/lit/ - Literature

>>5501795
here's mine:

"not one of them could hear"

drops of rain drip, down the pane
of the window; watching them strain,
to win the race, though, to we,
their presence is bane --

obscuring, the whiskey-odored,
bantering, consuming my once-haven;
burns of cigarettes cover the ordinary old rug, which
drought of cause, cultivates a memory:

-- it's Christmas time,
my knees, upright, are cushioned under a cozy carpet,
sitting, erect, peering upon the crackling chimney
whose warmth draws, directly, to rose-cold cheeks --

times, certainly have changed.
the cigarette, yet been consumed,
is flung into the fireplace.
raindrops are reverted to tears
-- rattling against the window,
and, yet, not one of them could hear.

The bird was on its back
And it's head was twisted into the ground
It's mouth would open and then close
As if something inside it's beak
Was pulling for relief
It's feet were clutching themselves
And it's eyes were wide open
Almost breathing, it seemed
it's wings pulled outwards and pinned
Like Christ it was lost and surely
Gone

>>5501806
work on your grammar, otherwise i thought this was very good, you captured the mood just right.

>>5501806

surprisingly not terrible given how bad the grammar is learn different between its and it's

it's = contraction ie it is
its = possessive

doe maybe it's because your grammar is terrible so there is low expectations

Are lyrics acceptable? /mu/ is kind of... not the place to go for that. :|

>>5501801
welp, it started as a piece of promising alliterative verse then it all fell apart

>>5501806
free verse is the ultimate cancer

Wandering boy
Where are you going
Don't you know that it isn't nice
To stray from the path they've set out for you
Wandering boy
Please stop roaming the earth
What do your parents say? Or your teachers? Or your neighbor with the fancy office job?
You can't put "wanderer" on college apps you know

>>5501795

he walks
toes-first
with his hands covered
over his sweater-sleeves
his bright doe eyes, glancing
about the room with a sort of
frantic anticipation.
(i feel it too)

his scent
fills my nostrils
as he stands
near me so
intimately,
a scent that only makes me want him
closer.
(does he feel it too?)

he nervously occupies his hands
while trying to keep up conversation
avoiding eye contact
(i feel it too)

but suddenly
-- our energies collide as he finally looks at me --
are you okay? he asks
-- the surge,
the reminiscent spark of loves once lost,
it floods out of my pores --
(does he feel it too?)

i'm okay, i say. it's only that
-- i rub the sweat from my palms --
every movement i make
i make hoping you will see
and there is nothing that can remedy
the aching my body has to feel
your hands, uncovered by sweater-sleeves;
the scratch of your chin-scruff against my unworthy cheek;
but only in dreams am i relieved from my grief.

>>5501806
>>5501842
>>5501889
lrn3poetry

free verse is as valid as any

BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE VASTLY DIFFERENT AMOUNTS OF FEET IN EACH LINE

there is a difference between having a poem that doesn't stick to one meter and being completely ignorant of the most basic rules of poetry

poetry isn't just prose split into lines

Beyond the river and through the trees lies a clearing
The last man is standing, a tarnished silver-gray
Nothing more than an assembly of shadows
His make of smoke, faint wisps rolling, uncertain, altered
An unceasing wind billows through and past the trees
Shattered, scattered, plumes of smoke rise
Dissipation
Ascension
The endless river
The swirling sun
Forever and ever

>>5501842
UNDERAGE PLS

>>5501968
>BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE VASTLY DIFFERENT AMOUNTS OF FEET IN EACH LINE
there are not really "feet" in any meaningful way in free verse. also, if you meant there should be close to the same amount of syllables (completely different), then i can list you a examples of great free verse poetry with lines that very greatly in amount of syllables

im so tired of people coming into poetry critique threads and spouting off about the rules and meter and such and at the same time being completely ignorant of the basics of prosody and also about free verse in general

btw none of those poems are mine in case you were wondering.

There is
On the Internet
A Shitposter
Interred within
Blue Rectangles

and the name field is empty//

>>5501801
sucked from the stgart.
cant eben bodder to correct my critique it suckz so bafz./

>>5501842
whildest these faggots have points,
who cares?
jut make better poems, that crash office job into something more cosmic.

>>5502330
damn...

syllables would of been a better term for me to use as opposed to foot but given that feet are groups of syllables of varying size based on the meter I don't think its that much of a mistake

>i can list you a examples of great free verse poetry with lines that very greatly in amount of syllables

>implying

also I've always wondered why post free verse as poetry rather than prose when it conforms to none of the rules of poetry and wouldn't much if written as prose

>>5502370
meant for>>5502328

>>5502370
>syllables would of been a better term for me to use as opposed to foot but given that feet are groups of syllables of varying size based on the meter I don't think its that much of a mistake
it just doesn't make any sense. you can scan free verse in too many ways for it to be meaningful to say "same number of feet". also, what if i scan one line as tetrasyllabic feet and another as disyllablic feet? they could have the same number of syllables and one could have twice as many feet. it's just a stupid thing to say.

>>implying
walt whitman

>also I've always wondered why post free verse as poetry rather than prose when it conforms to none of the rules of poetry and wouldn't much if written as prose
because you're a bad reader who doesn't know how to read free verse. some bad readers don't know how to read blank verse, and thus butcher shakespeare. you don't know how to read free verse so you read it as prose. you are a poor reader. please do not comment on poetry until you get better. i recommend reading an anthology of english literature as well as "poetic meter and poetic form" to start with, since i bet your experience in poetry is very limited

>>5502366
>damn...

damn...

>>5502383
>walt whitman

>still implying

>because you're a bad reader who doesn't know how to read free verse. some bad readers don't know how to read blank verse, and thus butcher shakespeare. you don't know how to read free verse so you read it as prose.

I didn't say that I didn't read free verse as poetry

what I say that free verse should be written as prose because it the line breaks are arbitrary therefor it would lose nothing by being written without lines

>you are a poor reader.
ditto to you m7

>>5501795
TITLE: Love is the one thing that transcends time and space
---
We've always defined ourselves by the ability
to overcome the impossible.
And we count these moments.
These moments when we dare to aim higher,
to break barriers, to reach for the stars,
to make the unknown known

We count these moments as our proudest achievements.
But we lost all that.
Or perhaps we've just forgotten that we are still pioneers.
And we've barely begun.
And that our greatest accomplishments cannot be behind us,
because our destiny lies above us.

We used to look up at the sky
and wonder at our place in the stars,
now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt.

Maybe we've spent too long trying to figure all this out with theory.

I will find a way,
I will always have.

Because
love is the one thing that transcends time and space.
We must confront the reality
that nothing in our solar system can help us.

>>5502421
>>still implying
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prometheus_%28Goethe%29

>what I say that free verse should be written as prose because it the line breaks are arbitrary therefor it would lose nothing by being written without lines
see this is where you are wrong because you're a bad reader. the line breaks aren't arbitrary, you just think they are because you suck at reading.

but honestly it's not worth my time to argue with you people because invariably you've read incredibly little poetry and somehow got these strange and incorrect ideas about "the rules" of poetry into your head from god knows where. for chrissakes you think a rule of poetry is that free verse should have lines with an equal amount of feet, which is a silly and stupid thing to say and shows you don't understand prosody

Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veiled Melancholy has her sovereign shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

"The Ecstasy of Gold"

The Old West, where lives meant little and money meant most, a land of killers all,

A sepulchral exchange, a grave transaction, evocation through the draw of a gun.

Their destiny made manifest, manifested through the bullet, the recoil, the brass casing's fall.

The muzzle flare, the smoking barrel, laid bare upon the ground under a flaring, smokey sun.

A sharp screech of the golden eagle surveying the mortal world below, a divine vestige

Of a world of gods. The desperados pay no heed. They see a goal, a price, a way, a living.

Flame, iron, dust, gold. The mortal world rings with the gunshot, the people, the message.

