/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.14097157]

i just don't fucking "get" poetry. like i've tried, i've genuinely tried. i've gone through the whole journey of thinking poetry was gay as fuck, then becoming more open-minded and giving it a fair chance and still thinking it's gay as fuck, and now i try and keep these negative thoughts inside me and if someone is big into poetry or wants me to read a poem they wrote i'll smile and reassure them and say yeah that's cool, that's alright, it's beautiful. when deep down i just can't shake the fucking thought that its the faggiest goddamn shit in the world. i fucking have to clench my teeth and physically restrain myself from acting like a high school bully who just discovered leaves of grass in the weird gay kid's backpack.

[Anonymous No.14097162]

>>14097157
i'm in the same camp as you buddy. makes no sense to me.

honestly, i think it's sad and i pity people who are into it.

[Anonymous No.14097181]

Poetry has value in proportion to the anonymity of the author. Epics, cultural poetry, and religious poetry all have value since they goes beyond just the cringe-worthy over dramatic individual and into the collective identity of a group. Only the emotionally weak wish to hear someone drone on about how ""bad"" their bourgeois life is, always choosing to emphasis the individual in the most crude and pitifully debaucherous way possible. Just read the ancient stuff for the most part

[Anonymous No.14097183]

>>14097157
you're not alone OP, to me it is just boring. I imagine it must be the same with some people and sports for example, because to me sports is boring while for some it is the most exciting thing in the world. In the same way, to me poetry is boring whereas other people see it as the most beautiful thing in the world

to each their own

[Anonymous No.14097194]

Most poetry is ass and way too overwritten and then it's Friday, you're drinking and the loneliness is starting to stab again when suddenly you find a poem that says it so well it actually makes your heart ache you can't say it better.

[Anonymous No.14097205]

>>14097157
take lsd. read wallace stevens.

[Anonymous No.14097214]

>>14097157
Imo, it depends both on the language you speak and the language it was written in. Flowery english poems have always been offputting to me. However, when I read rosey poems written in Japanese, I am reveling in the harmonics peculiar to a far more poetic language.

[Anonymous No.14097240]

>>14097183
Spot on
>>14097214
Also this
Poetry in Spanish is beautiful whereas poetry in English is pretty dull. I've tried reading poetry in English it doesn't cause me anything

[Anonymous No.14097245]

Something sweet to throw away.

[Anonymous No.14097262]

>>14097157
Its liberal arts.

[Anonymous No.14097275]

It is probably because you go into reading it with some presuppositions about how art functions, that maybe the ideas will shed their words and you will simply feel them, you will feel transcended by the beauty of their lyricism and power to provoke. It's not true, the worth of art is in its historical contingency. You can't appreciate art without knowing where it fits in a culture in general, its metaphysics, etc.

[Anonymous No.14097278]

>>14097157
>>14097162
Same here. I always assume I'm too dumb to understand something when I see others enjoy it but to me it does nothing. With poetry, however, I've concluded that it's a bunch of horseshit and there's nothing to it but pretence and pomposity. Text can be beautiful but adding fucking line breaks writing in meter is not how you achieve beauty.

[Anonymous No.14097308]

>>14097157
Hey, if you are not into it, you are not into it. Just know there is such thing as manly poetry (Homer). Also, if you are listening to pop music with rhythmic, rhyming lyrics, you are basically consuming modern-day poetry.

[Anonymous No.14097375]

Read the Odyssey and the Iliad.
Read Ezra Pound's earlier stuff, or Cantos I and II.
Read Rimbaud's A Season in Hell, especially the 'Bad Blood' chapter.
Read Baudelaire's The Flowers of Evil.

Even good song lyrics are just poems set to music. Granted, like lyrics, the large majority of poems are trash and are either too narcissistic without speaking to higher themes, or too pretentious in a way that you can just tell the author hasn't really experienced any of the depths they're trying to feign, but when a poem is good, it's really good.

[Anonymous No.14097381]

Just read some early Bukowski

[Anonymous No.14097389]

this fucking thread
this fucking board

[Anonymous No.14097416]

>>14097157
I write a lot of poetry but I actually agree with you, it's gay as fuck. All of literature is though, sitting around reading some guy's thoughts about how beautiful or profound or tragic or whatever something is is inherently gay. There is nothing particularly gay about poetry compared to other forms of literature

[Anonymous No.14097433]

Poetry is only good for bedding pseud women

[Anonymous No.14097435]

This thread is embarrassing.

