/crit/ thread

[Anonymous No.12602443]

Seemingly a lack of a critique thread, so post anything you’ve been working and would like some feedback on in this thread!

[Anonymous No.12602453]

>>12602443
I’ll start the ball rolling with this little poem I wrote on the train today, with a little bit of a G!YBE inspiration in the second line that was subconsciously thought up by my /mu/-addled brain.

>As a feeble insect seeks the light,
>So do we, to the Heavens, lift our pale antenna,
>As though to snatch the reigns from Helios,
>And in that revolting tremor: catch the Sun in flight.

[Anonymous No.12602479]

>>12602453
sounds like faux 17C. plez stop brownnosing the dead, kid

[Anonymous No.12602503]

>>12602479
lol, just because something isn’t written with some self-aware snark-laden cynical tone doesn’t mean that it’s ‘brownnosing the dead’ (what does that even mean?) There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sincerity, anon.

[Anonymous No.12602531]

>>12602503
brownnosing the dead--what it means is this, mein faggotop: imitating the style of the past, the style of centuries-removed masters whom you've read in school and are easily digestible as "Real literature" because you lack the talent, awareness, or authority to produce something in your own voice for your own time----IF the posted material is even yours, because i'm too lazy to google it

[Anonymous No.12602541]

>>12602531
Which particular master is this in the style of? Seeing as you believe it’s reminiscent of 17th century poetry, I’m sure you’ll be able to name who you think the work mimics - unless, of course, you’re a pseud spouting ignorant bullshit?

[Anonymous No.12602547]

>>12602541

I'm not him and despite him being rude, he's not wrong. The style is anachronistic, not characteristic of a single poet, but of a past era overall. Think of the contemporary spirit, its voice, write in your take on it, not that of past generations. Good luck anon

[Anonymous No.12602555]

>>12602541
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;

[Anonymous No.12602573]

[Anonymous No.12602612]

>>12602573
real tired of screenshots. are you a phonefaggot or just incapable of ctrl-c?

[Anonymous No.12602614]

>>12602612

Phone fag >:)

[Anonymous No.12602634]

>>12602612

Also, lay and bob are both present tense. Do you think that poetry must follow the same grammar rules of prose? I've been taught otherwise in the past. When you play with grammar you have a differ sphere of sounds available, as well as other things. Where you'd put a comma, I preferred the way it sounded without. Or the way the wind thing is set up, I also just preferred the sounds. What's your take on that idea though? I'm interested.

[Anonymous No.12602661]

>>12602634
Lay is past tense of lie. Lay is also present tense as a transitive verb, in which case, you are using it incorrectly. I lay bricks. I lie down.

I don't have a "take" on the poem because I don't like it. I recommend you read more poetry so you understand what a poem must accomplish. A poem is an arrow flying toward its target--elizabeth bishop.

[Anonymous No.12602673]

>>12602661

I just wanted your opinion on poems following grammar rules but alright. Thanks for the feedback either way.

[Anonymous No.12602706]

>>12602673
Alright, I'll bite. The rules of grammar exist as tools toward clarity. S/v agreement is a rule. When you break that rule you are making your writing less clear, not in the service of ambiguity but simply because you don't understand the language. Saying "I runs" or "they goes" is barbarous. Unity of tense is not a rule, but a guideline, which is why I asked WHY you changed tenses. Nonetheless, the shift is still a moment of confusion for the reader, who must go back and untangle the language. In your case, I think you simply chose the wrong word and meant to say "lie." Again, not trying to be mean, but you must learn the language before you try to craft it.

[Anonymous No.12602709]

>>12602547
Perhaps he doesn’t want to write in a ‘comtemporary spirit’ and feels that his vision is best expressed through that kind of language? If it’s written in sincerity then I think that’s more important than conforming to whatever your image of contemporary style should be.

[Anonymous No.12602726]

>>12602709
Read "Tradition and the individual talent." Imitation is not real art. Sure, the little poem works fine as a journal entry, but not as an artistic object. Btw stop samefagging OP, check the poster count.

[Anonymous No.12602809]

>>12602706

That's fair, I'll keep it in mind.

>>12602726

I second reading the individual talent essay, it illustrates what we're trying to describe to you. You must be aware of the canonical greats but also the spirit of your times and find a means to harmonize progressively with the direction of art, not the opposite. Of course, you may choose to create how you please and that can be good and fair, but it won't be taken very seriously if you aren't seen making an effort towards both keeping in touch with today, and being mindful of the past.

[Anonymous No.12602820]

Shingles creak and shudder,
the door hinge needs a screw
and hangs cockeyed,
has needed one for years.
The rooster overslept today,
overcast though the paper
said mostly sunny skies.
Used to get the eggs each morning
until they came fewer,
tasted strange and earthy,
yolks dark and specked with red.

The last day, we woke to our mother
crying in the kitchen.
Rushing in, we saw
the stillborn, still-damp chick
frying in the pan.
Not even the snakes go
through the warped, dried gaps
of the henhouse now.

[Anonymous No.12602972]

>>12602453
i'm sharing the opinion of other posters here. i find the romantic imitation dull and forced. nothing wrong with mythical allusions, but the way you're using them here, i don't feel like you're really putting them to any good use, and more doing it because it seems "poetic" to do so.

>>12602573
not really feeling it. too much abstract imagery to keep track of (many of which i don't find compelling), and i don't find it very readable, neither for aesthetics or syntax. your word choice feels fairly natural, but i think you might be trying to do too much in a short span.

[Anonymous No.12603767]

>>12602443
Pues ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Si no lo sabes a estas alturas
Y ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Nunca sucederá de modo alguno
Cuando tu gallo grazne al amanecer
Mira afuera de tu ventana y ya no estaré
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Y ya de nade sirve encender tu luz, cariño
La luz que nunca conocí
Y ya de nada sirve encender tu luz, cariño
Estoy en el lado oscuro del camino
Pero quisiera que hubiera algo que hicieras o dijeras
Para intentar y hacerme cambiar de opinión y quedarme
Pero nunca hablábamos mucho de cualquier manera
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Como nunca lo has hecho
Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Ya no te puedo oír
Voy pensando y vagando, caminando por el camino
Una vez amé a una mujer, me decían que era como una niña
Le dí mi corazón pero ella quería mi alma
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Hasta pronto, querido tesoro
A dónde estoy destinado, no lo puedo saber
Adiós es una palabra demasido buena, cariño
Así que solo diré cuídate y buena suerte
No estoy diciendo que me hayas tratado mal
Pudiste haberlo hecho mejor pero me da igual
Solo me hiciste perder mi precioso tiempo de cierto modo
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

[Anonymous No.12603787]

>>12602443
Pues ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Si no lo sabes a estas alturas
Y ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Nunca sucederá de modo alguno
Cuando tu gallo grazne al amanecer
Mira afuera de tu ventana y ya no estaré
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Y ya de nade sirve encender tu luz, cariño
La luz que nunca conocí
Y ya de nada sirve encender tu luz, cariño
Estoy en el lado oscuro del camino
Pero quisiera que hubiera algo que hicieras o dijeras
Para intentar y hacerme cambiar de opinión y quedarme
Pero nunca hablábamos mucho de cualquier manera
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Como nunca lo has hecho
Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Ya no te puedo oír
Voy pensando y vagando, caminando por el camino
Una vez amé a una mujer, me decían que era como una niña
Le di mi corazón pero ella quería mi alma
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Hasta pronto, querido tesoro
A dónde estoy destinado, no lo puedo saber
Adiós es una palabra demasido buena, cariño
Así que solo diré cuídate y buena suerte
No estoy diciendo que me hayas tratado mal
Pudiste haberlo hecho mejor pero me da igual
Solo me hiciste perder mi precioso tiempo de cierto modo
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

[Anonymous No.12603838]

>>12602443
Pues ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Si no lo sabes a estas alturas
Y ya de nada sirve sentarse y preguntarse por qué, cariño
Nunca sucederá de modo alguno
Cuando tu gallo grazne al amanecer
Mira afuera de tu ventana y ya no estaré
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Y ya de nada sirve encender tu luz, cariño
La luz que nunca conocí
Y ya de nada sirve encender tu luz, cariño
Estoy en el lado oscuro del camino
Pero quisiera que hubiera algo que hicieras o dijeras
Para intentar y hacerme cambiar de opinión y quedarme
Pero nunca hablábamos mucho de cualquier manera
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Como nunca lo has hecho
Así que de nada sirve gritar mi nombre, mujer
Ya no te puedo oír
Voy pensando y vagando, caminando por el camino
Una vez amé a una mujer, me decían que era como una niña
Le di mi corazón pero ella quería mi alma
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien.