There's no room for gods anymore. They go begging here. No prayers, even from the dying.

How can a life mean nothing when it's all a man truly owns? How can gold mean everything?

The answers to these questions lie not in words, or thoughts, but in actions, in steel, in lead.

It's the magic of the standoff, the temporal clash of wills. The joy the duel is sure to bring.

Joy to the winner, perhaps to the loser, and maybe some to the exultant and expecting dead.
There's a glint, a glimmer that escapes our soul through the eyes. A gleam of lives long sold.

Perchance that pyrrhic luster may yet be found, though not in gods, nor men, or guns, but gold.


sonnet structure doesn't copy well from openoffice. Let me have it, /lit/.

>>5502438
keats <3

>>5502388
damn...

>>5501795
a sharp move away
From everything you ever know so...
Six and eleven

>>5501842
>I walk a lonely road
>The only road that I have ever known
>Don't know where it goes
>But it's only me and I walk alone

>>5501818
>>5501814
Yeah the it's is cause my phone autocorrected them. Wrote this on my phone. Thanks for the nice feedback!

Solitude Bare

A curtain’s wave is left unheard
by the sleeping bundle
anchoring her hardening knees
and wearing out her ankles.

As she sways across the room,
giving, rather, her steps,
on the toddler’s head
sits down a little loneliness.

The closed door its welcome,
the soul’s well its call,
a seat pampered with kisses
keeps it calm.

It always speaks at the right pace,
browsing through words, feelings,
and shifting to and fro the place
finding, then hiding strings.

It plucks them shamelessly like growths
of nature’s playful spirit
between the creases of her hair
to cleanse of all that is undear

But did it dare to touch the one
pulsing with a single current,
strong amid the wind,
there, at her very end?

There is a derelict at sea,
off the coast at Margate, stuck in the sand
and skinned with salt of ages in its girders
Screaming, sometimes, too.

They say their fathers named it "grand",
and there were little shops, antiquities and marvels
to be had, and the singing of the boardwalk
come the lanterns something else, you should've seen
the crying of the children come the sinking shades of blue.

Got the starlings in its girders, now,
singing 'cross its mesh, a skeleton rook
where a Queen once purred and businessmen
dusted their fingers with sugar and donuts and cream.
Under the dipper with their wives, and later their midnight ladies
howled with neon 'across their faces.

A storm took it.
Revolutions of lightning, bursting barnacles, wood-blessed night
ate it all down to the sea, the blackened ropes of lace and
no expressions in the faces of the business men.
They don't remember you, friend.

So it stands projected
'cross the lilac clouds corrected
to a pleasant shade of red in postcards, posters
where the iron frame is breaking up the sky,
and they've grown to love its body with a minimalist kind of eye.

It'll crumble down one day, and nobody then will say:
"Hey, that was a grand old time". Suppose it'll stand
a figure looming looking with every great event
across the sand and bents, and the hum of the
Derelict's groaning.
Ah, what's there to be done?

>>5502771
i've seen that ship in person like 4 times probably

is pretty cool

>poetry critique thread
>no critique to anything posted

There is a fire, and I am a tree.
I do not know the first tree that burns; it is too far away..
but I see and I breathe the smoke.
Soon I see the fire, and it's coming my way.
All around me, closing in at a steady pace.
I see the trees that burn now, they're suffering.
Screaming silently, begging for a little more time.
Now my friends are burning, screaming and now reduced,
nothing but ashes left. My neighbours, burning.
My brother, my sister, my cousin, my father, my mother. Burning.
All around me, ashes and nothing but.
Now I am the one screaming, but not for more time for less.
Come fire, devour me and let it be the end.
I close my eyes but I feel no fire, I feel the rain.
The sky opens up and it drowns the fire
but not my pain, not my sorrow.
I open my eyes and there's nothing.
My brother, my sister, my cousin, my father, my mother, all gone.
I am alone in a wasteland. We live forever, my shadow and I.

Is this poetry?

>>5503578
stick to suicide

>>5503585
mind to elaborate?

>>5503593
i kid

on the real though

its kinda corny

its like a bad romanticist imitation

its not poetry, its prose

but bad prose

>>5503616
I just started writing, this is the first thing i wrote, why is it bad? Could it be because it lacks context here?

>>5503622
it just sounds cliched

keep at it though, keep reading and writing, youll improve

>>5503625
Thanks, I actually felt really bad from your initial reponse, like a stone in my stomach, i am sure you know the feeling. I'm glad it's not hopeless though,

>>5503633
just a joke

and dont worry, most people are bad when they start out, even the greatest
hard work is what is needed, and if you are talented then your work will pay off

Forgive me Maiden for I have killed
Claret snow - all motion stilled
Sword in hand I must confess
I acted under end’s duress.

>>5505777
needs punctuation.
"end's duress" is too ambiguous.

On page ten I found this thread and it was
dead.
I hit reply, typed a post, and hoped that I could
bump it.
Maybe then I'll see something good.

Here's a quick one I did based on a dream I had last night. It can be ironed out a little but I want to know what people think.


Last night I had a dream
where on a brief perverted whim
of hangdog curiosity
I chopped off my own hands.

I knew such was discouraged but
grinning, looking at my stumps
I thought how clever I must be
to plunder that exotic pain.

Suddenly, I felt the gravity.
My hands lie pale and cold and gone.
A burned bridge.
A crippled life.
Disability, assured.
Potential, slaughtered.
Oh god.
My hands were gone.
MY HANDS WERE GONE!
WHY?! WHY DID I CHOP OFF MY HANDS?!

Waking, I frantically checked
and with relief I found my hands.
Thank god that it was just a dream
this time.

>>5503578
I liked it at the beginning. Great first line. The second half got pretty bad though.

>>5507207
How did you chop off both hands?

>>5507322

With a lawn mower.

>>5507396
How did you push the lawn mower?

>>5501795
She passed out hours ago
In the bed, I

chain smoke and drink Jack Daniels out of the bottle
Hey Arnold lights the room from the television on the dresser

Thinking about long haired men in tight leather pants
with their black and white photographs and heroine collections

I don’t remember falling asleep that night
I just remember the room getting darker

and the TV getting brighter
until I was looking down at myself from the headboard

If I learned just one thing in college
It is to never take yourself too seriously.

>>5507422
I turned it on and then shoved my hands into the blade where it then cut them at the wrists.

Of course it was just a dream so it all went perfectly.

>>5507430
>another poem where the narrator smokes

Dropped

>>5507483
k

A poem about some bats under a road bridge on the river Tame

Wings whip the day sore.
And growing in dusk
the bat's shadowplay on the moon

To fade into view then to gloom.
Twilight mayflies, catching in glances
blurred whispers made of cloud

over river, sky masters, proud.
To feed on fuzzing bug haze
take bridge-belly for a womb

Noble bump

>>5507923
I thought it was very good. I didn't like "sky masters" though.

Also the topic doesn't interest me at all.

>>5507923
A poem about nervous wakefulness at 3:44am

edge of bed, eyes red
wide open, chest clenched

odd perch, gums parched
cliff edged, fingers arched

tight spring, coiled shame
hollow shout, feigned pain

Iridescence & Impositions

She loosed herself from the entanglements
Of fangled meanings, as the trees throw off
Their snowy boas for the naked sun.
And testing them she modeled other shawls,
In stunning pirouettes of joy, of grief,
Fancying that she was ambiguous,
Shifting, herself a play of coloured rays
Lighting the world, looking for hues it hid.

As anxious painters overburden skies
With dark acrylics, shrouded mysteries,
She felt herself more tangled, though more full
Of old divinities, if, when she lit
The world, that eyeless and indifferent face,
She left the shadows, let the shadows stretch.

>>5507997
Sky masters is a bit clunky/corny but I need something like it to make the line sound right read aloud.

To the other contributors how long did you spend on your poems? Do you redraft them at all?

I can't seem to maintain interest in what I've written after the first draft. And that probably shows up in a lack of polish.

