/lit/ - Literature

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1697872]

OC poetry thread gogogogogogo.

[Anonymous No.1697877]

Is that poem OC?

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1697896]

>>1697877
Yeah. Please don't steal it, I've already been submitting it everywhere :(

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1697897]

And yeah I'm aware it's egotistical as hell to assume someone would steal it, especially if it is, as I suspect, total shit, but it's a phobia of mine every time I post here.

[Anonymous No.1697906]

you write like cummings;
but do you dresslikehim to

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1697915]

C'mon, no other poetfags on right now?

[Anonymous No.1697917]

>>1697896

I won't steal it, although I do really like it. Especially the phonetics. Kudos.

It really is excellent. Good luck selling it.

[Anonymous No.1697920]

>>1697915

I wrote this about a year and a half ago and I submitted this to the /lit/ zine a little while ago. I'm ashamed to post it after reading yours, but here goes.

Loneliness
(Burning Down The House;
I Took The Attic To The Earth
For A Reason To Talk)

I didn't know what else to do; I broke
furniture into fire-wood and sparked
a flame that ate the quiet
air.
It's cold, up there, always on my own.

[Anonymous No.1697927]

it smells so avant-garde it gave me a hard-on, but it's cool

[Apostrophe !8hzzLmleDA No.1697928]

>>1697872
I'm not an avid reader of poetry, but I enjoyed this

[Clov !hxTvuAIpXU!!7SjP3a2yf5m No.1697940]

The gorgeous of trees in the forecourt of
lapdogs rotting with the porch
and his face is the field
and her arms are the grass
but all along the stirring, the churning of airs
goes above and the rafters go with
the sand, quietly, taking its place
with the dust descending the
ladders the spiral of empty footsteps
once full, echoing of heresy, and
caw, says each corner where a hand is pressed firm as anointment
and his chest is the basement
and her lungs are the clamminess
in cloths in the corner, each
contour telling jokes to the floorboards,
bridges in the afterlife of saints
carrying everything, the almanac on
the backs and girders
signaling, signaling,
intruding lost on every open void
makes a note of this
above every threshold severed by mold
and his breath is the quiet
and her hands are the evergreens
touching the siding,
the barometer of jaws
as they look on each other.

[Anonymous No.1697944]

her eyes are as sapphires,
set about her magnificent nose,
i'll wear them on my fingers,
and round my neck her toes.

[Clov !hxTvuAIpXU!!7SjP3a2yf5m No.1697945]

btw Behemoth I digged your poem. Keep fighting the good fight.

[Anonymous No.1697953]

i didn't enjoy the poem very much, but i could see it was good. Curse my taste!

[Anonymous No.1697984]

trying to get me into your head.
trying to get you into my head.
the rooms we were in when we weren't making up
the faces we used for other people, trying on other types of people
emerging things we weren't capable; thinking of
how we know that you're acting, we're just acting, too
so please don't believe personally, anything as personal as truth.
you are trying to get me into your room.
you are trying to get me through your room.
all the times i was who i wasn't at other times
and the ideas we had of different people, making them different people.
the frightened moan and black out of despair
the weight of an unknown world is impossible to bear.
getting hurt when others hurt, well who takes care of you?
please don't take it personally when your person finds the truth.

[Anonymous No.1698022]

Under a rock I foun

d where all the wo

rds you lost had

been tumbled b

y the sea unti

l little by l

ittle they

broke int

o letter

s half-

burie

d in t

he s

an

d

[Anonymous No.1698039]

You and I are the sea
your leatherfur goggles taking measurements
as we float above the wooden relief towns
with ramshackle roofs and redbrick houses
in our fancy little ship that you love so much
if only to escape our dollhouse existence

I envy your ottoman eyebrows
and your tight yellow curls.
For your smile betrays nothing I can't see,
And in our spirited stupor we set out against oblivion.

Together we were the world,
We conquered mountains of deadlines and phone bills
even though I told you I didn’t marry you for your work.
Nothing matters now but the air on your cheeks
and welcome splinters in your toes
If only your gray hairs meant you were cold and we could live forever.

[Anonymous No.1698046]

You and I are the sea
your leatherfur goggles taking measurements
as we float above the wooden relief towns
with ramshackle roofs and redbrick houses
in our fancy little ship that you love so much
if only to escape our dollhouse existence

I envy your ottoman eyebrows
and your tight yellow curls.
For your smile betrays nothing I can't see,
And in our spirited stupor we set out against oblivion.

Together we were the world,
We conquered mountains of deadlines and phone bills
even though I told you I didn’t marry you for your work.
Nothing matters now but the air on your cheeks
and welcome splinters in your toes
If only your gray hairs meant you were cold and we could live forever.

[Anonymous No.1698059]

IS IT TRUE

WAS IT YOU

THAT SHOOK THE FOUNDATIONS

OF MY CORE

UR A WHORE

NOTHING MORE

JUST A WHORE

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698068]

Bumping with crits:

>>1697920
It's nice and compact, doesn't fuck around, I like it. If there's anything I'd change it'd be "Loneliness." Whether that's the title or just the first line it just sets up the poem all wrong and it's a dull word.

