Poetry Thread

[Anonymous No.18719854]

Post and rate
No rate = No feedback
Same deal as all the other ones

[Anonymous No.18719856]

>>18719854
In bed, I lie
She cry, All sad

Should be glad
I'm here

Her sobs are clear
Why am I here

Anymore

[Anonymous No.18719867]

>>18719854
I have no hope

I’m on dope

It's a cope

I know

Bro

[Anonymous No.18719874]

I shit on bukowski's chest
And he
Hated
It

He thanked me
Then
He
Wrote
A poem
About
It

Stupid
Faggot

[Anonymous No.18719875]

>>18719854
“She hot, but a thot”

-A man

[Anonymous No.18720076]

>>18719874
Accessible and fun.
Could use less line breaks.

[Anonymous No.18720277]

>>18719854
Soon
the flower will wither
soon
the rain will fall

[Anonymous No.18720286]

i will never
be a poet

[Anonymous No.18720298]

Has anyone ITT seen Paterson by Jim Jarmusch?

[Anonymous No.18720317]

>>18720298
Yes it sucks. his other films are superior

[Anonymous No.18720349]

>>18720277
>Soon
>the flower will wither
>soon
>rain will fall
Small edit

[the xi jinping of weed smoking !!oqyjkIO5smI No.18720360]

>>18720298
Yes. Favorite director. Good film anon here >>18720317 is right. His other movies are way better.

[Anonymous No.18720764]

Really starting to see you guys…

[Anonymous No.18720942]

>>18719856
Big cocks, wet socks
Day care, free ware

Inhabit their mind
I'm here

Future, not my problem
Spread my structure

Subjugate

>>18719856
i hate these no rhyme short poems. does that mean i hate poetry? Is the attraction that anyone can do them?

[Anonymous No.18720958]

I wear a mask with a smile for hours at a time
Stare at the ceiling while I hold back what's on my mind
And when they ask me how I'm doing
I say, "I'm just fine"

But the fact is
I can never get off of my mattress
And all that they can ask is
"Why are you so sad, kid?"

That's what the mask is
That's what the point of the mask is

So you can see I'm tryin'
You won't see me cryin'
I'll just keep on smilin', I'm good

Always bein' judged by a bunch of strange faces
Scared to go outside, haven't seen the light in ages
But I've been places
So I'm okay-ish, so I'm okay-ish
Yeah, I'm okay, bitch
But the fact is
I need help, I'm failin' all my classes
They think that I need glasses
I just really wish that I could pass this
And it just keeps on pilin'
It's so terrifying
But I keep on smilin', I'm good
I've been carin' too much for so long
Been comparin' myself for so long
Been wearin' a smile for so long, it's real
So long, it's real, so long, it's real
>>18719874
I like this one

[Anonymous No.18720961]

Dear love, why don't you love me anymore?
Is it because i lost weight in the last few weeks? Or is it because I spent all of our savings on old bill hicks scripts? Is it maybe because I put the dirty dishes back on? Or maybe it was because of that time I walked hand in hand with your sister. Either way, I don't wait for your return, I just wanted to know why, and now I think I do.

[Anonymous No.18720973]

>>18719856
Big cocks, wet socks
Day care, free ware

Capture mind
I'm here

Not my problem
Spread my structure

Subjugate

>>18719856
i hate these no rhyme short poems. does that mean i hate poetry? Is the attraction that anyone can do them?

[Anonymous No.18721834]

american dolphins swim proud
in tea colored streams
silt stirred by wet leather tails
turns it all to coffee with cream
whiskered faces smile wide,
for their blind eyes can see
the dawn and the dusk
of a new kind of dream

[Anonymous No.18722133]

>>18720973
>i hate these no rhyme short poems. does that mean i hate poetry?
There are plenty of rhymes. There are less in your version frankly. So I don't know what your talking about.
>>18720958
Long and very repetitive
>>18721834
Crap. Needs stanzas and lots of work.

[Anonymous No.18722253]

I'm burning the paper it's on, at least you anons will have it, forever.

Unhappy nights I've spent, foretelling
Over the poor-land daises plucked
By your Northern walls, that gloaming
With nebulous thoughts, now conduct
Your tarried admirer, almsgive a Bifrost,

I outpour with the world at my hind,
These valleys of growth where pity's lost,
These forests dispossessed will bind
In faithful mud the prints of a faithful man,

But you will raise against his mad love
Barbicans unmanned, gatehouse gamelan
To his days-long trilling, that dove
Who forsook Noah to besmirch his wings
By your untended foothills, pilfer sorry blooms,
Who knew once snapdragons, orchids, Springs
foregoes these for your enigmatic winter coombs
Through moods-tossed seas, I'll return the ark
That lone olive-branch you raised for rest

[Anonymous No.18722397]

>>18722253
>I can't make sense of it, unfortunately. Translate the poem into simple language and then back again.

He poked in late,
the nosey bastard,
unbuttoned and twined,
unforgivable cunt.
He reeked of old curd,
that certifiable runt.
As always, on time.

He yawned a'stretching,
that miserable fool,
hair matted in grease,
horrible twat.
He belched like an mule,
digesting a rat.
Our great bringer of peace.

He ordered the Big Mac,
wet coins fell from his hands,
true repulsive pariah,
from the gutter an aristocrat.
He gave his commands.
Shall I break your knees with that?,
I'd say, if I wouldn't get fired.

[Anonymous No.18722425]

>>18722253
>I can't make sense of it, unfortunately. Translate the poem into simple language and then back again.

He poked in late,
the nosey bastard,
unbuttoned and twined,
unforgivable cunt.
He reeked of old curd,
that certifiable runt.
As always, on time.

He yawned a'stretching,
that miserable fool,
hair matted in grease,
horrible twat.
He belched like a mule,
digesting a rat.
Our great bringer of peace.

He ordered the Big Mac,
wet coins out of his hands,
I say, a truly repulsive pariah.
From a gutter the aristocrat,
giving commands.
Shall I break your knees with that?,
I'd say, if I wouldn't get fired.

[Anonymous No.18722478]

>>18722253
>I can't make sense of it, unfortunately. Translate the poem into simple language and then back again.

He poked in late,
the nosey bastard,
unbuttoned and twined,
unforgivable cunt.
He reeked of old curd,
that certifiable runt.
As always, on time.

He yawned a'stretching,
that miserable fool,
hair matted in grease,
horrible twat.
He belched like a mule,
digesting a rat.
Our great bringer of peace.

He ordered the Big Mac,
wet change out of his hands,
From the gutter the aristocrat,
giving commands.
I say, a true repulsive pariah.
Shall I break your knees with that?,
I'd say, if I wouldn't get fired.

[Anonymous No.18723067]

Bump for an anon who will effort post and rate every post

[Anonymous No.18723796]

>>18721834
There's a vague metaphor there that causes you to abandon the more concrete imagery, in the last three lines, for a cliche and very forced feeling ending that tries to say something but in fact says nothing at all. This would be better reworked with no 'ending' in mind and let it be just a fun description

[Anonymous No.18723830]

>>18721834
>>18723796
I meant to say I enjoyed this, some of the imagery is great and the language is comfy/sound. Just think it would be better if it wasn't trying to say anything

[Anonymous No.18723834]

>>18722253
What are you, two thousand years old?

[Anonymous No.18723865]

>>18722478
Straight garbage

[Anonymous No.18723876]

hiro what happened to 4chan?
we know that Janny work for fun
dont earn money dummy tranny
still suckin on mummy fanny
cumgenius pedo capital abuser
some feel this guido animal cruiser
prolly fucks his cousin or sum'in
fo' reall sucks buzzin fly foreskin

[Anonymous No.18723926]

>>18720286
you already are anon <3
>>18722253
I like this

Wrote this last year while watching city lights on the horizon. Its the only poem I've ever written with serious intent.

We had older stars once:
wondrous and subtle and distant,
scattered out across the skies.
We have new stars now:
near and bright and technicolour,
resting on the horizon.

Look out across the water and see
the staunch light of our new stars.
No longer are they our cosmic guides,
but fallen from their heavenly seat.

Once our stars were the divine of our past
Placed by the gods into the heavens.
The seven grieving daughters of Atlas,
and the Æsir's atonement to the vengeful Skaði.
Now, shall we be those in grief?
Or seek the retribution of our loss?

Or shall we look across the water
at our shining new stars and know:
We paid with those old stars
when we placed ourselves in the heavens.

[Anonymous No.18724531]

Pulsing molten core
Veins round stone and dirt and grass
Open flowing sun

[Anonymous No.18724674]

Disturbed - Down With The Sickness [Official Music Video]
Disturbed - Down With The Sickness [Official Music Video ...
https://www.youtube.com › watch
Tekst
Can you feel that?
Ah, shit
Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah
Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah
oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Drowning deep in my sea of loathing
Broken your servant I kneel
(Will you give in to me?)
It seems what's left of my human side
Is slowly changing in me
(Will you give in to me?)
Looking at my own reflection
When suddenly it changes
Violently it changes (oh no)
There is no turning back now
You've woken up the demon in me
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Open up your hate, and let it flow into me
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
You mother get up come on get down with the sickness
You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness
Madness is the gift, that has been given to me
I can see inside you, the sickness is rising
Don't try to deny what you feel
(Will you give in to me?)
It seems that all that was good has died
And is decaying in me
(Will you give in to me?)
It seems you're having some trouble
In dealing with these changes
Living with these changes (oh no)
The world is a scary place
Now that you've woken up the demon in me
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Open up your hate, and let it flow into me

[Anonymous No.18724701]

>>18723865
its kinda gud

[Anonymous No.18724981]

>>18722478
For you, anon, anything. Your poem is not garbage and reminds me of the "burgerpunk" poems I used to write. I think your descriptions are too indulgently repulsive, you should flesh out the surrounding world and his interactions with the surrounding world (the chair groaned like an unpaid intern, etc.). Maybe try to introduce some witty humor, it always helps when talking about slobs. Otherwise it just sounds like bitter punk lyrics.

My poem's nothing, but I'll try to make it clearer:
>I worry about the future while looking over my positive memories of my beloved (my memories of my beloved looks, but never any conversations or anything intimate- poor-land daises) plucked by my beloved's immense silence- like Scandinavian walls of ice, which shine against the orange light of the sun like an entire dawning sky
>I ask my beloved to send me a Bifrost, or a rainbow like God's covenant- a sign of connection and intimacy between my lowliness and my beloved's highness
>I pour out my heart with the entire world as a testament to my faithfulness- the forests I've trekked through to reach the gates testify to my footprints, overgrown valleys are where I've lost any self-pity
>but I am denied, a gatehouse impedes my advance, and a nonsensical, tinny song resounds from the portcullis in response to my trilling
>I am like a dove from the ark that came from beautiful Springs to a tempest of unrequited love, but who accepts this, receiving only a cold, steep resting place (the coombs)
>and so I return to the ark, carrying the sole olive sapling that grew in front of the gate, a sign carrying one meaning for Noah, a different meaning for me- for Noah, a sign of better days to come; for me- all I will ever have of my beloved, and a relapse into a loveless life
>In short, I love someone that doesn't exist, and I unhappily come to terms with this. Such a compromise is pleasing to God, but not to me.

[Anonymous No.18725082]

>>18719867
Seek help if true. Ok poem.

>>18720958
The poem it’s cliche and repetitive
The 4th stanza it’s really good, I would rework the poem around it.
1 Show us what else you are doing to try?
2 is anyone noticing that you are trying? How are they reacting?
It seems that rhymes come easily to you, take advantage of that. Edit the poem.

>>18720961
Good letter/internal monologue, it works well. It has good momentum and the story progresses.
It doesn’t read like a poem though, it sound like something taken from a longer piece.

>>18722253
You need to edit your poem. It’s a good poem, read it a loud a few times.
It reminds me of a mixture of Leonard Cohen and Kurt Cobain.
I enjoyed the flow and diction of your poem.

>>18722478
It sounds like a forced protest song/poem. Good half rhymes and word choice. You should also read your poem aloud a few times to see where you need to edit it.

>>18723926
Cool poem anon.
Great 2nd stanza.
Rework your third stanza, get rid of the questions, they are implied in your references.
Maybe add Prometheus on your last stanza.
Great work.

>>18724531
Good haiku.
I think you can make a great Tanka with this theme.

———————

Ice on my Whisky

Dark oak table,
Somber light,
Whisky golden brown,
With an orange peel and ice.
Dark red leather seats,
Embroidered with mute gold anchors.

On the mirror a darker reflection
Can be seen.

The bar is closed
They’ve turned off most lights,
I’ll drink my whisky and leave.

[Anonymous No.18725101]

>>18721834
>>18722133
>>18723796
>>18723830
I appreciate the feedback I admit I forced the 'american dream' angle at the end I didnt know how to end it

[Anonymous No.18725202]

Not mine, it's the last poem of Reverdy. I translated it into English to do a close reading of it. Thought some of you might enjoy.
(oh and I did not care the least for English sonorities, I'm ESL - I only focused on meaning and imagery which was challenging enough as it was)

[Anonymous No.18725484]

>>18724701
It's not a good poem, even classed as a lyric. The only poetic about it is the meter and footing. Its something literally everyone has thought and has no place outside of prose. It could at best be a snippet of a post-mordern epic and even then that epic would likely be boring as fuck

[Anonymous No.18725581]

Seven Fathoms Deep

One voice and seven strings
One Sun in seven rings,
One breath through seven notes,
One keep in seven moats.

One light through seven colours,
One king on seven horses,
One father and seven mothers,
One path and seven courses.

One gold in seven metals,
One water in seven vessels,
One love and seven helpers,
One peace and seven shelters.

One lock with seven keys,
One life in seven trees,
One fire through seven lights,
One day and seven nights.

One truth through seven heavens,
One alone and seven sevens,
One beauty in seven veils,
One treasure and seven jails.

One and seven equal eight,
To help the fire circulate!

M S

[Anonymous No.18725679]

>little do these anons know I just write whatever first comes to mind, then leave and never read their feedback

[Anonymous No.18725714]

>>18725679
This post logically disproves that

[Anonymous No.18725821]

The grind:

My plans hit dead ends
I can't see any further
the grind reveals it

focus consumes me
in my work there is no peace
flawed again? fix it.

puzzles solve themselves
inklings become branching truths
of course it's this way

first time writing poetry. This feels masturbatory.

