleep deprived and found this response entertaining.

>>21223626
It depends more on how they and where the feet are used. If they have no correlation to the content of the poem when you use them then they'll feel out of place.

>>21224680
I lol’d. Which of the works in the thread are yours?

>>21224093
Bukowski sucks

>>21198930
I am become the world
destroyer of death
this is hell
and you aren't getting off the ride
people mean nothing anymore
much less words
It's maam

I sit alone in my bedroom
obsessing over it all
sometimes I pretend to have half a dream
but I never do anything about it
I would start a cult
But I don't like being around people

I guess I’ll post this here instead of creating my own thread, as I don’t see one for it.

What’s the best place for a beginner to start with poetry? Both for reading it from others, and trying to write it myself.

>>21225342
As for reading:
https://www.bartleby.com/101/
Choose with https://www.random.org/ (1-883) or simply decide.
>Inb4 normie core
Correct.


As for writing:
>>21223562

Read Paul fussel's book on poetic meter and read all of the famous poets from all regions and periods.

>>21225342
This post was meant for you>>21225388

>>21224729
I would be >>21201125, >>21221657, and >>21203102. And for the fuck of it, here's something from 1 AM this morning in a round of insomnia.

139. La mémoire du coeur

God!

Would that my fire was all my own,
From spark,
To blaze,
To embers.
Would that my heart could be my own
Without
What it
Remembers.

Would that my eyes never fell upon
The light
That shone
In her smiles.
Would that my mind wouldn't dwell upon
Her answer,
Her absence,
The miles.

Would that my soul could find gratitude.
For now
Its form
Is hid.

Did she warm my life with her gratitude?
She did.
She did.
She did.

>>21225342
Read Poe's Philosophy of Composition and Fussell's book recommended by other anons. Very glad to see Fussell's name more often in these threads.

>>21225822
Ugh, the formatting is supposed to look like this

I am a fork with one prong and
the prong is crooked and
too flaccid to hook your apple pie and
you can’t eat the pie with your hands because
I smudged them with dirt and
you can’t wash them because I
broke the faucet.
I’m a pillow with no cool side or
a comforter that’s too short so
one leg sticks out in the night and
the draft from the window tickles it and
it runs goosebumps up your body.
I think, “I’m terrible, the worst in the world”
As I feel your nipples harden from the cold.
Maybe you don’t mind
me.

At this moment we stand together and smile while we face the sun staring into the wind roaring loud
Misty peaks rise in the distance filled with evergreens clamoring to the shine; dancing roots deep in the soil
I am surely witnessing the transformation of the season
You stand beside me and in the warmest of hearts believe the same
Embracing we fall together to the grass and stare
To the stars above just beginning to peak though it had been hours spent surely
At this moment we are eternal spoken softly whispered gracefully to our ears by the wind

floating wishes
finding form
lost in longing
pretty lies
forget yourself
forever fantasy
witches weave
tapestries of war

To the most high in the toppest of peaks amongst rich golden towers of spires perched with doves and the sweetest berry vines, our King walks amongst his courtroom spreading His light upon the world.
Diamond springs well forth waters that roll upon the soil and rock gracefully. Sinking deep into the soil and vitalizing it’s existence, the waters call forth life to trance and trample the earth raising a racaous.
The vegetation is glorious to say the least as it crawls and constructs kingdoms of its own in a spiral of size. The various animals of all sizes rule accordingly and dominate their specialty, forms adapted to pursue its own very existence.
Powerful sunshine in motion, the cyclic angular painter that flowers and trees spring forth to grasp and be sprawled at warmth behest, they occupy the cliffs easily and without intervention, they are the driving force. And accordingly the sun rises and falls, the moon cycles to reflect part of the energy from the sun as it creates the powerful sequence of images that transcends human existence, looked upon by all beasts with eyes who have ever lived upon this Eden among the void.

>>21226923
This isn’t poetry, faggot

>>21226979
I wrote it with the specific intent for it to be poetry though. What’s it to you?

>>21226979
frigid southern wind
hurt butt eases under ice
soothing winter cold

>>21226359
I really like this. What inspired it?

god isn't real,
neither are the kikes,
if priests would get a job,
that would be real nice.

>>21204204
> Roast this gay ass shit I came up with
do you want feedback or do you just wanna be mocked?

>>21225822
This is nice

Bump

Sliding down a stalk of grass
I trail down the path I came from
Before dissolving my own legs
With a pinch of salt and a mouthful of ash

Holed in my shell, a gooey mess
And disassembled promises gushing out
Towards nothing but a bed of soil


Writing in english is interesting though I'm not really good at it

>>21229702
This is really good, I like how you used the prompt to create a poem with emotional resonance instead of just writing something comic

I'm legging it through birchwoods
Near mossy rocks, gurgly creek,
and knurled bark; methinks an owl
underneath my shell won't peek.
But sky soon nightened, the woodpecker held,
and on my silver trail swooped its shriek.

I did this quick for you guys. I took some liberty with the prompt. I read "snail with legs" as a flighty snail.

>>21198930
Men are plodding clockwork shells
Men are snails with legs
Men actuate to Pavlov's bells
And do what instinct begs

Men mask impulses as free will
Until something needs excuse
Men won't cop to nature, still
Pretending they're cut loose.

Men are puny, men are slime
Men are evolution's dregs.
Men amble slowly, die in time.
Men are snails with legs.

>>21225922
Your work is really impressive. Any favorite poets you would recommend?

bump

>>21204204
faggy as fuck but chicks tend to like that kinda shit

Draft lines for the Apep epic that I wrote while bored in court today. This is part of Apep's flattery of Osiris, intended to avert the usual outcome of Osiris stabbing him on sight.