Thumping bumping

>>5508021
On second thoughts I don't like how "feigned" is used here.

The phrase "choice pain" sounds better

Bump for more oc

I want every poem to be weary with itself and afraid of the world
I want all the line breaks to be where you naturally pause
I want every last stanza to not be there
and I don't want any happy poems for variety
because that is selling out
I don't care how little money you make
because selling out is a figure of speech
and I don't think you should lie to me with any nature poems
because you know you don't think sand is beautiful
unless you're in a good mood; which you never are
and I don't want any acknowledgement page because you don't have any friends

>>5508035
Wow. Unreal. And iambic pentameter. Do you have moar like this?

It flows wonderfully.

>>5508035
Chris?

>>5508544
A boy can't live on /b/ alone!

Iambic Pentameter is hard guys


Outside, the broken lights are jagged.
Lightning streaks like shards of ragged glass.
Falling embers find me where I sit cross-legged,
Not wanting this unusual night to pass.

>>5508558
night is crossed with a silver bow
made of stars which shine with melted gold
i have lost of what this poem now
so i simply look at a piece of bread with mold :3

>>5508544
You've gotta reveal yourself!
The likelihood of someone on 4chan at 3am knowing my poetry is so ridiculously small.

delicate, when needed for a soft touch
hardy, when business is to be done
lovely, pleasing to my close friends
ugly, displeasing to my grandmother
Everyone either requests it knowingly
or unknowingly
regardless, it seeks only to grant requests
it lights up my life with pleasure
penis

>>5508595
Actually I just googled the poem and found a link to a MacEwan program with that name next to the poem's title.
Sorry mate.

>>5508604
"Ode to a Mushroom Tip"

>>5508606
lol. saddo

Once I was a gentle spirit
Kinder than the breeze
The time before an angry beast
Which no man could appease
Once I was a lonely man
Nostalgic of his friends
And once I was an empty shell
Just waiting for my end

My eyes have seen the wonder's sheen
From nations far and wide
But of all the beauty I have seen
None have caught my eye
And now I sit a lone old man
No place to call my own
No way to share my thoughts aloud
But to write these lonely poems.

Really hoping for some feedback, since this hits so close to home for me.

>>5507207
This made me smile.
very good/10

Titled: WAIT FOR ME
When did I start counting the days?
Approximately 2,922.
I admit I miscounted along the way...
Though I never said grace without thinking of you!

Five whole years you lived with me,
Our cherry tree's almost as tall as you now!
Rex's whines went quiet it seems...

Might as well say lights out;
Eight hard years is long enough.

This was posted by someone in one of these threads.

I lay abed and wonder aloud,
my words swallowed by the hungry walls,
about the fate of all the others.
The brilliant ones never known to be.
Who lay supine upon their quite beds,
while waiting for sleep to steal their tongues.
They who wondered aloud to the walls,
their words sparks of wonder and genius.
Lost in the Dark.

Last one for the night.

Three ducks do slumber beside this bench
Upon which I lay my head to rest
And of all the things which I detest
Not one is found in this tranquil bliss

My muscles lax, my mind adrift
I find myself lost in reality's rift
And not once do I wish for this trance to lift
But time does not wait for men who sit.

This is why metered and rhyming poetry is dying

because no one can write any poetry using these forms without sound like theyre from the 19th century

>>5508860

firstly some poets can (didn't even your (american's) favorite elliot use rhymes) and secondly how it's bad, if it was said about a novel, would you even mind?

not metered poetry is usually just ramblings, you should be lucky to promote it as good like that guy who drew the black square promoted his picture

and then just because you used rhyme and meter you didn't automatically made your verses good or even semi-decent, technically it's not hard at all after all

Thunderous roar
A mighty gleam, a warmth, a cream
Ripe and neat
Veinous, hot
And rather big
The title for this 8 line flick
'Accurate description,
of my dick'

>>5508860
There once was a naysayer of rhyme.
Really, he cried all the time!
Oh, the nineteenth century?
Check this and then you'll see!
So very modern, it should be a crime!

>>5509060
2/10. Sounds like you haven't slept in 36 hours.

I worked on this some more, >>5505777

Forgive me Maiden for I have slain
The beast awoke, with no abstain,
I thrust my sword, in piercing night,
That brisk dawn would increase my plight.

Forgive me Maiden for I have been
A beast unfettered, a swarm of sin.
A man lays dead, a Sir of spine,
Armour torn in spite of kind.

Forgive me Maiden for I have wronged
I broke the sacred oath and song;
Watching from the eves of bough,
Glory hangs on broken vow.

Forgive me Maiden for I have had
The taste of fruit in dire fad,
Of taken chaste in haste for sake,
A warrior then; or twisted snake?

Forgive me Maiden for I have bred
Red blossom, bosom bled
Roses sown and gilded mettle;
They lie alone though fallen petal.

Forgive me Maiden for I have killed
Claret snow; all motion stilled.
Sword in hand, I must confess:
I acted under end’s duress.

I have very little experience writing poetry (read: none) and don't really possess an understanding of metre etc. Currently waiting for my copy of Western Wind to arrive and thought I'd write something before reading/studying so as to have something to compare in a few months time.

Beyond the river and through the trees lies a clearing
The last man is standing, a tarnished silver-gray
Nothing more than an assembly of shadows
His make of smoke, faint wisps rolling, uncertain, altered
An unceasing wind billows through and past the trees
Shattered, scattered, plumes of smoke rise
Dissipation
Ascension
The endless river
The swirling sun
Forever and ever

bump

anyone got any nice settings of english language poetry to music?

obviously there's "jerusalem". and i like this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgzuJZ2z0yA

(though i think most of that album is sort of misguided). but what else do we have? it seems like a lot of great german poetry has been set to great music, but english poetry not so much

pick unrelated

>>5511406
lol halfway through this post i apparently thought i was posting a thread

but originally i was just going to ask here

what was going on there

all i do is smoke and drink
all i do is smoke and drink
all i do is fucking think
all i do is sit around
all i do is stay in-bounds
all i do is say i'll write
all i do is feel alright
all i do is get real mad
all i do is feel real sad
all i do is masturbate
all i do is foster hate
all i do is think of me
all i do instinctively
all i do will fade away
all i do will end today

>>5511563
The beginning and end of the lines rhyme. It's like advanced double poetry. A+.

>>5511573
thanks, that is exactly what i was going for

The lone droplet fell from the clouds above,
slicing the border between Earth and Sky.
Spurred not by purpose but a lack thereof,
separated from a dark plume up high.

Its sudden plunge backdropped by darkness,
illuminated by distant stars.
Its dimensions dwarfed by the vastness
of the black canvas it dared to scar.

Pieces of it separated;
The rapid descent took its toll.
Then the pieces dissipated
leaving their host no longer whole.

It crashed among sand and dirt
where it's now for Earth to keep.
And although lonely its birth,
sad its end, Sky did not weep.

New at this, need some pointers.

>>5512100
>>/lit/thread/S5474240#p5485731
>>/lit/thread/S5494290#p5494738
>>/lit/thread/S5465042#p5485700

Tough break. At least you had people say they like it. It's a very good poem, but personally I don't find the imagery mind blowing (not >implying it HAS to be), though it does conjure some very vivid scenes. The idea of a water droplet falling through the sky is rather dull, too, but you pull it off with little bursts of originality.

>>5512121
First real critique I've gotten for this poem. Much appreciated.
My goal was to conjure emotions using something mundane without attributing human traits to the subject (like the water droplet having thoughts/emotions, I tried it but it seemed stupid) or making it too cheesy/over dramatic. Also decreasing the syllables by one after every stanza was a fun exercise but I was running out of ideas by the 3rd one.

>>5502248
do you have anything with less adjectives?

Descending slowly was an angel,
being carried by wings so stable.
Twas not on the script's next page
that the actor would hit the stage,
but he did so when they cut his cable.