[Anonymous No.18725890]

>>18725821
When you write it like that, it is

[Anonymous No.18725922]

>>18725890

how do I fix it?

[Anonymous No.18725930]

>>18725082
Bump. Can some one rate my poem

[Anonymous No.18725949]

>>18725930

dark, dark, dark. it feels repetitive.

[Anonymous No.18725959]

>>18725949
>>18725930

you are evoking imagery and I can see it and feel how it feels but it seems like you could do more with it.

[Anonymous No.18725977]

>>18725922
Treat it like a word 'painting' where the 'brush' is meter/footing and the colors are your word/language choice

[Anonymous No.18726001]

>>18725977

this actually helps. thank you.

[Anonymous No.18726024]

>>18725082
It's just not interesting.

'i drink an old fashioned and watch my reflection as I close down the bar'

There's your entire poem. "Drowning my sorrows." There's nothing there that warrants poetry. Then having inconsistent meter and footing really turns it all off. It's closer to prose written with a lot of line breaks than poetry.

[Anonymous No.18726093]

>>18725949
>>18725959
Thanks anon. It’s a rough draft.

>>18726024
Thanks for the critique
Ok, do you think it would work better as prose or should I edit and make a poem out of it.
I wasn’t going for a “drowning my sorrows” feel, rather a darker reflection that appears in certain people when drinking.

[Anonymous No.18726325]

>>18725581
I don't like the way it resolves, it seems to break the cryptic charm of the previous stanzas. However, without those two last verses, the thing would appear incomplete; so I think you should come up with a better ending. I can't tell you what it would consist of, because you've set up a wonderful, tenebrous tension, and it's up to your intuition how to resolve it.

Here's mine, in Polish - I don't really expect that someone will rate it, or yet alone read it, as there aren't probably many polacks here, but I'll post it anyway. I don't think I could translate it into English with any reliability, so I won't. If someone's interested in the superficial meaning, he can just paste it into google translate.

Moby Dick

Kapitan Ahab nie był filozofem:
gdy nogą ciosaną z wielorybiej kości
wstępował po trapie na pokład Pequoda,
albo gdy z łodzi wspinał się po linie,
– nie myślał z pewnością o Istocie Rzeczy
co pod jej powierzchnią, niby Golfsztrom, płynie.

Kapitan Ahab nie był argonautą:
gdy oszczep harpuna ważył w ciężkiej dłoni,
nie wcielał się w niego żaden z greckich bogów.
Był sobą, co znaczy wiele – oraz mało
– z pewnością jednakże nie to, że odtwarzał
jakiś cudzy dramat, zgięty przed kotarą.

Gdy pod pokładem setki beczek z tranem,
wyciśniętego jak moszcz z winogrona
ze stad lewiatanów, toczyły się w mroku,
kapitan Ahab czuwał nad okrętem
– jak zawsze z resztą, bo zawsze bezsenny,
zatem żyjący jednym życiem więcej.

Gdy na grotmaszcie majtek wołał rybę,
„There she blows!” budziło go z czuwania,
i wtedy wreszcie, schodząc w łódź, poznawał
swojej bezsenności ciemną tajemnicę
– że śmiercią zaśnie, gdy biały wieloryb
w olej zamieni się, i noc oświetli zniczem.

[Anonymous No.18727224]

>>18719854
She's soft, as cream
In a dream
Scene
But

CUT!!!
TAKE TWO.


>>18719856
>>18719867
>>18719875
My posts
>>18722133
My rates >>18725082
>Dark oak table,
>Somber light,
>Whisky golden brown,
These lines go well together. I wish the rest did the same.
>>18725581
very promising.
The second stanza needs work
It flows very poorly

[Anonymous No.18727571]

>>18726325
Fellow Polak here, can't really give you any feedback cause I know shit about poetry (and didn't read Moby Dick) but I found it very nice, quite beautiful. Share some more if you will.

[Anonymous No.18728141]

i hope you see it hegel bro

Gece rüyamda bir gülyabani
Çalılıkların arasından belirdi
Kafama vurduğu kitap cüsseli
İsmi ise: Ruh'un Fenomolojisi

Düğümler atıp bagaja koydu
Dikiz aynasında fularını soktu
Torbalı gözleri solcu ve so-ylu
Bakışı yansıyıp Geist'ımı oydu

Dedi ki: "Evlat, seni kaçırdım"
Bileydi ki ben de kaçırmıştım
Bagajı açana kadarki sırrım:
Varana kadar altıma yaptığım

[Anonymous No.18728413]

a translation
the foulard is pronounced in french, Fu-lAAr, silent d

At night in my dream a ghoul
Used a heavy book as his tool
And knocked me over with a hit
Its name: Phenomology of Spirit

Tied me up, put me in the trunk of his car
In the rear view mirror, a tucked in foulard
His baggy eyes sent from noble heights
A reflected gaze piercing into my Geist

He said, "Son, I have kidnapped you"
The nappies I needed, if only he knew
When we arrived, this he discovered:
That his trunk, in pee, was covered

[Anonymous No.18728679]

yo sorry I thought this was dead so I posted it elsewhere jannies forgive me

>Deforestation
>
>I speculate my mien within the glass
>To witness to my pulchritude unbowed
>And glimpse a sight that nearly floors my ass
>My horror is intense, my scream is loud
>
>For what do I discern within the pane
>Where oft I gazed with unimpeach-ed pride
>But total devastation of my mane
>My hairline, once so full, has up and died
>
>No more will dainty lovelies dark my door
>Or pretty little things my boudoir grace
>But as I check the mirror just once more
>I chuckle just a bit, and turn my face
>
>from that delusion, holding me in thrall--
>I was a fat fuck neckbeard after all.

[Anonymous No.18728982]

Bloated heads weighed on glossy lips
These boulders bathed in the sun and stretched
Ungracefully from balconies, whispered trivialities
And wretched, he collected rose hips and carefully
Down the hallway, bent his back and took salt into his blood
And fell to his knees, caught the breeze
And in one ear, hollowed out the other and strained
Asked no guarantees and saved for little
Wondered very little when the rain bent sideways and
The city itself seemed to twist and writhe and contort
When their sails overturned and cracked in half at port
Wondered very little, howling down the hallway.
Alleyways and power lines and something stirring
Unseen and unknown in the corridor, dents in the doors, churning
Just out of reach; a stringy leg, an airy head, abandoned bed
Inflated my chest and took salt into my lungs,
Very nearly, come closer,
If I could just stare through you and know
Just what I’m looking at (what’s this film between your eyes?)
Questioned, yes, all through Cancer and up into Virgo
And still, thus and then so, through this and that and although
Met with no answers, no glinting, no emptying; no locked lips to unsew.
Narrowed eyes stung through slats, rent and racked
And thoroughly baptized the attic, rustling through
Unused pages and worn leathers
Empty cages and unwritten letters
Something stirred and clawed and ruminated
Through early morning and late November.
When the coats came hollowed, floating through
The house and sat at once in a festering pile I called
The maid, persisted still and crawled into the closet
And really, nothing new and nothing much came of it all
I can’t say I saw the sense in it (it’s been months now, I’m almost certain)
Overgrown, unconsidered - creeping vines down white
Brick and slithered to meet the moss
The otherside of the wall, at the very heart of it all
Overcast, it seems he’s having his day again
It stays closed, promised not to speak of it
All these kept words, all these overheards
I live in stained glass, in the tinted twilight
Of sixty-two;
She rambles, she rasps, she moans - but never complains
Of the whispering, the pestering, the softer tones
Of footsteps down the hallway.

[Anonymous No.18729498]

>>18728679
I like it

[Anonymous No.18729626]

>>18728413
thus God got offended
'why even as ghoul'
'he peed in my trunk''
'and left there his stool'

'I thought he'd be honoured'
'to touch righteous hand'
'but poor fuck so modern'
'no chance for him left'

and God has withdrawn
to cloud of unknowing
and left us no law
no place to get going

while foes they do fiddle
above and below
yet faith is so little
the grain it will grow

[Anonymous No.18729681]

>>18728413

[Anonymous No.18729828]

>>18719854
hell
a place where the clock ticks but never moves
where there is no lesser pain to soothe
where acid rain burns the skin
where memories repeat again
where the morally bankrupt roam
worst of all it feels like home

>>18719856
I don't get it. Why aren't you trying to cheer her up.

>>18719867
>>18719874
>>18719875
>>18720286
>>18720973

Absolute shit

>>18720277
Dig it - linebreak placement adds to it.

>>18720958
Sounds like middle class high school angst.
Don't kill yourself.

>>18720961
This seems authentic and real, but I bet she was fucking someone else.

[Anonymous No.18729861]

Been listening to and reading a lot of Allen Ginsberg lately and gave poetry another stab. It's fucking hard conveying that degree of emotional sincerity, much harder than I thought, but I don't think I'm doing too bad for a complete amateur:
https://ghostbin.com/paste/qjM5j

[what is your opinion No.18730395]

Mystérieux parfum

La foudre est tombé, et elle déposa une flamme de bonheur.
S'en échappe une toile de rêve qui caresse tout ce qu'elle effleure.
Soufflée par le vent, portée sur un nuage des cendres de fleures,
je veux t'attraper, te garder et te protéger, car à toi seul tu remplis mon cœur.

trad

mysterious perfume

lightning has fallen, and made a fire of hapyness.
escapes from it, a dream fabric who caresses everything it touches.
blown by the wind, carried on a a cloud of flower ashes,
I want to catch you, keep you and protect you, because you alone fill my heart

>>18726325
hard to understand with google trad but i feel like i would like it
>>18725821
lol i can feel its your first time me to

[what is your opinion No.18730409]

>>18730395
i started to wrote this while she was here, in my countryside, coming from I don't know what god

[what is your opinion No.18730418]

>>18730409
to write

[Anonymous No.18731040]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18731073]

image boards
are four
the lonely

[Anonymous No.18731144]

>>18719856
>>18719867
>>18719874
>>18720973
>>18722478
>>18727224
>>18728982
shit

>>18720958
>>18721834
>>18723876
>>18725821
>>18728679
>>18730395
you tried, but its just bad

>>18722253
>>18723926
>>18725581
>>18728413
you tried, but its really not good enough

>>18725082
just because it has linebreaks, doesnt mean its poetry

>>18729828
thats actually not so bad, but the meter is off, right?
Also, make an effort and spend more then ten seconds on it.

All in all a pretty bad thread. Usually there are at least some half-decent poems here and there.

[Anonymous No.18731174]

>>18731144
There were half-decent poems here, anon. You just read them like you'd read a newspaper on the toilet. Your criticisms is like defecation- needing no mental exertion, a base, animal function, a grunt.

[Anonymous No.18731669]

how to make child poems?
i have no experience with poems. i know some rules but never did one

[Anonymous No.18732101]

Hush, he's on the walkie
Hear that? He said "Try to stop me.
Forget what you've heard
Know that God is a Serb
And he bombed Nagasaki."

>>18721834 "Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Nishin Maru..."

>>18720958 "society is my father and i don't like sharing my feelings with him"

[Anonymous No.18732189]

still a work in progress:

Il pleut sous la table.

Je m’y cache toujours
Quand l’ibis rouge arrive.
Son bec passe la porte
Et se pose sur mon épaule.
Voilà sa tête et puis son cou,
Coulante procession de l’oiseau veine.
Ecoutez-le murmurer: «Baobab !»
Sa voix rauque et faible à mon oreille:
«Baobab ! Baobab ! Baobab !»

Son cou enlace le mien,
Son bec embrasse mon sein.

Mon cou si blanc où il se pend.

Ne me parle plus de baobabs,
Arbres maudits aux racines doubles :
Pères de l’horizon.

Disparait ibis rouge !
Les métaphores ne métaphorisent pas !
(métaphore n’est pas une métaphore)
En un souffle l’oiseau s’envole.

J’aurai l’ibis un jour,
Et lui brisant le cou
Je pousserai la table
Pour faire du ragoût
D’ibis au baobab.

>shitty translation

It is raining under the table.

I always hide there
When the scarlet ibis comes.
His beak passes the door
And lays on my shoulder.
Here is his head and then his neck,
Flowing procession of the vein bird.
Hear him whisper: “Baobab!“
His hoarse and week voice to my hear:
“Baobab! Baobab! Baobab!“

His neck enlaces mine,
His beak embrasses my breast.

My neck so white where he hangs.

Don’t talk to me about baobabs anymore,
Cursed trees with double roots:
Father of the horizon.

Disappear scarlet ibis!
Metaphors don’t metaphorise!
(metaphor is not a metaphor)
In a breeze the bird flies away.

I’ll have the ibis one day,
Breaking his neck
I’ll push the table
To do a stew
Of ibis with baobab.

>>18730395
Are you a native French speaker? Because there are a few errors here and there. Your verses are also not consistent in length which wouldn't bother me if I was sure that was what you were going for. Very long verses are a hard craft to master, see SJP for instance. Now for the meaning itself, while your imagery isn't bad overall it's a bit overdone, again this is not bothering if you push it somewhere new and surprising but it's not just the case here. Your poem is pleasing to read, but in a very superficial manner and does not invite for a reread, your poem is pleasing like an IKEA table is pleasing.
>>18729828
Could be a song, but you rely too much on the last line to make your poem work. The rest is barely poetry.
>>18728679
funny
>>18727224
bad, but check out La Figlia che Piange

[Anonymous No.18732330]

>>18731669
Simple subject and simple language. Strict footing and meter, specifically something iambic in latetrameter or pentameter. Strict rhyme scheme as well, with little internal or slant rhyme.

