/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.1719128]

POETRY GENERAL

poems you like
poems you wrote
good poetry communites
whatever
poems youre working on?
poems you like to hear

[Anonymous No.1719131]

gonna post a couple. i've got a shit ton written in the past two months, so if anyone wants me to keep going i could lay out 45 full lengths. let me know

3.

Toward some two-word answer/

“And Sir, is this real?/

And is this how you fe-eel?”/

So forth and so,/

Forth you and I go/

I— at the car and her wheel/

you and car-skirt-torn, tearing in door/

Tear-ing your cheek, you sunk on the floor/

tea rings on desk-tops, napkins, notes— no more/


Two Wards: you, and I/

Go. Your’s separate, sane, same medicine./

Mine muse-i-call/

Tor-ment. Torn;/

Meant something af-ter-all/

[Anonymous No.1719134]

Constructive crit would be much appreciated and carefully considered. Just your opinions are cool too. Ultracryptic mode:

Conversations in a dream

words arc back in codas
like mirrors within mirrors
rotations in a mist
funny (strange and laughing)
rotations cloud the gist

I'm a fan of Yeats, Larkin, TS Eliot and recently a little bit of Beckett. Favourite poems: Sailing to Byzantium and Preludes.

[Anonymous No.1719135]

5.

Into me ra-ther-than to me/

I, listing toward a sun-sol/

Pian-sist, fictional, see/

Playing on the radio—dial/

End—less than perfect: /

Me. In my books andneck’t/

in or into you-or your/

spine. We laid on the floor/

fo-ur an ho-ur/

talk-ing but/

not-so-much say-ing/

anything/

[Anonymous No.1719138]

Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.

I tell what I've told, out of listless
Sadness, so often before…
I think you never listened,
So you're away you are.

All of a sudden, an absent
Stare, you look at me, still
Immeasurably distant,
You begin a smile.

I go on talking. You
Go on listening - your own
Thoughts you listen to,
The smile as good as gone,

Until, through the loafing
Afternoon's waste of while,
The silence self-unleafing
Of your useless smile.

[Anonymous No.1719139]

>>1719131
>what the fuck am i reading
feel free to post more though

[Anonymous No.1719141]

>>1719134
not a fan of the word gist in that context— would be nice to get a little more concrete imagery on the reflection— otherwise good, but a little easy, its being so damn short

[Anonymous No.1719144]

OP here and I approve of these poems, though they suck and I hate them. (Okay, fine, I just hate them. But they probably do suck)

[Anonymous No.1719150]

>>1719139
yeah thats the typical impression, but if i can convey a momentary feeling, thats all i care about.
16.
Underground sub—/

Way-stations/

Like inventions,/

Now— and go/

Toward new sins/

As if never/

J-M-Z— Emerging/

Falling sliver/

Of light purging/

Dark. My liver,/

My lover distant/

No Sunday afternoons,/

With friend, you— and your/

Lover, who made you sore./

Floated above shop—/

Fronts; stopped,/

Descended, swore./

More yellow cigarette fog—/

Forgot. Thought about the shore/

And in an Old Green—/

Point-ed, spired, conspiring, Luthereen/

Church: remorse, sparse,/

Confession of sins,/

Benedictions, penitent, emerged— went/

Walked over B.Q.E./

Smoke spins/

From-fourth cigarette/

[Anonymous No.1719151]

>>1719141
Yeah, someone said they didn't like the last line the other day. I considered a full repitition of the line "rotations in a mist", but that feels like a cop out. Pic related, I'll mullet over.

[Anonymous No.1719152]

OP here
I've been working on a poem for a long while now. I don't know anything about poetry though? How does this shit work? (not your poems; they suck)
I mean, does anything go?

POETRY TIPS

[Anonymous No.1719156]

[cont'd]

Wet night, hymns/

Rang and went/

Home in a spent/

Body. Hymns hum/

With the tracks, some/

Fluorescent swaying/

Ov-er/

East Ri-ver/

[Anonymous No.1719158]

>>1719151
not the guy you were talking to here, but
question: does 'rotations in a mist' mean anything?

[Anonymous No.1719160]

>>1719152
read more classic poetry

[Anonymous No.1719163]

>>1719138
needs concrete details
i can picture smile, but its more powerful if you demonstrate through comparisons, descriptions, and metaphors what the smile looks like.

bonus points if you don't use the word smile.

the sentiment is not bad though. i just don't believe it

[Anonymous No.1719169]

>>1719160
The thing is that I don't like any poetry but my own, and maybe my girlfriends. I prefer actual sentences and a consistent rhyme structure I guess.

Here's how I rhyme in the opening stanza of my first poem:

_ _ _ squall
_ _ _ corroded
_ _ _ call
_ _ _ throated
_ _ _ unending
_ _ _ mending

but not all the stanzas are structured so, or even feature rhymes
is this actually a song I'm writing? im confus

Thanks for consideration in advance

[Anonymous No.1719170]

>>1719158
Yeah it's referring to the way mists curl, like breath in cold weather. It was meant to be an image of something complicated, repetitive and hard to follow, like speech in a dream.

[Anonymous No.1719176]

>>1719169
rhyme doesn't really matter. it doesn't necessarily have to be consistent— but if you use it, use it deliberately, earnestly and not just because the words rhyme

[Anonymous No.1719177]

last one unless i get a request for mo'


20.

Each an eyeball/

Holding fast/

To flat, transparent glass/

A universe in itself/

On close inspection/

Skyward precipitation/

Each its own/

Grey below and Green above/

[Anonymous No.1719188]

>>1719177
>>1719156
>>1719150
>>1719135
>>1719131
also, it would be kindof cool to get a crit' on these. just a thought tho

[Anonymous No.1719201]

>>1719188
Okay. I don't like anything about any of them. You're not telling me anything.
>"Pian-sist, fictional, see/"
Seriously, bro? Why?
Ain't hatin', though. Just WHYing

[Anonymous No.1719207]

>>1719201
pian is embedded in within the

>sol/
>sist/

as a way to get at solipsism
its really meant to be heard though.