>>21230825
great work

Not gonna follow your writing prompt, and yes I know it is absolutely the most basic rhyming structure, but fuck you:

Hand that's been dealt, hard indeed
Psychosis, delusions, mind's been freed
From the liquor, from the drugs
By Christ's sacrifice, on the cross

I stay with the church, follow the rules
As best I can, the girls make me drool
Galatians 3, holds it pretty clear
He does hold us, all quite dear

So I must wonder, how am I so special
For paying 10th, and trusting Smith
But I've read the book, and I've prayed to it
Received an answer, at least I think

Something deep down, still does not feel right
Still convinced I'm only in it, for something tight
Desire blood, upon my sword
Can't deal with thots, can't deal with whores

>>21232072
mor(m)on

>>21232077
drunk and mean I'm sorry

>>21232077
>>21232079
I realise I'm LDS, yes.
Problem is, there's been some things I've experienced with the church that are inexplicable and convince me of its legitimacy, but it's hard to distinguish whether it's the manifestations of God, or Satan.
Galatians 3:28 really stands as a testament against most of the teachings of the church.
I think I'm just /daughterofzion/-whipped.

>>21232089
If the church knows what's good for it then it should be in search of fine theological/exegetical scholars. But pay dear heed, there are non-religious benefits to the church. As for the book of Mormon and the dogmatic prescription of the King James, there is some unfortunate lack of historical validity. Perhaps it's worth the effort to look at the Greek.

>>21230825
you're good, written anything else?

>>21223601
>chef's kiss

>>21201125
>panoply
>contrapuntal
I like poems that make me look up words.

>>21198930
>pic related

bump

>>21232382
what is a gypsobel-em?

snail G.G

>>21232173
I am >>21201125, >>21225822, >>21203102, and >>21221657. I have a collection of 140 poems (as of yesterday) that go from when I was 19 to now (at 33) with ~110 of them from the last 3 years.

To the people that commented on 139., I'll give context to that poem, because I'm fairly elated at the moment. It's written about one of the deck hands I worked with over the course of the summer, who is an absolute gem of a human being that convinced me love at first sight may be an actual phenomenon. I wrote this about her last year:

88. The Naiad

I fell a night and half a day
_____Through those Elysian tracts
Where windblown fly the willow leaves
_____And petals slip their bracts.

I felt the glow of lantern lights,
_____All garland decked and blue;
Spread blooms of freckled amaranth
_____Above a grin of dew.

I stood at peace, a little while,
_____Beside that conjured Muse
Whose glance I caught, a little while,
_____And held. And then refused.

Oh I! Ejected from that bower
_____Need only to recall:
That breeze, those eyes; their limpid power
_____And, once again, I fall.

After working with her for 6 days when I came on as a relief galley hand. The connection I felt with her in that little time period was 85% of the reason I quit my job of 10 years and came to work on my buddy's ship for 6 months this year. I told a friend "I think my wife's on that ship" and I am sitting here typing in near total confidence that I'm correct. I wrote her poetry over the course of the season, we picked flowers and walked arm-in-arm (she's incredibly, incredibly shy, described as an unwitting heartbreaker), opened up to each other over the course of the season. But she was in her own emotional turmoil from events in her personal life and I'm shy as a motherfucker too, the analogy I used was "it's like two blind mutes Battleship" to the other crew commenting on the cuteness of our dynamic.

Well, to cut the biography short, I wrote her an "all-in" letter for the day she was leaving (getting it to her ended up being a scene from a movie, because she left unexpectedly in the middle of the night) where I used phrases like "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything" and "when you look at me, you should be thinking about whether or not someday you'd like me as a husband").

We had a four hour conversation last night and are going to be looking for an apartment together come spring.

>>21232888

Fucking, have some more, I feel good. Sorry for the autobiography.

103. Sunflower

Smile and bring me to life
Let slip shy lights that beam in blue
Turn your eyes on me a moment
And that moment warms
The whole day through

Smile for me so sweetly
That I may watch your colors rise
Laugh and heat those freckles neatly
Frame your joy
And hang its wonder in my eyes

Smile and all becomes as morning
You remake me into something new
But in your shadows
You eclipse the sun
And wilt me in your sorrow's dew

Smile and let me be your cause for smiling
Fire again that radiant, child-like arc
Oh, let the light you give to me
Return your smile
And keep us from the dark

* * *

128. No Good-Byes

My love, you vanished in the night,
_____My love, by night, you vanished.
You robbed my words when they were right
_____And all their strength was banished.

My dear, I sought you everywhere.
_____My dear, you're all I sought.
Yet when I found you, standing there,
_____You gaped. Unhappy. Caught.

My heart, I told you in a note
_____The notes of all my heart.
I handed you the words I wrote
_____And, wordless, did depart.

My soul has born so many things.
_____So much my soul has born.
But, God, that moment's cruelty stings
_____And I remain forlorn.

What an emotional rollercoaster this season has been. I thought working in group homes during COVID had killed my muse. This was the first thing I wrote after an awful winter, when I was done that job and getting ready to leave for the ship, and storing my personal library in my childhood bedroom back on the farm. So many fucking dead Japanese lady beetles and two mouse skeletons in the closet.

91. Rising in an Old Bedroom

Bedspread of chitin, floorboard of bone
It skitters and scatters
Neglected.
Alone.
Motes upon light stirred up by a sneeze
The inanimate matter
Remembers to wheeze.
Corpse, a wonder!
Your vareigate hue!
The colors are running
Once more within you.

>>21232888
Nice trips. Did you intentionally post your 88th poem on a post that ended with 888? Your story sounds of the dream come true. Thank you for sharing. Tell your wife that I am rooting for you two.

>>21232920
Holy fuck, I didn't even realize that coincidence. How could I have planned that? Do you want to hear the story of how I got that letter to her? It was total serendipity.

>>21232925
Yeah man. Your story sounds magical. Where do you live? I mean where was this ship job. Your story makes me want to write a romance about it.

>>21232382
This is cool, what’d you have in mind when you wrote it?

>>21232937
I'm from Vermont. I grew up as the asthmatic, bookworm child on a multi-generational dairy farm on the Canadian border. Father French Canadian, mother a military brat, family has been on one side or the other of this border for minimum 5 generations on every branch of the tree.

I spent my 20s working with developmentally disabled adults (Downs Syndrome, cerebral palsy, autism spectrum, etc.) after graduating with a History degree. From 22 to 31, my life was lived at the dictate of my conscience as the Good Son, Good Brother while my younger brother struggled with alcoholism. It runs in my family, my grandfather had a younger and older brother (he was one of 11 in Quebec) who were both in the bottle. The silver lining of COVID was my brother finally getting his act together, he's 2+ years sober now. I also used to volunteer at a summer camp for children who have incarcerated parents. So, you can imagine I've seen a good slice of how the world abuses and traumatizes the innocent and faultless, both my kids and my clients.