[what is your opinion No.18732342]

>>18732189

oui je suis fr

à la base j'ai écrit ce que j'ai ressenti sans trop faire attention à la forme que ca allait prendre, et ensuite je me suis relu et j'ai voulu approfondir ce moment qui m'était cher, et j'ai essayé d'en faire un poème

faut dire que je m'y connais pas trop aussi mais je vais commencer à apprendre

merci

[Anonymous No.18732373]

>>18731144
>just because it has linebreaks, doesnt mean its poetry

Can you elaborate? I want to edit the poem. But I need some advice

[Anonymous No.18732397]

>>18732342
Pas de souci, on sent que tu as essayé (mais bon les fautes d'orthographes ça passe mal quoi). Lis plus de poésie et continue sur cette voie :)
Je te recommande aussi le livre Réthorique de la poésie par le Groupe mu, super bouquin. Et puis lis des essais sur la poésie en général (Reverdy, Valery, Bonnefoy ou Rilke par exemple en ont de très bons).
Je ne voulais pas faire la remarque parce que je n'étais pas certain que tu étais français, mais méfie toi des expressions comme "coup de foudre" autour de laquelle tu as voulue jouer : bien qu'elles aient une véritable force propre, il est difficile d'en faire quelque chose de véritablement intéressant.

[Anonymous No.18732400]

>>18732373
not him but your poem lacks imagery and reads like prose: the line breaks feel gratuitous

[Anonymous No.18732436]

>>18732330
the concept of having to follow metrics freak me out
now how to find inspiration? tried to write what the i lyric (don't know if it's the term in english) lives but nothing

[Anonymous No.18733294]

bump

[Anonymous No.18733352]

>>18732436
Dr Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham is, for the most part, written in a loose iambic tetrameter. Shakespeare's Sonnets are written in iambic pentameter. It sounds harder than it is, iambic is fairly fluid in the English language. It's writing in other footings, strictly, that can become difficult. Inspiration lies both within you and around you: only you can find around you what sparks that flame inside you.

[Anonymous No.18733404]

>>18732436
How to find inspiration? Explore. Find new things, feel new things. Let them rest for a while so you are equally impressed by them the next time you pick them up.

For instance, there is a park near by me with a white bridge hoisted far above the ground, lancing into a dark forest. By day, walking there was another task. By night, an hour where no one dared tread there, it was transformed.

The bridge became a passage to the underworld, the massive trees looked like submerged, ashy towers and parapets. Even deers grazing below the bridge, captured in distant streetlamp-light didn't look the same. In these moments of heightened awareness (and apprehension; it was nighttime, after all), I suppose you find inspiration if you are that sort of man.

I don't condone putting yourself in danger, or great danger at least, just put yourself in new, uncertain circumstances. Go out and live. Talk to people, they have plenty of stories. Keep writing, keep practicing and eventually inspiration will come more naturally.

But these are just my thoughts

[Anonymous No.18734160]

>>18732189
>bad
Why?
And how would you improve it.

[Anonymous No.18734189]

Sketching with graphite--
microscopic mountain range--
crush to create--dust

[Anonymous No.18735422]

bump

[Anonymous No.18735895]

>>18734160
The idea isn't uninteresting but the execution is just boring imo: once you've read it you understood everything about it. Feels more like a joke than a poem.

[Anonymous No.18736112]

Does anybody here write prose poems? What makes a prose poem a poem and not just prose?
I wrote a short piece after waking from a dream that maybe fits, but I don't really know. Maybe I'll post it after I look it over a bit more.

[Anonymous No.18736960]

>>18736112
I've written one. Idk, it's just something that's not quite either one--some amalgamation of the two.

[Anonymous No.18737579]

>>18736112
if there's a tension in the language then it can qualify as poetic, the rest is matter of calling it a poem instead of a short text

[Anonymous No.18737726]

I want to be there
I want to tell him where he's going
I want to give him his rifle
I want to tell him to keep his feet dry
I want to watch his back while he sleeps
I want to take point so he doesn't have to
I want to take his ruck when he can't stand anymore
I want to huddle in a hole while were taking artillery
I want to hold the hill with him
I want to kill charlie before he kills us
I want to keep the belt steady so he doesn't have to stop killing the enemy
I want to cary him to the LZ when its time to go
I want to remind him of home
I want to wrap him in a flag when he gets off the plane
I want to tell him he made it
I want to tell him he did is country proud
I want to tell him it wasn't his fault he was there
I want to make sure he never feels alone
I want to tell him we all went a little crazy
I want to tell him he'll be a part of history
But I can't.

[Anonymous No.18738615]

Just posting old poems of mine as bumps

>Moonhung Irises

Every lover's eye of blue
and green, with 'endless' shimmering,
seems to be remarked upon
by all the poets of the world.

They say the sea, deep and true,
reflects within an optic hue
befit for only angels
such as they have all deemed *you*.

Yet some starry evening stare
does hang a moon reflected in
the outer edge of each an eye
which lights the blackness in a life.

A sun one's shunned themself to see
by leaving it behind,
has found its light into my life
by irises before me.

And long as there is light to see
them kindly staring back at me,
there glistens bright and gently
all the light their presence grants me.

[Anonymous No.18738715]

I sometimes drop it, for a Quick —
The Thought to be alive —
Anonymous Delight to know —
And Madder — to conceive —

Consoles a Woe so monstrous
That did it tear all Day,
Without an instant's Respite —
'Twould look too far — to Die —

Delirium - diverts the Wretch
For Whom the Scaffold neighs -
The Hammock's Motion lulls the Heads
So close on Paradise -

A Reef - crawled easy from the Sea
Eats off the Brittle Line -
The Sailor doesn't know the Stroke -
Until He's past the Pain -

[Anonymous No.18739376]

Taking advantage of the presence of fellow frenchmen to have one of my metered poems reviewed because I'd really like to improve them as much as I can.

Le Poète muet

J’ai pour Muse, comme une chienne écumant de rage,
Une Furie aux yeux révulsés qui m’épaule,
Qui toujours illumine la nuit de mon front
D’éclairs d’angoisse et de nausée, fiel de sa viole.

Muettes et animées comme une affliction,
Ses sœurs me cernent dans une ronde bachique
Et, lorsque l’autre étouffe mon chant arythmique,
Couronnent ma gorge des lauriers du garrot.

Ma langue est raide comme l’écorce des arbres
Dont j’aurais voulu aimer le silence plein
Et mon bras est si lâche qu’il plie sous l’archet.
Pourtant, je bénis ces joues ravinées de feu,

Ces doigts jaloux tenant la jeunesse bridée
Où comme des courroies mes veines sont nouées,
Ce mors pareil à un sein m’abreuvant de crainte.
Je bénis du crime de ma fragilité.

Car la plaie de mes yeux est infectée de Ciel
Qui de secret m’oppresse et d’étendue m’élève,
Je me résigne au sommeil tristement coupable
De l’âme enfante qui m’enferma dans ses ailes.

Dissimulé entre les créneaux de leurs corps,
Impuissant à renaître plus que l’avant-né,
J’écorche en balbutiant l’ancienne magie
Et comme un désir peu à peu m’évanouis.

>>18730395
I think I've already criticized your poems in the past, if indeed they were yours. My stance is the same, I'd advice trimming your lines a bit, getting rid of superfluous imagery and making them shorter. For example, I'd get rid of either "cendres" or "fleurs" or maybe combine them to get something like "sur un nuage de fleurs cendrées". Well, that's how I'd proceed myself. Either way, you're always inspired which is the most important, you're like marble waiting for a sculptor to carve you.

>>18732189
I don't always understand your poems though I can tell this one's inspired from Michaux, right ? You've got a consistant style which is good but the symbolism here went over my head.
Also, I'm very interested in that Rilke essay on poetry you've mentioned. Care to give me the title ?

>>18723926
This one's good. Usually I'm not too fond of modern romantic stuff because the subject of loss of spirituality can be a really tough topic, yet the execution went rather well here.

>>18725581
Usually hate anaphoras but you somehow made it work

[Anonymous No.18739733]

Stoner

My legs are crossed atop a leaf.
Its soft sways and bobs at ease
are imperceptible to me.
Spouting out from dirt to stem,
its pad curves up then down again,
collecting droplets such as me.
Each glass-bead sea rolls aimlessly
down green-hill tongue, then slips the lip
which drips them down for thirsty dirt.
Distilled they were by daylight heat
where, still, the leaf did capture each
until released by gravity.

My legs are crossed atop a leaf.
It's soft sways, and bobs at ease
are far too kind to set me free.
I watch as suns go dim with rust,
and see the clouds erode to dust
as time sifts by in gradients.
Shaded night and slivered moon
reveal so little yet so much
as day fades out of memory--
The garden all around me gone
from sight and mind with bob and sway
and legs so crossed atop a leaf.

[Anonymous No.18741276]

>>18735895
>Feels more like a joke than a poem.
Can poems not be funny?
If you understood it after one reading it did its job.
What do you want? A puzzle.

[Anonymous No.18741492]

one of you bastards banned me…grow up

[Anonymous No.18742291]

bump

[Anonymous No.18742521]

>>18732189
Intéressant, mais comme l'autre anon, je ne saisis pas la symbolique du baobab. Il y a tout de même de belles sonorités, a part le passage sur les métaphore, et surtout "métaphorsient" que ignoble a l'oreille.
>>18739376
J'aime beaucoup, les images sont bien construites et les sons bien assemblés. J'aurai aimé écrire quelque chose comme ça.

J'ai rimés les quelques vers suivant en Corse, pas édités encore ce sont des premiers jets :

Illustre cette terre
Ces ocres brûlés parsemés d'arbres morts
Tyrannisée par l'or de l'astre solitaire
Torturée de remords

Illustre cette terre
Arrosée de sueur de larme et d'alcool fort
De musique éternelle de courage et de mer
Pourtant si sèche encore

Illustre cette terre
Qui absorbe les siècles les âmes les corps
Avale la violence engloutit la misère
Cette île carnivore

[Anonymous No.18742546]

>>18730395
La poésie est présente malgré quelques fautes de français. Ce serait infiniment mieux si tu arrivais à te débarrasser des sons "é" qui se suivent, comme dans "tombée et elle" ou bien "te garder et".
"La foudre tomba, elle déposa..."
Et simplement "t'attraper te garder te protéger" par exemple. Malgré cela je l'ai dit, j'aime beaucoup.

[Anonymous No.18743596]

Hitler, alone, contemplates his maps, laid out on the table, and a globe.

HITLER: How was it...what was his name again...that little man...
Chaplin? Yes, that’s right, Charles Chaplin.
A kind of gnomic scarecrow, that fellow,
Some type of goblin smeared with moonshine-anemic make-up.
Before my face he would not dare look up
Without his bowels dissolving into breast milk.
Chaplin...He portrayed me in that comedy...
It was a good film. Clowns have their cunning.
I was playing with a globe, like a happy child.
That was a clever way of making fun of me...
I’ll give that bastard that. Cowards will dare
Grow fangs if they know they are safe.
But if he knew...if they, if everyone only knew,
If all those people, all that flesh could peep inside my brain
And see the the unborn fetuses of the wonders
I have imagined for a future so distant in time
That it doesn't even babble, the embryos of monumental things
Pulsing and kicking and swimming in the dark before birth
That is my mind...those Babylons whose stones
Are still composed only of the mists of dreams.
The cathedrals of matter and spirit that live in me
Are still tadpoles sleeping inside the bowels
Of the seeds that I planted to fruit on the horizon
Of the horizon, to be eaten by human races
Of a thousand years in the future...
Even the pulp of the fruit of Paradise, that made all heaven sigh;
Even the taste of Eva's milk in Abel's mouth;
Even the warmth of the first bath of forgiveness
That the deity gave to the first being that let him down...
None of these supreme flavors, flavours that would make
The visceral honey-flood of orgasm nothing but
The brusque caress of a callused hand, none of these ecstasies
Tasted so sweet as the fruits of the future I would give them.
If they could witness a single whisper of the glory
That I would raise from the dust in all corners of the world.
I would cover the Earths crust with marble monuments,
I would dress the souls of humanity with mantles of light.
I would force the human race to achieve its fullest potential...
Fearful curd-faced clown, you don’t know how tragic is your satire.
If only I could actually hold the world in my hands...
Here pyramids would be erected, there lice crushed:
None of the trillions of rocks that float in the dark oceans
Of the cosmos Would be more magnificent...And yet...
My hands...so weak now...trembling...
In the past I felt my nerves throbbing, the blood kicking in my veins
As I spent the night working, the pleasurable pain of the pen
Pressing against my fingers...The bitter taste of coffee in my mouth
Echoed promises and fulfillment...That’s all over now,
It’s futile to think on it.


1/2

[Anonymous No.18743627]

>>18743596

(He walks to his desk and take some papers out of a drawer. They are some drawings and old scribbles.)

HITLER: I wonder if things could have been different.
I’m so tired... There are more drugs in my veins than blood.
What if this was all for nothing?
All this muscle work, all this mental work, all this suffering,
All this blood and sweat and tears and cerebral fluid.
I threw my saps like wash to the pig of a hideous world
When they should be the delight of angels and mermaids.
If only I had put more effort into my art... I was young...
Maybe I could be happy now, not this statue of nervous tics ... happy,
And living an anonymous life, maybe in the country
That I love so much...maybe a hut in the black florest.
The stomach of happiness is satiated with so little.
I would not depend on the weakness of others,
On the lack of wolves and toothed-juices in the stomach of others,
On the watery, the moon-dew marrow of others.
I didn’t have to be extremely successful,
Only be able to live of my art. I wonder
If I was wrong about it all. To hate others:
It’s so tiring, so life-consuming.
What man on Earth has a hand capable of crushing
Every man on Earth who deserves to be crushed.
How many nights of heartburn and sour breath in the night dew,
How many days of foam in my mouth, of rotten egg yolks for suns.
But the human leprosy kept raising its head
And stirring, and worming, and pulsing,
And it didn't matter how many blows you gave.
The gospel of fire never cleansed that damned scabies...
How much of my mind and body and soul
I gave as food to hatred...was I wrong?
To rise so high that my face was already tanned by the stars,
The heavens offering me their innermost delights,
Like a virgin...to soar so high, much, much higher
Than the nurseries of Eagles, higher than the youthful
Dreams of Babel, only to fall when I already had
The taste of glory in my palate... the golden olive oil
That not even the angels taste...and then to fall
Into this mud, into this world of slime
Where worms are the great legislators, even though
I have offered myself as a sacrifice to destroy them all.
What is the final meaning of my life?...”

Enter a general

GENERAL: My führer, we need you to approve some orders and plans of action.

HITLER; Yes, yes, of course you do. Yes, I'm going.

English is not my first language, so i just did it with free verse.

[Anonymous No.18743670]

>>18743627
What is your native language?