>>1697940
tl;dr
Just kidding. The irregular grammar is kind of confusing and makes it read sort of like you're stumbling through it. It's interesting, but you might want to tweak that technique a little for your next works because it's also confusing in how it mashes up the metaphors which is rarely a good thing.

>>1697944
ohyou.jpg

>>1697984
>the frightened moan and black out of despair
>the weight of an unknown world is impossible to bear.
Do something about these two lines. The rhyme just ruins it, it really does.
Get rid of all your filler words, there's too much clutter, this could be simplified. I like the idea and the clarity of it, but conciseness and clarity go hand-in-hand.

>>1698022
Beautiful. Don't change a thing.

[Scarsdale !!0WEZwDAT1uU No.1698080]

>falsefriendly

hey James Joyce...

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698087]

>>1698080
Uh... what? The last two lines are pastiche and it's modified from a famous American poet. I'm wondering now if you don't recognize the allusion, or if you do and think I'm incorporating Joyce, or if you're fucking with me.
I've read barely anything by Joyce anyhow, one story from Dubliners about some kids ditching school or something and watching a dude jerk off in a field, and Portrait.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698095]

>>1698046
You read much Hart Crane?

[Anonymous No.1698098]

>>1698022
>>1698059
so good i had to save them both.
loved the anger in 1698059.

[Anonymous No.1698099]

- when the dying sloth spent his last words wisely; owl threw them out: We realised early on it's completely fucked, you forgot it's a journey.

[Anonymous No.1698101]

>>1698099
Let me know what you think of this, and my dubz

[Anonymous No.1698103]

>>1698095
nah I don't really read that much poetry, actually. Is he someone I should look into?

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698113]

>>1698103
Eh, the tone of the poem reminded me somewhat of him. If you don't read much poetry I wouldn't suggest to dive into his stuff, it's pretty esoteric, but he's worth a look or two at the very least. One of the most brilliant of the modern poets, in my opinion and many others too.

[Clov !hxTvuAIpXU!!7SjP3a2yf5m No.1698123]

>>1698068
thanks brah, I'll take that into account.

[Anonymous No.1698127]

>>1698068
>Beautiful. Don't change a thing.

>>1698098
>so good i had to save
Damn, now I'm all :3

[Clov !hxTvuAIpXU!!7SjP3a2yf5m No.1698135]

This is probably my favorite thing I've written. I posted it a while ago under a different trip

Last nights you told me
about the meaning of death and I shrugged it off
in the panels of a bus, where
the last nights are patriotic, and recall themselves.
And this went on, you said, but won't,
but will not if I will it, naught but if the nights
were of themselves, so I lost you there, and
asked where to stop, where
you said the stops were always going,
were they stopping? they were coming.
And that is where i lost you lost me,
turned to the aisle and became it, stretched,
lurching to the front, the teeth
of the driver, the prodding and picking,
I cannot speak. The bus was my lungs
that you left in the hall of the aisle
and emptied the cupboard
and dried up the spill
and lived vicariously,
beautifully, in the nights.

[Brynjar !!rSaloUbhLV6 No.1698178]

[Anonymous No.1698301]

I would like more of this please.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1698303]

Just
Hit enter

Then
you're a


poet

[Anonymous No.1698310]

I pop my chowder into the air
I pop my chowder into her hair
I pop my chowder into a derriere
I pop my chowder into a bear
I pop my chowder at the daycare
I pop my chowder in Pierre
I pop my chowder during the Lord's Prayer
I pop my chowder like compressed air
I pop my chowder onto a teddy bear
I pop my chowder in the electric chair
I pop my chowder in Times Square
I pop my chowder everywhere
I pop my chowder like a multimillionaire

[Anonymous No.1698317]

>>1698310

thank you based god

[Anonymous No.1698321]

>>1698317
What is based god?

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698333]

>>1698303
>he ridicules free verse for its lack of form
Wilde liked Whitman, Fab.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1698338]

>>1698333
Whitman is fine

most of these look as if they were thought up in minutes, if not seconds

not yours specifically, just a few i caught sight of

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698344]

>>1698338
Most of us
make up our
selves in mere
seconds,

why should poesy
be different?
You're begging divinity
to present itself
in tortillas
and grilled cheese sandwiches.
Let it go.
Almighties ain't coming back,
leavened or un-

[Anonymous No.1698345]

>>1698321

lil b he is a rapper from the bay area i noticed something of a similarity b/w your respective poesies

[Anonymous No.1698352]

Torn between love
of love and life
God had to choose
one
or
the other.

[Anonymous No.1698356]

>>1698352
Spacing is all fucked up, but whatever.

[Anonymous No.1698395]

“You waking, flapping, bug-eyed heretic,
leave your pillow and sing for me”
reads the dusky make-believe placard on the ceiling.

meanwhile
the demons of some previous nightmare
slip out from my metronome eyelids
sitting down to write essays entitled
“underglow”
or
“you should not be sleeping here.”

As a company of bed-crumbs marches towards some noble death
the hollows of the mattress quake, quiver
crumble,
giving way to a blackout vertigo fall
into smoky waters
through the last lazy reef of brains and water-snakes
past bedrock
stopping, for a moment, to make the cave into home
before plunging into the groaning nighttime core
where, the pillow says,
I should go to meet you.