Hasta pronto, querido tesoro
A dónde estoy destinado, no lo puedo saber
Adiós es una palabra demasido buena, cariño
Así que solo diré cuídate y buena suerte
No estoy diciendo que me hayas tratado mal
Pudiste haberlo hecho mejor pero me da igual
Solo me hiciste perder mi precioso tiempo de cierto modo
Pero no lo pienses dos veces, todo está bien

[Anonymous No.12604144]

>>12602972
The only mythical allusion is Helios, I hardly feel that’s overkill, and more just an expression of my own liking for Greek myth.

[Anonymous No.12604165]

can someone explain to me why this is wrong?

[Anonymous No.12604185]

She burned his body at around 3:47 in the afternoon, so it’s said, by the point where the stream fans out and thins into beachy narrow canals. His long, brittle, blistered arms dangled over the edge of the pyre like an unkempt fringe, centre-parted and in need of a prune. Moments earlier she had jerked him off behind the bush as a last request. Her palms were rough, and her steely touch tugged on his foreskin a little too tightly. Every now and again she would phlegm onto his shaft. As soon as he came straight up into his beard she dragged him towards the wood.

Lining his fingernails were grit, strands of hair, blood and lint. The withered keratin, peeling at his cuticles from the heat of the flames, was speckled navy by his insistence on composing by hand. On Friday evenings he liked to settle with a shiraz and knock out a few standards on the tavern piano, the islanders appreciatively mutter to one another.

There were only a few present at his burning: some intimate friends, some old lovers, and the high priestess conducting the fire. All gathered to watch the flesh seared from his bones. It began to get foggy just beyond an hour after the ceremony was underway, dislimning the smoke into obscurity and hanging a tinge of scorched rot uncomfortably in the settled air.

It was an undeniably primitive tradition, as many of the locals agreed; but it was a small concession to be made, and who would be prepared to sacrifice such a warm community out of a little squeamishness?

[Anonymous No.12604209]

There is was again, the pungent smell of marijuana he'd come to love, or perhaps disillusioned he did. Like sweet relaxation and rebellion. Pleasant to the nostrils but painful to the eyes and poison to the mind. Pax remembered his brother and how he use to smoke it. His fathers angry pleas for him to stop and his brothers cold apathetic response. The scenario had played out countless times they both had mastered their lines, like characters in a play.

[Anonymous No.12604216]

>>12603838
Esto me hunde el pecho. Bien hecho

[Anonymous No.12604220]

>>12602555
Quite flattered that you think my writing even comes close to imitating Shakespeare desu

[Anonymous No.12604233]

>>12602809
I can understand the point that imitation (or attempts at that) can undermine any underlying talent. I can only say that what I wrote at the time was written spontaneously and without consideration for any romantic styles beyond what my own subconscious influences are. It was written in sincerity.

[Anonymous No.12604406]

>>12604144
my issue was execution, not quantity. i think the best allusions are done in a "show, don't tell" manner (even though that phrase is generally overused), and explicitly naming the god in some "darmok and jalad at tanagra" manner for everyone to automatically recognize (or not, poor plebs) is usually obnoxious.

[Anonymous No.12604429]

is a concept summary i just wanted to write down:

Order of the Sundered Scale

Formed in the throes of the Second War, by hot-blooded young gentry-men eager for glory, their aspiration was dragon-hunting. In this regard, they failed. The knights instead menaced their own kind - stamping out peasant uprisings, and then terrorizing Alteracian villages in the wake of Perenolde’s betrayal. Their legacy became that of atrocity. Hanging the families of fugitive rebels, burning the villages of Alterac’s serfs. Under the guise of rooting out Orc-abettors, they let slip inner tyrannies the Alliance command had little hope of justifying.

Beyond a tattered old red hide, one liberally paraded around, little serves as evidence for their namesake. Boasting, toasting and stories slurred never fare well under scrutiny. What speaks for the order is the fear they invoked in the commons. Testimony of their conduct is rife with misdeeds more akin to the dragons they bluster over. Arrogant ill-discipline and an addiction to élan of the charge marred their image among high nobility. Inheriting domains befouled by Troll incursions along Lordaeron’s marches - among other rough lands, the breed of low country knighthood of the Sundered Scale sat askance to refined nobility of the realm. Commands failed to rein them in and led to bloody chevauchees across Alterac’s slopes that the few still living fail to forget.

In wartime, their carnage was overlooked. Whenever rumblings of arrest and disbandment emerged, sympathetic Arathi voices interjected. The harrying of Alterac and their ruthless warring gained them allies as well as enemies; none more boisterous in their defense as Stromsmen. After, however, the Knights of the Sundered Scale’s dark appetites ceased to serve good. Numerous interdictions by King Terenas’ constables and bailiffs were forced by the Order’s feuds with towns and rural communities. With the Orcs cast out, old habits endured and turned inward; scorching relations with their own liege.

Indulgent bloodshed persisted for years, ebbing and flowing depending on the pressure exerted by Capital City. Amongst burgesses and farmers, their name became a curse. Lowborn victims were no longer Alteracian or insurgent, something that irked even the most chauvinist aristocratic peers. Paladins vocally decried their excesses - a few eccentric clerics even pledging their bludgeons in cause of those assailed. By Prince Arthas’ ascendancy, the seal on the Order’s warrant needed only to be stamped. It was the chaos unleashed by his treachery that saved them.

1/2

[Anonymous No.12604436]

>>12604429
In the months preceding his fall, Arthas Menethil inadvertently handed the Order reprieve. Stratholme burned and its people were scythed down like cattle. This horror captured the outrage of every Lordaeronian. Baseborn and gentle-birthed forgot the wrongs of the Knights for now, their worries turned to the immediate peril of the Undead. Contrary to cynical expectation, the Sundered Scale didn’t exploit the newfound turmoil. Dreaded as marauders, they nevertheless remained knights and held to a corrupted form of chivalric honor. Detractors would accuse their quarrels before the Scourging as simple banditry. They pilfered farmsteads, extorted merchants and murdered indignant yeomen, that is all true. Yet every knight measured his action by their Order’s haughty code; their fierce nature found no recourse, like it had in the Second War. When the dead arose, the Knights’ past victims were perplexed to find the Order rushing to their aid. A new war came, and with it, all the glories and valor the warriors craved.

The Third War, by what scattered accounts can be parsed, redeemed them. Refugees fleeing corpses and daemons were shielded by them, their persecutors run through with lance and sword. Not much could be done in the face of the Undead tide and the following Daemonic hosts. Shining repute was won in spite of this through sheer effective action. Woe that once greeted them turned to reverence - each Living holdout that lodged them thankful. With Daemons and Undead as enemies, the Order’s dire past seemed less and less sordid. In the end, such an alien, unnatural phenomenon solidified the chivalrous ideals the Sundered Scale played at. Strains of evil in them recoiled when faced with its pure corporeal, animated form - horned and hooved.

The Knights of the Sundered Scale eventually found employ with Lord Garithos, a bellicose, headstrong figure much aligned to their thinking. It is with him they perished, oathed to serve his person ‘till Lordaeron was put at peace or their corpses to ground. As flawed a past they had, none can deny the honor regained with their brave feats and loyalty. One can hope they found rest, and not enslavement to that Traitor Prince and his master. Alas, Lordaeron is anarchy, and every corpse at risk to disturbance. May the Light spare them.

2/2

[Anonymous No.12604489]

>>12604406
That’s an interesting observation, I’ll take it into consideration. I did have the idea of naming the horses that lead Helios’ chariot, maybe that would work better. Or perhaps better yet to just name the ‘chariot’. We’ll see!

[Anonymous No.12604494]

i know it’s trite pls help

anoint me in the wax that melts from your wings

falling in shards to the wine dark sea

for we sing of the sun in her blistering radiance

when it is i who will imbrue your feathers in ebbing, eddying surf

and carry your tiny shattered body

back to your weeping father

when she has deceived you

[Anonymous No.12604644]

>>12604494
I like it, but I feel like there could be a lot of tightening up. For one, you imbrue with, rather than in. There seems to be a lack of form and rhythm, which I feel manages to discredit the imagery you have (which is very nice). I think, also, that you’re placing too much hope in the fact that the reader will be able to decipher the meaning of your poem. As a uninitiated reader of your mind, I’m finding it difficult to parse what you’re actually trying to say: who are you referring to with ‘she’, what does the father represent, why would wax melt from someone’s wings (and is this ‘person’ an angel?) A lot of questions are left unanswered, that I feel could be better phrased so as to increase understanding. All in all, there is definitely something there - keep up the good work!