[Anonymous No.18743879]

>>18743670

Portuguese (by the way, I'm not a nazi, was just trying to think like a playwright writing a historical play about the end of the third Reich).

[what is your opinion No.18744100]

>>18742546
>>18739376

merci bcp ça fait plaisir

[Anonymous No.18744692]

>>18742521
This reminded me of Césaire's Cahier d'un retour au pays natal because of the violent tonality of your expression and the repetitions. Are you perhaps Corsican ? I find here what I liked in Césaire's work, merciless benediction and condamnation, but your text may lack identity. I'd have enjoyed it more if you had mentioned elements that made apparent the fact you're talking about Corsica.

[Anonymous No.18744708]

>>18743879
I understand. It's good, it has some excellent metaphors. I don't have any aversion to free verse but it could still be polished

[Anonymous No.18744929]

>>18744708
>I don't have any aversion to free verse but it could still be polished

Definitely. It can be much more concise. It's curious that whenever we go back to something we've written after a while the mites of the defects have fattened into hippos.

Just reading the word "moonshine-anemic" again gives me a shiver of disgust (it sounds artificial even in a poetic drama speech).

[Anonymous No.18744953]

>>18744929
You despise "moonshine-anemic?" How would you do it better, nowadays? I see nothing wrong with the structure, but perhaps you dislike the word choice, or believe it is histrionic.

[Anonymous No.18745022]

>>18744953

I don't know how to explain it, it's just a feeling. It seems to me now that it doesn't sound well as a compound word (portuguese is far less free when it comes down to writing compound words, so I don't have a good deal of practice with it. The freedom of engçish in things like this is something I honeslty envy).

It's not so much the image itself that bothers me, but the way I wrote it.

But it's moslty just a gut feeling, I can very well be wrong.

[Anonymous No.18745056]

>>18745022
It is a part of poetic innovation and exploration, to create these strange, sometimes unseemly combinations. But dare to, even at the cost of appearing like an upstart.

And always be aware not only of the superficial impression you are making with your words (what someone immediately thinks when they hear moonshine-anemic), but also of deeper meanings (Charlie Chaplin is an imitation of a greater Sun, and yet he illuminates the dark night of life with his comedy, though he is "anemic" and "weak"), but sometimes the deeper meanings are a product of the reader and not the poet, as I think Socrates said.

"Moonshine-anemic" is an alright compound word, I'd say. He is anemic like moonshine. For instance, "reddish-gray" would mean a gray that is also tinged with red. "Moonshine-anemic" would simply be an anemia that is, in some way, similar to moonshine. It may sound awkward to you to use "moonshine" as an adjective here, but I don't object to it.

Or perhaps because I do the same in my poetry, I do not see it as a crime, when I rather should. But it is fine, I say.

[Anonymous No.18745112]

>>18719854
There are people who know about science
And then there are people that know about
The people that know about the science.
The latter is sure, while the former doubts,
That eschatology has nothing worth
To say about killing babies before birth.

In music videos are divinations
About future human sacrifices.
And demon news from radio stations
Puts spells in the air to make divisive
The people that base their opinions on
Who is their favorite utra’d person.

There are debates on if reality
Is even real, or if it is okay
To make another your meal. The decree
Was that, if you do it, you cannot say
That you do it, unless you make at least
A bajillion offerings to the beast.

[Anonymous No.18745193]

>>18745056

Thank you for your thoughts. It often seems to me that poetry has this difficulty, that you find a middle ground between the poetic and the prosaic, between what sounds really beautiful or profound and what is simply pretentious (I rarely think something is pretentious, but I've heard this criticism many times: it's as if Shakespeare could be bold and inventive, but that it would be "artificial" and "just pastiche" and "kitsch" to do the same as a modern writer)

But as you said, we need to allow ourselves to invent, even if the result isn't good.

I assume you write in English. I'm really jealous of the flexible, acrobatic joints of English. Many of the things that are so common in English (turning nouns into verbs, creating fresh compound words) call a lot of attention to themselves in Portuguese because they sound so different from ordinary speech.

For example, this line from Shakespeare:

O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
>And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,

The word for mouse in Portuguese is "camundongo". The transformation of the noun into a verb would be "camundonga". However, to any reader or listener this transformation would sound far more far-fetched than Shakespeare's coinage in English.

[Anonymous No.18745211]

>>18744692
>Are you perhaps Corsican ?
My family in-law is (not sure of the expression, but my fiancée's family).
Thanks for the feedback. I haven't read Césaire but you've interested me greatly.
I wholly agree with your criticism, it lacks a precise geographic identity yet. I planned to make it much longer but I would probably have to break the "er/or" rhyming pattern which makes me hesitant. I also thought about changing the first adjective for the next stanzas (replacing "illustre")

[Anonymous No.18745974]

bump

[Anonymous No.18747070]

bumping with one of my fav rilk poem

[Anonymous No.18747185]

A Haiku for Harvey Weinstein:

Fat, bald, and Jewish,
Without a working penis,
What other choice was there?

[Anonymous No.18748534]

bump

[Anonymous No.18749270]

Firm Janus, joint-welded for to against
Hopings opposed, vowéd never and whenst
A preaching promise, exhorted pact
Humbug, chatter, fool to find trust in 'fact'
Heavens smolder, white boiling torrents seethe
Frigid rain-spears humble, iced branches freeze
Envenomed fangs bite tight around the collar
Weeping wounds, poisoned blood—laureled honour
Yet still you ask me, gentle through and throuh
'Oh but why ever should men do this too?'

I don't know anything about poetry. What did I do wrong?

[Anonymous No.18750113]

Up-Hill

“Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.”

— Christina Rosetti

Dream Land

“Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart’s core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.”

— Christina Rosetti

[Anonymous No.18750503]

>>18739376
Un peu lourdingue par moment, peut-être un peu maladroit, je n'ai pas l'impression que tu cherches à aller à l'essentiel et je pense que tu pourrais gagner en force en essayant de purifier tes vers et ta structure. Pleins de bonnes choses ça et là ceci dit, j'aime bien le parallèle "écorche"/"écorce" par exemple. Fais attention : ton premier vers n'est pas un alexandrin.
>Je bénis du crime de ma fragilité.
Je trouve ce vers très maladroit.
>Et comme un désir peu à peu m’évanouis.
La comparaison n'est pas mauvaise en soi (aucune ne l'est), mais ici elle passe mal à mon avis. En particulier parce que le désir ne se résolu pas, dans la plupart des cas, dans un lent évanouissement, bien plus dans une crise. Or tout ce qui précède dans ton poème laisse plutôt penser à une crise, jusqu'au vers précédent : "échorcher", "balbutier" & "ancienne magie". Il y a une rupture de rhétorique qui à mon goût casse un peu l'effet du poème.

>I don't always understand your poems though I can tell this one's inspired from Michaux, right ?
En plein dans le mille Émile. L'usage du baobab est en particulier tiré de son poème Télégramme de Dakar (https://www.lesvoixdelapoesie.com/poemes/telegramme-de-dakar).).
>Also, I'm very interested in that Rilke essay on poetry you've mentioned. Care to give me the title ?
Lettres à un jeune poète. Excellent bouquin, et pas seulement pour les gens qui s'amusent à écrire de la poésie. De manière générale j'ai beaucoup aimé tout ce que j'ai lu de lui, en plus de sa poésie, sa correspondance est super intéressante (avec Lou Andréas-Salomé par exemple).

>>18742521
>a part le passage sur les métaphore, et surtout "métaphorsient" que ignoble a l'oreille
Oui il faut que je retravaille ça, dommage parce que c'est un peu le moment clé du poème. Mais bon c'est ce qui arrive quand on choisit la solution de facilité ahah.
J'aime bien ton poème. La répétition des "illustre cette terre" marche bien, le "cette île carnivore" fait une belle fin à un tout cohérent, même si la rupture avec le vers précédent est peut-être un peu brusque. Les assonances/allitérations fonctionnent bien sans être trop lourdes. Mon seul problème, c'est ton choix d'images qui est parfois un peu paresseux : "l'or de l'astre solitaire" ou "De musique éternelle" en particulier.

[Anonymous No.18751699]

>>18750503
Merci pour ton retour. Au niveau des images, je pensais en réalité que ça allait hormis le dernier vers dont tu as bien fait de remarquer l'expression inadéquate. Je m'en doutais mais je n'étais pas sûr, je pense le changer. Personnellement, je croyais que le problème majeur du poème tenait dans sa sonorité globale qui me paraissait inconstante d'une strophe à l'autre. Je peux te demander par ailleurs ce que tu veux dire par purifier la structure ? Et quelques autres vers qui t'ont paru bancals ? C'est assez important pour moi. Je me pense plus capable dans la forme libérée mais je tiens aussi à pouvoir ciseler mes quatrains et mes sonnets.
J'ai moi-même lu les lettres de Rilke, c'est vrai qu'elles sont très belles et servent de guide idéal pour un débutant, sa philosophie y est même intéressante. Je ne pensais pas que tu faisais référence à ce livre mais je suis d'accord.

[Anonymous No.18751966]

live and die by famine food,
hecks no Harib, surro ya-boo,
job production, Leysdown lectual,
pons asinorum, diswant shichimi,
submonthly fiddley black eyed susan,
didymus, preinfestation, mixed plate,
paranatal, come short, stand sentinel,
Grecianize intertwining, dimidial, allyless,
pippy mutic spiculated, shetar, tipward,
unconcurrent legend in one's own lifetime,
gene transfer, homme de lettres, set the record straight,
English lavender ad-hocly revirginate

[Anonymous No.18752152]

lashon hara, right off crudesome,
resynch undrink, never a dull moment,
sure as eggs is eggs, afterfruit, vineberry,
yesish good work, hold up a mirror to,
fluid-bonded gorram shitball, tranx,
stuff gownsman, noting, pedophile,
vantage-point discerningness, ungrassed,
geoprofile foundouk abigeus abaat

[Anonymous No.18752213]

hasty breaching, groundshark, golden bull,
climbing boy even-handedly freewheeling,
chronoecological, besinge, phenoseason,
synecdochally, slip the cable, earthapple,
polysensory, poor-spirited, on the dry,
don't keep a dog and bark yourself,
pigs may fly, 'Lizabeth

[Anonymous No.18752255]

netdeck, reconcatenate,
bins, rat-bastard, unjewish,
alienatingly, frayboggard,
dawb overhair, psycholatry

[Anonymous No.18752416]

BIG OLD MOLD

big old mold
makes my fingers cold
it's got a mind of its own
or so i'm told

who told me that?
why the mold did of course
big mold warned me
of my parents divorce
big mold told me
to go find the source
so i gathered my belongings
and marched on full force

i found it at the neighbor's house
under her bed
it looked like a rabbit
with a misshapen head
its eyes were all milky
and its nose and ears bled
if i didn't know better
i'd think it were dead

then big old mold
poked my brain and said-

that's the one, it lives, it thinks!
its eyes are sparkling, boy it stinks.
it looks thirsty, get it a drink
yes, take it to the kitchen sink!

i hobbled through the hallway,
avoiding the glare
of the creature with the sparkly stare-
a woman's voice said 'hello?? who's there??'
and i nearly toppled down the stair

from the corner a woman turned
a little scared, but more concerned
softly and gently, she hushed my yelp
'are you lost, honey? can i help?'

but as soon as she saw
what was in my arms
her expression soured-
she intended me harm

'you're not gonna take him.
you little shit!'
and she struck me with a hammer,
and my head was split

but big mold told me what to do
'swing left! dodge right! now follow through!'
she died with an awful gasp and moan
and i quickly escaped the neighbor's home

big mold said, 'its almost done,
just a couple more miles,
isn't this fun?'
i was afraid, i wanted to run
but big mold's plan had already begun

deep in the woods, in a small clearing
i set down the creature and pulled out a small knife
the handle was searing and glowing intensely, and the creature was shrieking for fear of its life

do it

the mold said

i did it

the creature was dead

its blood fizzled and burned and seeped into the ground
and we anticipated, not making a sound
and in front of my vision and all around
massive black figures, intense and abound
they consumed my form and my mind was unwound
and big mold said 'good job, friend. you made me proud'

[Anonymous No.18752623]

>>18720958
I suck his dick with a smile for hours at a time
Stare at his nut sack while I hold back my cum tonight
And when he ask me what position I say, "Doggystyle"
(And when they ask me what position I say, "Doggystyle")
But the fact is
I can never get off of his fat dick
And all that they can ask is (Ask is, ask is)
"I just wanna smack it" (I just wanna smack it)

[Anonymous No.18753031]

Here's one from another thread:

Butterfly butterfly shit on my dick
Butterfly butterfly shit on it quick
Suck on my dick and i'll make you my whore,
But if you really start wanting some more
Then kidnap and rape me until i'm aware
That never I'll exit your underground lair.
If you allow me one chance at a kiss
I'll dedicate decades to drinking your piss.
<3 :3
>>18752623
Kek 3.5/5 star shitposting effort. Half a star bonus for oc parody

[Anonymous No.18753317]

How do I into poetry? I need a creative outlet. Is there a meter that babbys should stick to?

[Anonymous No.18753376]

Girl
Shes mine
Shes my own
Off leash free bird
Choosing her return
Sent out for my function
Commiting small destruction
Call return, injunction
Smiling on approach
Arm embracing
Close the door
Loving
Cage

[Anonymous No.18753390]

>>18753376
Disgustingly stilted.
I somehow enjoyed >>18753031 and >>18752623 mroe than yours.

[Anonymous No.18753406]

>>18753390
Hah youre right it actively interrupt flow

[Anonymous No.18753412]

>>18753406
I forgot to tell you to kill yourself so kill yourself you stupid fucking bad poetry writing faggot

[Anonymous No.18753516]

>>18753412
Disgruntled faggot with contemp upon
His life unshodden, malformed and a yawn
Sleep that is something unreachable, gone
Deep soul of nothing, complete lack of braun
Renaissance paintings projecting his fear
He gathers his pain and makes it a spear
Drag honest passion may only remain
Esl faggots practising their stain

[Anonymous No.18753530]

>>18753412
Disgruntled faggot with contempt upon
His life unshodden, malformed and a yawn
Sleep that is something unreachable, gone
Deep soul of nothing, complete lack of braun
Renaissance paintings projecting his fear
He gathers his pain and makes it a spear
Drag honest passion may only remain
Esl faggots practising their stain

[Anonymous No.18753559]

>>18753317
Meter: tetrameter

Foot: iambic

[Anonymous No.18753680]

>>18753530
Lets give the nigger props, at least he tried.
Who cares if he writes garbage he can't pride?
The one syllabic verse attempt was trash
That sounds as bad as morning turds that splash.
The second? His heroic couplets read
Like bitch anons who overdose on sneed
They'll flood up every thread with nonsense shit
And never read but still like scrolling /lit/.
But this young poetaster has some gall
Yet has no nerve to find a book and trawl,
And 4chan threads can't help him as a reader
When nigga doesn't post, he's sucking peter
So don't continue fucking with me faggot
Just shut your mouth or open wide and gag it.