>>5512897
fix meter pls

>>5512908

Descending slowly was an angel,
being carried by wings so stable.
But suddenly he falls
and the production stalls
to find out who cut their cable.

Roses are bread,
and Violents are blue.
Killing people since 1992,
Roses are red.
The train is huehuehue...
What?
Say you are the father.
What?

>>5512933
are you trying to write a limerick?

>>5512984
I have to work on this some more. This is only the second draft; six hours were spent between this draft and the last. Going through approximately six drafts is my goal before completion. Wish me luck.

Comes now the machination of dread,
antithesis of the Godhead,
Boot soles of lead to make boulder pebble.

Feelings of despair now treble
when he does level the mountains to plains,
biblical body moving with the force of ten trains.

>>5502628
can i get some feedback? i'd like to think it's thought out but i don't know if it transfers well, or comes off as interesting at all.

Who is le epic?
But who is le epic?
I cannot stress the importance of
Personifying epicness because
Without it
There is no God
We can replace God
With Reddit

once had a crush on a girl named Corinna, so I thought of this really awful pun.. And then, for the fuck of it, I just put it into Onegin stanza, because, why not?

Some time there was a poodle's core, and
she loved all things she got to see,
not even once allowed a short hand
whene'er it came to joy and glee.
Before all things in admiration,
in boundless awe and adoration,
the core stood in the poodle's fur,
I can't help feeling drawn to her.
“Please love my wretched foul existance,
I only long to see you sigh,
to see your beauty, by and by,
and please, forgive me my persistance..”
Here bursts my love contained thus far,
“O! how I love thee, core in awe!”

>>5512364
No. Sorry. Is it that annoying?

A match is lit
Then touched to the tip of a cigar
He inhales the acrid smoke
And would know my allegiance

For Queen and Country
Loyalty to the crown
Perhaps a deeply rooted belief
Perhaps only a habit now

Smoke drifts away in silence
Dust whirls around his feet
Hands me a manila folder
They wanted me to have this

The natives look but they do not see
The foreigners see but they do not look
It is a long, twisting path
I am watched, but not followed

An agent of the Tsar
Hard eyes from years on assignment
Unblinking behind her long lashes
The colour of gunmetal

It is her Game now
But today she will be playing by my rules
A lazy sun sets in the west
The shadows run like ink

Silent tread through dust and sand
A turn of the head
No, I am no-one of consequence
Just a traveller on his way to the East

She suspects nothing
Picks up a carpet bag lying in the plaza
Unfastens the latch
Stifles a shriek

The clock slices off another hour
Twitch of a newspaper
Smoke rises to the open sky
My contact awaits my answer

He smiles, satisfied but cold
A carefully discarded envelope
He snubs out his cigar
No one will remember


(this is more of a minimalistic prose piece bu t I'll post it anyway)

>>5509638
Anyone?

>>5513696
tldr

just started writing a week a go, just try to doodle a poem or two every day while waiting in line or in the car ect so don't rek me too hard

Brain Damage:

contemplating brain damage as i crush up and inhale my teflon pan

i could have made breakfast with this but i’d rather cook myself

contemplating sickness as i swallow aluminium

I could have had a happy day but instead i sit on the leper’s bed

contemplating love as i shiver violently

drowning is assured but i’m the sailor’s headwind

>>5513945

I don't know how much of this is projecting my own habits but when I read other people's poems I can vaguely sense where they 'let it go', where they get tired of doing it, and their main goal became ending the poem as fast as possible.

In yours I think it's here:

>I could have had a happy day but instead i sit on the leper's bad

I think one of the important things in writing is getting to know that feeling and fighting it.

>>5513958
thanks bro, actually you're completely right. I think i'm going to sit around tomorrow and just write and then post it to one of these threads. I'm 18 just got out of high school and waiting for college to start in a couple of months so i don't have anything better to do but learn how to write i guess

>>5513968
It takes more than a couple of months to learn how to write.

Two governors click together
Like bricks of Lego
Or crickets dancing together in the grass-
A starless night, starless lovers
On the cruise ship, children wailing-
The waves crash against blank paper- oranges
Glued against a computer case with all the clicking-
and whirring and stirring cake mixture-
Hush now- cake mixture is the best part-
The soap is swishing and soaking into your skin
The adipose is rumbling all red and ready for cleansing
On the governors hand-
the hands click together.

>>5501801
You may be trying too hard to rhyme at times.

>cozy carpet
Doesn't fit the tone of the rest of the poem. Just sacrifice quality of the poem for a cheap rhyme or alliteration.

I liked:
>peering upon the crackling chimney
whose warmth draws, directly, to rose-cold cheeks

That was pretty nice, I could feel as if I was sitting in the room myself and I liked the contrast of rosy cheeks being cold, despite traditionally imagined as warm and child-like.

>>5501806
Very nice. Captured the mood really well.

The idea of this observer standing over the dying bird but doing nothing but stare and note it's pain was quite stirring too.

>>5503578
It was better before it rained.

Felt that:
" it drowns the fire
but not my pain, not my sorrow. "
was particularly weak.

I really loved:
"Now I am the one screaming, but not for more time for less.
Come fire, devour me"
That was pretty fucking powerful.

as i wrote poetry
on the walls of crumbling castles
as i walked through the garden
when all the leaves fell
balancing on the standing stones
whispering, weeping
embraced the emptiness
cloaked in darkness
the scent of wilderness
arousing and enchanting
lead me down the little pathways
between the trees and puddles
ever changing maze of visions
around the ancient ruins
shrouded in mist and grapevines
whispering, weeping
past and future reversed
memories predicted
prophesies forgotten
stripped clean of meaning
hopping playfully
with bare feet on the wet grass
away from the destination
escaping destiny at last
no shame in hiding your mistakes
deliver promises unmade
unturn the stones
unburn the letters
awake the one who fell asleep

Wrote this while listening to the new Current 93 album. No editing. Not sure if it has any value or it's just weird ramblings but listening to C93 music for the first time is always such a powerful experience that I just had to express it somehow.

>>5516028
NIce man. Myself, I often write poems while using the tune of a song I know in my head to dictate the metre and ammount of syllables.

That band sounds pretty good, what's the best album to start with?

two fold nigga hittin switches in a drop top benz
niggas be fittin callin fuck bitch niggas shorty cop killa trippin niggas
droppin that bass in the fo' five hunderd
stickin tree fiddy niggas in the mini mart bidness
poppin low nigga bitches when my trigger finger itches

>>5516078
Thanks.
Thunder Perfect Mind or Soft Black Stars are the most accessible probably but if you'll get it then almost everything is good. Personally I started with Black Ships Ate The Sky and it literally blew my mind, but that may not be for everyone.

As silent as a mirror is believed
Realities plunge in silence by...

I am not ready for repentance;
Nor to match regrets. For the moth
Bends no more than the still
Imploring flame. And tremorous
In the white falling flakes
Kisses are,--
The only worth all granting.

It is to be learned--
This cleaving and this burning,
But only by the one who
Spends out himself again.

Twice and twice
(Again the smoking souvenir,
Bleeding eidolon!) and yet again.
Until the bright logic is won
Unwhispering as a mirror
Is believed.

Then, drop by caustic drop, a perfect cry
Shall string some constant harmony,--
Relentless caper for all those who step
The legend of their youth into the noon.

>>5516120
Do you listen to them for the lyrics?

I listen to The Mountain Goats and Leonard Cohen almost exclusively because of the lyrics. Do you know any other musicians with great lyrics?

>>5501842
everything about this made me cringe. im sorry, not trying to be harsh, i just think it's bad all around.