[Anonymous No.12604777]

trying something.

ive come out to my friends about a thousand times(guised as a joke(because i am(such a fucking faggot)(unsure(what i am(bi(polar)sexual(asexual(or maybe im just un(fuck(love(bear)))able to tell(my friends(are all nice(but im not)they would understand(but i still dont(know what to do with myself)))))))))in love(with the boy in(the television screen(the radio(my class(my mind))))) (with the girl from(the coffee shop(the suicide hotline(my childhood(my heart)))))but i dont want to be with anyone because(my father never loved me(and my mom wanted to abort me(and i resent her(for being pro-life))))i am(a(pathetic)(and uninterested(in the dance(of love))))sure it won’t end well(for me(it depresses me(when i dont have it i want it(when i have it it depresses me))))(for them(ive turned every partner ive had into a cigarette addict))))

[Anonymous No.12604835]

[Anonymous No.12604837]

>>12604494
>>12604644
combining this into one reply for convenience, but i believe this poem is from the perspective of the sea (the second line confuses this a bit), speaking to icarus as he's plunging to his death. if you know the story, none of the details about the wax/wings/father are out of place or confusing, they're just parts of the story. "she" is the sun throughout the piece (not a conventional gendering of the sun btw).

personally i like the rhythm, it's not too strict but there's still something there (like the unstressed/stressed pattern through each lines' first syllable).

overall i like the poem. i'm not going to speculate too much on the meaning, but identifying with the ocean is an interesting choice.

[Anonymous No.12605036]

>>12604777
nice try, now never do it again

[Anonymous No.12605041]

>>12605036
fair

[Anonymous No.12605094]

>>12604777
I like it

[Anonymous No.12605274]

I am trying to understand myself an use writing as an outlet to breach the topic. Feel free to demolish this. I’ll drop some crit in a seperate post

[Anonymous No.12605384]

>>12604835
Dumb as hell/fuck you
>>12604777
Interesting concept, trying to capture the myriad of thoughts anyone can have at any given time. Work on it, has potential
>>12604494
Interesting if antiquated imagery, the lack of rhythm and structure hurts the piece especially if you’re aiming for a tradiationalist style

[Anonymous No.12605447]

>>12605384
>Dumb as hell/fuck you
Why don't you offer an actual critique instead of just reacting emotionally?

[Anonymous No.12605476]

>>12605094
>>12605384
Parenthesis fag here. Thanks. I hate the actual content there right now because I was just writing something to try the form. I'll keep experimenting with it.

[Anonymous No.12605480]

>>12605447

Not him but you aren't owed an in depth critique by anyone. If he reacted emotionally, that's his feedback. You likely wouldn't have replied this if he just said "I like it", so don't be nit picky when he gives an equally vague response in a less desired direction. If it didn't resonate with someone, just recognize that as part of the poem's impact, it's that simple.

[Anonymous No.12605563]

>>12605480
Pointing out that "REE SCREE ME NO LIKE" isn't a critique isn't "nitpicky." If you want to come into critique threads and launch a screeching emotional display, go right ahead, but don't be surprised if you're called out on it.

[Anonymous No.12605603]

Criticism and feedback welcomed!

[Anonymous No.12605607]

>>12605603
Lacks proper iambic pentameter.

[Anonymous No.12605612]

>>12605447
Because it’s literally just a gag reworded into faux-romantic poetry. It’s the same tier as dickhead tumblr shakespeare stand rewording vines into his style. It’s meaningless as art and unfunny as a joke.
Plus the message is reprehensible, you can say it’s your ‘opinion’ but it’s such a widely toted ‘provocative’ statement that it doesn’t present as a real opinion, it just seems to be the most boring way of getting a reaction.
So there you go. Dumb as hell. Fuck you.

[Anonymous No.12605616]

>>12605563
Dumb as hell/fuck you.

Semper fi, bitch.

[Anonymous No.12605617]

>>12605612
Zionist detected.

[Anonymous No.12605625]

>>12605617
Incorrect, you’re just an asshole.

[Anonymous No.12605634]

Forever there was only the Creator, the depths, and the abyss.
Then the Creator twirled the abyss around its finger and whirled it into a whirlwind, creating force. The force spriled onto itself and exploded into and infinite swirling fireball, transforming the force into the sun.
Then the Creator moshed the Depths in its palms and sculpted it into a rock, creating mass. The Mass was dropped into the Sun’s orbit, where it spilred around the fireball.
The Sun’s pull ripped the it apart, and the Sun’s heat enflamed it. Then the mass was shredded out across, and scattered away from the Sun’s fire to cool down. The rock had transformed into dust.

[Anonymous No.12605691]

Paradise, lost through the serpent’s deceit,
Or Elysium, noble souls’ repose,
Illustrious myths, of thee I entreat
To act as my muse, the romantic’s rose.

Beneath the trees swaying ‘round peaceful glades
Under the great clouds that rule o’er the earth
Across plains, through vales, the land God hath made
In but one place lives the goddess of mirth.

Euphrosyne, O divine image of grace
In no other do you shine through so pure
Among the rough-spun you are silken lace
Helen herself could not match your allure.

So heavenly, so fine is your visage
That were I in the ethereal isle,
There would not be an equal sight nor image
Not for ten, not for a million miles.

Far to the South, in the land full of flowers
Where palm trees grow astride the briny sea
There is a girl, my yellow sunflower
The most magnificent girl that could be.

Fairer than those naiads of the river
Than the nymphs who leave wanderers engrossed
Enchanting to wide eyes gazing thither
Mind in disbelief and heart varicosed.

Many prayers to heaven and kind fate
For joining me heart to heart with the one
The one like the ambrosia the gods ate
The one warmer and brighter than the sun.

I’ll hold onto you tighter than dear life
No matter what hardships that same life brings
Until the moment I fall to Death’s scythe
Or on judgement day when the great belfry rings.

From now ‘till then, held in these arms of mine
I will love you in good or bad weather
For you are sublime, you’re my valentine
My other half, like birds of a feather.


Wrote this for my gf on valentine's day. please be kind anon

[Anonymous No.12605702]

>>12605691
Everyone shits on archaic poetry but I feel it absolutely has its place, as long as it’s not trying to extoll modernity in it’s content. This is very sweet anon, and its style suits its purpose.

[Anonymous No.12605703]

>>12604185
This interests me to hear more anon. Strange subject but I like it

[Anonymous No.12605724]

>>12605702
Thanks anon. I only had a mind to keep a rhyme scheme and 10 syllable meter. I thought that referring to both Greek myth and the story of Eden would be a little out of place, but i'm a classicsfag and I love Paradise Lost so I went with it. I think that it would be a kind of anachronism to write on contemporary topics in archaic style, as you have also said

[Anonymous No.12605726]

"Gag Order of the Soul"

Like a naked mouth
Salivating to speak
My tongue is trapped between my teeth
and my lips
are barriers which part
for nonsense and
wine-colored outpourings

I request a map of the word
that could bequeath meaning
from the death of being spoken

Breathed in and out,
Inhaled, exhaled
The cycle of my lungs
Tied up at my larynx

I pour swill down that passage
Loosening up the secrets that
I swear are kept from daylight
But I surface empty,
Drunk,
Still curious down to the diaphragm
with a passing survey of the heart;

A hot heart yearning,
Burning hot, a heart my own.

[Anonymous No.12605737]

>>12605726
Anon, I can see the merit in the content of your poem, but I don't really like the way it reads. It's kind of choppy, but perhaps that was your intent. Care to expound?

[Anonymous No.12605757]

>>12605737
I've been catering my poetry to it being spoken out loud rather than only read (been attending readings), which has changed how my poems present on paper. What parts are most chop-suey to you?

[Anonymous No.12605764]

>>12605724
And you have done well. I feel the trade off is in the content you cover; the naturalistic Romantic style of writing is unduly hated amongst /lit/. Regardless, this was a really nice piece and being a classicsfag shouldn’t be a demerit on your writing

[Anonymous No.12605767]

>>12605757
The first stanza really, but I reread it outloud and I thought it sounded better than way. I've been really into writing in meter lately (I'm the valentine's day poem anon from a few posts up) so perhaps I have a bias.

[Anonymous No.12605775]

>>12605764
It made my girl happy which is all that matters to me. Thanks for the feedback anon. I've recently started writing poetry, and since I love epics I can't but help enjoying the use of meter.

[Anonymous No.12605777]

>>12605767
You did a good, your partner better have appreciated it

I feel like a hack because I stick to free verse, but its all I can play in the mud with.

[Anonymous No.12605796]

>>12605775
It’s a lot of fun to use; I grew up somewhat immersed in the more post-modern style of writing which is where a lot of my ‘style’ comes from. Still trying to find my own voice but at the end of the day - if your girl loved it? No one elses opinion matters

[Anonymous No.12605797]

>>12605777
She certainly did, made her tear up. Since sung me a song with her ukulele, her being more musically inclined. I don't think free verse is the mark of a hack. While of course the words used are important and so is the style, the content is very important too. For it's quite possible to write a poem with fancy references, vocabulary, meter, and rhymes while saying nothing at all. I'm reading Don Quixote and he makes a nice discourse on poetry. "She [poetry] is formed of an alchemy of such virtue, that he who knows how to manage her will convert her into the purest gold of inestimable price."

