Poem Pill Me

[Anonymous No.16467329]

Poetry is a vasty inferior art form compared to prose that's overly formalistic and lacking in any deeper substance. Prove me wrong.

[Anonymous No.16467331]

Do you really not realize that the formalism is what GIVES it deeper substance? Form is power.

[Anonymous No.16467338]

I'm confused. Poetry is worse because prose is bad?

[Anonymous No.16467353]

>>16467329
pessoa I guess

[Anonymous No.16467565]

e e cummings exists so congratulations, you've been refuted

[Anonymous No.16467605]

>>16467329
it's literally the other way around brainlet
poetry allows you more freedom to experiment with form, structure, and with language itself

[Anonymous No.16468509]

>>16467329
nah you're right

[Anonymous No.16468521]

>>16467329
Prosody is the foundation of good prose -- it's music, longer and shorter.

[Anonymous No.16468628]

>>16467329
Couldn't agree with you more. If someone tells you they like poetry they are either a woman or an effeminate man.

Poems are just short stories written like fever dreams with the goal of getting some convoluted point across. It astonishes me that it still holds artistic value today.

[Anonymous No.16468635]

>>16468628
>Poems are just short stories
ever heard of epic poetry?

[Anonymous No.16468645]

>>16468628
Right, the only thing worth reading is technical memos internally circulated at Lockheed-Martin.

[Anonymous No.16468727]

>>16467329
Poetry explores the form of language, like meter, punctuation etc, while prose takes assumptions.
You could really argue that prose is a form of poetry but taken in a particular style. Obviously it would be more appropriate to just call them all writing and do away with the distinction

[Anonymous No.16468994]

>>16467329
do you know that the better authors meter their prose or are you just too much of a brainlet to detect it? Prose stylists are failed poets or poets already.

[Anonymous No.16470255]

Yeah bro, it's shit aye?

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Second_Coming_(poem)

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

[Anonymous No.16470461]

poetry is the most advanced and profound form of literature
like all art, if you consume a lot and go deeper and deeper you will learn to appreciate more experimental and abstract incarnations
there is loads of trash poetry around of course but if you find something good it will affect you stronger than conventional literature can

[Anonymous No.16470478]

"Anecdote of the Jar" by Wallace Stevens

I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.

The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.

It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.

[Anonymous No.16470491]

>>16467329
Here you go.

[Anonymous No.16470606]

>>16467329
>>16467565

i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or

his wellbeloved colonel(trig
westpointer most succintly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"

straightway the silver bird looked gray
(departing hurriedly to shave)

but--through all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"

our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died

Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf, too

preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.

[Anonymous No.16470647]

>>16467329
"Cum de la cum" by anon

Cum de la cum
De la cum de la lul
De la lul de la cum
De la crème de la cum
De la cum de la crème
De la crème de la penise
De la penise de la cock
De la cock de la cum
De la ballse de la smelle
De la smelle de la stinky
De la stinky de la ballse
De la poop de la peep
De la peep de la coom
De la coom de la cum
De la cum de la gulp
De la gulp de la salty
De la salty de la cum
De la cum de la yummy
De la yummy de la cummies
De la cummies de la breed
De la breed de la son
De la son de la newcum
De la newcum de la cumcycle
De la cumcycle de la cum
De la cum de la eternal cum
De la eternal cum de la divine
De la divine de la coomer
De la coomer de la philosophy
De la philosophy de la cum
De la cum de la cum
De la cum I died

[Anonymous No.16470769]

there stood a man
a trombone in his hand
beneath his hat there was
no face ...
he picked up a slug on the ground
"this slug was the ocean
before there was water
in the ocean
before there was land"
it slid out of his hand
and fell to the pavement
---splat---

[Anonymous No.16470835]

>>16467329
But it's beautiful.

[Anonymous No.16471531]

>>16467329
I've been watchin' all of my past repeatin'
There's no endin', and when I stop pretendin'
See you standin', a million moments landin'
On your smile, buried alive, I could have
Died to stay there, never have to leave there
All this trouble tryin' to catch right up with me
I keep movin', knowin' someday that I will be
Standin', facin', all mirrors are erasin'
Losin' beauty, at least at times it knew me
At least at times it knew me

[Anonymous No.16471671]

>>16467329
you mean verse not poetry