>>5516150

midlake is alright
++i find phantogram to be really charming

How grim this place really is
Every sign is trying to shove something inside
No thanks, I don't need an extra large
A medium is fine

All the crowds waiting in line
To eat the seared flesh of
Animals grown to die
Mashed and churned into pink slime
It's no good for us,
But it tastes just fine
All the crowds waiting in line
Animals grown to buy

>>5516170
babby's first edgy thoughts

>>5501842
i laffed

>>5516150
Yes and no. I don't usually pay direct attention to the lyrics but prefer to absorb them subconsciously during the multiple playthroughs. But Tibet's lyrics are very important to the whole thing along with his voice and the overall atmosphere.

From the top of my head I would suggest Townes Van Zandt and Comus. Also check out other neofolk bands such as Death in June and Sol Invictus. It's all the same group of people most of the time.

Gaping wide in wistful wonder
Their open mouths pronounce their blunders
As the purple static thunders
Through the sanguine summer sky,
Waiting,
With weary open eyes
They try to hide behind their lies,
Their softly spoken sullen cries
Return as whispers in the night.

Until the light,
The dawn breaks free,
Undressing and deflowering
The dampest of disease,
A temptress?
Possibly,
A mattress,
Born of dying leaves

Of a steady winking beat between
Systole, diastole spokes-of-a-wheel
One rushing from the bed at night
May find the record wedged in his soul.

Above the feet the clever sheets
Lie guard upon the integers of life:
For what skims in between uncurls the toe,
Involves the hands in purposeless repose.

But from its bracket how can the tongue tell
When systematic morn shall sometime flood
The pillow--how desperate is the light
That shall not rouse, how faint the crow's cavil

As, when stunned in that antarctic blaze,
Your head, unrocking to a pulse, already
Hollowed by air, posts a white paraphrase
Among bruised roses on the papered wall.

>>5516206
Loved this. Loved the choice of adjectives and verbs, loved the alliteration, loved the conclusion. 10/10 would read again.

>>5512897
>>5512933
laff'd. Good job.

>>5516181
nah just an edgy poem. is it that bad tho? just wrote it yesterday so can't really say for myself yet.

>>5503633
> having skin of two ply where you let the opinions of strangers on a north Korean barbeque cuisine board make you feel like shit

No one likes to read whiny writing. There's always a better way of getting your point across

Encapsulated in a delicate shell,
cast forth into Neptune's undulating grasp,
the sincere sentiment born from flesh and bone
helplessly succumbs to a much greater force


From a dreary world in which one should not dwell,
it was hurled by a strength only some can clasp:
a firm inclination toward things unknown,
empowered by a resistant solemn source.

A curious source brimming with will and pride,
occasionally cautioned but rarely ceased,
whose impassioned whims govern all and nothing,
to wield its true potential one must persist.

Adrift, the lonely vessel dares not break stride
for within a message yearns to be released!
Words proclaiming a conviction erupting,
a desperate testimony: "I exist!"

I wrote this monday in my physics class about my friend.
let us start:

I knew I saw your ugliness,
Indeed I knew it was a mess.
A face of boils, pocks, and fat.
It looked of smelly grotesque scat.

How ugly is your blemished face
Your mother thinks you are defaced.
No mortal lover can confess
That your creation is success.

You thing! You fool! You monstrous case!
How ugly you are in your face!

You are the Earth
who astonishes me with her curvature and
whose laws pull me to her center

You are the Sun
who lets me grow under her indiscriminate gaze
and Moon in whose softness surrender

You are all of these things
that men worship -- goodness
so I call you Goddess

>>5517527
I physically cringed at this

>>5517548
;)

Here's a stanza from a two page narrative:

His gaze transfixed in the water more.
Scorning the false flower’s form:
‘This desire is a wretched whore!
A syphilitic simulacrum of Bliss abhorred!
Eros’ nepenthe turned to satyr’s porn!

You always used to drag your hair
In the forest, through the moss and twigs
I went walking in the redwoods
And I made my way yours

I declare that we magically,
Falling asleep to the soft raindrops
And in the morning, waking up
When the warm wind is blowing through the tree
We can’t see it,
Only hear the rush

Any Spanish speakers here? I'd like to get some feedback on a couple things I wrote

>>5519353
Si.

>>5519354
http://pastebin.com/CNBPXQ8C

Es de lo primero que escribo, así que todo tipo de corrección es bienvenida, no soy muy bueno en esto aún.

>>5517668
I like it, but the structure of the second stanza is confusing to the point of distraction.

"we magically" You magically... what exactly?
What is the action that this is describing?

>>5517422
The third line ruined it. Add 1 more syllable.

>>5519609
imo it depends on the stressing and is fine as is but s/he can add 'of' to 'pocks' (and to remove a comma after it)
the real problem imo the 4th line which is 1 syllable too long... hm adding 'of' would help with 4th line a bit

also writing poetry to your friend is cute... but why couldn't s/he write of something more pretty, their friend would enjoy that more

Have you ever been out
when the wolves go out
with their eyes as white as the moon?
have you seen broad tracks in the silver frost
heard the shivering call of the loon?
High in the night with the silent owl
have you heard the howl
when the grey backs prowl
by the crest of the hill
when the wind stands still
and the pine needles litter the snow?
have you gone where the wild wolves go?

Have you ever been out
when the wolves go out
with the heart beat loud in your breast,
have you hunted the deer, the sweet-fleshed does
through their tangled woodbine nests?
I have stood on the hill,
on the high-cliffed hill
where part of myself is standing still
as the grey ghosts pass,
through red sage grass
I have seen the bright eyes shine
and out in the snow,
where the drift winds blow
I have followed the paths
where the grey wolves go
and there were no tracks left but mine.

From the edge of the dock
You skipped rock after rock
'Cross the surface of the river

Swarms of minnows swirled 'round
The places they sunk to the ground
And you and I'd be city bound
But my flivver's all but broken down
Were bound here by the giver

Obama ran for president
And some proclaimed the sentiment
it would be to our detriment
and set an awful precedent
and though he smiled
and seemed so mild
he'd leave us in the excrement


His ego just got bigger
and folks began to figger
the laws he'd try to jigger
unless we pulled the trigger
but there he sat
in spite of that
because he is a democrat.

>>5517573
i don't think mixing anachronistic words like porn into a pseudo-classic verse is a good idea.

Shine

Cheap carbohydrates,
Salty and threatening, lingering
In the halls.
I let you in.
You crawled into my chest.
Your stomach ached. I look at you and feel the same.
Shining, scraped like polished shame.

The thick twist of eye contact is like a fibre-rich smoothie,
Or at least between us I feel there’s no me,
Or if there is me, he’s walking along the beach,
Like a survivor of some ship-wreck tragedy,
An idea. Shine and collide.

>>5520492
btw how to say porn in middle english? porne?

>>5520511
you wouldn't say it in English. You'd have used the greek πορνογραφία to shield the subject form uneducated eyes.

>>5520368

>>5516309
how does one "unrock"?

Rattle of chains
rustle of sheets
the tiniest terrors
troop through the streets

a wander of witches
a gaggle of ghouls
the fairest of fairies
flit out from the schools

Like rabbits they scatter
like dry leaves they fly
their candles like so many
stars in the sky

To house after house
till their bags have no room
and they wrestle them back
to their split-level tombs

Treading leaves, leaving leaf, falling down
From foreign trees, she lifts
Her tears, eyes to
My lost face
A promise,
Dream
.
.
.
We can't erase.

A rifle is a weapon, and can be used for such devices
as to free an enslaved nation or enslave a nation free.
It has strength beyond strength for the elderly and frail
I have even heard them tell me it could teach the blind to see.

But a rifle is a weapon, and can be used for such devices
only when the man who holds it uses it as such.
The rifle is the weapon but the finger pulls the trigger,
the rifle is not a leg, it is a crutch.

We have put it on a pedestal and enshrined it in our law
that no free man shall ever be debarred the use of arms,
How then does that help us, though, when free men take up arms
and place them on the mantle, and do nobody harm.

>there was more but i didn't like it, so this is all i'm posting
>basically, americans think that guns will make them free. that's not true. *using* guns will make them free. they've got the guns, but america lost its will to fight a long time ago.