[Anonymous No.1719214]

>>1719207
ಠ_ಠ

[Anonymous No.1719215]

>>1719188
I do get a momentary feeling. You seem to move from one word to another by association, rather than by concern for sense. Interestingly that's kind of what I was writing about in this poem >>1719134.
Except, you seem to be actually writing it rather than writing about it.

I do see snippets of scenes which is nice, because it makes me go back to the more mysterious details (especially >>1719135 )

I like your poems, I would happily re-read them. I can't think of any improvements unfortunately. You seem to be the more advanced poet. I just wrote this so you know your poems have been read carefully and appreciated.

[Anonymous No.1719227]

>>1719215
thank you sir. yeah i like to get that wordplay going while maintaining the imagery, even if it jumps from scene to scene. i'd much rather get a couple really concise details in there than describe an entire setting fully.

[Anonymous No.1719232]

>>1719214
hate it if you want— its not really supposed to get everyone going. just really had to embed the idea of a self-enclosed pianist

[Anonymous No.1719235]

>>1719232
Not the guy you were talking to, but out of interest have you ever published anything or tried to?

[Anonyomus No.1719237]

Atop the record player we
rotate unsteadily,
clapping and laughing.
Summer-warm soles
in the dusk heat dancing; we
are smoke and shadows, melting,
vanishing; dripping wax and oil
as the sun slips down the drain.

[Anonymous No.1719242]

>>1719235
thought about it, but haven't submitted anything. sometimes i write quick ones in books at the library for people to read. i don't feel like i've really settled down in my voice yet, so these are just trying to work out the kinks

[Anonymous No.1719260]

>>1719237
i don't really have the sense of the "we"
it might be better if you have definite characters as in, you and i.

also, i'm going to tell you the same that i did to someone above: try to describe smoke and shadows, rather than just saying "smoke and shadows" give me a comparison or metaphor that lets me see what smoke and shadows looks like.

i'm not sure how i feel about the sentiment behind the poem either— it doesn't feel like there's been any development of the theme on wistfulness, which is a tad broad. not terrible though

[Anonyomus No.1719263]

>>1719134
the ending rhyme seems a little awkward, and honestly it's very hard for that not to happen, imo. i found the poem itself quite enjoyable and the concept interesting, the imagery was cool...but that last line is so...heavy?

[Anonyomus No.1719276]

>>1719260
Ah, wow, thanks for the response. I'll think about what you've said.

[Anonymous No.1719278]

>>1719134 Me again
Here's one I started about the earthquake, in Japan with shades of The Second Coming. I quickly got bored of it though. Completely different style and perhaps closer to me in 'normal mode'.

The buzzards circle Fukushima lake,
where the steam rolls toxic from the open vault
of bare fuel rods which melt into the earth,
and suppression chambers pressurised to burst.
The dozers plough their way through water's wake,
this painting - it has dried to a mosaic

[Anonymous No.1719279]

>>1719263
cosigned— see above

[Anonymous No.1719283]

>>1719276
yeah man write write write

[Anonymous No.1719291]

>>1719278
>>1719278
nope— if you're going to do realism, describe what those things look like. use comparisons to give me a picture of lake. also, your image doesn't need to be grandiose to convey sadness or tragedy— focus on a small thing and then draw out a broader conclusion.

[Anonymous No.1719300]

POST MORE POEMS

[Anonyomus No.1719306]

>>1719291
i agree with this anon.

[Anonymous No.1719315]

>>1719306
its cause i've done nothing but read and write poetry for the last 3 months

also, my dog

[Anonymous No.1719324]

>>1719300
Heather speckled grey/

Tile floor. Like/

Some compelling sway—/

Swaying song/

Playing on. They,/

These grey or purple flecks/

Under dirty glow/

Reflection coming slow/

Ticking fluorescent, marks/

Off a red time. Flow/

Or flows toward some/

Violet fenestrative glow/

[Anonymous No.1719328]

>>1719263
Thanks a lot for the critique. "Heavy" is a good way of putting it, it's much too definite for the rest of the poem.
>>1719291
Hmm I think I agree. Perhaps putting myself in the shoes of one person rather than trying to get across the whole thing would be better?

[BrianDragon No.1719332]

Posting the best of what I've written recently (which I've put into a nice Word Document compillation).

Our Great Leader!

At the cusp of the humane heart
Lay the cigar in hand, the man on the brink
No better than a hornets nest
With his rage contained
His main ignorance feigned
The contemporary madness brings him to the two lined paths
One where he reigns alone, or where he kneels together
With his fellow individuals
And as the blows, the propaganda slaps harder and harder
The pendulum is pushed
The hornets nest unrested
His fire beholded of thoughts he once reluctantly held
Those bullets in his mind, now forcefully belt
Anti-this, anti-that, the sickle, pike, and floating, tri color mat
The loud siren songs are drowned by the bayonet's prong
The heads now fall for this man's sake
He who saw the sun's rising awake
With his cigar's ashy but smoking out
With the bloody boots smacking the wet wood by the international razor
With his mouth, uninhibited against the microphone he declares
"I am not a man to demand the best for the world
Nor to tame the shrew, the lion, or herds
Instead the words I use, I use cut and paste
My very feelings across your face
And yes, your fickle, barren mind submits, succumbs to mine
Yet still I find, oh yes I find, something far sadder
Despondence in the dimming shine of the desires I now hold mine
This very globe once an abstraction, has now landed beneath my hands
How once I saw it living within its sphere, the tree was once the forest-- my blind distraction
Now above the whole retreat, I hold the moldy meat
Oh, how I wish I did secrete the need to complete the feat I have put on my able feet before it came the time for me
to bleed the optimistic truth
to desecrate, to lose my youth
And all the passion I had before
Has left with honesty's open sore
Its scab is you, its blood your blood
The same I step upon as simple mud

[Anonymous No.1719337]

>>1719328
no just focus on something little— it doesn't have to be a person. it could be the way a person grimaces, or it could be the repetitive nature of something. just really remove YOURSELF from the context of the poem.

[Landon !!nBqZl5bQBVO No.1719349]

Poem I'm working on :

Very special snowflakes,
is what we are indeed,
full of truths and fakes,
as well as wants and needs,
mishapen in our own ways,
but with company in our fall,
unless you are the whole flake,
the most perfect of them all,
resilient against the sun,
unlike us who will melt,
though perfect then and now,
cold is all it ever felt.