[Anonymous No.12605806]

>>12605796
I have been thinking about how I can write poetry in the voice of my own time. I decided to take the approach of the artist, and master the techniques before developing my own style. To this end I write in meter. Though, for all of our parts, who could hope to develop there own voice if they remain silent?

[Anonymous No.12605810]

>>12605777
Also, checked. For my own part I messed around alot with freeverse in highschool. I even won the free verse part of the literary fair. I have to say my favorite part about it is the ability to develop my content more because meter can be restrictive.

[Anonymous No.12605824]

>>12605806
Absolutetly an excellent idea. As studied as I am in poetry, I don’t know how to express myself honestly without it coming across somewhat impressionistic. The work on the way to your voice is the most important. Keep it up regardless anon, there’s a delicacy to your style that is v refreshing

[Anonymous No.12605828]

>>12605824
Have you posted anything of your own in the thread anon?

[Anonymous No.12605829]

I'm calling this scuffed Groundhog Day:

The 21st of May was a day like any other; that is to say, at exactly 11:13PM, someone was going to kill me. 115. 115. 115, I repeat silently to myself, lolling over it with my tongue until it was firmly lodged in my hippocampus. I roll out of bed, landing precisely where I know my shoes will be. As always, I mouth a quick thanks my degenerate self of 116 days ago for going to sleep fully dressed, as it had added up to save me considerable time. Would I look out the window today, or not? Fuck it. The tree branch framed the top half of my view like a big, verdant finger. Sunlight. Birds. Nice. I swept across the room in a series of well-rehearsed steps that took me from bed to desk in the least amount of time. Backpack first, followed by binder, laptop. My hands go about their business quickly and mechanically. They know what to do. Teeth are brushed, hair is combed, because I can’t stand bed breath and authority figures seem more tolerant of me when I look presentable.

[Anonymous No.12605860]

>>12605829
I don't know anon, wasn't there a Netflix movie or something with this same premise. I can't say I really like your prose. Why say hippocampus rather than simple mind or brain? What's up with the last sentence and the seemingly pointless justification for doing something normal? The premise isn't to my tastes, but this is just an anon's opinion.

[Anonymous No.12605867]

>>12605828
I have, I am >>12605274
Trying to find a naturalistic, colloquial to write. Let me know what you think!

[Anonymous No.12605868]

Modern poetry makes me want to dig my eyes out. If I read another "poem" about a second-generation chink, I'm gonna lose it, boys.

My hatred for it has grown so strong that I've started writing silly haiku and shit to spite people. So far, thirty have been published.

I know archaic poetry gets shit on by most these days, but I'm glad you guys still have an appreciation for it.

[Anonymous No.12605871]

>>12605829
Have you written the previous 115 days? This is almost unjudgeable without development of character, story, accessory parts, etc. This is a flaw shared in most narrative postings in critique threads. The snippet is too little to say anything about style.

[Anonymous No.12605874]

>>12605868
Link publications and/or show published works plz

[Anonymous No.12605875]

>>12605612
>Getting this upset over obvious bait

[Anonymous No.12605888]

Criticize my poems please.

1.
All my thoughts
Bought, targeted and shot,
Vices are private, virtues are public,
A picture of world rules by bots,

A race of gratification,
A race fighting for emancipation,
A race for equal rights,
A race for brightening others' plight,

Anger is raged against,
Bullies circlejerk with haste,
Everyone is an expert,
Without any knowledge to exert

What are the next steps,
Increased penetration of the net,
Men of will will die,
Science will cast you a die,
Dreams of escape are dead,
Take part and may god bless

2.
Woman of my dreams,
Subject of my lust,
Gliding around with her pretty bust,
A glance at her ass,
Empties my balls, saves me from thots

Such a pretty face, A woman of class
Like Van Gogh's vase,
Such pretty eyes,
Tricking me into committing vice,

Voluptuous thighs, treacherous belly,
Adele's voice, diana's poise,
One day I will ask her out,
I will marry her and raise many boys,

Who knows what else I will do,
At the end I might love her too

[Anonymous No.12605889]

>>12605875
Kek

[Anonymous No.12605892]

>>12605867
So it seems you're trying to write this in the voice of a pirate or briny sailor right? If that is the case I certainly get that impression and I think you've done a decent job if that was your intent. I am not very well versed in poetry so I have to go mostly on intuition. I think that certainly lines such as:
>There's not yet a way to remove myself
>From it...
and
>Affection of affection. Yer skin ain't
>Mine...
I think this kind of break in the sentence makes it read choppy. I think that if you want your poetry to sound like someone speaking flow would be paramount. Also this is more of a nit pick but I dislike your use of "ur" and "r" solely because I calls to mind lazy texting language. Perhaps something different like "yor" and "ar" would be better.

[Anonymous No.12605895]

>>12605874
Don't want you niggers ruining this for me just yet. They're translating some of my work into Chinese at the moment. Will post here as soon as my first collection comes out.

[Anonymous No.12605915]

>>12605888
Checked those digits anon.
Anon your poems flow poorly. You have a rhyme scheme, but without adhering to meter it simply is not pleasurable to read. It seems like your trying to write about a contemporary issue in the first one, but I think it would work better if you think about how to make the style fit with the content. But as it stands you desperately need to work on making your words flow before anything. In the second poem I detest your use of such vulgar words like "ass" and "thots" Its an affront to the poetic form if you ask me, unless the style of the poem lends itself to this vulgarity. However you say the lady is a "woman of class" but I only imagine you jerking off to her. your writing doesn't seem to make that into an ironic thing either. As in the first one, work on your flow

[Anonymous No.12605924]

>>12605888
Another thing. Diversify words. In the first poem you say will three times in two lines. It's too much and makes it read badly. In the second poem you use pretty twice when you could use something else. Would you really describe a woman's bust as "pretty"? it fits a an adjective for eyes but surely you could think of a better way to describe someone's bust, by which I think you mean boobs

[Anonymous No.12605925]

Give me your
Beak
Your
Wings
Your
Beady eyes
Land on my finger so I may
Steal the difference
Between you and I

I will visit your nest
To sing your songs
That you guarded from my mimicry

Avian soliloquy:
One bird chatters to the
Audience of open air
And he only breathes to sing
Give me your beak, your wings
Your lust to be heard

[Anonymous No.12605931]

>>12605925
Anon i'm the meter autist from a few posts up that's been replying to everyone's shit. I also thing your writing could flow better. And I'm not sure what the purpose of your unconventional structure is for. Would you elaborate?

[Anonymous No.12605938]

pic unrelated

Many a time my endeavors feel fruitless
Like Sisyphus struggling with his stone
On those days I feel mostly useless,
And I want only to make the trek home
My residency is a tall tower
O’erlooking the abyss of the world
To transform things is not in my power
The malignant mist just roils and whirls
Dim are the prospects of the world of Men
Or so often I perceive it to be
When ultimately we are but children
In our lives that pass evanescently
O! What remedy is there for this sad state?
I sit by and watch the death of virtue
How easy it is to begin to hate
Those creatures writhing without any clue
Alas, is there a remedy for I?
Looking out from my tower I see none
But perhaps up higher it may yet lie
Far above the ignorant and the scum
So I gather the bricks and the mortar
To extend my lonely column on high
Trying to see past the widespread torpor
That plagues so many men until they die
From thence I have arrived in this belfry
Standing ornately carved against the sky
Straining my eyes so that now I might see
Ho! What is this? ‘Tis another I spy
Looking out from a redoubt much like mine
Could it be, do I dare believe my sight?
It is true! The same as the sun dost shine
I have a companion to share the light
Peering down from this newfound precipice
I can make out gaps in the roiling black
Places of flowers, trees, and blessedness
Where happiness and mirth seem not to lack
O precious hope! I implore you flee not
For my heart’s inflamed to build higher still
To try and find a place free of all rot
My mountain before was merely a hill
I know I can yet attain newfound heights
And I will build on through all wounds and scars
Through rain and sleet, long days and longer nights
One day I might just stand level with stars

[Anonymous No.12605940]

>>12605924
>>12605915
Thanks for the feedback anon. First one is about internet and rage to hate on conservatives . I used wilI willingly to show that men are dying breed but I get your point. I will work on flow. In the second one I didn't even notice that I used pretty twice. This poem was about my hatred for one woman and wanted to objectify her as much as possible.
I will keep your feedback in mind.
Thanks anon

[Anonymous No.12605943]

>>12605892
More utilize my Australian accent, on top of that I want to express a disconnect between the words written and the words said. It’s something I’m trying out to see if it works for the sake of what I’m trying to express. Good to know it’s now working

[Anonymous No.12605945]

>>12605925
Cringe

[Anonymous No.12605955]

>>12605940
I think if perhaps you instead showed this internet hate ironically it would have greater merit than to just speak about the subject directly. Also about the lady: You could likewise use irony to lament about her and do so in a comical way. It would have much more merit that way than a reader imagining you jacking off (which could be very funny but only if it is done tastefully)

[Anonymous No.12605957]

>>12605931
It just be how I be feelin. I agree the flow is off in some places (lazy syllable allocations), but the stanza and line break usage is something I'll stick to (mainly, as I mentioned, because of out-loud reading).