[Anonymous No.14097439]

>>14097435
"stop not liking what i like!!!"

t. (you)

[Anonymous No.14097442]

>>14097157
Write some good non-gay poetry and use it to show everyone what is wrong with poetry.

[Anonymous No.14097444]

>>14097389
>>14097435
op here. how do i fix myself?

[Anonymous No.14097446]

Keep trying. Your spirit might be dead, it wakes up eventually though.

[Anonymous No.14097454]

>>14097389
Have pity

[Anonymous No.14097460]

>>14097444
Just keep reading different stuff. Poetry is an extremely wide field, you just have to find what you enjoy.

[Anonymous No.14097464]

>>14097444
Find something you like reading, but is challenging, and just keep going

[Anonymous No.14097468]

>>14097157
It may seem like a frustrating prospect, but taking a poem you don't understand and simply reading it over and over with an unquestioning attitude while unlock a lot of it's depth. Even a poem you do understand will have this effect. I'm no poetry fiend and I can't read normal people's poetry either, but I find this to be kind of a fun/trippy process.

Also, maybe just seek out the less structured, more down to earth "poetry" that poetry fiends would call pseud

[Anonymous No.14097485]

>>14097389
yeah im trembling like now. time to end with this fucking board.

[Anonymous No.14097493]

>>14097439
No, it's more like,
>>>/tv/

[Anonymous No.14097494]

>>14097485
>like
right*

[Anonymous No.14097504]

Fuck everyone who agreed with op and fuck op. I hope you all die in book-related accidents

[Anonymous No.14097517]

go to the library and flip through some anthologies until you find something you enjoy

[Anonymous No.14097525]

>>14097504
Could you give an example of a book-related accident?

[Anonymous No.14097538]

>>14097525
Anon is giving head to his boyfriend between the stacks when a librarian loses her balance and falls into an old wooden bookcase. The cases topple domino style and kill both op and his lover

[Anonymous No.14097594]

just start with stuff thats at least a thousand years old, and go backwards in history

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonatorrek
https://lyricstranslate.com/en/sonatorrek-loss-sons.html

[Anonymous No.14097602]

>>14097157
I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',
Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,

Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny din
Was soon soused. They were slung on the snout
Of the pump and the water pumped in.

'Sure, isn't it better for them now?' Dan said.
Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluiced
Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead.

Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hung
Round the yard, watching the three sogged remains
Turn mealy and crisp as old summer dung

Until I forgot them. But the fear came back
When Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crows
Or, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens' necks.

Still, living displaces false sentiments
And now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown
I just shrug, 'Bloody pups'. It makes sense:

'Prevention of cruelty' talk cuts ice in town
Where they consider death unnatural
But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down.

[Anonymous No.14097603]

poetry (and lit in general) is better when you analyze it to get a better understanding of the world, not as a tool to elicit emotion (thats what drugs are for)

[Anonymous No.14097608]

>>14097602
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me — she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

[Anonymous No.14097621]

>>14097608
I was a cottage maiden
Hardened by sun and air,
Contented with my cottage mates,
Not mindful I was fair.
Why did a great lord find me out,
And praise my flaxen hair?
Why did a great lord find me out
To fill my heart with care?
He lured me to his palace home—
Woe's me for joy thereof— 10
To lead a shameless shameful life,
His plaything and his love.
He wore me like a silken knot,
He changed me like a glove;
So now I moan, an unclean thing,
Who might have been a dove.
O Lady Kate, my cousin Kate,
You grew more fair than I:
He saw you at your father's gate,
Chose you, and cast me by. 20
He watched your steps along the lane,
Your work among the rye;
He lifted you from mean estate
To sit with him on high.
Because you were so good and pure
He bound you with his ring:
The neighbours call you good and pure,
Call me an outcast thing.
Even so I sit and howl in dust,
You sit in gold and sing: 30
Now which of us has tenderer heart?
You had the stronger wing.
O cousin Kate, my love was true,
Your love was writ in sand:
If he had fooled not me but you,
If you stood where I stand,
He'd not have won me with his love
Nor bought me with his land;
I would have spit into his face
And not have taken his hand. 40
Yet I've a gift you have not got,
And seem not like to get:
For all your clothes and wedding-ring
I've little doubt you fret.
My fair-haired son, my shame, my pride,
Cling closer, closer yet:
Your father would give lands for one
To wear his coronet.”