[Anonymous No.18753805]

>>18753680
Disgustingly stilted even within your ethnic prose

[Anonymous No.18753821]

>>18753805
*ethnic verse
Alright you win, cya

[Anonymous No.18754378]

>>18719854
it aint mine, ide be surprised if you knew where it was from

White egret
gliding over the swap canal

water like black glasss
reflecting cottony clouds above

Red gator up and grabs a bird dead out of the sky

water boiling red
i wish it was my neighbor instead

im pretty sure he shot my cat
a mean thing at that

Dreamin of the gator pit in my front yard ten or twelve big ones teeth propping up lips

inviting my neighbor over for a glass of iced tea
come on over bro, and have a drink with me

and in my dreams, the gators pick his bones clean

because i think shooting my cat
was pretty damn mean

[Anonymous No.18754396]

>>18719854
it aint mine, ide be surprised if you knew where it was from:

White egret
gliding over the swap canal

water like black glasss
reflecting cottony clouds above

Red gator up and grabs a bird dead out of the sky

water boiling red
i wish it was my neighbor instead

im pretty sure he shot my cat
a mean thing at that

Dreamin of the gator pit in my front yard ten or twelve big ones teeth propping up lips

inviting my neighbor over for a glass of iced tea
come on over bro, and have a drink with me

and in my dreams, the gators pick his bones clean

because i think shooting my cat
was pretty damn mean

[Anonymous No.18754658]

>>18752416
This is incredible

[Anonymous No.18754706]

>>18754396
>White egret
>gliding over the swap canal
I was on my period, so his bent white dick glossed over my asshole, ready to penetrate it

>water like black glasss
>reflecting cottony clouds above
Shit oozed out of my distended asshole, reflecting my tampon

>Red gator up and grabs a bird dead out of the sky
My pussy enticed his dick anyway so he crammed it in

>water boiling red
>i wish it was my neighbor instead
My period blood mixed with my pussy juice and it began to froth as he pumped me. But I would rather be fucking my neighbor.

>im pretty sure he shot my cat
>a mean thing at that
Said neighbor fucked me in the pussy something fierce, I think, but I don't remember because I was high

>Dreamin of the gator pit in my front yard ten or >twelve big ones teeth propping up lips
I regularly fantasize about fucking my neighbor in the yard, in the pussy and in my mouth

>inviting my neighbor over for a glass of iced tea
>come on over bro, and have a drink with me
For sex

>and in my dreams, the gators pick his bones clean
My pussy grips his hard boner until it's spotless


>because i think shooting my cat
>was pretty damn mean
I'm mad he came inside me so I want to fuck him again

[Anonymous No.18754756]

>>18754706
there is no sexual innuendo implied in this poem

[Anonymous No.18755392]

>>18753805
Shut the fuck up lil bitch i just btfo'd you
Step your game up you fucking jabroni

[Anonymous No.18755703]

>>18752416
WOW, incredible anon! strong poetic narrative and an ecovative tale. Kind of like an ancient tale passed down through generations.

>>18747185
haha :)

>>18753530
not to bad, good meter

little pond

A little pond does reside,
Just out of touch of tide,
the rollings of Devon it's throne,

Tucked away in a crescent,
It's waters so pleasant,
a stream at skys end stands alone,

For the reeds it's fought bravely,
Bugs still struggled gravely,
the stoat hunters skill, yes it honed,

Here's to many more an age,
of bugs buzzed with quant rage,
this little half pond would atone.

[Anonymous No.18756339]

>>18752416
This is the stuff I wish I could write, I love it anon, well done

[Anonymous No.18756606]

>>18755703
I don't get it, but I like the picture of the pond.

>>18742521
>>18739376

I can't into french, good on you review others poems tho.

>>18732189
I feel it, I can diggy. Sometimes you just to get back at the entity of things that are a minor inconvenience or remind of unpleasantness.

>>18732101
This one seems like I lack the cultural context.

>>18729828
Feeling it man. Fuck this place! This is bad enough.

----------------------------

THE TEACHERS PET

Stiffnes in trunks
No hand may touch
Such was the sin of Onan
Veloptous venus teacher taught
In imagination he could her undress
For this, he be the teachers pet and impress

Fruitful curves
He had eye for her
Righteous religion teacher
Peepee came second to praise
She be enough to inspire imagination
But a good boy would refuse masturbation

Late night waking
Garden bushes rustled
Out late at night he explored
There stood teacher dressed down
Her naked body white robes barely hid
Come, I'll be whom you lose virginity with

Deep under earth
In tunnels with trolls
He entered her unholy home
Seductively she led him astray
He let her chain him to the mountain walls
She cast off her cloth revealing cock and balls

For such folly
Forced to endure
The full warth of Futa
His boy butt would suffer
The energy of your untouched erection
Has led all my attention in your direction

Chains rattling
Screaming for mercy
Tears ran down his cheeks
As she tore through his cherry
Strong she passionately held him in place
Ramming against his prostate in futadom ways

Without touch
Bursting jizz came
Erections stored in ignorance
Butt clenching her dominating dong
Her hand milking him along for the ride
As her much bigger cock filled cum deep inside

Like a girl
Submissively fucked
Legs held up and moaning
He meekly embraced his futadom fate
He woke up in bed, was it all just a dream?
His dick and ass tingly and boxer full of cream

[Anonymous No.18756724]

>>18754756
A white craned egret's neck gliding over a swampy canal, before being consumed by a red maw, blood reaching a boil, wishing it was the neighbor, "shooting" inside "my cat", subsequently inviting the neighbor over, it's all viscerally sexual imagery.

[Anonymous No.18757163]

>>18756606
Sitting in front
Teacher pet ponders
Wet dreams be a succubus
Robbing the rightous of chastity
She pats his back once they're out of sight
Eyes glowing red "I'll be back for more tonight!"

GHAAAAAAAAHHHA! COOOOM COOM! They're real. It was a magic succubus futa and not a dream HhhnnNNNnngh They exist, this is the best ending uhngmmmm....

[Anonymous No.18757374]

>>18756724
the poem was originally spoken by an old Louisiana swamp grandpa, there is no meaning behind the poem besides its face value. its mostly for the imagery

[Anonymous No.18757708]

>>18757374
In what, a book? It's very possible the author intended for the poem to have sexual imagery despite this not being apparent to the grandpa character. The metaphor of gators-as-vaginas reappears and is reinforced throughout the poem.
>Snatching a white egret's neck
>Positioned above a "swamp canal"
>Big ones, a pit with lips
>Picking a "bone" clean

Sorry, you're pissing on my leg and telling me it's raining if this is not about sex

[Anonymous No.18757737]

Again, at the desk
My chin is not in my hand
And this ever-low sun

[Anonymous No.18757839]

Singsong fragment

I blow my whistle in the garden, hoe!
Bend leaves beneath my yellow gummy boot!
I greet gay Gloster "Hey-oh-hi-dee-hoe!"
And stride along my garden wall-damn-fruit!

[Anonymous No.18757964]

>>18757839
kiplingesque

[Anonymous No.18758111]

They call you two pigs 'cause you oink so swinely,
Two portly fellows so hoglike in girth --
But owing to how my pigs sing so divinely,
Your squeak-song like cherubs on visit to Earth,
"Guinea finches" if so-called would not be a lie.
If I didn't come home every night you would die.

[Anonymous No.18758326]

Going well, /poetry/ bros, very productive last few days, I'm close

[Anonymous No.18759657]

>>18747070
>it describes how a bitter man comes to be
Im a novice and i dont think this is poetry. Maybe when i read more ill learn to appreciate it but imo expressive writing isnt poetry. Theres no playfullness in the communication..

[Anonymous No.18759808]

>>18759657
It's a translation, it rhymes and has meter in the original

Wie ein Liegender so steht er; ganz
hingehalten von dem großen Willen.
Weitentrückt wie Mütter, wenn sie stillen,
und in sich gebunden wie ein Kranz.

Und die Pfeile kommen: jetzt und jetzt
und als sprängen sie aus seinen Lenden,
eisern bebend mit den freien Enden.
Doch er lächelt dunkel, unverletzt.

Einmal nur wird eine Trauer groß,
und die Augen liegen schmerzlich bloß,
bis sie etwas leugnen, wie Geringes,
und als ließen sie verächtlich los
die Vernichter eines schönen Dinges.

[Anonymous No.18759831]

>>18759808
Danke for the info

[Anonymous No.18759889]

>>18759808
>ABBA
based

[Anonymous No.18759912]

>>18745193
>>18745056
Cool, this is really interesting. Thanks for sharing anons.

[Anonymous No.18759924]

>>18747070
>>18759657
>>18759808

Here's an original loose translation that keeps the original rhyme and meter

Like someone lying down he stands,
Propped up he is through mighty willing.
Off like a mother, while baby-filling,
And all bound up in self-made bands.

And arrows coming: next and next,
As if they sprang from flesh they end in,
Iron shaking and free ends bending,
Still he smiles darkly, unperplexed.

Just once his sadness briefly grows,
And his eyes lie bare from painful blows,
Until they deny that anything hinges
As if scornfully releasing those
Whose hate against beauty impinges

[Anonymous No.18759957]

Rilkechads ...

[Anonymous No.18760197]

>>18759924
Oh this is much better, evocative, worse
Ouch

[Anonymous No.18760267]

>>18759957
deep engravings sought to be filled but never full

[Anonymous No.18760316]

Here I sit, broken hearted
Tried to shit, but only farted

[Anonymous No.18760424]

>>18752416
im saving this. but
>and its nose and ears bled
consider taking out the first and
>and my head was split
?? so he survived it?
>the handle was searing and glowing intensely
id make it
>the handle was glowing intensely and searing
>and the creature was shrieking for fear of its life
with a line break. so searing rhymes with clearing

[Anonymous No.18760614]

This is the first poem I’ve tried writing, pls no bulli and tell me how I can make it better:

Your air concedes you are not real,
you lack an earthly form
Because you are the high ideal,
the Sun above the storm

Although immune to mortal sense,
we cannot help but try:
Perceive you at our own expense,
within the mental eye

Your raven hair, your sculpted face,
and grand Olympian features,
Bring glory to the human race,
make Man a nobler creature

[Anonymous No.18760851]

>>18760614
Good poem. To get better at poetry you need to write a lot don’t be discouraged and you also need to read poetry.

To make it better you need to do more of this:

the Sun above the storm
Your raven hair, your sculpted face,

The poem lacks imagery, you have a good ear for flow, making the poem move forward and read easily.
I liked the last stanza a lot.

Here is an example of how you can go from

Your air concedes you are not real,
you lack an earthly form

To

Like a lightning-flash I gleam
or a wild, phantasmic dream;
hollow of luster and gloom;
I am impalpable, I am intangible;

It’s from Gustavo Adolfo Becquer rima 11
If you read Spanish, I recommend this poem.

In the Spanish version it says

“ vano fantasma de niebla y luz;”

unreal ghost of fog and light;

Which adds imagery as well as mystery to the poem.

[Anonymous No.18760993]

>>18760851
Thank you anon, I’ve made notes and will take your advice into account. I have a really strong desire to make something good that people will like to read, like I put something valuable into the world. I agree the third stanza is the best, I felt inspired and wrote that first. I will try to translate the message of the first two into more vivid images

[Anonymous No.18761391]

>>18760197
Let's see you translate it then

[Anonymous No.18761577]

>>18719854
I think I am meter deaf. What should I do to learn to understand this better?

[Anonymous No.18761823]

Cactus Land:
As the snow falls from the roof of my cranium-dome
I wonder, wander through moon-like tunnels
Finding alien faces in this cave of mirrors

In pursuit of rats tail just around the corner
I stumble upon a piece of myself; a naval string
A-faint-breeze-of-recollection-of-connection-passes-by
As I, once again, get lost in the snow-maze

[Anonymous No.18761937]

>>18743627
sounds kinda like faust ahahaha

[Anonymous No.18762205]

I follow no rules but post metamodernism architecture
on my way to you
I smoked all the cigarettes
my car smells like mine workers' bar
I sprayed cheep zara cologne twice
a new parfume has born.. petrichor?
a little bit of terre d'hermes under my pants
a little bit of oud ispahan behind my ears
ready to meet my pulmonologist
not any pulmonologist but my pulmonologist
are your lungs okay
your breath whistles
you have a fever
m'lady I'm good
your predilection dreams embrace the heavy atmosphere
besieged my existense
the little girl dusts off the ashes from my lap
who wakes up the father for this angel deserves to be crowned
all the sins of wars will be forgiven if he comes back from his sleep
and his blood recovered from the ruins of his vessels
I read the prayers from a persian carpet inscriptions as i lay you down
I dig deep into the rabbit hole
she digs deep into my nostrils looking for black fungus

[Anonymous No.18762959]

>>18761391
I meant that this translation hits harder and hurts more. It gives a different image and i thought it was better. Thanks for it

[Anonymous No.18763564]

>>18762959
Oh, thanks

[Anonymous No.18763607]

Poetry

What is it good for?
Is it for Clearing your head?

Poetry

What is it good for?
Isn't it for Clearing your soul?

Poetry

What is it good for?
I will never know?

Poetry

For I always thought all of this was silly.
Whatever it is I'm just not the right person for

Poetry
Yes yes, that was a silly poem with doesn't follow any rule but I don't care. Rip into me, baby.

[Anonymous No.18764329]

>>18763607
Is it supposed to be sung to the tune of war/what is it good for? Because that's the only way I can read it

[Anonymous No.18764990]

>>18764329
Yeah. I like to think it's a little more up tune than the original.