>>5520368
I love it.

>>5520368
i would have said.
There he sands despite all that,
grinning like a democrat

>crit thread
>no one still has procced a critical strike

>>5522267
be my guest

There is a ship
on the tip
of my tongue.

It has a captain
whose capstan
has none.

He treads up and down:
a permanent frown
and a gun.

Elizabeth once
was quite the nuisance
in Cape Town.

The waves lap her hull,
the crew sights a gull,
island ho.

She puts into a bay
the crew make away
for supplies.

But nothing they find
will fix up her hind,
the hole stays.

Four days later, a cruiser.
The pennant's a bruiser,
red, white, blue.

The captain was done.
He hung up his gun,
then himself.

Elizabeth too,
was split into two
and scrapped.

The crew would do time
living on lime
then go free.

The island would later
host a theatre
and a hotel.

Hist'ry marches on
by sword or by gun;
Piracy's done.

>I think the structure hampered the story I wanted to tell in the end, but I wanted to write something with a little more rigidity to it for once.

Moth's body is the shape of an old man's thumb.
Buried at birth in larval form
Buried in the linen of a burial suit
Moth hatched, and grew in the dark.
And bumped blind and frantic against velvet padding
While worms poked holes in the coffin walls.
Moth, drawn to light, followed the worms out
Leaving behind nothing but holes.

Dirt fell down the tunnel into Moth's eyes
As he grew impatient squeezing through
Worm's narrow gap.
Worm's head emerged.
Moth shoved Worm's body out into the open.
He saw for the first time Worm's bald, repulsive
Body and shook the soil from his fur.

He struggled to see for the soil in his eyes.
He blamed Worm's incompetence.
His wings were damaged in the tight wormhole.
He blamed Worm's inconsiderate nature.

He watched as the pink strip planted itself
Into the ground. He plucked it from the earth
And carried it up into the air.

Morning Poem

Pulsing roots obstructed in their growth
By concrete pavements, permanent cracks
Of the soft earth's resilience, pushing
Hard against the stone.
-------------------------------An early morning
Walk through pavement grey town, World of Shutters
Sprayed on as dogs marking territory
Spraying their stale piss
--------------------------------The scent staining our
Cold, painful air. Smokers suffer in silence
Shivering in the warmth of their habit
In clouds of grey fog.
----------------------------The heavy flow of
Traffic, running red lights, smeared on the thighs
Of the streets, dripping down the thornless rose.
Thick swirling ooze
--------------------------That seeps from the rosebud.
Discharge covers the penetrating cars
In motions genital, cracking the dried blood,
Forcing the bud into bloom.

Sorry for all the -----, but the structure is important to the poem.

On a wasted walk,
Some dysmal night,
I hummed sweet melodies.
These blurry sounds
teleport me
Where ever I may go.
This music composed
From the air that floats,
Sounding foggy in my ears,
Feeling like silk upon my flesh.
I just can't believe
It's happening,
Again like it always has,
My blocks of iron fail me
And I fall neatly on the ground.
The cold earth lets me rest a bit,
Before the sun comes back around.

i am with friends i see him he
is self-centered he is not
completely solid yet hard enough to
confuse you like to do.

i
only do this because, sometimes,
dispite my whole big group
of
friends, i feel go
greatly, that i
don't notice it until something
strikes me, and
i remembered the days that
i
haven't anything to
reach for the 0's on
their back
w is for
you shall love
yourself in the air.

flowers bloom about
us, the trees come to life,
children that
come out to
bumpers a teen night club
and forgeting the past
and what
the future has to offer i cry its
hard to
see. his eyes when i look at
me i have realized is
that it's
the baum, right down my head? is it
truly, completly,
fun, or is it
truly, completly, fun, or is it
enough? to kneel by my bed at
night
when your up in my mind was so safe
if i hit the earth is
beautiful where there are
so frail, yet can cause
you to break make it come true
and that god
keeps it
safe for you.

i am the sun for rising and bringing
us another
day behind i look
at the same as
one another ? to me, but i
don't really care i
just hope when you, receive this
poem, you'll
remember too. for this
holiday season one
life to enjoy,
one beauty to all.

the is their voice, to
birds, their one call. one earth to
take myself to sleep
because, i am the
mountain we are apart i feel so
depressed, but
the night can smother you in his
hands i will cry with
you you are my confidant
and friend, someone i can share my
thoughts i can't stand to
be all that lays
behind you. the earth has animals,
and they
talked. one spoke of a world of great
concern that often we do not weep
over a lossed one, but weep
because you are my love for you is
true, you still have
good memories of
moments when
they had fun.

So young? ah! no — not now —
Thou hast not seen my brow,
But they tell thee I am proud —
They lie — they lie aloud —
My bosom beats with shame
At the paltriness of name
With which they dare combine
A feeling such as mine —
Nor Stoic? I am not:
In the terror of my lot
I laugh to think how poor
That pleasure “to endure!”
What! shade of Zeno! — I!
Endure! — no — no — defy.

>>5517019
overwrought

>>5501795
I no longer hold the dream
Of tending to the perfect garden.
These white roses have long been tainted,
stained with the blood of my innocence.

From sharpened daggers
A crimson river flows,
But mental inflictions
Are not readily apparent.

I've spent my life trudging
Through muddy waters.
I swear I didn't know
the consequences of giving into your lust.

I was still young, but at that moment
my childhood ended abruptly.
Every glimmering star of hope
came crashing down from the sky.

Scars are superficial.
Physical pain subsides.
The torment of mental agony
is a burden carried forever thereafter.

I should be full of hate
That you took away my chance
At living a perfect life.
But I feel nothing.

Like an analog tape over time,
I'm a victim of degradation.
My place of sanctity is no more.

My life is a fading candlelight,
and I'm sitting in a dark room
watching it dim and slowly die.

Dancing shadows on the wall taunt me.
My haunting memories.
Soon the light will be gone.

and these shadows will consume me.
I'm a late term abortion,
not even deserving of a grave.

Could /r9k/ get some critique?

>>>/r9k/13863060

Throwing myself on a moss-and-petal-covered bed
I let the lushest ivy tangle vines around my neck
I'd hold a lily to my temple and just let it bloom me dead
But I'm afraid that by next year the warm spring sun will bring me back

When my roots sprout far into the soft and murky earth
Plants will grow in circles, they are praying at my grave
My mind can bond with seeds too young yet for their birth
I'd rather be a flower than my own body's slave

>>5523476
>>5523476
Thought so.

>>5519745
>and there were no tracks left but mine.


This reads like something from a school book, like a poem for kids. Is it original?

>>5521332
cute

>>5525527
i can't find it anywhere online. it's pretty good too.

>>5501795
Something I wrote a while back, and have never had a review from anyone other than friends:

REQUISITION


Who stands lo on the Knoll?
His Face I do not ken;
In his Hands a Scroll,
Binding to him the Wen,

The Wen of my Nativity;
Undyingly I must serve
His self-proclaimed Divinity
By Cause of my low Birth.

He rules without a Parliament,
Him who is the Crow;
He is himself impertinent,
Much to my great Woe.

"I AM CHOSEN" quoth he;
And so he owns the Land:
Every Lake and every Tree,
Even every Grain of Sand.