[Anonymous No.12605973]

>>12605943
Ah Australian. I'm an American so it was lost upon me at first, but I can see it now. Naturally i'm only able to work with my limited knowledge of poetry (I've mostly read epics, hence my aforesaid fixation on meter) and my intuitions. I think with you explanation I can sort of grasp what your getting at. That said I think it's an original way of expressing it and the subject is not apparent, but its clear there something to be found. If you're as acquainted with poetry as you say, it surely is more than I, so I say continue with your style anon because in my humble opinion it has merit

[Anonymous No.12605979]

>>12605945
We're allowed these things occasionally

[Anonymous No.12605990]

>>12605945
Useless post. Why say cringe, or even post in a critique thread without a thing to say. If you don't like it at least say why. Being that this is, or I suppose ought to be, a literary board, all anons should be encouraged to write more often and to write better

[Anonymous No.12606032]

>>12605973
I’m trying to find the balancing point between expressing a clear idea and using my own somewhat obscure way of speaking for the sake of establishing my voice. Everything I’ve ever written has been aiming at perfecting a style I am comfortable with. I am glad you think it has merit, I’m self conscious if nothing else and while I know a lot about poetry, my own work doesn’t reflect how I woule criticize other work

[Anonymous No.12606123]

The din consumes me once again
and I consume it likewise.
A rumbling from my intestine
bodes ill for those nearby.
The keys that work this lowly door
are square and tacky things,
the strokes I make are rushed and poor
and void gross offerings.
You, squinting at my common flow,
may go on whizzing by.
I'll give no more to this buzzed crowd
that starves for shitty rhyme.

[Anonymous No.12606347]

>>12602443
good lord, /lit/ really is full of 16 year old creeps who think they're going to become poets

[Anonymous No.12606349]

>>12605703
Thanks, it was a submission for a “quick fiction” contest (though with the graphic humiliation of the last request significantly toned down). I’ve been toying with the idea of developing it into a novea for a while now, surrounding a strange, anachronistic, cult-like community living on a remote island off the west coast of Scotland. What I really want to do is piece together the history of the island through this image of the burning man, the story told through the recollections of the islanders at his funeral, and the events that led up to his death.

[Anonymous No.12606353]

>>12605702
Nobody is especially shitting on archaic poetry as a form, only when it's regurgitated into the bad and predictably mistaken ways shown here in this thread and in most critique threads

[Anonymous No.12606465]

>>12602573
This looks like it was made by AI

[Anonymous No.12606679]

>>12604165
bump

[Anonymous No.12607461]

He blew on in
Great cloud, southbound, whirlwind
>Is this a golden cherubim?

Old folks never heard such words spoke -
He shines his halo 'til it glows,
And they'd never tasted honey in a sermon.

He took them down to the water that runs,
Dipped in the river, one by one.
The old Baptist beetles forgot how to swim -
>Drownt in the river by a cherubim.

[Anonymous No.12607468]

>>12604429
>>12604436
I very much like this.
The concept is well conveyed and comfy while the writing does not distract, but in fact adds, to its existence

[Anonymous No.12607486]

>>12604777
you're trying to copy kolsti but with absolutely none of the panache or wit

[Anonymous No.12607502]

>>12602820
Harrowing. I think "The Rooster overslept today" is its own sentence. "fewer" and "tasted" can probably be connected by semicolon as I see them as two closely related independent clauses. formatting the first stanza like that also brings it closer in line with the tone of the second

[Anonymous No.12607514]

>>12602820
pretty competent, but needs direction, maybe add another stanza. a (good) title could solve most of this poem's problems.

[Anonymous No.12607534]

>>12605888
absolute unmitigated trash. fucking-stop tier. check-yourself-before-you-shrek-yourself tier. absolutely no honor toward poetry as an art, and clearly no education in it as a field

[Anonymous No.12607537]

The music was turned back up and the crowd started shouting. “Punch his nuts!” “Beat his ass!” Weston bent his elbows and threw his gloves up in front of his face. I bent my knees, put my fists up, and inched towards him, light on my feet as a drunk can be. With my feet stuttering left and right, back and forth, I faked a right jab then swung with the left straight towards his jaw. He ducked under my arm then smashed my gut with a right uppercut, sending a dull sting throughout my abs. We danced, faking jabs and gauging reactions. Weston cocked his left arm back then lunged forward with the right, successfully catching me right in the nose. The crowd went crazy. The center of my face started vibrating with a hot pain and I felt my heartbeat in my nostrils. Blood began trickling down over my lip, and at that moment we were no longer friends. I didn't hate him, of course, but we weren’t joking around anymore. There’s something about getting knocked in the face by another person that returns you to your primal state of being. I wasn’t scared but I was in survival mode.

[Anonymous No.12607551]

>>12605915
>>12605931
PSA: please stop saying "flow," it's the buzzword of pseudery and dilettantism

[Anonymous No.12607564]

>>12606347
there's nothing wrong with that. I was a 16 year old who thought I might become a poet. now I'm a 24 year old who still thinks I might become a poet. the intervening years are a struggle up the field

[Anonymous No.12607672]

>>12607537
>be. With my feet stuttering
I think you should merge two sentences and break it up so it reads:
> I bent my knees, put my fists up, and inched towards him, light on my feet as a drunk can be; my feet stuttered left and right, back and forth. I faked a right jab then swung with the left straight towards his jaw.
>Weston cocked his left arm
Change Weston to "he," i think. We know who you're talking about regardless, so no big deal.
>right in the nose
on the nose? I think on the nose is more correct
>The crowd went crazy.
I think you should merge it with the previous sentence, connect them with a dash "--"
>The center of my face started vibrating with a hot pain
Change the order of the sentence: "I felt my heartbeat in my nostrils and the center of my face vibrated with a hot pain."
>Blood began trickling down over my lip, and at that moment we were no longer friends
connect this sentence with my previous advice with a dash
>but we weren’t joking around anymore
this is only real pointer -- the narration is done through the MC's recollections, it seems. If the MC does not actually know this information in the future (that both fighters were kidding up to that point) change it so that it reads "But I wasn't joking around anymore."
Regardless, the sense of action is conveyed well and in the last line, there should be a comma between "scared" and "but" -- probably.

[Anonymous No.12607699]

Wrote this after visiting Keats grave

Interned in the city where papists pay due
Stands charnel yard of the schisms sons
Her headstones plastered in hallowed hue
Wet in gilt drops from a weeping sun
O’ Cestius how majestic, your Nubian debut
The pharaonic shrine shadows all but one
How queer is fate, decreeing youth for slaughter
To Keats i pray, for my name writ in water

The toxic tiber shall be my ink
Searing my signage on God’s own wink

[Anonymous No.12607723]

>>12607699
this poem text string has lots of "poem words" and very little "poetry." read more and come back to this one in a year.

[Anonymous No.12607740]

>>12604185
Anyone wanna rip me a new arsehole? I only post in these threads to be emasculated, do your worst

[Anonymous No.12607749]

>>12607723
thanks for the advice!

[Anonymous No.12607789]

>>12607672
Thanks for the advice, it seems your recommendations would likely add more "movement" or fluency to the writing so I'll see how it reads after implementing them.
I'll post the paragraph that comes beforehand so you're less confused about the context -- it's supposed to be a drunk college boxing match between two good friends. The rest of the friends at the party are gathered around to watch.

[Anonymous No.12607802]

>>12607537
>>12607672

Two guys moved the plastic folding beer pong table out of the way while another kicked red solo cups and empty beer cans aside to reveal the wet, dirty floor beneath. The furniture in the apartment was pushed up against the walls while fat hip hop bass layered with rolling hi hats and snares poured out from the huge speakers in the corner of the room. I slid the thick black boxing gloves on and strapped the helmet around my chin while Weston did the same in the opposite corner. My heart fluttered with excitement. Or maybe it was the crappy red bull vodka I’d been drinking all night. Either way, I was ready to go. Jacked up on booze, I had no fear of anything. Not Weston, not the sting of getting punched in the face, not the inevitable hangover tomorrow and not of embarrassing myself. The rest of the guys moved in and formed a tight circle around us in that dim, dusty room, ready to watch a couple of idiots pound each other’s faces.