[BrianDragon No.1719364]

Heaven Hiring

Little ants all on the floor
Door to door salesmen, and a half naked whore
females, too, with feelings to pour
All alike with no right to claim a take
No wrong to be burned at stake
They all chant, yes they all say
That if they had the power
Perfection's clean purging they'd give 'way
Well, my children, my answer
Forever is a hell of a long time to live
And a damn for the damned is too much to give
Whilst you are from my rib a sculpted art
You must see that heaven is from earth too far apart
If you were I then maybe you'd see the little ants' stupid heart
Instead of the gentle giant giving the cans and the cant's
For if you were the one dropping the bomb
The sentence for the spec may not seem much too long
Conscience, my child, is something I lack
Free is your spirit, but bony your back
My hammer too heavy for you not to crack

Sex

What once rung true from bells to belle
leaves a three seated table with room to spare
with one chair turned over on tables apart
a balance is broken and can't hope to start
but start it does, headfirst into the dismal chart
the pieces uncleaned must live with a heavy heart
because property is a powerful word
and desire is too hard to curb
the tables combined, altogether is fine
as long as you aren't even close or near mine

The Wise's Picturebook

I see the blackest of the nights
I've seen the brightest of my days
I'll live until the midtones fadeaway
I'll keep the regrets I've created
Memories of loves belated
May my life be long so I can look back
With no present above, below
A nose of nostalgia engorges my mind
The seeking of pasts, what lay decades behind

[Anonymous No.1719365]

>>1719332
needs concrete detail, even if you're just using similes and metaphors. you're spilling over with feelings words
>humane
>rage
>ignorance
>cut and paste my very feelings across your face

you can demonstrate these things without using these words— they're cheap and worn out. when you use them, i have no sense for what you're saying. show me with images.

also, you would do well to be less grandiose and epic. you can demonstrate your aesthetic or message without putting it into a postapocalyptic world. the more plausible the narrative is, the more likely i am to buy into the poems message.

overall pretty bad, to be honest. but i hope i've given you something to go off of.

also, play fewer vidyagames

[Anonymous No.1719376]

>>1719349
nice sentiment, but show me a picture with comparisons, descriptions or metaphors— what a snowflake is before getting into it. also, sad poetry is good poetry— its just a fact of life

[Anonymous No.1719380]

>>1719364
meh. again— too many 'feelings' words. also, i don't like the aesthetic treatment, or your themes.

[BrianDragon No.1719393]

>>1719365
much thanks

I really wanted to write something, but I found myself at a loss for words in the face of the image in my head. Articulation escapes me at times. I'll probably have to re-write that in its entirety, forsaking that unnaturally dull mass.

[Anonymous No.1719394]

>>1719380
I'm with this guy on both points

[Anonymous No.1719402]

aright doin' one more

2.

Mornings lost/

Fallen through styrofoam “8 oz” cups/

Fall-in-to step—/

Stone-footed, slept/

On the floor of a four door sedan/

Sun-dripping small bed room/

With a pertinent, penitent, perpetual ceiling fan/

Tick-ing off slanted seconds/

At once drawn out/

Slow, from a spout/

[BrianDragon No.1719403]

>>1719380
>"feelings" words

which of those are present in that set, really?

[Anonyomus No.1719407]

Atop the record player we
rotate unsteadily, you
clapping, me laughing;
summer-warm soles
in the dusk heat dancing.

Thick as smoke and shadows, we were
melting, vanishing; dripping wax and oil
as the sun slipped down the drain.

[Anonymous No.1719414]

>>1719393
try starting with something realistic, rooted in the real world. start without characters. just practice narrative voice in describing actual things. also, you don't need to be so epic

[Anonymous No.1719415]

I'm think of sending this one off to a magazine after this thread 404s. I was worried about plagiarists, but meh I'll take a risk. I'll post both versions, the one that was rejected by Poetry mag and the one Ive rewritten for clarity. I want to change the phrases "long ago" and "half my youth" - they're ugly. I'm this guy btw: >>1719134 >>1719278

Hometown (working title, also thinking of The Carousel)

The day they gave you footage, Moeder,
of your hometown long ago,
you clambered down, setee to ground,
and hunched where I lounged too.

That old grey box and television,
where I unwound half my youth,
now unwind these bleached out reels
and carousel songs on loop.

Groningen unfurls itself, from 1955,
before misty-filmed, time-exhausted,
cataracted eyes. I inhabit your seat
by the disused fireside.

The carousel spins on faster now, past
your tales of the cobbler's yarns of
how bad glue never lasts, and
the preacher who drilled in
that we all must suffer well
in time's unblinking carousel.

[Anonymous No.1719418]

>>1719415
Old version:

Moeder
You sit hunched in a spot which I used, too,
By the TV and grey box where I spun away my youth.
You clambered down, like I did to play,
To carousel songs on loop
And bleached out reels from Holland '55.

Cataracts' misty film
Blocks the story from your eyes.

The carousel spins on faster, past the
cobbler and his yarns of how
Bad glue never lasts, and
The preacher who drilled in
That we all must suffer well
In time's unblinking carousel.

[Anonymous No.1719419]

>>1719407
yes better— i really like the warm soles thing.
now its time to develop your themes and sentiments through the poem. wistfulness should hit your narrator as an epiphany, rather than be always present. just keep practicing and reading.

[Anonyomus No.1719420]

>>1719419
Alright, thank you. This has been very helpful :)

[Anonymous No.1719428]

>>1719364
>with feelings pour
>perfection
>forever is a hell of a long time to live
>desire

its really rife with the shit, man

my best advice is to read through the american poets, before you really dive back in

[Anonymous No.1719432]

>>1719420
word

[Anonymous No.1719436]

>>1719415
>>1719418
i liked the second one better. you'd do well to remove yourself as a narrative voice tho

[Anonymous No.1719442]

oh but i don't like
>time's unblinking carousel

it seems like a really worn out metaphor

bonus points if you can demonstrate the concept "time" without using the word "time"

[BrianDragon No.1719449]

>>1719428
that sounds like a recommendation to follow suit, which is counter-creative, delving into plagiarism, no?