The ship job was in Maine. My college room mate and best friend is a professional sailor and he got me to come on board where he was chief mate last year and it changed my life. Was the fieldwork to the theory of understanding how miserable I was watching the agency I worked for fall apart and the clients gain weight, get depressed, and have their meds upped across the board in locked-down group homes. Felt nice not to be a prison guard for people who had literally been institutionalized in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest settings when they were younger, fucking RETRAUMATIZING elderly disabled people.

The level of strength I have after working six months on that ship is amazing to me. I'm still no Adonis, but the size of the lines and blocks we had to handle as well as running giant things of coffee and man-handling cast iron skillets for that amount of time. I broke my fucking windshield two nights ago backhanding a bug like a retard.

I learned how to play fiddle over the last year and recited emotional poetry to strangers for the first time in my life. I read Gone From My Sight at a memorial service they had on the ship for a passenger who was spreading her grandson's ashes and then that gaggle of older ladies listened to me read poetry for an hour and a half the next night. Wonderful experience. Other crew members started writing metered verse, inspired by me.

The chief mate's girlfriend gave me a copy of the Sea Wolf and I was basically Hump 1:1.

>>21232888
You should post more please

>>21232937
Three of the other ladies I worked with on the ship were all my like cheerleaders when it came to me and my monkey girl (we listened to a song on a drive about a carnival freak show and when we heard the lyrics "the pig-faced man and the monkey girl", she remarked "hey, they're singing about us" so the names stuck). I'm not going to go into details about her personal life and sorrows, but take me at my word when I say this is an individual like no other; the hardest working, most considerate, kindest, gratitude-havingest, unique bundle of 5'4" home-schooled beauty and wonder the world could ever produce. I'm reading Les Miserables right now and the description of Fantine's nature in the beginning is so on point, especially the bit about moments where gaeity gives way to expression of pensive torment. I've seen my monkey girl in all shades of human experience in these six months; she's prettier in a wool hat and foulies covered in greywater, without a stitch of makeup, than most women are on their wedding day. But when she's sad like Fantine her face is pure light, she's radiant like a suffering madonna. God.

Anyway, because of her shyness and emotional situation, and my plodding romantic nature, nothing got explicit over season. We also lived in such proximity and worked in such proximity all the time that I, archaic as I am, felt it improper to impose anything on her while she was at the one place that was providing her a feeling of home in the midst of her turmoil.

cont.

>>21232978
Poem for you. This one I actually need advice on, the meter is weird. It's about the first flower she picked me.

107a. Isle la Haut

Flowers I have loved
Through days of youth
In all the seeming splendor
Of a world that wouldn't fade;
When full in skies above
The undiluted colors shown
Pure in the tapestry of stars
Or blue still in its truest shade.

Tulips rich in spring,
Their palette spread in blooms
Like Easter morning dyed
Then poorly hidden on the lawn.
And jewelweed's pop would bring
Such unadulterated bliss
As did the dandelions spread
Upon green fields beneath the dawn.

But Time lays down its shroud,
A pall of mortal doubts
That veils the vibrancy of joy
And fogs the glass of tender eyes;
Casts like a thundercloud
Those dark unmaking shadows
Which mute the tones of light
And tell, of child's truth, lies.

Flowers I have loved
Through days of youth
In all the seeming splendor
Of a world that wouldn't fade;
When full in skies above
The undiluted colors shown
Pure in the tapestry of stars
Or blue still in its truest shade.

Tulips rich in spring,
Their palette spread in blooms
Like Easter morning dyed
Then poorly hidden on the lawn.
And jewelweed's pop would bring
Such unadulterated bliss
As did the dandelions spread
Upon green fields beneath the dawn.

But Time lays down its shroud,
A pall of mortal doubts
That veils the vibrancy of joy
And fogs the glass of tender eyes;
Casts like a thundercloud
Those dark unmaking shadows
Which mute the tones of light
And tell, of child's truth, lies.

>>21233002

Shit, that's the first half double. Strike those three redundant stanzas. I pressed and kept that daisy in a cinnamon Altoid's tin.

107b. Isle la Haut

Swift fades that early light
Once lambent in our eyes
Its soft glow ebbed out slowly
Upon the tide of flowing days.
Leaves never linger bright
On autumn's painted boughs
Thus fall our petalled vantages
In dimmer seasons' lays.

So thought the present I
That life must always be:
Sight grey, unsatiated
Through stained glass forever cleansed.
Until she happened by
And in an act restored
In full the wondrous gradient;
The kaleidacscope re-lensed.

One daisy shyly gifted,
To a picnic table brought
Odd white petals' limpid power
And Truth's palette blooms again.
Light's spectrum proper shifted
By that symbol kept preserved.
Of flowers known, I now love most
That humble blossom in a tin.

>>21232977
Dubs checked. You sound like a dreamy guy. I hope you're not secretly a creep. I'm going to copy and paste this post in my notebook. Can you tell me about your life on the farm? What did you grow, how did you work, etc. I know French so if I do write a story based on you it is a nice coincidence that you are from French-Canadian stock.

>>21233002
>>21233005
i think the ones that rhyme are the best

>>21233007
I am genuinely not a creep. If anything, I am overly polite and not forward enough. I also, for personal context, have struggled with trusting people for a significant portion of my life. I was bullied as a child and depressive, came out of my shell in high school and ended up being prom king. But that core of self-consciousness never went away and my ability to trust people and, more importantly, to trust my perceptions of people (especially how they regard me) was totally imploded at 17. The first person in my life that I ever regarded as a true confidant and best friend was a 22 year old guy who was a substitute teacher when I was 16 (no sexual abuse inbound, so don't guess the ending). I live in a small town and this guy's dad was in my father's graduating class, kind of friends, so it wasn't strange with these multi-generational connections to hang out and he was a lot of fun to be around. Thick as thieves we became. Well, he ended up contracting leukemia and for months me, and my friend group who were all friends with him at this point, had the rollercoaster of T. going through his chemotherapy and wondering how life was going to play out. He'd come into my aunts store and I'd just look at him thinking, "Is this the first good friend I'm going to have that will die? The first person my own age I'm close with to exit my life from a disease?). It was a tough time.