[Anonymous No.18765046]

the sun burns all beneath it's gaze
the cicada's buzz leaves us in a daze
the butcher's knife is like a lion's roar
the city's pride is in those that are poor

the smoke fills the streets like paraffin oil
cigarettes are the merchant's only toil
the children smile in their painful bliss
there is no greater lie than bloodless peace

alone a man searches for his lover
he finds her beneath an old tent's cover
her pale cheeks are as cold as ice
the city's wisdom is in his cries

[Anonymous No.18765082]

>>18761577
Meter is just the amount of feet per line in a stanza. A foot (feet) is (are) the type of syllabic pattern(s) being used.

"To sing the words within my soul"

Is a line in iambic tetrameter. This means there are four iambic feet in the line. An iambic foot is simply an unstressed syllable followed by one that is stressed.

"to SING the WORDS with-IN my SOUL"

When trying to write in a specific footing you can easily find yourself overthinking the natural stresses of your syllables, and "hear" them wrong. But if you go and read poems written in a particular foot and meter, and go into reading them knowing how the footing is to be read, you can easier find an ear for it.

[Anonymous No.18765150]

>this kills the frog

[Anonymous No.18765154]

El Cholondorro de la Puta
El Ogro de las Américas
Chiribín, pom, pom, mierda
La Puta

[Anonymous No.18765281]

>>18760993
Poets.org is a good source.
Check out modpo too
https://m.youtube.com/user/modpopennvideo

[Anonymous No.18765335]

>>18765046
The imagery here is pretty good but the poem seems sort of forced I guess. Like certain words were only used to satisfy a rhyme and don't convey an obvious meaning. Like
>Cigarettes are the merchant's only toil

What did you mean by this? Could it be portrayed more clearly in a different way? Not bad though keep at it.

Here's a shitty poem I wrote after reading too much 'free verse with enjambment' Instagram poetry.

Fucking relax with the
en
j
am
b
me
nt.
We're spent
Write lines as long as the prairie stretching out like God's leading the calisthenics class.
Touch grass?
Touch the period at the end of the page hold it to your ear take a break here.
Bring wine I'll bring beer.
Hold my hand it's not so scary a dash of ink or granite it's the walk that gets you.
Feverfew?
It grows deep in woods you have to trudge to smell the buttons to let the fever break.
Make no mistake.
Write poems of a snake slither sentences of silver strands that strike at the heart of those that leave the point to the next line.
Make time.
Make space for words like mine, before the Big Band when you and I and all sloppy strands of poetry were squished into the same
.

[Anonymous No.18765351]

>>18762205
Cool. Very stream of consciousness.
Don’t know if it’s satire or not.

[Anonymous No.18765585]

>>18765335
Free verse and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race

[Anonymous No.18765699]

>>18761937

Are you praising or criticizing the Anon? Faust by Goethe was boring as fuck when I read it.

[Anonymous No.18766139]

>>18719854
>the short version.

Your love, fly away, like a dove
You push, and shove
Outta hate

Is this our fate?
>>18719854
>The long version

Your love, fly away, like a dove
You push and shove
Outta hate

It's our fate
Now and forever
Still together

But why live a lie
Its over

No four leaf clover

What's better?
>>18719856
>>18719867
>>18719875
>>18727224
My posts and rates
>>18737726
Ok concept
Not super original
But it does not rhyme or flow
>>18753031
Good execution
But seek help
>>18753376
bad
>>18756606
To long did not read.

[Anonymous No.18766235]

>>18766139
>You push and shove
>Outta hate
I cant relate

[Anonymous No.18766389]

>>18766235
>Added. Thanks.

Your love, fly away, like a dove
You push and shove
Outta hate

I can't relate
It's our fate

Now and forever
Still together

But why live a lie
Its over

No four leaf clover

[Anonymous No.18766444]

>>18765046
Gonorrhea burns the dicks of gays
the poppers' buzz leaves us in a daze
the mohel's knife is like a lion's roar
the city's pride is an open sore

Pus fills the streets like a bursting boil
cigarettes litter the parks' green soil
the children transition in painful bliss
there is no greater lie than bloodless piss

alone a man searches for his lover
he finds him beneath a body bag's cover
hia anus had been filled with mice
the city's virtue was his vice

[Anonymous No.18766445]

>>18766389
>he shyamalans me

[Anonymous No.18766455]

>>18765046 #
Gonorrhea burns the dicks of gays
the poppers' buzz leaves us in a daze
the mohel's knife is like a lion's roar
the city's pride is an open sore

Pus fills the streets like a bursting boil
cigarettes litter the parks' green soil
the children transition in painful bliss
there is no greater lie than bloodless piss

alone a man searches for his lover
he finds him beneath a body bag's cover
his anus had been filled with mice
the city's virtue was his vice

[Anonymous No.18766480]

>>18766444
Good rhymes
Fun poem

Why must I masturbate so much
My dick is pulsing no semen in my balls

A day after I broke my hands
I learnt to masturbate even with casts

I masturba at least twice by noon
before I sleep I’ve stroked my dick
More times than six

[Anonymous No.18766554]

With my cum I bleached your anus
Only one side though #Janus

[Hanged Man !Avp6J8UOFQ No.18766683]

>>18760614
First stanza is 10/10. The other two are a'ight, but they don't live up to the promise contained in the first. It's such a good set up.

Here's a little ode on a man going to jail.
"Ah me! Despair, the serpent's head,
Slick from depths beneath my bloat
Has come to justly claim its due
And tug me off my boat.

Down for those ever watchful eyes
Glist in a crystal abyss.
Hungry to hook that tender place
'twixt where I shit and piss."

Made as he was to live a flaw
A child, a freak, and a clown
No father with strength to blind us
Or cut our monster down.

[Anonymous No.18766882]

>>18766683
I’m not well informed in the slightest but I really enjoyed this

To Them,

Fettered Fist
Met
Thou Unflinching Eye
Whose Unspoken Promise
Transgressed Certain
Fear beset upon primal trust
Token faith turned to dust

[Anonymous No.18766909]

>>18766389
>he shyamalans me
?

[Anonymous No.18767048]

>>18766683
What’s the promise contained in the first? Is it because I attempt to describe the unattainable platonic form hinted in the first stanza that the rest fail to live up, like the real world? Maybe that’s the inherent flaw in it

As for your poem, I don’t get it, maybe because I’m drunk. The image I get from it is a snake with glowing chrystalline eyes biting a man’s taint. Maybe it’s about Chris Chan, given recent events. Gross!

[Anonymous No.18767052]

based dubs Hitler keyed
hate fags filtered sneed
nu-/lit/ ain't better than /tv/
did you lose your /v/-card yet?
incels be like "i'm so hard to get"
fuck your feedback anyway
eat form your feedbag and stay gay

[Hanged Man !Avp6J8UOFQ No.18767297]

>>18767048
That's the proper imagery, the snake/sea serpent is indeed hooking Chris-Chan and I meant it as representative of the internet's effect on the man, especially gleeful onlookers of the train wreck. He cut open his own taint at one point to make a vagina, the boat is also an allusion to the fact he used to call his welfare check a "monthly tugboat", and the bit about a father references CWC's dad Bob, who died years ago, saying he was "cutting the internet down" to kick Chris off his computer on a recording.

I have been here entirely too long.

[Anonymous No.18767382]

>>18765335
I am testing to see what kind of people are here
I am a newfag
the thing I wrote took me about 40 minutes so it's normal that it looks forced
it's also too short for the imagery it creates imo
the 'merchant's only toil' wasn't forced tho
many big metropolitan cities run on crime and exploitation by some sort of a 'merchant' be it human traffickers, drug dealers or some sort of child abusers
they live off the pain of those around them
smoking is usually the only heavy thing they actually do

my idea is to break apart the 1st and 3rd quatrains and create two more out of them
the butcher will probably lose his roaring knife

I never understood instagram poetry
looks strange to me
stuff like:
>Touch grass?
>Touch the period at the end of the page hold it to your ear take a break here.
>Bring wine I'll bring beer.

not my thing bro but you do you
poetry is like any art
if you like it then that's all that matters

[Anonymous No.18767436]

>>18767297
Could you be anymore of a lazy tripfaggot?

[Anonymous No.18767454]

>>18739733
the first poem in the thread to catch my attention. really nice rhythms and alterations, and I like the slant rhyme, which seems so unforced and natural. The first stanza is definitely stronger, as the ending of S2 seems to fizzle out and lose the rhyme scheme that stanza 1 suggests. could do with some finessing.

but the title... I'd be a bit more askance with it if I were you. otherwise, I really enjoyed it.

I'm very tired and some part of me wants to think this is a structured poem, but I can't seem to remember any form that would fit...?

regardless, keep at it, I think you've got chops

[Anonymous No.18767468]

Nature is an Artist with abundant grace
Hiding but showing to those who have sight
In a strange tongue offerings gifts
'Take them for great are riches of mine'

Healing and helping to gather songs
Granting me right to make steps
By forgotten trail that becomes the road
Through faded and betraying maze

[Anonymous No.18767490]

Questions to the integrity of my sentimentality,
as a spontaneous personal ritual
fomented inspiration to maintain a belief.
I undertook your name.
You were given the name of a type of an ocean wave.
I strived for a deep satiation.
What remained was a moment-by-moment striation
of willpower striving after willpower to gain undeniable permanence to sustain
an ambience of consciously motivated shame

[Anonymous No.18767500]

>>18767468
this is so dumb it hurts

[Anonymous No.18767512]

清和節當春。
Clear and warm in the late spring,...
渭城朝雨浥輕塵,
The morning rain at Weicheng dampens the light dust.
客舍青青柳色新。
At the inn, the willows look lush and green once again.
勸君更盡一杯酒,
I urge you, dear sir, to finish one more cup of wine, for
西出陽關無故人。
Going west through Yangguan there will be no old friends.
霜夜與霜晨。
Through frosty nights and frosty mornings,
遄行,遄行,長途越渡關津,
Hurry along, hurry along, the journey is long, and the ferry awaits.
惆悵役此身。
Melancholy weighs the body.
歷苦辛,歷苦辛,歷歷苦辛,
Endure, endure, endure hardship, and
宜自珍,宜自珍。
Take good care, take good care.
渭城朝雨浥輕塵,
The morning rain at Weicheng dampens the light dust.
客舍青青柳色新。
At the inn, the willows look lush and green once again.
勸君更盡一杯酒,
I urge you, dear sir, to finish one more cup of wine, for
西出陽關無故人。
Going west through Yangguan there will be no old friends.

(1/2)

[Anonymous No.18767514]

Every time I post poetry I get banned for being to based.

Jewish books are for the Jews
And Jew messiahs, too
But if you're not of Jewish blood
How can they be for you?

Round millions you've woven.
A hypnotic spell:
Christ! The suicide visionary
death Revelling hell.

You curse all that's Noble,
You paise all that's vile:
Invert all that's righteous;
With satanic guile.

You urge us to bless them,
Who plunder and cheat us:
to love and caress them,
Who hate and I'll treat us

You're corpse is a rot an all for naught
For you! And you're graceless death
O! son of EL?
Eternal torment in a fiery hell

For there's not in thy teachings one thought that is true:
-thou art a false prophet
O! Crucified Jew.

Sucks
>>18719856>>18719867
>>18719874
>>18720277
>>18724674
Good>>18723876
>>18721834
>>18725821
>>18730395
>>18732189

[Anonymous No.18767515]

渭城朝雨浥輕塵,
The morning rain at Weicheng dampens the light dust.
客舍青青柳色新。
At the inn, the willows look lush and green once again.
勸君更盡一杯酒,
I urge you, dear sir, to finish one more cup of wine, for
西出陽關無故人。
Going west through Yangguan there will be no old friends.
依依顧戀不忍離,
Full of regret at parting, and filled with nostalgia, I cannot bear this separation;
淚滴沾巾,
Teardrops soak the towel.
無復相輔仁。
Such a friend I may never again meet.
感懷,感懷,思君十二時辰。
Yearning, yearning, longing for my good friend all twelve watches of the day.
參商各一垠,
Like two stars which never see one another, each at the edges of the sky,
誰相因,誰相因,誰可相因,
Who can carry on, who can carry on, who is able to carry on?
日馳神,日馳神。
Each day, my thoughts fly to you; each day, my thoughts fly to you.

III.
渭城朝雨浥輕塵,
The morning rain at Weicheng dampens the light dust.
客舍青青柳色新。
At the inn, the willows look lush and green once again.
勸君更盡一杯酒,
I urge you, dear sir, to finish one more cup of wine, for
西出陽關無故人。
Going west through Yangguan there will be no old friends.
芳草遍如茵。
By now, the scented grass has grown into a thick mat.
旨酒,旨酒,未飲心已先醇。
Excellent wine, excellent wine; even without a sip the heart is already intoxicated.
載馳駰,載馳駰,
Pulled by galloping dappled horses, pulled by galloping dappled horses,
何日言旋軒轔,
On what day will we be able to speak again, when I hear the rumble of your returning carriage?
能酌幾多巡?
How many rounds can we pour?
千巡有盡,寸衷難泯,無窮的傷感。
Even after a thousand rounds have been finished, one inch of sentiment can’t be extinguished, boundless heartsickness.
楚天湘水隔遠濱,
The sky of Chu and and waters of Xiang are distant and remote.
期早托鴻鱗。
Quickly, ask the birds and the fish,
尺素申,尺素申,尺素頻申,
Bring the message, bring the message, again and again bring the message,
如相親,如相親。
So as to meet again, to meet again.

噫!從今一別,
Alas! From today on, we separate.
兩地相思入夢頻,
Two lands apart, but close in dreams.
聞雁來賓。
I hear the migrating wild geese coming as guests.

(2/2)

[Anonymous No.18767534]

>>18767514
>Your corpse is a rot with magots and such
>For you!
>O! Son of EL?
>Eternal torment in a fiery hell
I think this sounds better.

[Anonymous No.18767536]

>>18767500
care to explain?