I really can't grasp what you're asking for--perhaps I'm a bit daft. I'm assuming you're saying that I've opened up something, and haven't followed through, developed. (ie: perfection should be some sort of image of perfection, in place of the word).

[Anonymous No.1719462]

>>1719442
>>1719436
Damn, I was hoping I'd have made an improvement. When I looked back on the old one it seemed like a really disjointed set of images. Interesting that you don't like "time's unblinking carousel". I was praised for that line when I posted it here before. I can see that it would give it some more subtlety if I removed the word "time" though. Thanks for your thoughts, you seem to be the poetry criticism extraordinaire.

[Anonymous No.1719465]

>>1719449
what you have is closer to plagiarism, in that it sounds like any other fantasy teen trying to write war poetry. don't follow suit, but learn to use words concisely and correctly.

[Anonymous No.1719468]

>>1719462
yeah dude— its my life. get going on removing yourself from your narrative and start experimenting formally. and unique conclusions from common images are the way to go imo

[Anonymous No.1719469]

The reason why
The reason why
The reason why I had to die
Did I bleed the blood of greed?
What was my destiny?

[Anonymous No.1719484]

>>1719469
>greed
>destiny

demonstrate those concepts without using those words. go

bonus points if you construct metaphors, comparisons, allusions

[BrianDragon No.1719488]

>>1719465
Does it, now? Because it really has nothing to do with war. It's more to do those that strive for the betterment of their people in passionate strives towards a better society through the glorification of them. However, when they come up to power, they see from the heights of the sky above the great ladder of hierarchy, that the humanity they had hoped to be better than themselves was truly just a gigantic blob, a fickle shell. And so the leader loses his passion, turning to hate.

Honestly, I find it much easier to create a novel or short story than short poetry. I need to learn to focus.

[Anonyomus No.1719490]

Mother tucks me
cold and wet
into my baby bed

her fingers feed me
fat and full
and then she eats my head

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1719493]

>>1719484
>essence is demonstrable
lol

please look at me im using words that are special does this make me special? i cant even use them right im not special am i

[Anonymous No.1719495]

>>1719490
lol'd
Write the sequel to the Melancholy Death of Oysterboy.

[Anonyomus No.1719504]

Sleepy people,
look at 'em go!
Rubbing their eyes,
and tilting their heads,
to block out the buzzing sounds
made by
the electrified fence.
They can't escape,
sleepy people.

[Anonymous No.1719509]

>>1719484
The reason why
The reason why
The reason why I had to die
Was I bled to the deathly extent
For my cause's refusal to repent?
Did I take the sickle to the fruits
Until I cut into their roots
My land to be, like the barren desert sea
Did I save the roots them all past every Winter, every Fall
And let them rot away?
Did I have a choice?

[Anonymous No.1719529]

>>1719484
The reason why
The reason why
The reason why I had to die
Was I bled to the deathly extent
For my cause's refusal to repent?
Did I take the sickle to the fruits
Until I cut into their roots
Causing my land to be
Like the barren desert, being once a sea
Did I save the childs of labor, toil
The babes of my broken back
Past every Winter, every Fall
And let them rot away?
Did I have a choice?
Or was my conscience always meant to carry a black hole
Never growing weary of its sweet tooth
Did I have a choice at all?

[Anonymous No.1719542]

2 Internets for the person who identifies the painter of the OP picture
(it's one of my fave artists from my country)

[Anonymous No.1719581]

>>1719542
Alex Coville. OP here

[Anonymous No.1719586]

>>1719581
I mean't "Colville"

[Anonymous No.1719594]

>>1719586
I meant "meant"

[Anonymous No.1719599]

>>1719594
lol

[Anonymous No.1719606]

>>1719581
>>1719586
>>1719594
2 Internets duly awarded. Is the second painting also Colville?

[Anonymous No.1719632]

>>1719606
I only posted one painting

[Anonymous No.1719649]

Red giants
eat through paper fuses
and dance on darkness
above filthy footprints.

The conflagrant derailment
jettisons downward
with no time for discourse
or heartful discussion.

Fading out without a doubt
they turned away from their own path
all because they thought it best
for pink eye'd Mephistopheles.

Now it's down to the filter.
Sibilate and dissipate,
or Splash on the asphalt
into corruscating sparks.

[Anonymous No.1719764]

>>1719649
What is this about?

[Anonymous No.1719880]

>>1719764
A guy/select few people I know who moved onto a college campus just for the partying. They have no money and aren't actually attending the school, and I think they might become homeless at some point. Also, cigarettes.

[Anonymous No.1719918]

>>1719131

please for the love of god, no more!

[Anonymous No.1719928]

>>1719880
>Now it's down to the filter.
Sibilate and dissipate,
or Splash on the asphalt
into corruscating sparks.

Okay, let me tell you what I think using this stanza. Okay, let's get this straight: you're explaining a cigarette. You see, uh, why should I care?

See what I'm saying?

[Anonymous No.1719941]

>>1719928
Well, I'm still figuring out poetry for myself, so work with me here and tell me what I'm doing wrong.

Basically at the end of the "cigarette," their life will either sizzle out in a lame fashion, or they'll be like the cigarettes you throw on the ground, that go out in a bang and look pretty but end up being discarded regardless.

[Anonymous No.1719964]

>>1719941
The problem is that you're not saying any of that. You're zooming in a damned cigarette. I'm pretty sure it needs some feeling or purpose. Come on bro, make me feel something. YOU'VE GOT TO GET MAD

[Anonymous No.1719974]

>>1719964
Teach me more.

[Anonymous No.1720011]

I don't know if lavishly writing about a cigarette is anyone's poem. Who wants to read that? I want some pain, some drama, or instead maybe some disillusionment. I want to read something I'll remember, something that showed me for a minute what it's like to be human

[Anonymous No.1720055]

>>1720011
Well it's not just about a cigarette, but obviously my poem didn't convey that very well. Thanks for the critique/advice.

[Anonymous No.1720062]

>good poetry in english
HAHAHAHA

[Anonymous No.1720083]

>>1720062

[Anonymous No.1720109]

>>1720062
yeah dude shit sucks

[Anonymous No.1720118]

>>1719918
hah you don't like?