Eventually, though, he went into remission, with all the attendant joy that brought. And then it turned out he had made the entire thing up as a way to extort sympathy and emotional closeness from a girl 7 years younger than him. My father was the one that had to break the news about him lying to me. I was the first person to confront him about it, in tears and absolutely betrayed. And what happened? He cried and continued to lie, saying he hadn't made it up. And what did I do? Sentimental, naive fool that I was, I believed him. And then he copped to it in a very unapologetic half-assed fashion the next day, after I 180'd on believing my own dad.

Trust doesn't come easy for me and I would never take advantage of another person. I know what a creep is and I will never be one.

>>21233050
>tfw pulled basically the same shit as T. but copped to it personally without being called out during what was later classed as psychosis
>have to wake up every day knowing I did that
>perhaps, one day, I can get over it

>>21233007
Also, to the point of the letter anecdote: my monkey girl has her own trust and intimacy issues, and has a history of evaporating at the end of sailing seasons, once all her commitments have been met. I finished the letter I was writing for her the night before she was set to leave (by bus or ride in the afternoon to parts nebulous) and was going to give it to her first thing in the morning. It took weeks to write it because I couldn't get the tone correct. I wanted to leave nothing unsaid but not sound sad, I didn't want to impose unduly on her.

Well, when I woke up, I found a little bag and a note from her outside my cabin (not out of the ordinaary) with a cigar, gumballs, a bar of Dr. Bronner's almond soap, and a hazelnut chocolate bar (all catered objects), as well as very heartfelt words of appreciation for all I'd done for her and meant to her over the course of the season. No good-bye, so I thought it was a par for the course typical kind of gesture, just a little more sentimental than usual. But I was wrong; another crew member when I came up the dock to go to breakfast
said she had left in the middle of the night.

I was absolutely despondent, knowing that the one person I was ever going to meet where writing my feelings was the most appropriate avenue was gone beyond my reach. She's a luddite and didn't leave a concrete mailing address. It wouldn't mean the same thing in a text or an email or sent by snail mail where she'd get it in two months. I needed to hand it to her myself for it to have the impact. She wasn't answering her phone or texts anyway.

So, I decided, with the rough idea I had of where she could be going (a bus to Portland or a ride to Portland and then a bus from there to New Hampshire) that I was going to drive the fucking two hours to Portland and track her transient ass down to put it in her hand. Even if she thought I was a nutcase, at least I'd have closure.

I drove 40 minutes, started to feel like an idiot and turned around, I had ditched other people who were still around to have proper good byes with and what are the odds I'd find her with my rough idea of what she was doing? Got 5 minutes down the road back and a Portland-bound Concord bus passed me. Turned around and followed it, renewed by the universe's sign. Fumbled my flip-top phone to figure out its next stop, then went to the bus driver when it was pulled over to ask if she'd gotten on. No one of that description, but I was free to check the bus. I did, still nothing. I told the bus driver what I was doing and he was sympathetic.

At this point, I had driven 30 minutes closer to Portland and figured what the hell, you're a retard, do it anyway. She could be getting a ride like she was mulling Went, had to stop for gas cause my tank was almost empty, stopped at an antique store on a whim to see if she was there, eventually made it to Portland and started checking with the terminal staff for her. Nothing doing.

>>21233058
If it gives you some closure, everyone agreed I got it the worst of everyone being the closest to him and getting lied to twice. And I forgave him eventually. We're not friends, but I recognize he came from an abusive broken home (his mom died in a car crash when he was 5 and his dad was an alcoholic). Last time I saw him in Burlington, I was drunk and tried to avoid eye contact but I could hear the sadness in his voice when he said my name, so I gave him a hug and let his girlfriend have my free bagel card.

>>21233076

Anyway, I'm in Portland at this point, at a bus station. Realize again the idiocy of what I'm doing, see the bus driver I'd stopped, who tells me "Hope you find her" so I go to the Greyhound station too. Nothing, trail has gone cold. So, I give up. I'm not going to see her, I missed the moment just like Levin's brother did in Anna Karenina. Life is unforgiving and I was hesitant.

I am zoning out on the interstate back north and miss my exit. Realize it and see signs for Gardiner and that I'm out of my way now and get pissed at wasting so much time. Fine, I'll turn around at the next exit. Okay, the next exit is also for Gardiner and after that it's a fucking toll road. WHATEVER, I'm here, I know how to get back this way too. And there's a good diner in Gardiner.

Drive through, thinking about the two times she and I went to the A1 (it's awesome by the way and we're both huge diner fanatics). Decide not to go because I'm sad-sacking it in memory. Change my mind, I'll go. Change it again, it's too busy. Change it again, whatever I have to piss and I'll sit at the counter. So I have driven past this place on a road I never meant to come on after a ton of delays, I get out, go around to use the restroom which is outside, can't figure out the door, turn around and there she is, my monkey girl, looking at the A1 diner and thinking about me.

So she got the letter in total synchronicity on the most serendipitous day of my life. And then, 10 minutes later, I found a little stuffed monkey on the side of the road.

>>21233101
And you found a stuffed monkey? That's incredible. What was her reaction when she found out that you were looking for her?

might as well be frater
the way you wrote all that shit
not even a one line
for these eyes

>>21233382
This is pretty cool. Is that your own character?

>>21233410
Yes. It's a start, but I have the some of the last stanzas already written as well, and now I'm just filling in the middle. Glad you like it so far. Does anything read awkwardly? I know the last stanza will require some work.

