/lit/ poetry thread

[Anonymous No.14006908]

We don't have enough poetry on this board. Post some /lit/ poems. Discuss. Post your own. Just do something that's /lit/erary for a change.

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The Tyger, William Blake

[Anonymous No.14006932]

Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd—
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor’s sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,

Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:

Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.

by Philip Larkin

[Anonymous No.14006934]

>>14006908
>Tyger Tyger, burning bright
This reads well to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star. Also, sage.

[Anonymous No.14006945]

The tiger
He destroyed his cage
Yes
YES
The tiger is out

[Anonymous No.14006958]

Calvary

My eye is not on Calvary
nor on Bethlehem the Blessed,
but on a foul-smelling backland in Glasgow,
where life rots as it grows;
and on a room in Edinburgh,
a room of poverty and pain,
where the diseased infant
writhes and wallows till death.

- Sorley Maclean

[Anonymous No.14006967]

>>14006958
Oof. That's some really bleak imagery. You don't often see that in poetry, let alone other /lit/erature. It's a really good poem, really hits you with its feelings. Good one anon.

[Anonymous No.14007020]

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,
Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias
Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward, insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotion that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies who think me unduly vociferous
Amiable cabotin making a noise
That people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us"-
Ingenuous child with a box of new toys
Toy lions carnivorous, cannon fumiferous
Engines vaporous- all this will pass;
Quite innocent, -"he only wants to make shiver us."
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

And when thyself with silver foot shall pass
Among the theories scattered on the grass
Take up my good intentions with the rest
And then for Christ's sake stick them up your ass.

TS Eliot

[Anonymous No.14007101]

The tyger
He was created
Yes
YES
And the lamb too

[Anonymous No.14007139]

Have yet to find a suitable ending for this, but it’s one I wrote on the train yesterday. Thoughts?

His fallow form and egg-brown antlers proud,
Those velvet roots of bone,
They pass between the lambent flames that crowd,
In presbytery zones.

Halted, in the aisle, stops a quizzer.
Arrested in mid-stride.
Shouldering a chenille shawl, humble in his dither,
Himself he humbly hides.

Oak-brown stands the rood-screen, all carved ornate,
With rose and plum reliefs.
And there amongst the boughs, tenderly sung
aubades, small birds commit to leaf.

Halted, in the chancel, stops the seraph,
Reverence in wine-eye,
Wine-lilac pouring as if from some carafe,
Which speak without a cry.

“In pale solitude, somnambulate
In agelong daydream bound,
To reach across the earthen slate,
And seek which can’t be found.”

[Anonymous No.14007159]

>>14006908
i don't want you virgins stealing my rhymes!

[Anonymous No.14007189]

>>14007020
Now this is based. Deserved the Nobel based on this alone.

[Anonymous No.14007255]

>>14007139
Nice, i like it!

[Anonymous No.14007310]

>>14007139
It's good. I especially like the first stanza. Middle stanza though... not so much. Doesn't have the same feel to it as the others. But other than that it's an excellent poem!

[Anonymous No.14007314]

>>14006908
“A Burnt Ship” by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way
But drowning could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;
So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

[Anonymous No.14007347]

>>14007314
Wonderful, Donne is excellent

[Anonymous No.14007421]

>>14006958
Now this is quite something.

>>14007314
Jump or don't, just because you have a choice does not mean you can win. Great stuff.

Wish I could read poetry, but it's hard to find poems that I enjoy. Cynicism really is life on hard mode.

Thanks

[Anonymous No.14007681]

>>14007314
Nice one. I love the non-choice for the poor sailors.

[Anonymous No.14007709]

>>14006932
Nice, here’s a Larkin poem for autumn

And now the leaves suddenly lose strength.
Decaying towers stand still, lurid, lanes-long,
And seen from landing windows, or the length
of gardens, rubricate afternoons. New strong
rain-bearing night-winds come: then
Leaves chase warm buses, speckle statued air,
Pile up in corners, fetch out vague broomed men
Through mists at morning.

And no matter where goes down
The sallow lapsing drift in fields
Or squares behind hoardings, all men hesitate
Separately, always, seeing another year gone -
Frockcoated gentleman, farmer at his gate,
Villein with mattock, soldiers on their shields,
All silent, watching the winter coming on.