[Anonymous No.1720123]

>>1719493
was just trying to help? why do you think i used those words to sound impressive? those are not impressive words i used

[Anonymous No.1720134]

>>1720118
not the guy you were addressing, but i dont like it either. it's repulsive. sorry mate

[Anonymous No.1720139]

>>1720134
yeah its not for everybody. you know what though? nobody tells me what they dislike about it. that might be nice to know

[Anonymous No.1720154]

Made this bitch to send in for a publishing credit. Never got a response feels batman.jpg
Tonight
Friends, Together we can
We will stay up all the night
we will stay together till dawn!
We clink our cans together,
With the daylight coming on!
Greet the sun
We've had great fun

Friends, grab your controllers,
For the battle begins at dawn!
With our hands at the ready
With the triumph coming on!
Greet our foes,
And we shall lay them low
When we all fight together!

Friends, watch the beginning of battle
For tonight is our night!
To face the incoming tide,
With the storm coming on!
Greet the sea
With a shout of glee,
When tonight we fight together

Friends, give a cheer tonight,
For we have triumphed!
With Mountain Dew surrounding us
With friends passed out
We have won
Halo: Reach is defeated

[Anonymous No.1720164]

>>1720154
Seems a little childish, eh? I like what you've conveyed but I can't see it being published outside of anything other than Highlights.

[Anonymous No.1720173]

>>1720164

I knew it was shit and wrote it the morning before the assignment was due. But just getting blown off by the 4 places I sent it to hurts.(Had to send either a short stry or poem to 3-5 publications)

[Anonymous No.1720176]

>>1720139
Shit son, you're gonna make me spell it out for you?
It's not... anything. And it's not even that it's cryptic and mysterious. I think you were just pulling words together that sounded weird as you went along. It sounds like an autistic toddler making shit up. Only autistic toddlers don't embellish their nonsense and think it's actually something to read.

I don't want to offend you, you've obviously got some creative energy, and that's respectable by me, even if I think your poetry is unfine and worthless. I can't even pretend to say you're being daft in your writing, and not just stupid. Remember: pressing 'return' doesn't yield a poem. Okay, maybe you can call anyone taking a shit a poem, but no one's going to like it. I hope you don't. You can probably work to something personal and deliberate.

[Anonymous No.1720188]

>>1720173
>knew it was shit
>sent it in

Take it from motherfucking Faulkner:

Q: What one obstacle do you consider greatest in writing?

WF: I’m not sure I understand what you mean. What do you want to do? Write something that will sell?

Q: I mean whether the obstacle is internal conflict or external conflict.

WF: Internal conflict is the first obstacle to pass. Satisfy yourself with what you are writing. First be sure you have something to say. Then say it and say it right.

[Anonymous No.1720191]

I've been writing recently, rough draft need opinions anyway

Lifes End

When we are dead I firmly do believe
We shall slip back into the primal sea
Of the universal life, that there shall be
No more false joys on this earth that decieve
No more liars and sneaks there will be
No terror, or spite, or mockery
No love, lifes strongest bittersweet mystery
And while we still are struggling in the strife
Surely it is a gift, though small
That we will all know
In out final moments gasping breath
That the anguish and agony of life
Will not last longer than a lover's kiss

[Anonymous No.1720197]

>>1720191
I'm just being a fagot and not really contributing to anything in the poem, but I think it might sound better if the last line read "Will last no longer than a lover's kiss"

[Anonymous No.1720200]

god this is awesome:

http://ululate.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2011-04-18T10%3A38%3A00-04%3A00&max-results=1

[Anonymous No.1720215]

>>1720154
Dude, what.
>For tonight is our night!
Oh, god, never say that again. You said so much shit like that in your poem -- yeah I'm pretty sure every line was one of those. So bad, so, so bad. Also, it comes off like a string of rhymes. It's sooo bad. Maybe you should stop "!" exclaiming as well; it betrays the content as unbecoming.

But don't worry too much; it's just a classically cliched and uninspired piece. At least you're not this asshole >>1719131
Just stop being quasi-ironic and write honestly

[Anonymous No.1720218]

"Kindly"

Blood claimed
Cut from life
Deseeded, pitted
As a rotted pear

A winged shade
My fury and my wrath
Spills out
Into the hallway

[Anonymous No.1720243]

Too bad that there's no portuguese speaker here, otherwise I would post mine...

[Anonymous No.1720244]

>>1720243
Hey man, I speak Portuguese. Lay it on us.

[Anonymous No.1720247]

>>1720218
>"Kindly"
OP here
Okay, this is the only poem in this whole thread I've almost not thought was terrible!

>Blood claimed
>Cut from life
>Deseeded, pitted
>As a rotted pear

>A winged shade
>My fury and my wrath
>Spills out
>Into the hallway

Okay,
>lines are too short and short-lived; I think they could be more fulfilled.
>mad props and the bits about a pitted pear. bravo.
>whats all this about winged..and fury..what
>don't use both deseeded, pitted; and fury, wrath. Maybe you should use neither of the last two.

Solid respect though; I know you have talent.

[Anonymous No.1720248]

>>1720244
Where are you from?

[Anonymous No.1720251]

>>1720248
Lisbon.

[Anonymous No.1720254]

>>1720243
OP here
I can read Portuguese

[Anonymous No.1720262]

>>1720247

I would have more talent if I wasn't in law school. Fury and wrath was an illusion to the Eumenides, albeit poorly executed. I wrote that in like 10 minutes and it's just a first trimester fetus.

[Anonymous No.1720265]

[Anonymous No.1720268]

>>1720176
1.its not intended to be cryptic or mysterious
2.i'm playing with words and linguistics, so of course its going to sound weird and not necessarily pleasing.
3.>unfine and worthless
pretty subjective don't you think? i don't really need it to be worth anything to anyone though
4.>personal and deliberate
my method is personal and deliberate.

listen, i understand it looks jarring on the page and it really is, but your critique didn't really say anything other than >sounds like an autistic toddler

[Anonymous No.1720269]

>>1720254
I don't know, that's suspicious. All of a sudden there's two portuguese speakers.

[Anonymous No.1720275]

>>1720269
Really, though. I was raised by my Spanish/Portuguese grandmother. I don't speak it but I can read it. But whatever; miss out on your opportunity.