>>21233382

I'm a terrible poet but I tried to write something earlier.
Please tell me how bad it is:

Said the Goddess to the sea:
“How could you ever love me?
Who holds the world cannot be free,
Your chains are bound in the darkest deeps.”
Emotions roll on crashing waves
And break on distant shores.
Finally answered did the sea,
a strange and obstinate roar:
“I searched for God on my own,
I found Her crying, all alone.
I searched for God in the arms of another,
I was gifted Heaven’s eternal summer.
I held on tight to where I could not stay,
The flames of Hell burned paradise away.
I came to God and offered a kiss
To be swallowed in the maw of Charybdis.
There is less found in heaven and earth
Than all that hides in my abyss.
Agree to meet, where the silent sleep
And the waves crash over heaven deep.
There all tired lovers may finally weep.”

>>21234046
You need to work on meter and rhyme, I think generally many lines could be better written for a stronger effect, but the conceit is good. How long have you been writing and have you done any research or study in it?

>>21234046
honestly it's the best thing posted in the thread today.
Don't take this as a compliment.

>>21234227
besides reading poetry, no. I bought that western wind book at a store recently but haven't opened it yet.

>>21234310
I didnt like that one. I always recommend Paul Fussell's Poetic Meter and Poetic Form. Short and to the point. You'll see me recommending it often, as well as a couple other anons. Many of your first poems won't end up how you like them, but you can always come back around later and try the same concept in a better way or overhaul it completely, so don't get let a single bad poem keep you down. Get a hold of meter, how to easily scansion it in your head and think in it, and it will get much easier, even to break traditional rules when you want. Fussell's book is very helpful for learning the basics. Also keep reading poetry.

>>21234398
Thanks anon I will definitely take a look. Any suggestions for improving on rhyme? I struggle to understand what exactly that means or what good rhyme might look like.

>>21234437
Fussell's book goes through rhyme. Basically, you want use rhymes depending on the effect you want. If you want it to connect disparate ideas, you rhyme words that are less commonly rhymed or have very different meanings, whereas if you want a flowing kind of rhythm, there's words that rhyme and have similar meanings. Generally you want your rhymes to be somewhat novel, at least in sentence structure. It is nearly impossible to tread new ground in ideas, but the exact way you use them can vary widely and still be novel or surprising. Avoiding clichés is easy advice, but somewhat hard in practice. Even using the same rhyme but in completely different contexts changes it.

>>21234535
I can't sense these rhymes when they set so far apart.

>>21234535
Thanks anon. I have been reading Blake a lot lately which was what made me try to do an
A
A
B
B

Rhyming scheme if that is even a thing, but I didn't follow it through the whole way.

>>21234634
That rhyme scheme is just couplets unless you're keeping the same A and B rhymes throughout the poem. I've only read a few of Blake's more popular poems.

>>21232382
>I like poems that make me look up words
What about poems that make up words?

>>21235625
“Jabberwocky” comes to mind, love it

Standing tall in wocky slush
Dre beats on my sonic plush
Skinny bitch sitting on my nuts
Million clicks as my window shuts

Librarian old lady get out of my way
Shove you to the ground
Shopping cart flipped over far away
Take you to the lost and found

Crippled kid? I take your candy
Take your wheelchair while I'm at it
Your shoes and hat look fine and dandy
Take your medicine put it in my kit

Worker left their mop and water behind
Oops I kicked it over
Wait behind the corner laughter in mind
You're my four leaf clover

>>21232382
>>21232708
>>21232956
>>21235625

i followed the prompt

bbbump

test

>>21237705

What form do you anons think works best with the tragic?

>>21237718
What is this

>>21238052
a list of poem recommendations

>>21238239
In general or to some point of instruction?

142. To Meriwether Lewis

Is life worth living? It's harsh and unforgiving.
It takes away in increments the joys of yesterday.
To the meek and unassuming, it's a demon all-consuming,
And to the innocent it comes to steal their soul away.

Life is a constant battle from infant cry to deathbed rattle.
It revels in the blood of each pressed conscript in the war.
And it grinds you resolutely til it triumphs absolutely,
Reducing you to particles spread on the grist mill floor.

Life is a song of sorrow: False Promise of Tomorrow,
Notes of hope that, one-by-one, will wink out of the tune;
Stars which ever plummet, crawling darkness on your summit
Where you stare on grim expanses underneath a hollow moon.

So, is it worth the trouble? Can one stand among the rubble
Of all that was denied them, crumbled in their drifting sands?
How long can one keep striving for a day so unarriving.
Just a day, one single day, with someone else who understands

That within the fallen towers, broken dreams, and ruined powers
There still exists, in every moment, stone to build you up again.
You can take the constant beating: laugh and love! Spite the defeating!
When it comes to giving up, it's you, not Life, who chooses when.

>>21238736
>Is life worth living?
boring.
>Reducing you to particles spread on the grist mill floor.
diction is strange. decide who are the narrator and audience, then whether the diction should be plain or baroque.

>>21238265
In general—no particular reason. Why do you ask? Do you want instruction?

>>21239293
Well I thought maybe the poems you posted might have specific techniques you wanted to share or discuss.

Well, the thread is almost done, but I might as well try to post something while it's still up:

Echelons upon echelons upon echelons upon echelons upon echelons of great, hazy magnetic steel which pierces the sky and crowns the multitude!
For this sanctimonious load of hot cerebral jism the Buddhists have fled their nations—
Silicon Valley pioneers who seek refuge in a starry dome and other reflections of a world destroyed—
Intoxicated by the lull of greasy fires they started long ago!
Escaping the wrath of carnal movers that pin down and exchange the commodified form of man!
Whose soul now lusts for information and propaganda to beamed down into their minds!

The mind a vessel, of course, for an advert he saw naught but a flick of the wrist ago,
Plugged into a dynamo of oil, which was obtained by the drilling of missiles into foreign deserts,
People attempting to live chaotically, their bones are ground into dust by a people hypnotized and castrated,
A Hegelian dialectic driven to its full extremities, the Enlightenment a root plague for a symptom mitigated by the quest for more blood—
Notes of blood now transferred from the pockets of people and into the husks of machinery,
Whose numbers flicker and print out a request for more oil, bombs, plastics, guns, soldiers, and carbon dioxide.

Apartment complexes filled with computers and those willing to have their mind transferred over to electric database—
The soul has been dislodged and affixed into a prism of mortal horror,
Needles filled with the plague have been passed along the streets,
Coaxing the men with soul still intact to have an angry fix and be sent out of the gravity well—
Earth! Matrix of suffering and the playground of Divine Intervention,
Whose creator got bored and disposed of it, along with the rest of the filth, into a trash compactor.