[Anonymous No.1698435]

>>1697872
Op, you are a fucking gigantic egotistical hipster faggot!

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1698446]

>>1698435
Finally, someone uncovers the truth in my poem!
You, sir, are a genius at analyzing poetry!
Please! Now that I'm unmasked, exposed for the fraud I am, please let me suck your dick!

[Anonymous No.1698692]

I never could be contemporary and eschew rhyme

Dancing down on a mane of reddened star
The onyx depths brandish their cold scimitar
Flurrying, panicking, let the apex unfurl
Crests allow sight - what secrets they sell…

Just skeletons here, no lies to the fold
Of sifting from wisping crushed drowned marigold
Clinging on bone it’s diffusing, cracked skin
Awash with empowering knowledge it’s in

Drenched within paradox, void made replete
It hums with drowned voices of those that I meet
Floating it gallops on eight-legged steeds
Diffusing turgid aural seeds

Dripping I’m played by the wind as a death
Fished from the blood and into the breath
Upon me as lances and bursting with splint
The fugue takes it’s hold as dull blasting print

Two evils and violence of void I desire
Consumed phantasmagoric pyre
Abandon the breeze and the scythe and the breath
And into the blood and the void and the death

A land breathes in non-stop one-way exhalation
And slithering from megalithic oblation
The burning of static in mind’s respiration’s
Respite from the rasps of the days desperation

Deadening down to the hell-marine hymns
Replacing disgraced atrophying limbs
Last utterance lost as bubbles will rise
To hold up slowly sinking skies

[Anonymuos No.1698700]

Agent Anon kicked in the door
Harvard jaws all hit the floor
Take a look at this, you fucks,
Poetic license, you're out of luck
I'll take you motherfucker fucking down
...Downtown to fucking chicken town,
I've worse than jail, no lock, no screw,
I'll bring the fucking jail to you.

it's not mine, but it was a pretty funny response to a thread a few weeks ago

[Anonymous No.1698703]

French August, scorching amber field to eye's extent;
The land's portent to an English few, who,
From tempered Albion, apple-brushed isle,
By Edward's banner came before a host.
An English few, a Portuguese fewer,
Thereby back history's oldest concord,
And for the French; two, three – yet maybe five! –
For each assailant, thence their victory assured.
Atop a hill of slight incline, Edward,
Empyreal afore the English line,
With alacrity observed, and fed his free thoughts.

Intentionally archaic attempt at blank verse. Thus far only had negative reviews :)

[Anonymous No.1698722]

Title: November Nights

Isn't it in the face of inspiration that we laugh?
We feel foolish,
Dull,
And we make sense lesser still - lesser still.
These nights are cold and sleepless; colorful in perspective, but so black and white.
It's in our nature, then, that our muscles stiffen - we become hungry - the world turns faster, but we clench up at the emotion.
So why, on nights like these, do we become inspired?
Why, on nights like these, do we love?

This was read by someone here on /lit/ through vocaroo. I just wanted to say thanks again and let you know that I made my first experimental song using your reading.

http://aweekaway.bandcamp.com/track/in-perspective

>>1698022

This was amazing.

[Anonymous No.1698745]

>Mister death

lolcummings

[Anonymous No.1698748]

>>1698022
>>1697872

/lit/ has never impressed me so much

[Anonymous No.1698754]

This is pretty simple, generally; I tend to be simple.

In our time
Away from each other
The apparent seriousnesses
Of what we have
Flourish
In a dancing way
Like the samba
Of color and warmth and proximity
Unignoreable to mine
Of love grown
Through the truthful
Dispositions we share
And only
We share
Unnecessary elses
With contented ways
Devoid of complacency
Desiring more always
We share; we share
Yes
It's traversing tween
Of lasting embraces and character
For each other
Of passions of our beings
Coming together
Things only for you
A passion of the existence
Splayed honestly
For your eyes
My only true yet hopefully thankful gift

[Anonymous No.1698759]

>>1697872

OP, am I crazy, or is your poem about people ripping your poems apart on 4chan? With, maybe, a reference to D&E at the end?

[Anonymous No.1698945]

bump

[Anonymous No.1698953]

I wrapped a dollar bill around my throbbing
Penis and all the bitches verily came mobbing
White tears of molten ash twas sobbing
For when it's leafy sheath hath gone, so too the bitches

[Anonymous No.1698960]

>>1698953
Golden.

[Anonymous No.1698969]

OP was samefagging to shit at the beginning at the thread

no one likes your poem bro

[Anonymous No.1698979]

>>1698969

lol you sound pretty butthurt. Did nobody comment on your poem? Aww!

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1699005]

>>1698759
My interpretation doesn't support that. The reference at the end is to e.e. cummings, as other people have already noted.
Care to argue your view?

>>1698969
Back in my day trolling blah blah blah...

[Anonymous No.1700613]

>>1699005

I don't know, it was just a weird idea I after reading it a few times. It makes more sense to me, and it seems more literal that, the poem is about another non-self poet.