[Anonymous No.1720278]

>>1720269
Well OP is a troll, I am portuguese, I shall prove it:

Mensagem do poema.

[Anonymous No.1720288]

>>1720268
>of course its going to sound weird and not necessarily pleasing.
Then why would you want anyone to read it?
>pretty subjective don't you think?
I wasn't giving you anyone else's opinion.

>nobody tells me what they dislike about it. that might be nice to know

I'm telling you I don't like your poem in the slightest. It's not a big deal. Just deal with it and thank me.

[Anonymous No.1720298]

>>1720288
poetry does not necessarily need to be pleasing. the point of art is not to be pleasing.

thanks for your opinion. you sound more reasonable when you're not talking about autism

[Anonymous No.1720309]

>>1720298
Can you just come out and say something like
>the point of my poem is not to be good
That would be a lot more honest.

Don't make me say it -- pic related

[Anonymous No.1720316]

>>1720309
hah okay man.

out of curiosity, who are your favorite poets?

[Anonymous No.1720333]

>>1720316
I don't read poetry. I just write it.
Time to get my fatass off 4cham and go exercise.

[Anonymous No.1720337]

>>1720333
nice trips

>doesn't read poetry
>feels qualified to critique poetry
>has to go
>admits neckbeard/fatass

[Anonymous No.1720347]

FOUR CHAN IS FOUR CHUMPS

[Anonymous No.1720357]

I rhymed; I followed no rhythm.
I just needed to put my thoughts down,

Title: To whom it may concern,


Viewing further than from the reach of the calendar
chaotic foot marks, have converged to one path.
Occasion to bid farewell to the cool shade has passed, I am sure
and time forges ahead, leaving wreckage in its aftermath.

You refuse to speak of it, but I have seen
the machine built of man's differences
whose master will not reveal what their lives mean.
And for this reason, towards each other, they build fences.

A man has choices, but birth is not his own
truth is defined by delivery, given by so many
and if the wrong truth is chosen, his fate is suffered alone.
And still man inquires with a cry as noble and desperate as the horse's whinny.

The cry: "Why am I born against my will?
Given no direction, and punished for not finding the way?"
I am but another born and ripened for time to kill.
And with this I shall live by the words: Come what may.

With confusion disguised as rules, I have cautiously stepped,
still they will say the truth was administered "quite directly"
and many times have I taken in the path behind and wept
begging luck for my life to be stained with overcome troubles and good hope in a - way that is deemed: correctly.

[Anonymous No.1720367]

>>1720357
kindof cool in that its almost prosaic. the thematic treatment is a little grandiose and i think you should spend a little more time reflecting on the realism at the beginning before jumping into your philosophical discourse. also, there should be some discernible connection between the reflection and the broader issue at hand. not bad though— the rhythm is nice and colloquial

[Anonymous No.1720375]

>>1720367
The first part is a guy reflecting on his past,
the body is his curses at the world for its bullshit,
and the last part is his feeling of doom.

[Anonymous No.1720377]

>>1720375
By doom I mean hopelessness.

[Anonymous No.1720384]

>>1720375
i'd give it lots more realism and lots less feelings words, although i like the idea of
>noble and desperate as a horse's whinny
but yeah it needs fewer of those words like
>chaotic
>forges ahead
>truth
>come what may
>confusion

there are better ways to demonstrate those concepts than by using those words, namely— imagery, comparisons, metaphors

[Anonymous No.1720394]

>>1720384
But what if it is what the guy is feeling?
It's kind of the point.

Give me some more criticism, I like it.
I might rewrite it.

[Anonymous No.1720403]

>>1720394
but those are such broad concepts used in so many different ways. if you could demonstrate those concepts with a series of images, the reader has a better chance of understanding the character's psychological condition. does that make a little more sense? i think its just better poetry anyways— getting at a concise essence of what you're trying to convey.

[Anonymous No.1720409]

>>1720403
basically, show me. don't tell me. show me

i'm the guy with the slashes and numbers on my poems if it helps you decide whether i'm credible or not. if you think my poems are shyt like everyone else in this thread feel free to disregard my criticism

[Anonymous No.1720415]

>>1720409
No man,
I actually appreciate this a lot.
I'm gonna make a list of everything I should change to imagery.

[Anonymous No.1720431]

>>1720415
sometimes its hard for me to come back to a poem once its down. but yeah good luck

[Anonymous No.1720435]

>>1720431
It will be.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720461]

My eyes burn and out pour little ashes
stared too hard, too long at your pleasing pose.
Itty-bitty bump of the bottom lip,
(leading up to a near-perfect nose)
and orbs half-concealed by long lashes:

Milky rings around little bits of bursts,
shadows surrounding pretty pirouettes
these stalactites' drops for my buried thirsts,
dreams pour unslept from reversed minarets.

Creamwhite coronas divert decision,
shine too fine, too bright round lovely dark spots.
Maybe one day you'll hear the holy book
(with savage myths this preening priest concocts)
of prayers for small miracles of fission:

Like nights spent without longing for lust,
a day passed within its entirety,
hesitant sweaty hand whollyhearted thrust
in reluctant palm's piercing piety.

Dance for your rain? But I don't dare dance!
Sing for our solstice? I can't simply sing!
Hope for fulfilled wish? With love I don't hope.

[Anonymous No.1720510]

>>1720461
pretty good, but i think i'd like it better with some sort of developed sentiment. as in, you examine and reflect, and your perspective changes. it seems like you got at that right at the very end, but most just felt like girlfriend worship. jood job of getting a little surrealist with the metaphors though.

[Anonymous No.1720511]

>>1720461

"creamwhite" as one word is really good

[Anonymous No.1720522]

>>1720511
cosigned

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720523]

>>1720510
It's an unrequited love poem, not a love poem. There is no development of sentiment, the subject is just a whiny pussy.
It's an old one anyhow, I trot it out sometimes for the people here who like verse stuff.