>>21238005
Couplets or quatrains of trochaic or dactylic feet. No complex rhyme.

>>21239603
I’ll discuss them if you’re interested, but the list is pretty eclectic

commited to writing some poetry for my gf for our anniversary. lt's going...okay.

https://literaturetodayjournal.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_11.html

Beauté du Prince fleuri

Vers l'ouest poétique ; une ville où le soir se pose,
Un homme sort d'un pont d'un fleuve en saillie ;
Dans le vent il agite en marchant, une rose,
Il continue sa course en des bois de taillis.

Sa chevelure luit par-delà le feuillage
Comme celle des francs joliment brillée,
Il semble irradier sublimement le paysage ;
De sa beauté, une passante émoustillée.

Une muse enlève fleurons à sa couronne,
Jalouse au don du jeune homme fringant,
Elle sombre, fâne, déflorée, le glas sonne.

La beauté d'Apollon, dans un ruisseau se penche,
S'allonge dans le lit sur son buste élégant,
Auprès de la nymphe, lui effleure la hanche.

>>21240546
Why do you say that?

>>21241292
Keep going anon. She'll probably like it if it's personal

>>21241666
The feet end on unstressed syllables, the ending of each line as well, which assists in a soft sad tone. More serious poems generally have less complex rhyme structures, so that the seriousness comes through more. Playful rhyme suits frivolty, exaggeration, etc. None of these are exclusive, but they can be used to assist a certain kind of poem.

lying supine, this spine
dares not leave this sinking skin
crawling, longing for rest

throwing up against the ceiling
the thousand images, videotapes of the past,
static echoes scintillating in these eyes,
this mind struggles for peace,
peace that won't last.

now i am hashed out, body ablaze;
send me to space, where i long to freely fly.

still i am shaken, taken for this ride,
like burns on a screen it lingers,
acrid like the stench of tar-stained fingers
touching to the mouth again.

and locking onto the first thought's glide,
deep relaxation sweeps me, and just for while,
the chain is broken; but once again,
there comes that discomfort,
and all i can do is writhe.

I sharted and I've been looking down
twas so far I had to bow
and what I saw made me go *wow*
a snail with legs wearing a crown

he had three legs. Thought twas a dick..
he looked at me and whispered 'sneed'
I got quite fast what did he mean
the slime sent here the agent thirteen

'Alas, much work there must be done'
'Throw that dumb garb & quit the clown'
He reached into his pocket, got me a gun
'The white man must always have a glock.'

>>21241292
post what you have so far and we’ll critique

What are some good horror poems?

>>21230051
Thank you anon! Writing something comical would be more of a challenge in my case. I find that I'm not at a point where I'm worried about structure and all, but more like using poetry as a medium for my feelings. There's somethings incredibly comforting in transforming that emotional baggage into written images

>>21243176
Lovecraft wrote decent poetry, you can find some online. This is one of my own. I've written a few.

Another go

A procession of leaves and berries
Forms a chemical line of organized carnage
Far gone are the merry days
When we slothed around in a sheltered life

Our house has been torn to pieces
A cracked shard lays on marching black dots
We always prayed for legs, but little did we know
That we would only get those if they weren't our own

Are there any good YT channels which discuss great poems and technique?

Bump

>>21239854
This is the best poem in the thread, but if I'm OP, I'm giving you an F and having you stay after class and revise it under my strict supervision.

>>21244521
I lied
>>21242600
> I am Walden Pond

smol and lost
looking strong
weak and scared
do i belong?

please the people
to get left behind
never meant to
step out of line

pain and sorrow
shame and guilt
gone tomorrow
a bitter pill

door of limestone
touch heaven’s sky
swinging closed
a swift goodbye

return the favor
open my eyes
must be held
to end the cries

exploitation
greatest fear
spend it all
to ease the tears

stone to fluid
dangerous place
cant fill balloon
in pit of spikes

drain the ocean
drip by drip
dry me up
no sink or swim

green and purple
take a shower
excerebration
beware the coward

open soul
where have we been
artifact
a pain within

lotus flower
burst to ends
seeds are planted
deep within

>>21245478
you okay mane?

>>21245490
homeless non-passing trauma tranny
no

Bump

>>21245517
your so like me except im a non-tranny
even so, feel you bro..

The world's a fuck. You suffer bearing guilt they gift you
The labirynth is closing in. It's quick to kill you
You have no father to ask for an advice
The serpent's echo hard to grasp:
''There are such hallways where the death will die''
What does it mean? I am a broken cog in the machine
A loser piece of shit and broken dreams.

There is no light for deadbeats and the cowards
They are but limbs of the universal mother
To wither and to fade — a cruel fate
To crucify the Christ, to desecrate the grave
Of all that stood straight bearing witness to the Holy
I'm screaming 'AAAh' inside, I'm suffering like Broly
Scapegoated victims legions forgotten
Their tears are echos of evaporated Jotuns

While me — a sneed — who's sleeping by the store..
The Call has passed. Where's mana? Evermore..
To suffer my own absence: rotting corpse
The last imago in my fading mind of jokes:

I am but a turf for parasites with legs
Who have just hatched from ugly eggs
The 'snails' are droning all around but cannot love
It’s madness as it is. It’s time to go.

How do I write poetry when I'm completely out of touch with my emotions?

>>21198930
There once was a snail with legs
he was bad at his homework so he often used chegg
he would jump and scrump and generally fuck things up
but every once and a while he would trump the expectations
he was a bright boy with so many expectations
when you're a snail with legs the world is your oyster
your parents tell you of all the things they would do if instead of being moister they just had legs
but a snail with legs is just a snail
and his parents forgot that
and one day our poor little snail broke
he set out to make himself choke
a fiber of grass wrapped round his snail throat
this would be the final joke

truth be told
I got got
seeing those dorks
rhyme as lame as their moms whores

dregs of the race
slime underneath nails
nails of deleuze? long
prayers? — unto the Bog
straight against the world
my autism oozing hazard
ate bullshit like pitza-matza
counting spits as they land in puzzles
which Biblical prophet vibrates with the minecraft?
who leaves the slime trail tastes a grave fresh
dug myself there and left with no ends

steal rhymes and claim them yours
puke truth creeping on all fours
knock on doors and then just walk away
have no fears or it will make you gay
as in 'a funny clown with a broken buck'
they laugh at you never letting you know what's up
trust me, fren. I am your elder brother
never been much, the Devil is my father
died at the store and I have made it haunted
the sneed is over, now it is the Chucking.