[Anonymous No.14007719]

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridall of the earth and skie:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angrie and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Onely a sweet and vertuous soul,
Like season’d timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

[Anonymous No.14009095]

Bump

[Anonymous No.14009970]

Bump

[Anonymous No.14009993]

>>14007020
>The Triumph of Bullshit
Earliest that we know of where "bullshit" appears in writing

[Anonymous No.14010072]

>>14009999

[Anonymous No.14010077]

I wrote this poem after visiting my Great Great Grandfather's grave.

The south may never rise again,
Those dead In coffins, sons beside them
Daughters miles away in marked memorials
Those dead in fields of graying tombstones
Who’s names the world has lost
But in the land of cotton fields
Those dead have never died

[Anonymous No.14010269]

“I turn 25 today. At the point some numbers on me got known. The theory caught an update from that. Another got smuggled in to that. It was suddenly trickled in. Now, it connects with me in drips. In this unloaded liquid. Seeking ways down. For traversing around. Leaving them. Noting that this phases. Minus the straying. Carrying-out both of them. Killing two birds with that one stone. I lined the two up. I saw the eclipse. He confirmed something else. I corroborated that. She kept the faith. Kept leaning in another direction, too. That, from their own platforms.”

www.christianjaroschdialogues.com

[Anonymous No.14010273]

Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.

What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?
What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?
What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?

Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,
And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.
I was myself the compass of that sea:

I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw
Or heard or felt came not but from myself;
And there I found myself more truly and more strange.

[Anonymous No.14010320]

>>14007139
Very good but I also agree that the middle stanza is weak. Not the reliefs/leaf pairing but the other. Especially "all carved ornate," very awkward.

[Anonymous No.14010366]

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

[Anonymous No.14010409]

>>14006908
Blee blee bloo blop poo poo pee pee
ive yet met a bloke sad and ugly as thee

(im talking about you)

[Anonymous No.14011077]

I can only picture flowers blooming simultaneously with ramparts exploding


The stench of vinegar along with potpourri


These flavors showered my baptismal, apparently

[Anonymous No.14011103]

>>14011077
not sure if it isn't a shitpost but I enjoyed it

[Anonymous No.14011108]

>>14011103
It's a short poem that I wrote back when I was 16 and in high school.

[Anonymous No.14011175]

>>14006908
it's at least the fourth time i've seen this poem posted in the past months. why don't you write a new one, anon?

[Anonymous No.14011218]

>>14006945
Based

[Anonymous No.14011233]

>>14007101
The tyger
Throw him a lamb
Yes
YES
Blood everywhere

[Anonymous No.14011267]

>>14010273
Really like the last stanza... the rest it’s not something I look for in poetry, but it does come well together

[Anonymous No.14011409]

>>14010273
Very nice. I agree with aboveposter, the last stanza is very good.

[Anonymous No.14011649]

>>14010077
I like it anon, very nice

[Anonymous No.14011661]

>>14006908
Reminder that Bloom wrote a truly wretched book about Blake where he completely ignored the printed plates. He's burning in Los's forge.

[Anonymous No.14011694]

偶然
徐志摩
我是天空里的一片云
偶尔投影在你的波心
你不必讶异
更无须欢喜
在转瞬间消灭了踪影
你我相逢在黑夜的海上
你有你的
我有我的方向
你记得也好
最好你忘掉
在这交会时互放的光芒

Chance
Xu Zhimo
I am a cloud in the sky,
A chance shadow on the wave of your heart.
Don't be surprised,
Or too elated;
In an instant I shall vanish without trace.
We meet on the sea of dark night,
You on your way, I on mine.
Remember if you will,
Or, better still, forget
The light exchanged in this encounter.

[Anonymous No.14011716]

Tits,
my love for them began when I was young,
When thirst and hunger were one,

Oh, how I want to suck on them,
Savour their taste,
appreciate their shape,
Oh, how the fat attracts me so much,

Drool at my lips , symbol of the beast,
Awoken shame , distressed brain,
What am I doing?
What have I done?
Darkness gnaws at me,
Life gawks,
Drained soul, day stopped.
Its natural, you're normal
Death is normal, death is natural

[Anonymous No.14011974]

>>14006908
Slice of Life 2019
Breath shallow from years
I’ve lived.
Not the passing of the sun,
Shining through tears
I’ve abandoned.