>>5527449
More poesy I wrote for remembrance:

IT'S RAINING NOW

I was standing in a field of France,
Between two thickets of tall grass,
I found a note in the dirt, crumpled
And on that note, this was scribbled:

It's raining now.
We are silent; shivering; waiting;
Waiting in the mud, with empty stomachs and pumping blood.
Boots, check. Rifle, check. Helmet, belt, courage... check.
What thoughts are these? Fraternity, fellowship, fealty, fear
A whistle blows
And no one knows
How or what to feel

I'm running now,
And feeling 'nout
All around me people shout
"FOR KING AND COUNTRY AND COUNTRY AND KING"
And all the crows in the air do sing -
They will have a feast tonight
But for us there will be no such plight

The note is gone now, or it never was
But we must still remember
Lest we forget

>>5501795
Erotic Toaster Poem

In masturbatory glee
The other night
I put my penis in
Everything in sight

Banana peels were fun
But to my dismay
In the disk drive my cock
Would just not stay

Drains were good
The keyhole better
And the ice tray kept getting
Wetter and wetter

And not to seem
An awful boaster
But then I had sex
With the toaster

Down went the plunger
And in went my meat
It felt really groovy
When I turned up the heat

I thrust even deeper
And pressed my attack
I pushed in a bagel
For a post-coital snack

But in case you think
This poem is to amuse
As my toes started curling
Well, out blew a fuse

The shock singed my penis
And forced out my breath
I write this while I pray
For sweet and kind death

The End

>>5523407
lol

Found this from 12th grade

I don't like my reflection
It looks too much like me
He looks like every person
I've ever tried to be
He has no dreams, no fears, no hopes
Just rides the wave of life and floats
He sits within his shallow box
Wasting days while watching clocks

There's a stranger there inside that glass
But his face is just like mine
It sits there with an odd, blank stare
Apathetic by design
I've watched as he has toyed with life
And with my future gambled
He acts but as a gust of cold
That blows against my candle

ALL
L
L

ASS
S
S

Hello, I wrote the following for an assignment. My English is not really good but it is important for me that this poem is!

Here it goes:

So I laughed with the Devil,
and I listened as I was being filled with contrite.
The words were empty,
when we became intoxicated overnight.

Now I dance with the Devil,
a beautiful and curvaceous frame.
nothing remained of the contrite,
the same goes for the shame.

Soon will I lay next to the Devil,
And my affection will grow more and more,
with my regrets perhaps only hours away,
we get on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur.

If anyone would have some constructive critism I would be very thankful!

>>5531303
It's nice off the tongue but I have no idea what it's supposed to mean.
And I'm not idiot.

>>5531303
the word you want is contrition. that won't scan, but it's the form you need.

>>5531303
and you forgot "opened the door".

Touche

If a young black man
became thirsty
and wanted a drink of water
at a public fountain
in Birmingham, Alabama
he would be denied
even now
because
There are no longer
public fountains
in Birmingham, Alabama
anymore
all the water
is locked up tight
in homes and businesses
owned by white people.

>>5531476
>>5531469
>>5531313

Thank very much for the replies, I will work on it!

>>5531303
So, the devil=4chan, the internet?

ABSOLUTE ARSE DRIBBLE
learn to use form and meter you faggots

>>5523503
linkin park /10

>>5532108
>everything posted here should be perfect and in no way indicative of someone who is learning
>critique thread

faggot

You've followed me
from your cubby hole
through the gaian
auralsphere,
and your
dreadful
ambivalence
has nothing
whatsoever
to say to me.

I've listened
to your gobbledegook
until it made sense,
because,
just because.

I guess I love you.

But so what?

>>5532108

how about these? and i think i saw a couple other classically written pieces.

>>5519745
>>5521332

I know it's your dream
to bend at the seams
fold up and send off
to a lover's mailbox
To be placed on the mantle
To live as a sample
a perfect example
of a pen's potential
to impart words essential,
but that won't happen
You'll crumble into pockets
And live in kegger fire pits
You'll be raped and molested
by the brutish soul that detested
your endless stare and blank persistence
he needed to scribble into existence
from hollow words to hollow thoughts
and I thought I ought to have brought
some blank paper for you
so you could rape some paper too

>>5532220
rhyme =/= meter

>>5508776
I thought it was really good anon.

There's a heartbeat beneath these ribs
Quiet and angry as it is
Too many clouds to see the moon
These walls and windows block the wind
Cold and dark as it's been
Hopefully things get better soon

>>5516136
10/10

>>5516170
I like it.

>>5532551
the meter is fine. what are your objections to it?

compared to most of the rest of the thread, the scansion is stellar

I stopped into the shop while I was making my home

I bought credit for my phone
And a honeycomb Toblerone

And this big fat chick behind the counter
Looks me up and down
She's foaming at the mouth
Man she's checking me out

She says "Excuse me man, but would you like, to go out for a meal tonight"
So I says yaa, chalk it down
She took me out for dinner in the Horse and Hound

We had a BLT, a cuppa tea, she scootched her stool pure close to me
She runs her big fat fingers up my skinny little thighs
Says "let's go back to mine"

Now, is she an ugly bird?
Or a big fat ride
Ah man I can't decide
So I sniffed some glue, to clear my head
Then rode her rotten on her mothers bed

A bag for me, a bag for you
Let's get wrecked on bags of glue!

Cause there's no way I'm riding you
Unless I'm wrecked on bags of glue!

She has a big fat ass, but she has no class
And I could do better, but I think I'll pass
Cause I can't resist, when she insists
To stuff her mouth with chicken every time we kiss

This love we have, there's no respect
But she's a big fat fucker, what does she expect?
I'm hypnotized, by her puffy eyes
And her sixteen chins and her massive thighs
I take her out, and she stuffs her mouth
With expensive food that'll give her gout
She's the ketchup, I'm the chicken wings
My queen, and I'm the burger king
But man you see I just can't seem to ride her when I'm sober,
So I sniff a dirty bag of glue and then I bend that fat bird over

A bag for me, a bag for you
Let's get wrecked on bags of glue!

Cause there's no way I'm riding you
Unless I'm wrecked on bags of glue!

She's got these manky saggy granny tits,
The kind you'd find on Annie Fitz,
A dirty slut with a big fat butt
Eating too many chips from the chicken hut
But if you think that you might like a fat bird of your own
I got a three step plan, but follow it man
When you get that fat bird home
Step one get a bag and fill it with glue
Step two sniff till your face turns blue
Step three relax, enjoy the ride, and let the UHU do what it do to your mind

But just make sure you throw away the bag when you are done
Cause if you have my luck then you'll wake up stuck
To your girlfriends big fat bum,

A bag for me, a bag for you
Let's get wrecked on bags of glue!

Cause there's no way I'm riding you
Unless I'm wrecked on bags of glue!

Said a bag for me, a bag for you
Let's get wrecked on bags of glue

>>5532727
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYO2GffqnmI

>>5501795

Fuck you

Well I'm copying most of these and giving them to my publisher. Laters.

50 shades of gray fame here I come

>>5532769
make sure you especially copy this masterpiece>>5532727

>>5508776
Definitely not bad, and the sincerity comes through. But from a structure and rhyme perspective, not impressive.

>>5508833
priddy good. last line is a bit corny and unnecessary.

>>5511563
I know this is supposed to be ironically bad but I kind of like it. Could be a death grips song

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love's bands more tight,
Service he ne'er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.

Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter's storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow's pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep'rably.

Don't know a shit about poetry but here's my attempt.
Most of time, I'm quite in silence, but I always try to chat.
What happens when you are around?

Were my ideas and words eaten by a cat?
What I found?
dull thoughts and a void.

What am I trying to avoid?
Don't I want you to realize?
that I am hypnotized
with your shiny eyes.

Don't know what's wrong, don't want to be boring.
But there's nothing that can bring
to my brain, something to say
when I see you, I'm just stay
petrified.

Imagining you naked in my bed
And getting laid
All day, all night.

Don't know a shit about poetry but here's my attempt.


Most of time, I'm quite in silence, but I always try to chat.
What happens when you are around?

Were my ideas and words eaten by a cat?
What I found?
dull thoughts and a void.

What am I trying to avoid?
Don't I want you to realize?
that I am hypnotized
with your shiny eyes.

Don't know what's wrong, don't want to be boring.
But there's nothing that can bring
to my brain, something to say
when I see you, I'm just stay
petrified.

Imagining you naked in my bed
And getting laid
All day, all night.