>>21243530
I'd appreciate some criticism btw

Walking in another man's shoes
Not the life we win
But the life we choose

People look at you
Like they never did before
I wonder how much more
Can I take
Emotion's hard to fake
When you're on your way
to the fiery lake

Feet are getting sore
On the endless tour
Wonder how much longer
Till it goes back to before

Now I'm learning to ignore
Glances from the outer side
I'm just tryna realize
That my life was filled with lies

So you open up the door
And the rain, it starts to pour
Walkin' to the corner store
Gettin' soaked down to my core
Shoes start squeaking on the floor
Yeah, I wonder how much more....

>>21247637
Rhythmically stumbles in a few places but I like it

bump

bump

>>21199914
Just dropped these bars, my manager told me it was too dirty for MTV. They didn't want to soil my "good guy image" with my true bad boy life.

t. Joe Biden

For Lusophones, what do you think of this José Albano's poem:

Nestes sombrios recantos,
Nestes saudosos retiros
Desliza um rio de prantos
E corre um ar de suspiros.

Volta

Tenho na alma dois moinhos,
Um é de água, outro é de vento;
Ambos juntos e vizinhos
Estão sempre em movimento.
E giros tantos e tantos
E tantos e tantos giros
Dão ao primeiro os meus prantos
E ao segundo os meus suspiros.

Regarding his choice in the last line for the word 'segundo' I'm not sure it would be better than for instance the word 'outro', for thus the last two lines would have the same syllabic quantity. I don't study poetry and feel it is pretentious to criticize someone like Albano but this just occurred to me and I would love to know about other people's opinion.

Puffing yellow submarine, high in my head and on the bricks,
Burst of caffeine, still unwed, met a rock star with a bag of tricks,
She was low on hygiene and barely fourteen, crawled in a room filled with bedbugs,
Gave me short hugs with long kissing, opened my mouth and got me sniffing,
It was an easy score, she babysat on me during my first civil war and backed me up,
Our “honeymoon” was a setup to give me highbeams, and by all means threw away the silver spoon.

In a week’s time, went from the hot box to lipton tea joy popping and got some pizza topping,
after withdrawing a five c note to meet up a clocker, whom was a proud supporter of English soccer.
Used a stuffed rabbit as a plant, did a morning blast on this planet, saw my clocker getting harassed,
They grabbed the green goods to go into the sewers,
found dead in the woods and attracted a mass of viewers,
Investigation of some dudes by the names of Leo.

I didn’t care, had the ganoobies, was walking on air and had some duties,
to fill up my teddy bear with diamond folds of bubble gum and Angie.
New technique called crisscrossing made me fancy, met a gal, Angelique,
Girl was a toucher, with a nice upper structure and tracks on her belly,
She laid out her artillery, which was still smelly from last wartime,
Her emergency gun was a tool that made her a fool,
Handgun turned into a shotgun, a dime’s worth, to end it all.
Leo came back, I jacked some tic tac and Kleenex, in case of a panic attack,
My weakness being Sweet Jesus got me tweaking and shrieking in my underwear.

Parachuted down from a nightmare next to some gangster pills and Felix the Cat,
Had to be a bad bundle from underneath my doormat.
Dished away the pussycat,
While riding the wave with a cowboy hat,
Made me unaware of going on a sleigh ride,
With dinosaurs from the countryside,
Their children were all lit up, bipping, or participating in a clam bake,
While I seemed to be full awake, as their grandchildren were stripping,
Crying with a sick headache and begging for a break,
And carpet patrol looking uncontrollably for Abe,
I grasped towards Bin Laden to make it stop,
Instead I got a hand-to-hand lollipop,
From a bulldozer who wore a tank top.

I was victim of an eavesdrop after a fake yen sleep,
Me, an acid head, family’s black sheep, got ahead of the heat,
My house fee for a bando was instantly whoopsie,
As it was a sting to catch tweakers and cabbage heads,
Now, tying my shoe-string in rehab, accompanied with skinheads,
Made me rethink what’s my missing link.

Gotta call mom to get Ethan,
Juggle all day as the intercom to build up a legion,
from my viewpoint,
To set up a secret c joint,
Filled with hatred,
I’ll probably get wasted.

TOGETHER, THEY BOUGHT A FIAT PANDA TOGETHER

rest left unsaid
(no need in saying)
you walked ahead
i galloped apace
to hadji's convenience.

around the side,
out the wind,
(british exit)
we rescind
confirmed oaths.

O rhyming sangha, the Spirit is joyous in every honest attempt of creation
Do you believe that posting also amounts in merit if you put your heart to it?
— I do. To overstep the conditioned defeat and low morale: a heroic shitpost
Is what the dwarves are conjuring in the murky caverns of the chüd basement.
They beat their meat their anvils their shadow. "Light! I feel the Light!"
Those cursed kobolds scream joy approaching the ineffable
>Every scream is personalized
AAAAH, 'DITCH! YOU MADE THE DIRT SHINE SO RICH'.
WE ARE NOT CURSED, WE ARE ON A SPECIAL MISSION.
IIIIMMM GOOOOOOOOINNNGGG. OMMMMGGGGGGGG.

Peach--bifurcated whole--what split
your single sphere and made you bulge,
one and two together, so uncertain
in your form, so torn, as though two
halves of you wrestle, and wrench apart
your flesh--your down-dusted, soft, fruit-flesh?