[Anonymous No.1720531]

>>1720523
yeah not bad. a little cumbersome in that higher diction and syntax don't come naturally to the modern english speaker. but i don't see many that can swing high diction with the rest of em— even lots of pro poets

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720543]

I had a dream I was with a woman, hugging her, kissing her, loving her.
She smiled and her life pulsed against mine. Her neckline curving slowly to the shoulderblade was the focal point of all sensual pleasures. My eyes worshiped wholly holy. My tongue tasted manna. Touched and caressed with my callused hands that felt fine and smooth against a set of scars placed just so by luck or fate to perfect its texture. The scent of slick, sweet, sweat reminded me of rhododendrons (I always preferred them to roses). I thought of course her shoulder could not be heard 'til the skin whispered an aria against the pillowcase. There had been the wondrous seduction, not hers or mine, but ours. Locked in the combative bliss known only by the fierce who have met a fine match, we tumbled and wrestled into eachothers lungs and used our teeth and tongues as tactics. The mockery I knew as the worst critique of myself disappeared and I understood what it meant to feel unalone. After the battle we made love like pagans, gloating over the great victory with no injuries, no casualties. Then I hugged her, kissed her, loved her.
She was smiling and her life was pulsing against mine.
I woke up.
It had almost been a moment to cry but at the time I hadn't felt bereft of the dream.
My pillow clung wet against my belly.

[Anonymous No.1720544]

>>1720543
lol that end.

where are her scars?

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720548]

>>1720544
Yeah, the ending is supposed to be both comic and punctuating the pathetic nature of the experience.
The scars are on her neck and shoulder, is the idea, continuation of the "focal point of all sensual pleasures."

[Anonymous No.1720556]

>>1720548
ah okay. you know your stuff might do well to embed literary allusions.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720566]

>>1720556
I do, sometimes, but in poetry it can take all the flavor out of the work. T.S. Eliot seems like shit until you understand what he's referencing and how ingenious his references are.
Allusion is very tricky and in today's art is almost pointless unless it's purposefully employed to appeal to mass audiences, which is itself almost pointless in poetry. You're better off working with accepted, academic understandings of symbolism than going for allusion, and imo that type of symbolism is also too erudite for good effect.
I just had a poem I posted here the other day that attempted allusion/pastiche and I edited it out because it completely ruined the poem, on further reflection and some conversation at a workshop about it.

[Catherine No.1720570]

>>1719237
This has a very good, steady flow. I like the use of smoke and shadow, I don't think it needs to be changed. It flows so well I can almost feel myself sliding off and landing and watching the sun set.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720580]

>>1720570
there's no real meter

you're pretty stupid

[Anonymous No.1720586]

>>1720580
metre doesn't necessarily connote flow and vice versa. look at ginsberg— lots of flow and definitely no definite metre.

here's one i just did

Red on the tops of toe nails/
Momentarily only. Only to be/
Spat away and replaced. Trails,/
Down sculpture stiff shins./
Settles red in the seams of skins/
This all, so removed from/
Its original cause/
Just scraping some/
Earth and earth’s red subterranean gauze/
Flows more quickly than I’d imagined/
Raining chrome fauced head/
Providing room for more—sanguin-ed/
Sanguinesubterraneanrouge/
Raging and mellow-mad/
Remove my stoic-self slow/
(Or so, I’d always thought)/
From my own tepidturbulent always shower/
Never comfort and if ever comfort-hours/
These spent in mirrored distaste for the reflective glass/
Pent up and nervous breaking down— tongue stuck to mirror/
Grass from a mowed lawn is washed down shower/
Drains and drawn curtains smeared/
Red and red nylon on nylononnylon vinyl taupe flower/
Flew for what seemed an hour about the glossy wet tiled room/
Clothes strewn about and below/
A bout, unstout pugilists beats on himself and bellows
With a self-inflicted fickle-knuckles on bonejaw. Fellow/
Follows himself, naked out onto the carpet/
Becomes one one one again. Throws over his head/
Maroon long-sleeved tee-shirt. Head re-shouldered/
All this all this forever-un-said/

[Anonymous No.1720588]

Short little thing I wrote yesterday in 5 minutes. It's not quality by any stretch, but it was relevant to how I felt at the time and I feel kind of proud for being able to throw it together in that short time:


You may be scared, of life’s mad stare, or its accursed fuss
You may feel strange, a tad deranged, and feel the need to cuss
This anxiousness, it builds and builds with no sign of release
A problem here, an issue there, good god, when will it cease?
But rest assured, you’re making this far larger than it is
Theatrical it is, your approach, to bite and yell and hiss
A job done here, a kind word there, and all will be respite
The rightful release you raced to reach will now be in your light
So worry not for what will come, as you will proficiently cope
Go put your mind to better things, as what good is it to mope?

[Anonymous No.1720591]

>>1720588
well at least you didn't waste a lot of time on it?

[Anonymous No.1720592]

>>1720591

Guess so, haha. I just wanted to "catalogue" it somehow, sort of capture how I felt, but do it in poetry rather than just writing it down matter-of-fact.

[Anonymous No.1720595]

>>1720592
fair nuff. when you get good you'll throw more realism in to demonstrate those feelings rather than saying em outright.

[Anonymous No.1720597]

>>1720595

Hopefully. Admittedly I'm just getting into writing poetry, not only am I not too familiar with poetry in the sense of, you know, how well read I am in poetry, but I only know the basics of certain conventions. I find it's pretty cool seeing how what you wrote just fits together when you're done, it's a strange but welcome feeling.

[Catherine No.1720599]

>>1720580
Just because there is no "real" meter does not mean it doesn't flow well. You are just trying to make me mad, what a jerk.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720602]

>>1720580
Fabulous, I like you, sweetheart, but please stay out of poetry threads, they're the only place you're a bore.

[Anonymous No.1720607]

>>1720597
yeah just read and read and write and write. you'll find a voice you really like

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720618]

>>1720599
there's little to no cadence dandelion

and that's kind of you know, what poetry is all about

>>1720602
i like you too korohemoth

but this is making me sickly

[Anonymous No.1720621]

>>1720618
cadence is often subjective or misunderstood. just a thought

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720626]

>>1720621
>internalism
you're a little late

[Anonymous No.1720627]

>>1720626
hah, actually i'm the main poster in this thread. but whatever— neither here nor there.