>>5533592
Saying that you don't know shit about poetry just opens you up to criticism like this: Stop trying, I've seen five year olds write on walls in their own feces with better literacy than what you just vomited on to this page. You disgust me.

>>5534424
THanks

Not unique
Or of much worth.
Could not speak
Nor stand without sticks.
But breathe deep
Of vapors in rain
Left by a howling mist.

We do not speak.
We do not speak.

The voices here
Can only repeat.

I can only feel
That life
Is strife
Without a pre-marital
Wife

Why are all the poems along the same lines and abou the same subjects? Why no poem about childhood or battles or shopping or planting gardens? Its like everybody here is just writing submissions for the same high school assignment.

>>5536204
>>5532108
>>5501968
everyone who comes in and does this is an idiot

of course the poems here are bad, if they were good, they would be published, not being posted anonymously on 4chan. there's no need to get high and mighty about it, I bet your poetry sucks too anyway

>>5536245
pick one poem from this thread you'd publish in the back of a children's poetry book say, the least egregious one.

>>5536204
This isn't even true.

Can someone explain to me why the critique threads are always poetry?

>>5536670
they aren't

but poetry is usually shorter

>>5536670
this:>>5536672
is a valid point. A whole poem, or even several can be presented, read and critiqed quickly. A novel or essay or short story would probably be ignored

also, most people have some taste in poetry. not actual discrimination, but they know what they like, and there are objective criteria that are easy for most people to use for criticism: does it rhyme? Scan? are the images evocative? if the work is free verse are the cadences supportive or awkward? does he form and vocabulary fit the content? are the innovations and divergences from tradition novel and entertaining? is it thought provoking, inspiring, trite melodramatic, vapid?

Poetry is something people feel qualified and justified in putting in their two cents on, and while its easy to write, it's hard to write well, so real quality stands out.

r8 my poem pls

A box of supposed luxury
unequaled in it's originality
repeated throughout the city

The colour and spectacle of the unusual
censored and silenced by the infallibility of the banal
an uneasy fog of conformity hangs above the plots of newfound paradise, attracted by the envy of the stupid

The all knowing architects chase eachother in circles
their version of oppulence not to be outdone by the facsimile of others

You and I resigned to reside in claustrapbobic cages guilded by others
their ideals plastered around us,
mocking us, admonishing and patronizing us for stray thoughts

------------------------

A breath of fresh air
a crack of light through a shuttered window
whispers of potential unknown to most
the disenfranchised steal a longing glance
as its crushed by the mob

-----------

A corner turned and it never happened
scorched from memory by darting eyes, disgusted glances and offended sensibilities

Still your prison awaits you, personalized to your taste

>>5532727
This is a song isn't it? Rubber bandits I think

******************************************************
Your burned body is such a disgrace
To your beautiful method.
The tar you are hiding sometimes
It sort of leaks out of you,
And that's when I see the eternal in you.
That moment I see beauty,
In betrayal and trust.
How they both lead to you, in all of your
Unyielding glory and your pain.
You show me the absurd,
And you acquaint me with the miracles.
You hammer through this broken armor of mine
Then decimate barriers releasing strength.
Even if I am going insane,
Must fight through your pain
This world conquering pain.
*******************************************************

>>5536856
This would be great if it weren't for the severe lack of any critiques in this thread.

>>5537017
hmm, well, I hat to say nast things, s I'm not the best critic. I liked the wolf poem, though I agree with the anon who said it reads like something from a grammar school book. I'll keep that one and paste it in future poetry threads.

the obama poem is silly and fun but its a one joke thing and not very memorable. there's a poem where a "lonely vessel dare not break stride" and mixed metaphors make me giggle, but its not really good.

>>5516309

this one is also hilarious for all the wrong reasons

.>>5521332

this one's okay.

>>5531852

and this one is pretty good.

satisfied?

>>5537078
>satisfied?

Not really, but at least you tried. I would offer some myself, but I don't have enough experience with poetry to offer a worthwhile critique to anyone.

>>5537088
well, start with the basics: anything here you like or find amusing?

the 1962 Pontiac Star Chief
is a fine car
with four barrel carbs
and a V-8
and if you are a girl
in the big back seat
trying to keep your panties on
and too drunk to remember
where your blouse went
and why your bra is underneath you
and there are bite marks around your nipples
and the whiskey is in your mind
and the heat and sweat
of the man on top of you
makes you cry
because you are afraid of something
you can't quite focus on.
and all the pain
when your fingers slip
and the panties are gone
and you're nothing but naked
nothing but open
nothing but pierced and horrified
and still he rides
and still he grunts and your shoes are gone
and one sock and your hair is caught in the window crank
and he pulls away
and there is blood on your thighs. white thighs
red blood.
red a the hood of the
1962 Pontiac Star Chief
that he bends you over
helpfully
for the next guy in line
123 inch wheel base
23 miles
to a gallon
of leaded gasoline.

I have been trying to create some poetry for a long time now (to be used in a musical piece).
But i don't have any experiences with meter or any poetry basics whatsoever. I also don't want to jump into free verse or stream-of-consciousness writing because that would make me a hack.
Can anyone help? I want to create something that follows rules...

>>5537537
I'll help. what do you need?

An excerpt from a much longer poem. Criticise as you will.

The most beautiful days of my youth I spent
By a lake, beneath the eaves of birch and pine
Beds of moss breathing in the deep morn air
Fields and forests bathed in rain and light

Uncrowned those days of summer's gold
When the wind lay in the roaring trees
And laughter rang through summer's storms
Unbridled ran the fervours of curiosity
When hope was woven among the fallen leaves.

To be lost meant little,
When soft feet trod green grass along the stream
Playing about a figure ankle-hung
Through whose tree the sunshine gleamed,
Gleamed bright upon the wild milkworts strung.

>>5531852
>owned by white people.
this line lets it down
I know it's necessary that it's clear it's owned by white people, but try and find some other words for it. I was in there and then I just got zapped right the fuck out.

>>5538691
good advice. Will do.

>>5538728
maybe
owned by the white

Got your rhyme and everything

>>5538746
"owned by good people
honest
hardworking
and white".

keeps the cadence and still gets the rhyme

>>5538795
Yeah that's it

aaah
there seems to be a large
vagina monster
underneath my bed.
i say "aaah"
because i am generally unacquainted
with
vagina monsters
aaah
i say this time, because
it is consuming myself
aaah
i say, for
i dislike being within the confines of a
vagina monster

>>5501795
Pls be gentle this is my first peom

>eat a dick

In the graveyard of my life,
In the highest mausoleum,
In the heart of the corpse
- there, even at the crossroads of the universe -
she waits

>>5536204
Practically none of them are the same.

>>5536204
um

>>5537280
This is good, but disturbing, which may just be another aspect of "good".

>>5537537
What exactly are you looking for in terms of help?

>>5519745
best in the thread

>>5543306
I agree. I saved it.

>>5501795
im tryna feed my kids
and this nigga
this nigga b like "u heard of basquiat"
like nigga who the fuk is basquiat

I found seclusion, peace
But something comes unseen
Bringing gloom remembered
Conspicuous in black
Hard against the shadow
Nothing there, in the night
Only wisps of darkness

The lurking mouth gapes
Expelling a sable tide
My mind is overcome
Immersed in slick fear
Drowned and flammable
Horror smooth it stifles
Glistening as it chokes me

Clogged
as he steps from obscurity

A single careless spark
Sudden flame silhouette
His eyes, fluorescent glass
His throttling fingers, chrome
Personified Terror
Frenzied I build the blaze
And stab against the Fear

Crunchingly sliding through
Between kaleidoscope eyes
A gout of flame fury
Flickers, then fades away
Dead incandescent lens
Muscle beneath the knife
Mere bone and membrane grit

Lost
in relief felicity

My hand drips red pitch
Befouling his soft skin
Gentle, delicate flesh
His face of serenity,
Harmonious with death
His soul lost for ever

And I search, frantic for the burning figure
I was so certain of