Soul weary from inertia
I’ve mustered.
Not the dreams or pleasures,
As I work for money
I can’t enjoy.

Belief is the smear
In me.
Covering up the truth,
As I attempt to stare down
my flaws.

Possibilities gape before me
As before;
Engaging the deepest wishes,
As my Wife presses
Relief becomes real.

Extinction will be an honest
Bedtime story
For my children understand
What so many
Deny.

[Anonymous No.14011991]

>>14011716
This one is sharp and took me for a turn. Unexpected and delighted all at once.

[Anonymous No.14012527]

Post more kino animal poetry.

The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Rainer Maria Rilke

[Anonymous No.14012725]

>>14010320
Yeah, you are definitely right. I’m not sure how that passed me by!

[Anonymous No.14012775]

Desert crust cracked into shapes
Ocean waves marbled into gestures

-

Green square, a nest for cattle
Blue dot, a microscopic crown
Folded in unreflective curtains

-

Olfactory memories
Viscous emptiness

-

Uncentered mass, orbiting nothing
Rattled by echoes, recreate my light

[Anonymous No.14012992]

>>14012527

The Snake

When I saw her I was standing before her.
white as the snow.
Standing before her suddenly up
Up standing up.
When she was beautiful she looked quite different.
Long as her hair was her hull.
there was much to be done with it.
very hard to see indeed; yours I was because.


The Rhino

Silently in the wood the rhino stood.
Nose up high in the sky and it does
hurt quite a bit.
It always hurts quite a bit and mostly
it doesn't hurt at all.
more than the animal is how big she was too
the rhino is a big animal.
The rhino stood in the wood.
so jagged the rhino is
but still so beautiful.


The Donkey

Long ears the donkey has.
longer than those of the horse.
His hide it is white. it is gray.
He is beautiful.
even he is a short tail.
even he disguises as dumb.
even he is a David.
even he is he is beautiful.
the Donkey.


The Lion

No animal looks alike him
That's how he looks.
He who is not in different times.
No trace of liondepths.
The lion looks quite different.
How surely it is a horror.
round around the furry mane.
and on his heads mane wisps.

[Anonymous No.14013038]

>>14012775
This is nice. Your own creation? I can't find anything with an initial google.

[Anonymous No.14013043]

>>14013038
Yeah it's mine

[Anonymous No.14013090]

>>14006958

>If God real why bad stuff happen

[Anonymous No.14013106]

>>14013090
Me grug, me strong, überstrong in fact rawr rawr

[Anonymous No.14013116]

Crépuscule - Guillaume Apollinaire

Frôlée par les ombres des morts
Sur l’herbe où le jour s’exténue
L’arlequine s’est mise nue
Et dans l’étang mire son corps

Un charlatan crépusculaire
Vante les tours que l’on va faire
Le ciel sans teinte est constellé
D’astres pâles comme du lait

Sur les tréteaux l’arlequin blême
Salue d’abord les spectateurs
Des sorciers venus de Bohême
Quelques fées et les enchanteurs

Ayant décroché une étoile
Il la manie à bras tendu
Tandis que des pieds un pendu
Sonne en mesure les cymbales

L’aveugle berce un bel enfant
La biche passe avec ses faons
Le nain regarde d’un air triste
Grandir l’arlequin trismégiste

[Anonymous No.14013130]

>>14007139
Good work

[Anonymous No.14013182]

[Anonymous No.14013188]

>>14011716

Best thing I've ever read on this godforsaken board

[Anonymous No.14013198]

>>14011694
>>14012527
I liked these

[Anonymous No.14013220]

Do you like penis? asked the candyman.
At least candy's what he said it tastes like.
Said it tastes good, ain't nothing better than
Penis, and the word hung beside my tyke
Ears. Voice soothing, soft, almost motherly
As he promised to let me try it out
In secret. Best if no one's around, see.
Told him I need to let Mom know about
This sugary man who found our number
For some odd reason; he said no, please, don't,
Shut the fuck up, you say another word,
I'll make sure the last thing you'll ever know's--
But I never knew. I hung up on him.
Though he kept on ringing as the lights dimmed.

[Anonymous No.14013615]

Haikus are kinda basic, but I enjoy them because they’re easy to make

Over forever
Joys I cannot return to
That they wish not to