[Catherine No.1720657]

>>1720618
No it's not. That's like saying prose is all about telling a story. It is only an aspect of poetry, or a poetic tool. Useful, and nearly always used, but still just a tool to express your meaning. That's my opinion, at least.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720660]

>>1720657
you're just romanticizing the thing

please avoid doing that

[Catherine No.1720664]

>>1720660
Poetry is not a science. I believe that in order to not only appreciate poetry, but to also enjoy it, there is usually some sort of romance. I don't really like a whole lot of poetry though, the writing that I like to read usually has some sort of narrative structure. Not saying that lots of poetry doesn't, but that it is not as satisfying as a more "concretely" told story.

[Anonymous No.1720666]

Man Fabulous sucks at poetry

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720669]

>>1720621
Prosody isn't. That's why free verse shouldn't be reliant upon "flow" unless there are obvious stylistic forms (alliteration, slant/internal rhyme, assonance) present.
Fab is right, there's no prosody present.
But he's being pedantic.

_A_top _the_ re_cord_ play_er_ we
(note the internal rhyme of "the" and "we")
rotate unsteadily
(ends with rhyme)
clapping and laughing.
(parallelism)
Summer-warm soles
(alliteration)
in the dusk heat dancing; we
(alliteration again, and again the rhyme)
are smoke and shadows, melting,
(assonance in smOke and shadOws)
vanishing; dripping wax and oil
(not much here, true)
as the sun slips down the drain.
(alliteration and repetition)

The associations are broken, not constant, ill-formed, but it would be possible for many to read it and draw rhythm from it.

[Anonymous No.1720672]

>>1720664
>poetry is always not concrete

[Catherine No.1720676]

>>1720660
Also asking me to avoid doing something seems a little entitled, especially if its for me to avoid having an opinion. You seem like you've been spending a little bit too much time on the internet, but maybe I am just projecting.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720681]

>>1720664
>>1720676
well it's not as if you can avoid having an opinion

i just wish that you would avoid romanticizing rather simple hobbies and whatnot

don't be sensitive

[Catherine No.1720687]

>>1720672
In Seattle where i live there is a pretty vibrant spoken word scene, and I'll tell you I've heard some pretty concrete poetry. I'm not a big fan, it's kind of like they are using poetry more as a political tool and less as a piece of art. I guess I'm one of those "art for art's sake" kind of people, at least when it comes to poetry! On the other hand, I LOVED The Jungle, and the changes that it helped cause are incredibly inspiring.

[Catherine No.1720693]

>>1720681
Please stop trying to demean me. Just because I do not know you in real life does not mean you should be able to say what you want to me. Please show me some level of respect, especially if you really want to be friends. Poetry can be beautiful. It usually isn't, but when it is, I don't care how it's composed, or what techniques are used, I'm just glad I read it.

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720697]

>>1720687
well if you're comparing yourself to an aesthete, i will say that you're quite different

and aesthete wouldn't throw his cadence away

this isn't necessarily a bad thing, you're just not very similar

[Fabulous !!GXZe+d0RTva No.1720700]

>>1720693

if you want your words caramel coated with sprinkles then i'll oblige

but you're gonna get fat

[Anonymous No.1720701]

>>1720687
>>1720687
oh how i loathe politicized art.

[Catherine No.1720706]

>>1720701
I know what you mean, but really, have you read The Jungle? It's very good, and the fact that it really did help tons of people improve their lives substantially is pretty beautiful and poetic on its own. Also Storming Heaven by Dennis Giardina, but I guess that's more just historical fiction.

[Anonymous No.1720707]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot
The Flea by Marvell

[Anonymous No.1720713]

>>1720707
>time for a thousand visions and revisions

so fucking fucking fucking good

[Anonymous No.1720741]

lol

[Anonymous No.1720760]

>>1720566
"T.S. Eliot seems like shit until you understand what he's referencing and how ingenious his references are."

You are horrifically wrong. Acquaint yourself with one I A Richards's 'Music of Ideas' and then tell me you have to 'get' the references to enjoy his poetry.

On that note.

I think one of Eliot's best poems is 'A Portrait of a Lady'. It's not as dependent on pyrotechnics as, perhaps, his more famous poems are, but it is a very cutting critique of pretension.

http://www.bartleby.com/198/2.html

Just the first stanza:

AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon
You have the scene arrange itself—as it will seem to do—
With “I have saved this afternoon for you”;
And four wax candles in the darkened room,
Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead,
An atmosphere of Juliet’s tomb
Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid.
We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole
Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and fingertips.
“So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul
Should be resurrected only among friends
Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom
That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room.”
—And so the conversation slips
Among velleities and carefully caught regrets
Through attenuated tones of violins
Mingled with remote cornets
And begins.

[ballsssss No.1720780]

I'll forsake the words of moments present
as I lay amongst these papers, under these papers
myself within my head screams
to allow myself to grasp the phallus
drink from what I wish to drink
the voice tells me to take the road I wish to take
whether the one less traveled, or the one most far away
but soon that voice is engulfed
the shunning thunder enters deafening
the choir, orchestra of complaints
their song saying every possible world where I lose
"where I fall to deep into my own self
I may be naked in front of the crowd
or forced to speak aloud what I believe in
and they may not like that
they may not like that
you shouldn't do that
stop it, stay here
do it in a few seconds
wait until he's done talking"
the papers, reviews, criticisms pile
and thought I have the lighter in hand, my finger is quick
I refuse to burn these
Now my Stockholm syndrome self is divided, and by any word I am impressed
any man could shout a FUCK YOU and I'd be abruptly depressed
under the papers, complaints, criticism, I find myself, myself, myself repressed

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.1720810]

>>1720760
I heard his poetry read aloud and it sounded like trite shit.
I read it. It looked like verbose shit.
I read it with annotations, and realized it's packed full of ideas that are incredibly enlightening to its significance and meaning.
T.S. Eliot, like most Modernists, requires studying to appreciate.
The fact that you have to cite a work of literary criticism does not help your argument much.

[Anonymous No.1721571]

Bump.

[NonsequiturBear !!UFPpi0sFoPR No.1721579]

>http://osf1.gmu.edu/~lsmithg/deathfugue.html
I don't use to read poetry, i think I'm not sensitive enough...
But the first time I read Celan's death fugue I almost came in my pants.
Also, all Artaud's stuff rocks.