I wrote this this morning. This is an example of my uncertainty with question marks in certain sentences. There is a question posed early on in the sentence about what makes the peach bulge, but the sentence continues on with description so that by the end of the sentence when the question mark is placed at the end, one might be forgiven for wondering what the fuck is even being asked in the first place. Is that poor writing? Should the question mark simply be placed after 'bulge'? and the rest of the sentence reformatted as a statement? or is that a cop-out? a withdrawal from a challenge of some sort I am unable to properly see or attend to?

>>21252374
I really like this poem, and I think the question mark works well at the end here. It gives the whole thing an appealing sense of hesitant inquiry, and suggests a sort of curiosity that is almost playful.


I always struggle with punctuating my poems as well, especially when it comes to question marks. This one is a sonnet I wrote about a year ago. The number of commas here seems disruptive to the flow, and I’m torn about the use of question marks and dashes. Perhaps the problem is deeper than that, though: there’s too much enjambment, and the meter is flawed. But I’d be grateful to hear anyone’s thoughts.

if, by coincidence, we were to meet
in passing, would you choose to pass me by
and turn, indifferent, down another street,
or would you stop, and look me in the eye?
would you restore the hopes I thought had gone
and gone forever—hasten dreams deferred?
or would you just, uncaring, carry on—
not spare a glance, or speak a single word?
but, faced by you, perhaps I’d turn away;
too conscious of the past to stay and talk.
perhaps there would be nothing left to say;
I’d act composed—continue down the block.
how strange, that we’d be strangers if we met—
unspeaking, yet unable to forget.

>>21252520
>hasten dreams deferred

This stood out somehow as different to all the rest in a way that broke my flow. It's not that the line is bad in itself, it's just the way it fits, or something.

Em dashes at the end of sentences that just hang are strange things. I'm not sure how I feel about those. I do it myself, but it feels strange. Honestly, any punctuation mark that doesn't signify an end to a sentence on the end of a line makes me feel strange, as though they just hang there: commas, colons, sem-colons, dashes . . .

What I also notice about your poem is how the words that begin each line aren't very interesting in themselves, with the exception of 'unspeaking'.

I think you are right about there being too many commas. It gives it a fairly even pacing that makes it a little monotonous.

I do quite like it though.

>>21232021
did you post another part of this eariler?
if so, can we see that again? thanks

>>21200921
based

How do you write poetry.
I always thought of it as something I needed to get gud at, but it has been something to which has always alluded me.

>>21253239
First, have something worth writing poetry about.

>>21253249
it's over
it never even began
red rover

>>21253133
I have a couple hundred lines at this point, I think I posted this a few threads back though.
This is an excerpt from the first section: Apep's Boast

>>21253249
Like what?

the wind runs flush against flesh
a faint voice lets go a breath
stalking the hills a memory returns to bless
recalled to a time of loving jest

The ur-kid, turgid in disparaging the afterbrood
Gifting noogies after mummie parts a goochie-goo
The betas bullied by the ousted first processional
Hocking loogies at the mom-attent receptacle

>>21254096
is this from a play?

>>21254071
comfort food

>>21251509

>>21253886
MEGA BASED
this post all of it pls

Girl I was fucking said she no longer wants to do anything sexual with me. I'm devastated. I am so in love with her bros

Also poem

For A

The final rays fall
on ham sandwiches
and you
are looking
at the waitress.

you say
she's a slut
you say
this place sucks
the food sucks
you say
you hate that waitress

I say
I think
we should
leave
before sunset

we go to
the beach
you sit on a grey rock
and look at the grey sky
and start crying

after a while
the sky is red
the water terrifying
you say cancer is curable
I say I don't want to be cured
you slap me hard
in the face
I hug you very tight

Auszug aus der heimsuchung

Mir ist als seh' ich grauenhafte Spuk-gestalten,
die hier im düst'ren Nebel,
ihr geisterhaftes Recht verwalten.

Grau in grau das Firmament,
wie erstarkt im nassen Dunst.
Und dort wo der Schatten keine Namen kennt,
verliert sich rasch der Sonne Gunst.

Ein nasser Tag und durch graue Schwaden
zieht vor mir im tristen Nebel,
ein Asche fahler Faden.

Ein Engelshaar, ein goldner Schein,
als wolle Licht durch Wolken dringen,
ein Band so hell, so schön und rein,
als könnt es mit den Geistern ringen.

>>21198930
This poem is translated from my native language so don't give me shit about meter, and shit.

On the dark ship of exile,
every moment you slowly lose, makes you reach
your prison
And slowly your homeland fades away.
The wave drowns Marian, the coasts are far away.

Your exploits, the world's General
Became memories of passing men
And what the sea didn't take
And whatever ink gave breath to.
Will suffer the worlds decay

>>21253239
Read a lot of poetry and learn the basics. Paul Fussell's Poetic Meter and Poetic Form covers them. Other anons also recommend it.

"Ode to Motherhood; also to becoming Soil"

>>21252374
I like this poem. I understand your problem with the question mark, and to be honest I was kind of confused about where the question ended and another one maybe began. If this was my poem, what I would do is make the initial question clearer (maybe turn "what split" into "what is it that split", or something like that) and then it would become more apparent that the whole text is one question. Sorry if that fucks up your metre but I'm sure you can work around it if you want to.

Here I sit,
all broken hearted,
Came to shit,
but only farted.

Why do we fall? And also where:
Despair, mistrust, brain-ended hell
The common gravity binds hard
I have forgotten — did I fall?

To walk those thousands miles on foot
And still it’s nowhere to be found
What was the reason, as he stood,
And also where.. — what was the ground?

I offer you my modest tears
When I get chance to witness Thee.
To shed my garments of defeat
As a thrown-out stone I sink more deep

bump

there is a goose who is obtuse.
his name is most holy mr. duck goose.
flying here and there
his body shape is mostly feared,
his neck may shift from left to right
but still his wings will hide his back.
to south he goes in winter months.

read it and weep

laudanum

Your slimy pussy's been everywhere
You fucking cunt

>>21254280
no why?

This terrible poem on this terrible thread is all she's getting from me

I tried to love in winter
But the frost kept me at bay.
I tried to love in spring
But the rain washed it away.
I fell again in summer
But she had found another.
Till finally in autumn
I found myself forgotten.
Admitting some humility
For the year I loved futility.

>>21255981
insightful