Nick turned the volume down on the speakers and stepped into the middle of the make shift ring. “All right, you guys know the rules” he shouted while pacing around the circle. “No nut shots… and yeah that’s it. Don't punch each other in the nuts.” He stopped pacing and looked at the crowd surrounding us before glancing back at each of us. “Now beat the fuck out of each other!” he howled. Nick stepped aside and now there was nothing in between me and Weston. It was go time.

The music was turned back up and the crowd started shouting. “Punch his nuts!” “Beat his ass!” Weston threw his gloves up in front of his face. I bent my knees, put my fists up, and inched towards him, light on my feet as a drunk can be. With my feet stuttering left and right, back and forth, I faked a right jab then swung with the left straight towards his jaw. He ducked under my arm then smashed my gut with a right uppercut, sending a dull sting throughout my abs. We danced, faking jabs and gauging reactions. Weston cocked his left arm back then lunged forward with the right, successfully catching me right in the nose. The crowd went crazy. The center of my face started vibrating with a hot pain and I felt my heartbeat in my nostrils. Blood began trickling down over my lip, and at that moment we were no longer friends. I didn't hate him, of course, but we weren’t joking around anymore. There’s something about getting knocked in the face by another person that returns you to your primal state of being. I wasn’t scared but I was in survival mode.

[Anonymous No.12607963]

Longarone

Care lest your cant
Recall the folly of faith
Not in old gods but admin
That sole crack reverberates in autumn still
Apocalyptic peaks yield not to man
Careless harness
A sultry swell of jet, slowly swallowed the latent scape
Purging innumerable ventricles pitch
A tsunami sewn of mans neglect
Down dusk cloaked dolomites
Down slumbering throats
Two thousand score souls snuffed
Lost too vesuvian vex
But at least volcanoes, will not mar mans hands
With sanguine stenched guilt
All those faces, curdled under twilights tide
Six minutes to erase a race
Six minutes to darken a dawn

And only the old northmen remember
The clocktower kindred
They recall the absence in the midst of dream
When deep trench wrinkles fill with slumbers sweat
And eyes open like in that october
Before closing again
Resigned to accept
The casual flash of extinction

For the flood and the tears both have dried
Kept alive, only, by an elders sigh

[Anonymous No.12607989]

>>12605888
Unironically a scintillating collection of observations on the male experience in the early 21st century

[Anonymous No.12608003]

>>12607551
Cringe, what word better describes something with good metre other than ‘flow’? A poem should be something enjoyed for its melodic qualities just as much as it’s lyrical selection.

[Anonymous No.12608010]

>>12606347
>I’m so much better than all of you

t. 17 year old

[Anonymous No.12608038]

>>12605990
double cringe

[Anonymous No.12608055]

>>12608003
>>12608003
>what word better describes something with good meter other than "flow?"
that's not what (you) mean when you say flow. because meter denotes how the words rise and fall against the metronome of the poem, and is inherently neither "good" nor "bad." nor is "adherence to meter," which can be quantified as "good" or "bad," itself a good quality, as, for example, Hopkins' poetry, which is among the most musical in English, follows no established or "regular" meter but instead relies on the sounds of consonance, alliteration, and stresses rubbing against each other outside the confines of feet

[Anonymous No.12608166]

>>12602820

I like the ominous atmosphere. As if there is something sinister going on, but at such a mundane, insignificant scale. I'd start the poem at "The rooster overslept..." though, as I think someone above suggested. The first four lines don't add much to the tone or story of the poem, and the rooster line conveys so much more of what is happening

[Anonymous No.12608197]

Go be something else, they said
Kill the heather with your feet,
Take the world and
Sterilise it
Disinfect all life with Latin names
Once we laughed,
Once we knew other people

[Anonymous No.12608214]

>>12608197
incorrigibly nebulous hogwash

[Anonymous No.12608241]

Remembered Summer

In the wind the summer once again
The water’s ceaseless drawing through
Leaf fill branches winter-thin
The word of life, the ever new

God as fire, through Earth bleeding
Sun that gilds the crown of trees
The smell of greening grass stalks seeding
Sweet scent on the evening breeze

Think back on other times, on things
Across forgetful oceans tide
The curling smoke, blue, rising rings
The moon that pulls across the sky

[Anonymous No.12608259]

>>12608241
you need some serious grammar lessons

[Anonymous No.12608268]

>>12608259

What is it you are taking issue with?

[Anonymous No.12608438]

>>12608268
punctuation, for one

[Anonymous No.12608472]

>>12608241
>The water’s ceaseless drawing through
>Leaf fill branches winter-thin

wtf

>>12608268

[Anonymous No.12608537]

>>12604165
someone answer this please

[Anonymous No.12608558]

Julian, Bear, Snake, he’s been known by many names – but none so prevalent as “faggot.” His hunger for cock has yet to be quenched. The itch in his asshole yet to be properly scratched. Meeting this crude prude in the wild will probably leave you in a daze as his shrewd words sufficiently inform you of his craze.
Politics elude him, drama goes over his head, and mysteries follow him. Fear not his gaze or influence, but fear his presence – or else he’ll fucking annoy you to death with his ten cent observations that you better not hurl back or else it will be a shit storm comparable to the titanic’s effect on the twenty-first century woman’s brain.
Recently, his obsession has revolved around anime. He crawls to work whenever he has to in order to make the pennies he needs to buy his tendies. Honey mussy, barbe-cute, he needs as much of it as he can so that he can remind himself of what life has in store for him if he can manage to hold on. The simpler joys in life, but specifically an appreciation for them, are what we all have to learn in life; in order to hold on.

[Anonymous No.12608660]

>>12608537
fuck you. wrong thread, faggot.

[Anonymous No.12608678]

>>12608055
Lol, that doesn’t answer my question. Do you not believe a poem can flow?

[Anonymous No.12608702]

>>12608678
your question, like your grasp of the subject, is hopelessly shallow. lurk more.

[Anonymous No.12608718]

>>12608702
lmao, no answer, you’re a hopeless pseud masquerading as a literary snob

[Anonymous No.12608732]

>>12608718
>yeah, i do believe a poem can "flow!" just like the one you wrote, wow, the flow is really nice, good job anon ;^)

[Anonymous No.12608759]

>>12608718
Not him but your usage of the word “flow” is totally arbitrary and meaningless. If you want to talk about metre, say metre. You’re using “flow” in a figurative sense which is wholly pointless when talking about the concrete formal mechanisms of poetry, you need to be up front about what it is that the poem is doing and how the poet achieves it. Poetry uses metaphor, literary criticism should not.

[Anonymous No.12608785]

>>12608732
wasn’t my poem, it’s just dumb to say that a poem can’t ‘flow’, obviously it’s more of a folk term for describing the melodic nature of a poem which ignores a lot of the intracies of why a poem flows (as you said, adherence to metre isn’t the only criteria), but it’s just ridiculously and unconstructively aloof to suggest that ‘flow’ isn’t a real thing (you even gave yourself an example in Hopkins of poetry that ‘flows’ without strict adherence to metre, so you admit it exists)

[Anonymous No.12608813]

>>12608759
Read >>12608785, obviously the ‘flow’ of a poem is about as easy to finger as a poem’s ‘vibe’ - very difficult. It’s not a technical term, obviously, but it does serve a purpose in describing a certain element of a poem, even if ultimately it does a poor job at pinpointing any specific technical aspect of said poem.

[Anonymous No.12608856]

>>12608558
nit enough people write in this sort of faggonese vernacular

[Anonymous No.12609501]

>>12608813
>>12608785
>>12608759
>>12608718
I'm the guy who was slinging around the word flow, you damned faggots. Obviously flow isn't a concrete term and can't well describe meter, rhyme quality, internal word placement, whatever the hell. I'm not an expert on poetry as I even stated. Flow is how it sounds to me, and it is merely my opinion. Yes, it's not exactly critique but its better than no feedback at all. So in short, anon in particular who is calling people snobs, blow it out your ass.

[Anonymous No.12609512]

>>12609501
Shut up bitch I’m defending your use of flow don’t attack me

[Anonymous No.12609519]

>>12609512
I'm sorry anon. I wasn't calling you a fag or telling you to blow it out your ass. That was for the other guys that were just talking shit. I appreciate you. I just wanted you to see that I responded.

[Anonymous No.12609537]

>>12602612
>redlining a poem

[Anonymous No.12609542]

>>12609519
Oh okay, for what it’s worth I agree with you anon!

[Anonymous No.12609546]

>>12609543
What? I don't think you're Cody Cigar. What would be the chances of that?