[Anonymous No.14097637]

>>14097621
schoolgirls in pantyhose
sitting on bus stop benches
looking tired at 13
with their raspberry lipstick.
it’s hot in the sun
and the day at school has been
dull, and going home is
dull, and
I drive by in my car
peering at their warm legs.
their eyes look
away—
they’ve been warned
about ruthless and horny old
studs; they’re just not going
to give it away like that.
and yet it’s dull
waiting out the minutes on
the bench and the years at
home, and the books they
carry are dull and the food
they eat is dull, and even
the ruthless, horny old studs
are dull.

the girls in pantyhose wait,
they await the proper time and
moment, and then they will move
and then they will conquer.

I drive around in my car
peeking up their legs
pleased that I will never be
part of their heaven and
their hell. but that scarlet
lipstick on those sad waiting
mouths! it would be nice to
kiss each of them once, fully,
then give them back.
but the bus will
get them first.

[Anonymous No.14097641]

>>14097538
kek

[Anonymous No.14097644]

>>14097157
you're just pleb

[Anonymous No.14097701]

>>14097594

That's right Andy, all the way to the year 2000 BC

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Hundred_Tang_Poems

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odes_(Horace)

http://inamidst.com/stuff/sappho/

https://culturacolectiva.com/books/love-song-of-shu-sin-oldest-love-poem-in-the-world

[Anonymous No.14097734]

A lot of poetry is pseudo intellectual as far as I'm aware. The only rhyming poetry I've ever thought was interesting was Chaucer's Canterbury tales, and I only thought that because I found the whimsical nature of them amusing. They are still quite tedious, even when I do find them fun and clever at times.

Poetry like Homer I fail to see as poetry. I understand that it's written in a certain metre, I just fail to instinctively notice the metre when I'm reading an English translation of it

>Inb4 spend thousands of hours learning Greek so that you have a slightly better chance of appreciating two books

I think poetic devices are effective at conveying a feeling, but I've never really been moved by poetry as I have by, say, music.

[Anonymous No.14097767]

>>14097637
Still in this same spirit have some Vinicius:


BALADA DAS MENINAS DE BICICLETA
Rio de Janeiro , 1946
Meninas de bicicleta
Que fagueiras pedalais
Quero ser vosso poeta!
Ó transitórias estátuas
Esfuziantes de azul
Louras com peles mulatas
Princesas da zona sul:
As vossas jovens figuras
Retesadas nos selins
Me prendem, com serem puras
Em redondilhas afins.
Que lindas são vossas quilhas
Quando as praias abordais!
E as nervosas panturrilhas
Na rotação dos pedais:
Que douradas maravilhas!
Bicicletai, meninada
Aos ventos do Arpoador
Solta a flâmula agitada
Das cabeleiras em flor
Uma correndo à gandaia
Outra com jeito de séria
Mostrando as pernas sem saia
Feitas da mesma matéria.
Permanecei! vós que sois
O que o mundo não tem mais
Juventude de maiôs
Sobre máquinas da paz
Enxames de namoradas
Ao sol de Copacabana
Centauresas transpiradas
Que o leque do mar abana!
A vós o canto que inflama
Os meus trint'anos, meninas
Velozes massas em chama
Explodindo em vitaminas.
Bem haja a vossa saúde
À humanidade inquieta
Vós cuja ardente virtude
Preservais muito amiúde
Com um selim de bicicleta
Vós que levais tantas raças
Nos corpos firmes e crus:
Meninas, soltai as alças
Bicicletai seios nus!
No vosso rastro persiste
O mesmo eterno poeta
Um poeta - essa coisa triste
Escravizada à beleza
Que em vosso rastro persiste,
Levando a sua tristeza
No quadro da bicicleta.

[Anonymous No.14097800]

>>14097157
I was exactly like OP for years. Then one day I woke up and found that things sounded differently to me, and that there seemed to be patterns in sound that I didn't perceive before.

A couple of days later, I tried reading poetry, and found that it made complete sense to me. 'Meter' made sense, whether in unrhymed verse or in completely freeform lines, I could just feel the poetic structure building up and crafting combinations of metaphors and imagery in my head unlike what I could experience before.

I don't blame OP at all for feeling this way. I feel that for a lot of people, it really will make no sense whatsoever, and nothing will change that until something clicks that alters your perspective so that it does.

[Anonymous No.14097856]

>>14097637
I thought bukowski was a hack until now

[Anonymous No.14097875]

>>14097602
>>14097608
>>14097621
>>14097637
Wtf I love poetry now

[Anonymous No.14098125]

>>14097157
I just want to say that I want to cum inside Rupi Kaur before anyone else claims her.

[Anonymous No.14098126]

>>14097157
Retard

[Anonymous No.14098323]

>>14097157
poetry sucks in english
also, its supposed to be read aloud