[Anonymous No.18767596]

The Professor

Down halls of learning did I wander
To watch the young skirts as they pass
Mine balls were a-yearning to squander
Six months worth of cum in they ass

[Anonymous No.18767653]

>>18767536
it's naive, superficial and uninspired

[Anonymous No.18767665]

>>18767653
Even if that's true—I pass no comment—I fail to see how any of those adjectives, even if they do apply to the poem, would necessarily make it bad. The best and most heartfelt of emotions are always conjured by simple things. Complexity is of the mind; feeling of the heart.

[Anonymous No.18767669]

>>18767665
good intentions mate, but I think your poem is not simple, it is filled with prejudices

[Anonymous No.18767724]

>>18767536
Not that guy but I agree with him, the poem is truly terrible. It has no structure, no rhyme or meter or even any pattern with the number of syllables. Despite the form giving you no constraints, it still contains extremely awkward language, like using the unnecessary adjective in "abundant grace," using "showing" as an intransitive verb, "riches of mine" which just sounds awkward and is not ever said in normal English, "helping to gather songs" (what the hell does this mean), "granting me right" (you mean the right), and "make steps" (also am extremely awkward usage). The way you skip back and forth between using and not using necessary articles like "the" is jarring. The theme is trite, the language is cliche, and the poem does not even have a solid theme or central point besides "nature is good." You start by calling it an artist, then call it hidden, then call it a benefactor, then call it a healer and helper, then describe how you can walk through it. It feels completely disjointed and aimless.

[Anonymous No.18767730]

>>18767669
It's not mine.

[Anonymous No.18768267]

>>18767669
What do you mean 'prejudices', of what sort?
>>18767724
>helping to gather songs" (what the hell does this mean
Perhaps it means helping to percieve the fluid of an inspiration descensing from the upper aethers.
>central point besides "nature is good."
The theme, probably, is that the nature has a soul that could be redeemed by an honest effort. However, it would require preparations of cleaning oneself from the 'commerce' (in a general sense) of this world.

[Anonymous No.18768299]

>>18768267
What's your native language? I can tell you wrote the poem because you use articles awkwardly in your regular speech as well (fluid of an inspiration / the nature has a soul)

[Anonymous No.18769654]

>>18768267
>What do you mean 'prejudices', of what sort?
About nature and in your use of imagery. "Nature is an artist" this has been said and read thousands and thousands of times, by great and small men alike. Not only is this idea ridiculous (would there be an "artworks" of nature without a consciousness of art in the first place?) but it's also boring. If your text had redeeming qualities in itself it would pass I guess but this is not the case and the other anon is right in his criticism. Same concern about imagery, it's just not interesting because you spout back things that you have either read somewhere or, and this is a guess, because you think they have a intrinsic poetical quality.
Sorry about being mean buddy, everyone wrote dumb things one or another. Keep writing.

[Anonymous No.18769707]

>>18767454
Thank you. Everything up to the 'time sifts by in gradients' line I wrote in one highly inspired session. Then I went to bed without finishing it, and for the longest time never had an ending for it. So I tacked on everything after that line just so it could be 'complete'. It's unstructured, I sort of let the 'bob and sway' be the structure behind what is otherwise a free verse poem--i felt unstructured embodied the subject material. The title is very placeholder, it's there just so what is to be taken from it is clear when I post it (and other 'needs work' or unfinished poems) places like here. I really appreciate the feedback, everything you said lines up with my own thoughts on what should be done to make this a piece I'm willing to add to my permanent collection.

[Anonymous No.18769990]

>>18769654
>Not only is this idea ridiculous
if nature has a soul hidden within it -- or rather occluded by the modern episteme -- then yes, nature is creative in the sense of Paracelsian Lumen Naturae.
>because you spout back things that you have either read somewhere or, and this is a guess,
>because you think they have a intrinsic poetical quality.
a-yo, u a telepath? because if not, that is just projecting. (though I don't insist that it is has any quality and you, or the other anon, is right about my demented use of adjectives.)

here another dumb thing for you specially
so here a critique is projecting hard
is clearly seen that he does value 'shmart'
while me -- I don't, I'd rather be retarded
alone, so close to holy groves and flying carpets
whatever poetry might be or was or even is
I want to know it not. Hope that won't touch your feels
Perhaps eternal things can pretty dusted be
Yet never throw 'cliche' on glimpses of the real
>buddy

[Anonymous No.18770005]

[Anonymous No.18770009]

translation

[Anonymous No.18770057]

>>18769990
Are you Indian?

[Anonymous No.18770074]

>>18769990
Whatever suits you, in the end I don't really care if criticisms hurt you. Just don't dismiss too easily the part about it not being creative.

[Anonymous No.18770339]

>>18770074
>Just don't
Stop posting.

[Anonymous No.18770457]

>>18770005
>>18770009
is this danish?

[Anonymous No.18770966]

>>18767512
>>18767515
Is this about travelling the silk road far from your coastal metropolis and getting stranded at the cultural border too afraid to move on?
if i understand it right i do like it

[Anonymous No.18772220]

>>18766683
le sort de tous les tripfags
prétendre être important
dans un monde de vapeur
plume ton chapeau
au plumage d'oiseau charognard
je suppose que renom
en enfer
est plus facile que de s'efforcer
pour le ciel

[Anonymous No.18772770]

Liquid drippings, anal source
Mucus green and texture course
Going hoarse, push with force
Strain to produce your main course

[Anonymous No.18772952]

>>18772770
Solid. Good flow and rhyming

[Anonymous No.18772958]

>>18772770
9/10 needs a reference to corn

They lay in twisting tombs
And wallowed in the mud
While making only room
For iron scented blood

The metal missiles whistled
Through flaming poison clouds
Which seemed to oddly christen
The beauty in the sound

Like turning of the surf,
Subject to greater powers
We fought on foreign turf
The struggle was not ours

[Anonymous No.18772962]

>>18719854
Jizz
Wizz
I'm beating it but it's beating me
right back

[Anonymous No.18773012]

Dear cricket, why sing songs of earth,
While those that make you prey
Sing songs of heaven?

Dear cricket, why do you hop about,
And why do you will to fly,
Always, into the sky’s mouth?

Dear cricket, why do you proceed,
In all your circuits and ways,
Into the many maws of fate?

Dear cricket, dear cricket,
Why does your night fall fast,
Always, in the light of your day?

[Anonymous No.18774240]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18774310]

>>18773012

Great poem. I wonder if you are the same Anon who wrote this poem (it was posted on a thread about poetry made by people from the ice age):

Sea so endless that seizes sea-whale
Stream of the sea that seizes salmon
Mountain river drags the rock down

Sun-roof above that carries sea-bird
Star-roof above that carries forrest owl
Moon sky that brings the roof down

Corn-field that harbors fox and hare
Tree-field that harbors bear and wolf
Travel-path scars walking ground

Ground below - what do you seize?
Earth deep down - what do you drag?
Dirt - where do you carry?
Soil - what do you harbor?
Rock - when do you scar?
Grave - why do you bury?

[Anonymous No.18774474]

>>18772958
Thanks, I really like yours, what if it went like this

They drop twisting piles
Of bloody anal mud
They make it with such style
"La Merde avec" blood

The muddy missiles whistled
Through rancid poison braps
Which seemed to oddly christen
The beauty in the craps

And burning of the ass
Gives us even greater powers,
We dined on foreign snacks
Now throw fiery brown showers

[Anonymous No.18775754]

Bümp

[Anonymous No.18775775]

>>18773012
Doesn't really say anything, not that a poem has to, but it's presented and worded as if trying to say something. It's contrived, and a poem like this really needs concrete descriptions to bring the life it begs. Something more concrete than simply 'singing' 'heavens' 'song'. What's singing? A robin? A kestrel? A pheasant? What's heavens song? The breeze? Flight? Warmth?
There's potential here, but acuteness and vagueness dance a fine balance in poetry and especially in a poem like yours. Hit the right notes to allow that dance it's truest steps and flow.

[Anonymous No.18776003]

Who is left to read a poem?
Elitist snobs, last name Cohen?
Poets read to other poets,
Normal men are left unknowing.

But unknowing might be better,
Than to suffer another letter,
Of what modern universities
Call poetry. Perversities!

'Ah, how witty and subversive!
Your free verse is so immersive!'
'Oh I love your lack of form'
'Have you ever written porn?'

Can you imagine a normal bloke
Reciting anything these faggots wrote?

[Anonymous No.18776084]

>>18776003
Imagine how many drawings, paintings, books, sculptures or ideas are abandoned or ignored that are nonetheless still art, and even great art. Now imagine jumping off a cliff over and over. Manifestation will take care of the rest.

[Anonymous No.18776144]

The Lost Atlantis

“The night of ages is passing away,
Yet the dawn of Atlantis shines afar,
Where the mind of man like a perfect day
Beams out on the earth like a morning star.

There is nothing new, there is nothing old,
In this beautiful world so fresh and free;
The mountains are filled with silver and gold
As they came from the hand of Destiny.

The hills and the vales will blossom in spring,
The ocean will roar with a sullen cry;
Old Time in his flight, with a restless wing,
Shall whir o'er the dead without pity or sigh.

So the sun will rise and the sun will set,
And stars will bejewel the upper blue,
And the earthquake shock like a gaping net
Will swallow together the false and true.

I hear a voice o'er the rolling deep,
And catch a glimpse of that far-off shore,
Where men and women will never weep,
In the new Atlantis, forevermore.”

— John Alexander Joyce

[Anonymous No.18776268]

write in common meter

[Anonymous No.18776277]

>>18776144
Man good poetry is so damn beautiful, it never fails to make me smile and feel inspired.

The Destruction of Sennacherib

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

- Lord Byron

[Anonymous No.18776369]

>>18776277

The Janitor came down on the shitposting frog,
And his cohorts surround him at the call of a Bogg;
And the sheen of their banhammers blinded the free,
The bold and the daring, the shitposter, me.

Now the Jannie of /lit/ spreads his ass for a blast,
And farts in the face of his foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the shitposters grow pink and crusty,
And their hearts full of farts grow large and lusty.

And there lays the Sneed with his shop open wide,
This Feed & Seed, formerly Chuck's, was his pride;
But now he lays mangled, broken by jannies,
A shitposting ban, 3 days, from the fannies.

And the anime pillows are full to the brim!
As the phoneposter dies he grows awfully thin!
All this for the posting of an illicit meme.
Though I'm banned, and I'm broken, my skin remains green.

[Anonymous No.18776370]

>>18774310
I am not, but I like this. Thank you.
>>18775775
I really can’t take your advice seriously, sorry

[Anonymous No.18776496]

>>18773012
Pretentious, dull

[Anonymous No.18776521]

>>18776003
Based

[Anonymous No.18776527]

>>18776003
Nice

[Anonymous No.18776544]

Orpheus,
Looking through old photos,
looking for a dead love.

New love,
Look back and it's lost.

[Anonymous No.18776619]

You gat gats?
Well I gat tanks.
You stank
When I hit u wit dat M29
You can take dat to da bank
Da blood bank

Now gib me dem dollas
Out you pocket
Or Ima spray rockets
into yo eye sockets

Ima take you money
n buy a playstation
yo life is a finite determination
of infinity
further determined by its own negation,
nigga!

[Anonymous No.18776632]

>>18776370
Then you'll always write less than mediocre poetry, sorry

[Anonymous No.18776655]

>>18776632
It’s not a matter of arrogance. I shared something I wrote, you’re free to critique and miss the mark. It serves you to write to whatever your ideal is by reinforcing your beliefs of what is good. It is not on me that you can’t understand something fairly simple, and I shouldn’t work to the end of making you understand something.

[Anonymous No.18776699]

>>18776655
Oh you think I didn't get it lmao. You do you man.

[Anonymous No.18777278]

as a bonfire in the night
the moonlight burns through darkness
its flames illuminate my path
by turning fear into calmness

stars are falling like straws of hay
their light is kindling up the moon
their dust is showing me the way
to save her from her fated doom

near the lake behind the temple
she's waiting while gazing at the stars
for me to put an end to the trembles
caused by all the fear and pain she has

silver maiden - daughter of the night
with skin as pale as snow
and eyes shining just so bright
to dye the world with all their glow

the maiden's cursed to fill this lake
by shedding tears for the painful past
unless one opts her heart to take
this cruel fate shall forever last

but whoever tries to hurt the maiden
has his soul will be forever taken
by her one and only father
the moon that adores her like no other

as I approach the lake near the temple
I see the tears filling up her eyes
seeing what could only resemble
primroses of all shade and size

the maiden begs me to end her life
''I want my heart to stop beating''
I showed her my only knife
and threw it into the lake without thinking

she then looks me in suprise
I grab her hand and ask her this:
''Would you mind closing up your eyes?''
just to give her cheek a tender kiss

as the maiden's cheeks are turning red
her heart is freed from all regrets
she then asks me from where I know
how to take her heart but not her soul

I then tell her all
how a heart without tears couldn't grow
her lake is now at its full
there is no more reason to feel dull

the maiden hugs me and then says:
'' this is how it all will end
a new curse there will be
to be in love forever - you and me''

[Anonymous No.18777295]

>>18777278
*throw

[Anonymous No.18777444]

>>18772220
>>18776003
i say based

[Anonymous No.18777508]

Women ought to know their place.
Sit at home and make their face,
And when I return, sore from labour,
They're half naked, wrapped in lace.

When I come home I want tea
On the table in front of me.
I want that woman at my feet
Under the table where I can't see.

If these standards she can't meet,
My belt's loosened, she gets beat.
She will come to learn and know
The consequences in her seat.

[Anonymous No.18778221]

>>18752416
>>18753031
>>18766455
>>18774474
>>18776003
>>18776369
>>18777508
these are good/okay

[Anonymous No.18778273]

>>18778221
Thanks, you named two of mine :)

[Anonymous No.18778338]

Does anyone else write like 1000 stanzas and just end up choosing the 4 best ones? Am I autistic?

[Anonymous No.18778736]

>>18778338
I don't do that

[Anonymous No.18778774]

Look!
A GET
Do you think
We’ll get one too?

Doubly blessed integers
Accompanied
(Of course)
With psycho finger

Make me superior
Check
Kek
Sneed

[Anonymous No.18778827]

>>18725581
>>18729828
These two are probably my favorites in this thread. I really felt the last line, "Worst of all it feels like home." I enjoy the imagery of kingdoms, as well as the rhythm and the rhymes in Seven Fathoms Deep.