[Anonymous No.12609552]

>>12609546
Eh he he. I though you replied to my post but it appears I'm the brainlet so I deleted it. Sorry anon

[Anonymous No.12609925]

This is from a sci-fi fantasy novel I'm writing. Brutally honest feedback would be nice:

This was yet another day. Heartless iron clung to soil, and the natural ground, beautifully imperfect even by it’s own design, caressed it on it’s cragged mounds the best it could. There were spots along that endless winter where atop metal triumphed, stifling the softness of the comfortable snow below at even what heights the eye could perceive in that sea of boundless white. Yet for every one of these the valleys permitted, that same eye could also see points where artillery sank beneath the weight of the earth. There, that gentle snow would wrap it’s white round the impenetrable black, and despite all grievances would kiss that iron on it’s skin.

Surrounding them was an abyss from which the blending tone of ground and sky showed no escape. For even those ephemeral stars lighting night’s void freely glimmered no more than the ground for air’s clouding breath. Yet it was an abyss they shared and fated them to weather all it’s storms together. Iron and snow; harshness and care. Theirs was a marriage which by unfound carcasses whose screams were silenced by snow-stuffed mouths, showed little regard for mortal company. Yet footprints could still be seen upon their blanket that day.

The winds howled around the ancient battlements and shimmering falls of frozen water—Gravestones of what once was. And as lightless wings of cackling crows did slice through that untameable breath, so too did their midnight feathers fall with flakes on the man beneath forebodingly. A suit of grey strode with purpose through the frost, the puddles of Sporos spoiled washing clean it’s icy shins. Though a house in height, it cast no shade for the fog. A sabre brandished did it clutch with little thought or tire, and in it’s cockpit, stood the man, brown eyes ablaze with melting fire.

Alone however, wired within that metal breast, this man was far from being. For although wired not, and thus unable to dictate it’s motions, the suit yet sheltered the arms of a woman holding the chest of the man from behind. For not a moment past departure had her eyes burned a violent flicker, but coolness reigned—A more focused intensity which led soft whispers to govern the foot of man and suit. Glowing now, was the man with virulent will; some snow around did smother the metal shins as they as walked.

Boy and girl marched on and on, and swirl above did the watching crows--Their silent gaze noting listlessly their fated advance upon that droning pillar tomb were cords converged. The metal suit marched on ground of ice and metal hallowed. The dirt of hills threatened to bury; the artillery guns their innumerable worms. Yet for man and woman the suit trod on, loyal evermore as their mutual coffin.

[Anonymous No.12610088]

>>12609925
your writing seems to prioritise description but again, it is too convoluted and abstract for me.

also not a fan of the use of the attempts archaic phrasing. can seem cliche or inauthentic if not done correctly or consistently. also makes it harder to read especially when you make heavy descriptions.

is this like the type of novels you like to read? if i were to compare this to an equivalent passage would it be similar?

ideawise i can see it being nice if edited


>>12609925

[Anonymous No.12610130]

>>12610088
I'm something of a description nut and I personally like extremely flowery prose and metaphor, so I think that just comes with my writing style.


As for the archaic language, the novel is kind of narrated in the form of a legend-- The kind of thing you'd imagine a shaman telling tribespeople around a campfire. I'm trying to make it something of a prose/poetry hybrid as a result of that. In the more dialogue heavy sections so far, the book eases up on the flowery descriptions, but alternates back to them when dialogue dies down.

[Anonymous No.12610174]

>>12610130
maybe yiu should meter it

[Anonymous No.12610179]

>>12610130
have you read hundred years of solitude

[Anonymous No.12610208]

I never see the point of seeking prose critiques. Good prose won't save a bad story. A good story is good no matter how well you write. You can get tidy-enough prose from emulating other writers. Young writers should focus on the elements of storytelling, not polishing the prose of their juvenalia. You should be seeking critiques on your characters, your premise, your sense of drama, pathos, humour, etc etc etc. Your voice develops with time, it's influenced by your subject, it isn't workshoppable. Other people can't help you with it. Other people SHOULDN'T help you with it, otherwise it's not really YOUR voice, is it?

[Anonymous No.12610216]

>>12610208
Slapping post my friend

[Anonymous No.12610225]

>>12610208
Crit threads, I feel, should be used more just as guiding hands for people who are inexperienced with writing. Anybody who has a sufficient knowledge of technical practices shouldn’t listen to a word anyone has to say on this board.

[Anonymous No.12610227]

https://pastebin.com/417NYgLx

[Anonymous No.12610238]

>>12610227
>gloop

Stopped reading

[Anonymous No.12610243]

>>12610208
stellar advice. agreed. being critiqued for paragraphs here does encourage people to focus in too much on style/description. maybe that would be fine if they are asking for help on a problem passage but in general the critic wont be able to critique much else from a couple of paragraphs. to be fair though a fair amount of people do need help on basic prose.

[Anonymous No.12610256]

>>12610238
tbf marilyn monroe saying that is a pretty hot image

[Anonymous No.12610263]

>>12609925
this is awesome, like the setting and language. tighten up the ending and some syntax errors.

[Anonymous No.12610265]

>>12610256
I agree, and in hindsight gloop fits the style of the text. The style is lurid and infantile though, and sounds like it was written by a mongoloid.

[Anonymous No.12610267]

>>12610174
See, I considered that, but then I realised that there'll probably be points later on where metre could limit what I'm able to say at a certain time. The solution I've come up with is to include occasional rhyme, and to try to the best of my ability to play around with language. I must say that writing in that style is time consuming though. It took me more than 4 hours to write that excerpt.

>>12610208
I think it's important to just see what other people think, even if you don't end up changing anything. It's encouraging to see someone react to your writing at all. Besides, there's nothing else you can judge in a mere excerpt other than prose due to the short length of it.

[Anonymous No.12610295]

>>12610267

So then people should consider posting ten-page exerpts. If nobody wants to read 10 pages of your work... that should be critique enough.

[Anonymous No.12610328]

>>12610295
if people dont wna read ur 10 page exerpt here im noy sure thats a reflection on its quality necessarily

[Anonymous No.12610664]

[Anonymous No.12610684]

Her mind was chaos. The neighbors to the right were blasting salsa and the neighbors to the left were blasting bachata. And below her, in the kitchen, her mother was blasting Bollywood
Songs as she did her Sunday cooking. The three rhythms clashed, destined to never be in sync, though they each made her feet ache to dance. To drown them out, she plugged in her earbuds,
pressing shuffle on the playlist. The Columbia white guy crooned to her, asking if her bed was made, if her sweater was on, if she wanted to fuck. She skipped the song, and now he crooned about playing tennis. She couldn’t take him seriously. No thanks, Ezra. I have work to do. So, she was left with no other option but to put on Work by Rihanna.
She’d started listening to Vampire Weekend when she went to high school and wanted attention from the boys that she’d never seen before. Naturally, The Black Keys, Arctic Monkeys, and alt-J followed. Suddenly she was binge watching Arrested Development and Mad
Men. Bollywood movies took the back burner. She hadn’t been keeping up with the new Dancehall music; her cousins made fun of her for not knowing the latest Vybz Kartel song. The
only person of color she had a crush on was Zayn Malik from One Direction. In fact, the only other people she crushed on were straight white men. She refers to this period in her life as “The Dark Ages”.

If these were her Dark Ages, the times when everyone had the plague and no one could read, then when were her good times? If you asked her, she’s respond quickly.

“Fifth grade,” she would say. “That was the best year of my life.”

[Anonymous No.12610689]

From another thread
some poetry I wrote when I awoke from a dream

angst,nostalgia,melancholy,ambivalent
the river runs warm
the air is dense
anxious at the corner's turn
the empty room is filled
the sweat moistens the palm
panic thoughts creep at the throat like a meal
i must go now, unnoticed please
angst,nostalgia,melancholy

[Anonymous No.12610748]

I am giving my daughter away today. My wife won't let me speak it aloud in public for she cares for me. All emotions are judged against the great filter, a filter which changes its nature every 20 years.
There is nothing to worry about though. We can't get everything we want.
I wanted more kids but my wife said we can't afford more than one. She was right, and with her job and mine there was no time for any more kids.
I don't like this place, its too big. I am like a meteor drifting in space hoping for some familiar pull to pull me and end my journey of solitude. None of my friends are here, I didn't invite them as most of them were going to be busy with their lives anyway. Thats the problem with weddings on weekdays, its a harrowing ask for people with jobs. Everyone needs to work, to provide for family so that they can see their kids getting married or any other pleasures life can offer.
"You must be very proud today" guests would tell me before they made their way to congratulate the brides.
I have a this feeling like I am stuck in quick sand , standing still and still sinking as fast as I would have if I moved. I should support my daughter nonetheless.

