/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.13178129]

Is poetry dead?

What are some of the best sophisticated modern poems?

[R Æ V S S Q A N D V S !KNDYYIIins No.13178281]

>>13178129
>Is poetry dead?

POETRY IS PERPETUAL THROUGH ITS ASCENTS, AND DESCENTS.

>What are some of the best sophisticated modern poems?

1. SOPHISTICATION IS NOT NECESSARILY GOOD, AS YOU SEEM TO BE IMPLYING.

2. YOU MEAN: «CONTEMPORARY», NOT: «MODERN».

3. THE POEM TO WHICH I LINK BELOW IS BLESSED LILI PUREHEART'S BEST POEM YET; BLESSED LILI PUREHEART IS BEST BLOOMERIST POET:

https://lilireinhart.tumblr.com/post/181679457728/i-give-too-much-of-myself-to-those-people-the

[Anonymous No.13178568]

>>13178281
1. Plebeian art is surely bad.

2. Don't tell others what they mean, faggot.

3. Wat?

[Anonymous No.13178901]

Give me, give me, chicken tendies
Be they crispy, or from Wendy's
Spend my hard-earned good boy points
On Kid's Meal ball pit burger joints


Mommy lifts me to the car
To find me tendies near and far
Enjoy my tasty tendie treats
In comfy big boy booster seats


McDonald's, Hardee's, Popeye's, Cane's
But of my tendies none remains
She tries to make me take a nappy
But sleeping doesn't make me happy


Tendies are the only food
That puts me in the napping mood
I'll scream, I'll shout, I'll make a fuss
I'll scratch, I'll bite, I'll even cuss!


Tendies are my heart's desire
Fueled by raging, hungry fire
Mommy sobs, and wails, and cries
But tears aren't tendies, nugs or fries


My good boy points were fairly earned
To buy the tendies that I've yearned
But there's no tendies on my plate
Did mommy think that I'd just ate?!


Tendies, tendies, get them now!
You fat, ungrateful, sluggish sow!
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[Outro]
I screech while hurling into her eyes
My foul-smell bowel-dwelling diaper surprise
For she who is unpooped on is she who remembers:
Never forget my chicken tenders

[Anonymous No.13180422]

>>13178901
Nice

[Anonymous No.13180603]

[Anonymous No.13180703]

>>13178129
no

[Anonymous No.13180709]

>>13178129
yas

[Anonymous No.13180714]

>>13178568
>2. Don't tell others what they mean, faggot
Rei is right, though.

[Anonymous No.13181133]

>>13178129
Doesn't get better than this

[Anonymous No.13181685]

>>13178129
Poetry Waxes
Wanes in Tides undulating
Merely Eclipsed

[Anonymous No.13181805]

>>13178901
Felt like narrating this one. Here you go:
https://instaud.io/3J1D

[Anonymous No.13182760]

>>13178281
>that shitty poem

In answer to op, yes poetry is dead. It's all self indulgent free verse faux deep pseudo intellectual shit.

[R Æ V S S Q A N D V S !KNDYYIIins No.13182770]

>>13182760

YOU ARE ABYSMAL.

[Anonymous No.13182776]

>>13178129
Can a poem just sound nice when read? Like a slam poem but not performed? Can wordplay be the only strength and it still be a good poem?

[Anonymous No.13182787]

>>13182770
It's a 20 line poem and she references herself 20 times. It's shit man. If a man wrote it you wouldn't even read it.

[R Æ V S S Q A N D V S !KNDYYIIins No.13182840]

>>13182787
>It's a 20 line poem and she references herself 20 times.

HOW IS THAT NOTEWORTHY, OR IMPORTANT, AT ALL?

>It's shit man.

DEFINE «SHIT MAN» —ARE YOU REFERRING TO YOURSELF? IF SO, YES, IT IS, IN DEED, YOU.

>If a man wrote it you wouldn't even read it.

THAT IS AN ARBITRARY, SPURIOUS, NONARGUMENT.

[Anonymous No.13182842]

>>13182787
>It's a 20 line poem and she references herself 20 times
form reflecting content
nice

[Anonymous No.13182870]

>>13178129
>Is poetry dead?
No
>What are some of the best sophisticated modern poems?
I like pic related

[Anonymous No.13182902]

>>13182840
1. She doesn't say anything of interest to warrant doing that. No introspection and somehow no looking outside herself either. All fake. It's a beautiful woman looking into a mirror and saying "I'm so ugly" or looking at some other woman and saying "she's so pretty", empty attention whoring that she only floats out there so that someone (you) will validate her and feed her ego.

2. It's low quality, worthless, garbage. Shit.

3. No it's not and you know it isn't. She isn't reading this thread, you can admit it.

[Anonymous No.13182925]

[Anonymous No.13183139]

>>13182770
>>13178281
>>13182840
heyy youre my fav poster, what are your favorite books i remember you posted a 3x3 once but i cant recall the people

[Anonymous No.13183143]

>>13182842
underrated comment
>>13182870
utter trash, sorry to shit on your taste, friend, but that poem is 95% worthless
>>13178129
how are you defining modern? do you mean contemporary or do you mean "after 1923?"

[Anonymous No.13184304]

I sincerely believe that there's a lot of great stuff made today, you just have to dig/lurk enough. That's true with music and it will be especially true for literature because the material entry barrier is even lower.
As a /lit/ greenhorn, I can't tell you where to look, but rest assured that there are plenty of poems out there that at least respect basic rhyme schemes and meter, and that go beyond your garden variety "house-mouse" rhyme.
If you find them, let me know.

[Anonymous No.13184455]

>>13183143
>how are you defining modern?
From 2016 when Donald J. Trump got elected President of the United States.

[Anonymous No.13185002]

>>13183143
>utter trash
how so?

[Anonymous No.13186107]

>>13178901
Fugggggg

[Anonymous No.13186116]

Sentenced to Life

Sentenced to life, I sleep face-up as though
Ice-bound, lest I should cough the night away,
And when I walk the mile to town, I show
The right technique for wading through deep clay.
A sad man, sorrier than he can say.

But surely not so guilty he should die
Each day for knowing that his race is run:
My sin was to be faithless. I would lie
As if I could be true to everyone
At once, and all the damage that was done

Was in the name of love, or so I thought.
I might have met my death believing this,
But no, there was a lesson to be taught.
Now, not just old, but ill, with much amiss,
I see things with a whole new emphasis.

My daughter’s garden has a goldfish pool
With six fish each a finger long.
I stand and watch them following their rule
Of never touching, never going wrong:
Trajectories perfect as plain song.

Once, I would not have noticed; nor have known
The name for Japanese anemones,
So pail, so frail. But now I catch the tone
Of leaves. No birds can touch down in the trees
Without my seeing them. I count the bees.

Even my memories are clearly seen:
Whence comes the answer if I’m told I must
Be aching for my homeland. Had I been
Dulled in the brain to match my lungs of dust
There’d be no recollection I could trust.

Yet I, despite my guilt, despite my grief,
Watch the Pacific sunset, heaven sent,
In glowing colours and in sharp relief,
Painting the white clouds when the day is spent,
As if it were my will, and testament –

As if my first impressions were my last,
And time had only made them more defined,
Now I am weak. The sky is overcast
Here in the English autumn, but my mind
Basks in the light I never left bebhind.

[Anonymous No.13186143]

>>13178129
No.

[Anonymous No.13186225]

>>13181133
Genius

[Anonymous No.13186419]

yes, no, /thread

[Anonymous No.13186977]

>>13181133
Liiiiitttyyy

[Anonymous No.13188613]

>>13178129