Here's one -

DAIRY COW TRAGEDY

Here I am again.
Held inside this pen.

That rooster’s crow will never cease.
I’ll never get an ounce of peace.

A silent tear escapes my eye,
As I watch those passersby.

Away, my children taken from me.
Trapped in this barn for all to see.

They’ll be shipped to county fairs.
Held alongside kin of mares.

How long ‘til they take the place of me,
And experience this tragedy?

[Anonymous No.18779472]

Bump sneed

[Anonymous No.18780636]

>>18776003
Fair enough, but your meter has potholes and some of your rhymes are nails-on-blackboard bad. (N doesn't rhyme with M and K doesn't rhyme with T.)

Easy enough to tidy it up:

Poetry — who's left to read it?
Only snobs and Cohens heed it.
Pseuds who quack amongst themselves,
Absent from all normal shelves.

Barbarism's surely better
Than enduring one more letter
From our universities
Lauding new perversities!

"Ah how witty! How subversive!
Free-form verse is so immersive!
How I love your lack of form,
Deconstructing every norm!"

Who would ever want to quote
Anything these faggots wrote?

[Anonymous No.18780691]

>>18780636
You've neatened up the meter. The second stanza is much better, for instance. I quite liked the rhymes of the original though. Poem, Cohen, unknowing . . . form, porn . . . bloke, wrote. They aren't full rhymes as you've changed it to, but they are rhymes, half rhymes. It wrenches a bit but that just makes it funny, I think. Rhyming poem with Cohen itself I think is a very funny rhyme. And your first stanza with the changes kinda dulls the anti-semitism and makes it feel more tacked on and unnecessary imo.

[Anonymous No.18780825]

Does anybody have any tips for working on meter? About half of my poems have a rhyme scheme, but when I write I don't normally adhere to meter. However, I do try to pay attention to the flow and how they read.

[Anonymous No.18780979]

>>18780691
I agree, the fact that poem doesn't really rhyme with Cohen adds to the humor. The attempt draws attention to the word "cohen" which is also one of the important funny concepts (calling poetry Jewish). Just mentioning it within the line doesn't have the same satirical punch.

[Anonymous No.18781055]

>>18776003
>>18780636

I've revised it and kept most of your second stanza where the meter is improved, but kept the original rhymes. In the third stanza I changed Oh to How, just to avoid similarities with Ah in the first line. I've also changed the closing bit so the meter is better.

Who is left to read a poem?
Elitist snobs, last name Cohen?
Poets read to other poets,
Normal men are left unknowing.

But unknowing might be better,
Than enduring one more letter
From our universities
Lauding new perversities!

'Ah, how witty and subversive!
Your free verse is so immersive!'
'How I love your lack of form'
'Have you ever written porn?'

Why would any normal bloke
Read anything these faggots wrote?

[Anonymous No.18781081]

>>18780825
>Does anybody have any tips for working on meter?

Do you know what it is? Do you understand feet and stuff and the elements like iambs and trochees etc?

Stephen Fry wrote a very good book called the ode less travelled that can teach you all of this and give you exercises for it.

[Anonymous No.18781199]

>>18781055
Who likes reading poetry?
People who look Cohen-ey?
Etc

[Anonymous No.18781202]

>>18781199
>still trying to turn tables

[Anonymous No.18781452]

>>18780825
I can give one little trick towards meter for ya, but really make sure you understand the importance of consistent footing (following a structured syllabic pattern) in the meter (the amount of feet per line). Only once you're familiar with that can you: treat the last line of a consistently metered, and evenly counted stanza, as a 'fill' (in terms of music). Meaning, for example, if you are writing a poem that strictly follows four lines per stanza, four feet per line (tetrameter), and repeats a soft/hard syllabic pattern (foot) of two (iambic), you can deviate slightly from the strict pattern in the fourth line of each stanza. So if (la) is a soft syllable and (DA) is a hard syllable (this is ibambic), you could do something like:
la-DA la-DA la-DA la-DA
la-DA la-DA la-DA la-DA
la-DA la-DA la-DA la-DA
la-DA DA-DA la-DA

It probably looks stupid. But if you read it, even though it breaks both the strict iambic foot and breaks the tetrameter, it still feels and sounds right. I'd recommend if you ever do this, it does help to reinforce the 'fill' line with some kind of rhyme; but it ultimately isn't necessary. And don't go 'filling' lines in double time either (every other line). It works best if done in moderation so as to not lose the main metrical base.

All of this is mostly just a way to show how meter can be understood by correlating it with something more commonly/intuitively understood. Do not jump into this practice if you feel you do not understand meter.

[Anonymous No.18781676]

Shivering brook, wall benumbed with air;
Sunken low midst burdens to bear.

No speech, no sound—fear's gone and so too care;
The grounds gluts on its usual fare.

[Anonymous No.18782007]

abandon poetical meter, anon

[Anonymous No.18782178]

>>18782007
Yes, abandon all standard poetic forms entirely. Just write meandering aphorisms, or concise anecdotes, and call them poems. Embrace absurdism; reality is a construct of the mind.

[Anonymous No.18782346]

>>18782178
That's not what he meant though

[Anonymous No.18782509]

>>18782346
So, it wasn't saying to write poems like this?

Zig-zagging down the road
Trying not to stray over the center line
Or hit a curb
Or break an axle
Or flatten a tire
Or wind up in the next surprise sinkhole.
Driving in Toledo is not a sport
For the timid or the sane or the under-insured.

[Anonymous No.18782538]

>>18782346
Or this?

But patience is more oft the exercise
Of Saints, the trial of their fortitude,
Making them each his own Deliver,
And Victor over all
That tyranny or fortune can inflict.

Because these are exactly what I was referring to by, in order, concise anecdotes and meandering aphorisms. And those are exactly what is implied by 'abandoning poetic meter'.

[Anonymous No.18782711]

>>18782538
>Because these are exactly what I was referring to by, in order, concise anecdotes and meandering aphorisms.
No they're not, you're a projecting brainlet

[Anonymous No.18783242]

>>18781452
>>18781081
Hey, thank you for the feedback. Post >>18778827 is one of my poems. What do you think? I will certainly check out that book. I've done a little bit of research on meter, but just scratched the surface I feel. Again, thanks for the tips.

[Anonymous No.18783376]

>>18778827
Okay so the striking thing is the rhyme scheme. Six couplets. It seems to be generally iambic tetrameter - that is four feet to a line, each foot consisting of an iamb. It is not consistent though. But, read it aloud, you should instinctively feel where it feels like too much or too little is said in a line or where an iamb is substituted for another. I think the main thing though to pay attention to is how that rhyme scheme informs the reader. It is repetitive and childlike, monotonous. It's jarring because then you have the content which is supposed to be tragic or traumatic but it's got this very simple droning rhyme scheme and it doesn't fit. So, pay attention to form, pay attention to the rhyme scheme, these two things have major consequences for how the poem will feel and that should inform the content of the poem.

Also, watch out for cliches and melodrama. A silent tear escapes my eye, for instance, very melodramatic, over sentimental and cliche. And I doubt you would ever use the word cease in that way in real life, so here it just seems like you were looking for a rhyme and it sticks out as phony. Kin of mares also stands out for similar reasons, unnatural language.

If you want to rewrite this poem, I suggest you try to make it a ballad. Go and look up how to write a ballad and read some examples.

[Anonymous No.18783476]

>>18782509
>>18782538
Those are not what he meant, but it's telling that you're not even posting Pound's poems

[Anonymous No.18783751]

>>18776496
Agreed, generally, but I’ll fuck you in the ass and make it really gay

[Anonymous No.18783924]

>>18783476
Post your absolute best example of this from Ezra then

[Anonymous No.18783983]

>>18783476
You're right, abandoning poetic meter is anything but writing free verse *stroke* *stroke* *splurt*
Yet another anon who knows nothing, but posts on /lit/ and acts like they know the 'best' ways to poetics

[Anonymous No.18784113]

>>18783983
Another anon who thinks that the most influential poet of the last century is 'just a hack'
>>18783983

[Anonymous No.18784120]

>>18784113
I meant to quote >>18783924 at the end too

[Anonymous No.18784151]

>>18784113
>the most influential poet of the last century
Imagine thinking pound is anywhere near the level Eliot or any of the modernist writers. He was good no kidding and could manage to be great is some passages but would miss fairly often. If you want to get through to his best stuff you have to look throughout personae and Cantos to find the gems in the rough which is no different then the failure of Crane in the Bridge. He was extremely, extremely influential but not as a poet.

[Anonymous No.18784156]

I like to eat burgers
I like the burgers that play games with me
Is it sweet or is it sav-o-ry?
I like the pickles when they fall out of the bun
I like the cows when they try to run
I like the lettuce to sit gently and wait its turn on the edge of the plate with the little bit of sauce
Which acts like dressing
It always keeps me guessing
I like my burgers to be sold at a steep discount
I like my fries to be not a fixed amount
And they also sit to wait their turn
to be counted
I like my cattle unmounted
And protected from the evening sun
I like my meat cooked well done
And I smile at the end
When it's all done

[Anonymous No.18784215]

>>18784151
>Imagine thinking pound is anywhere near the level Eliot or any of the modernist writers
seeing that we probably wouldn't know who Eliot or a lot of other poets were if it wasn't for Pound, I think I can imagine that, yes
but arguing whether he was 'the' most influential is kind of pointless
just admit that he wasn't encouraging this type of poetry >>18782509
>>18782538

[Anonymous No.18784226]

Though any and many anon may know
I'll say it once again
Though you keep hoping your penis will grow
To exceed those of other men
You have what you have and that is all
I tell you this as a fren.

[Anonymous No.18784345]

>>18784113
Wow I'm impressed, that was actually a great example of free verse. You misunderstood me as disliking Ezra, which is not the case. People tend to think you can write something fun or pretty or insightful, without meter or foot or rhyme, and still call it a poem. But, like in your example, there still needs to be a some vague structure or pattern in the that's either one of the three or a patchwork of pieces of the three. Remember where we're at anon, even the best poetry writers here are likely just at or just below intermediate. Anybody who may have posted here before that is better than that likely doesn't post here anymore (this doesn't mean simply getting published either, though that certainly helps).

[Anonymous No.18784349]

>>18784215
thats not me
this is the only post I've made in this thread >>18784151 <---

[Anonymous No.18784353]

>>18784215
Believe it or not though, those two poems are from a popular poet and a quite well known poet. You don't even want to see the one I had queued up from Whitman, and I'm a fan of Whitman.

[Anonymous No.18784443]

>>18784353
I believe it

[Anonymous No.18784455]

>>18784443
>milk and honey

i tried to read that once. fuck me. it's just a tumblr blog that's been cut up a bit.

[Anonymous No.18784467]

>>18784455
I looked at every single one of those books, they are all like that
The only exception was a leonard cohen collection on the other side
I know that there are contemporary poets that must write amazing poetry, but I don't know how to find them

[Anonymous No.18784482]

>>18784443
Lmao no. One of them was Milton

[Anonymous No.18784503]

>>18784482
Milton wrote a lot of crap. Anything outside of paradise lost and paradise regained is probably not worth reading

[Anonymous No.18784558]

>>18784503
Ezra wrote a lot of crap. Anything outside the Cantos is probably not worth reading.

Look anon, I can do that too!

[Anonymous No.18784613]

>>18783376
Thank you a ton for the feedback. I will look into rewriting this as a ballad.

[Anonymous No.18784722]

>>18784558
I never said that everything that Ezra Pound wrote was amazing

[Anonymous No.18784806]

>>18784722
>one of the most influential
... is blood-cousin synonymous. You didn't say it, but the implication was there. You can deny that if you'd like, I know it's true.

[Anonymous No.18785130]

>>18719854
No lie
I wish, this thread, would die

[Anonymous No.18785865]

>>18784503
Wew get a taste of this faggot's hot takes.

[Anonymous No.18787010]

Still bumping with throwaways

Midnight Lavender

Swelling stalks of black and plum
glow dim below a crescent moon.
Midnight fields of lavender
reflect the feathered, raven sky.
Little ponds with lily spots
speckle yonder stars within,
mirrored by the water still
and patient as the owl's hunt.
Resting at the shoulder of
a gravel road long abused,
headlights cast their hope aloof
before they fade into the night.

[Anonymous No.18787213]

Anyone well-versed in Italian poetry?
What are some great Italian poems about feelings and love? Yes, this is this time of year, forgive me.

[Anonymous No.18787525]

>>18743596
>Without his bowels dissolving into breast milk.

>a future so distant in time That it doesn't even babble

>the embryos of monumental things
>Pulsing and kicking and swimming in the dark before birth
>That is my mind...those Babylons whose stones
>Are still composed only of the mists of dreams.

>Even the pulp of the fruit of Paradise, that made all heaven sigh;
>Even the taste of Eva's milk in Abel's mouth;
>Even the warmth of the first bath of forgiveness
>That the deity gave to the first being that let him down...
>None of these supreme flavors, flavours that would make
>The visceral honey-flood of orgasm nothing but
>The brusque caress of a callused hand, none of these ecstasies
>Tasted so sweet as the fruits of the future I would give them.

>The bitter taste of coffee in my mouth Echoed promises and fulfillment.

>All this muscle work, all this mental work, all this suffering,
>All this blood and sweat and tears and cerebral fluid.
>I threw my saps like wash to the pig of a hideous world
>When they should be the delight of angels and mermaids.

>The stomach of happiness is satiated with so little.

>How many nights of heartburn and sour breath in the night dew,
>How many days of foam in my mouth, of rotten egg yolks for suns.

>To rise so high that my face was already tanned by the stars,
>The heavens offering me their innermost delights,
>Like a virgin...to soar so high, much, much higher
>Than the nurseries of Eagles, higher than the youthful
>Dreams of Babel, only to fall when I already had
>The taste of glory in my palate... the golden olive oil
>That not even the angels taste.

Great lines

[Anonymous No.18787545]

>>18787213
I've only read translations but check out Leopardi

[Anonymous No.18788638]

>>18785865
do you read the poems or do you decide whether they're good or not based on who the author is?

[Anonymous No.18789161]

Can I get some recommendations for poets who are good examples of techniques I should learn for lyric writing?
I never really cared much about poetry or lyrics, but I'm a composer and a singer and I don't know how do words good.