[Anonymous No.12610869]

meant to be humorous

[Anonymous No.12610948]

>>12610684
what's this from? is this copypasta? pretty sure i've read this somewhere before

[Anonymous No.12611132]

Just a little bit of inspiration before going to sleep because I'm at my farmlands, first time doing this, also not even native English speaker:


Dark god beneath my feet running through the empty fields of labourers of old reaching the last attempt to convey her form just when it becomes unbearable to. When I wasn't where the one sinful thought that she won't forget wouldn't matter wouldn't even be seen could it be underground maybe the loudness could stop then drowned in Him where every flesh became her flesh and then I could. But in moonlight her I can't so I'm still running trying to convince myself that it truly was the last attempt if only I could look back at the house then I could see her silloute staring downwards at the sunless meadows.

[Grignr the Ecordian No.12611171]

Here's a poem I composed in my head while doing education development work in rural West Africa. I've never actually written it down until now, for reasons which will probably be apparent. It was inspired by some of the teachers with whom I worked.

Professor Chongo

My name Chongo. Me teach school!
Me feel smart as me explain the rule!
When child not learn, me attack!
Me not hit man – he might hit Chongo back!

[Anonymous No.12611184]

>>12609501
Just wanted to reiterate that you're a literal subhuman for employing your own dialect of newspeak, and should neck yourself immediately. inb4 any respond

[Anonymous No.12611195]

>>12610869
read that first stanza and dropped it immediately. no "humor" should employ that much latin

[Anonymous No.12611199]

>>12611132
>not even native engrish speaker
it shows

[Anonymous No.12611207]

>>12611199
Which sentence

[Anonymous No.12611210]

>>12611195
aw come on it’s just soup on a train bro

[Anonymous No.12611215]

>>12611207
all

[Anonymous No.12611216]

>>12602443
Green Boots

Green Boots lies curled into himself in a quiet cave, nestled comfortably in his polyester reliquary.
He was a policeman, before becoming a colorful memento mori. He was twenty eight. He didn’t intend to become another incorruptible martyr to the mountain, indentifiable only by eponymous finery. I always thought his boots looked yellow.

[Anonymous No.12611219]

>>12611215
What is wrong? Lack of vocabulary, grammar, syntaxis?

[Anonymous No.12611228]

>>12611219
i don't get paid enough to answer those questions

[Anonymous No.12611231]

>>12611228
I mean the syntaxis is all messed up because it's supposed to be stream of consciousness my dude

[Anonymous No.12611252]

>>12611231
whoa whoa, wait just a minute. hold the reigns. who let this guy's diary in here?

[Anonymous No.12611273]

>>12611252
Why the need to be an ass senpai

[Anonymous No.12611287]

>>12610684
pleb. sorry but your music chat is 14 y.o girl cringe

[Anonymous No.12611299]

>>12611216
do you climb?

[Anonymous No.12611301]

>>12611273
i feel that bullying the weak is the best way to ensure only the strongest literature survives. sorry, i'm a real eugenecist in these matters. it's not personal.

[Anonymous No.12611307]

>>12611301
Your bullying only makes me stronger

[Anonymous No.12611322]

>>12611307
good, in that case i will have steeled your resolve to create better literature. if you succumb to the bullies, your weak lit is extinguished. either way, I achieve my goal.

[Anonymous No.12611333]

>>12611322
Well, can you critique the paragraph at least a bit?

[Anonymous No.12611338]

>>12611216
are you a woman? if yes, then OK otherwise it's meh...

[Anonymous No.12611347]

I sat in a small room ---reminiscent of the conference room at my job--- in front of a couple of bureaucrats seated beside a menacing black screen. It was well cooled, but I couldn't help the stinging beads of sweat that rolled down the sides of my rib cage as I awaited the verdict. I had murdered someone, after all.
One of the judges read an opening statement.
“It is 10:00 o’clock EDT, August 10, 2045. We are summoned here today to try Maurice Wallis (male) regarding the suspected murder of Sarah Allison Roberts (Female, 26).”
He paused to readjust his specs and continued,
“Maurice, do you swear to tell to truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Understand that we know with total accuracy whether you are lying…”
In his official baritone drone, the bureaucrat continued with a cadence informed by years of experience. As he described the process of lie detection, my attention was drawn to the pair of black boxes beside my skull, each resting on stilts and adjusted to hover a few inches from my temples. They seemed to impose a dull compression to the sides of my face, despite not physically touching me. Comprehensive Cortical Analysis Apparatus, or CCAAs as the bureaucrat described them. They were to scan my brain waves, analyse connectivity, monitor activity and so forth.
The screen before me lit up at once. It displayed the words: ALGORITHMIC TRIAL SYSTEM, and I was told that my case was being evaluated. The bureaucrat described in an obligatory manner how all relevant data from my case as well as my personal background was being evaluated. All the while the CCADs hovering beside me whirred with a muted, clean hum. The bureaucrats stared at their desks, shuffling papers and adjusting their specs. At once the display showed a wall of text, which the bureaucrats must have had displayed on their specs. The same bureaucrat as before read aloud (it seemed the other attended as a formality) the wall of text in his usual boom: “...According to cortical analyses, the defendant possesses a poorly myelinated prefrontal cortex and therefore possesses reduced functionality of his prefrontal cortex. This impaired functionality results in a significant deficit of inhibition and behavioral regulation....Therefore, under article X section 4 of the Statue for Equity for the Mentally Ill of 2035, Maurice Wallis is hereby not guilty for the murder of Sarah Allison Roberts.”
I was to receive an increased

[Anonymous No.12611359]

>>12609925
This has potential but it's turgid. I can't see the imagery in my head. Try again and make it simpler to see please

>Surrounding them was an abyss from which the blending tone of ground and sky showed no escape.
i can't see this

[Anonymous No.12611365]

>>12602453
stop lecturing us

[Anonymous No.12611378]

>>12611347
I meant to remove "..., and I was told that my case was being evaluated"

[Anonymous No.12611390]

>>12611378
tbqh theres nothing really to say about ur text

[Anonymous No.12611450]

>>12611390
Lol as in it's incredibly mundane? It was somewhat purposely mundane to convey bureaucracy. In any case I'm going to keep writing. The story goes like this: a man is declared "not guilty" of a crime due to his innate impulsivity, he reminisces about it and knows hes guilty despite not being legally so, he begs to be punished but the decision is final, then the rest is an exploration of morality and reconciliation (a reflection of a personal exploration).

[Anonymous No.12611472]

>>12611210
Anon, you made me laugh with this response and then I went and read it. While it is esoteric, I can appreciate the voice you are getting at. If it could somehow read smoother I'd like it a lot more. Have you read it out loud to yourself?

[Anonymous No.12611477]

>>12611450
>purposely mundane to convey bureacracy
fallacy of imitative form

[Anonymous No.12611482]

>>12611301
This is a bad approach. If you believe this is going to make him a worse writer or make him quit writing then you are most likely making his life worse. Do you really wanna hurt somebody?

[Anonymous No.12611489]

>>12611482
writers in particular need thick skin, if he finds out early he doesn't have it, then i've just saved him a lot of time

[Anonymous No.12611496]

>>12611450
no just theres nothing to critique. maybe id change a couple phrases for personal preference but thats it. sounds kinda interesting. i do wonder tho if most violent criminals have somin extreme about their brain or genes etc which is grounds for the exemption in ur book

[Anonymous No.12611522]

>>12611496
They do. Almost all violent criminals have damage to their prefrontal cortex due to repeated head trauma (particularly to the face, undoubtedly from fights). This basically makes them disinhibited and unable to control their emotional impulses. Robert Sapolsky talks about it at length.

[Anonymous No.12611535]

>>12611522
i imagine in their genes too though

[Anonymous No.12612810]

>>12611338
why does this matter

[Anonymous No.12613068]

>>12610689
rupi kaur in terms of style, very modern. But not entirely as simple or basic, kinda symbolic. I feel as I can understand you op but not really sure why

[Anonymous No.12613421]

>>12604494
>wine dark
never use this again

[Anonymous No.12613608]

>>12613421
why?

[Anonymous No.12613733]

>>12606123
This isn’t that bad. It really picks up from the fifth line (the keys that work this lowly door...), very good flow. If you kept up that level of quality of this short piece for lots of poetry, I think it’d be pretty good poetry desu. Not to rag on every other poet in this thread but it’s one of the few poems that doesn’t seem outright amateur.

[Anonymous No.12613975]

>>12613608
because every little faggot like you thinks they are being so clever invoking homer's blindness or the purple greek wine or the iliad in general. the phrase belongs to homer and outside him it is a cliche

[Anonymous No.12614039]

>>12613975
okay, thanks for the pointer. i really struggle to break away from cliches and i’ll make note of this

[Anonymous No.12614921]