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/lit/ - Literature

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1887578 No.1887578 [Reply] [Original]

Can we get an OC poetry thread going? I'm interested to see the latest /lit/ has to offer.

Plus, let's see some constructive criticism.

I will be critiquing and slipping in the odd poem.

>> No.1887596

Come on /lit/, post your poems!

Where are all the poetryfags these days?

>> No.1887625

Rebump

>> No.1887631

Goldblum

Three-piece skin-suit a coat-hanger crucifixion.
Goldblum, he gutter-speak with gin gimlet,
that inner-city train track:
killing it, definition of disaster flick.
All hair-sheen, all sauvignon.
Silk-scarf strangler, throat-wear theologian.
The world et cetera a droplet plucked
from impact tremor plastic cup.
Rain drop’s doppelganger
Doppler Radar chaos theory.
Menswear martyr must go faster,
eat food and fondle the earth’s ending.

>> No.1887634

>>1887631
Is that a poem about Jeff Goldblum?

If so, awesome.

>> No.1887637

This is an odd house.
The carpet is red and wet.
Was someone mopping?

>> No.1887641

>>1887634
Yeah there's supposed to be a caesura in the middle of each line, but it didnt transfer.

It's very loosely modeled after Anglo-Saxon verse

>> No.1887642

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.

>> No.1887643

>>1887631
Oh shit, there I was dissing rhyme earlier and this poem contains a slant rhyme. Fuck.

>> No.1887646

>>1887641
Well, sir, I have to say, I like it!

>> No.1887647

>>1887642
It sucks, it'll never sell.

>> No.1887654

>>1887642
William Carlos Williams, that's one of the few poems I actually like

>> No.1887664

>>1887631
Really good. I can't think of anything to improve this, even though I promised to critique. Sorry about that, though I suppose that's a good thing.
>>1887642
Hey Will.

>> No.1887674
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1887674

Critique me if you'd be so kind, OP - or anyone for that matter.

Peat

Done undone, deeds linger on
like heavy-hanging heads,
they echo down through peatbog holes,
in tightly thick-wound bandage gauze
round bodies, said unsaid.

Memory is echo-bound,
regret is ever-stirring,
a sealed cave of repetition,
preserved undisinterring.

>> No.1887710

>>1887674
Hmm, well the transition to the second verse seems kind of choppy. I don't like the way the message about regret is made really obvious, but the phrase "preserved undisinterring" is inventive. I question how 'proper' it is, but I'm not sure if that matters. Nice imagery in the first stanza, works well with the idea of memory. At least, that's my impression.

Moar poems and critiques! Be good-hearted!

>> No.1887739

Ughh rebump

>> No.1888905

summer evenings: a continued study.

i see you peeking at me
there
behind the blinds
you know i'm peeking back
over the shoulder
like in the movies
catholic school girl curious smile
droughty for warmth
on their cheeks
and little pink tongues
darting falsified lure
cadged hieroglyphic gospel
by whom your praises
have been sung.

>> No.1888913

>>1887578
A start to a poem that has been plaguing me.

over the tounge, greased with saliva,
a corner, torn away
by the incisive grasp of two canines
leaves a hole big enough for fingers to exploit;
flaying the rest fo the plastic skin.

>> No.1888914

The whirling metropolis,
so hysterical with purpose.
Faces lost,
in it's cellophane currents.

>> No.1888924 [DELETED] 

shelter thyselves, o
little words of george kelly
shakespeare reginald
rose ad nauseum: i find
and fare thee
well;

bowed together, the
fish wire of a universe on strings.

>> No.1888929

you don't deserve the black you wear
and I see you everywhere
you have no reasons to fight

you are the corporate solution
that has killed our revolution

>> No.1888928

Shelter thyselves, o
little words of george kelly
shakespeare reginald
rose ad nauseum;
I find and fare thee well:

bowed together, the
fish wire of a universe on strings.

>> No.1889029

>>1888929

Reminds me of pop-metalcore lyrics

>> No.1889032

>critiquing
>verb

I was going to post some poetry, but I'm not at all confident in the critical eye of a man who uses 'critiquing' and not 'criticising'. Critique is, and ought to be, a noun.

>> No.1889036

So farewell, then
Peter Falk. I knew
Whodunnit, but you
showed whydunnit and howdunnit.
Just one more thing --
...No?

>> No.1889037

something I scribbled down earlier

Winter
the time of death
the time of cold
when office workers go
from darkness to darkness
but in the garden,
tulips tips pop through brown covers
two birds fight, to see who lives
if only we had fights like these
to get us through the wintertime breeze
two weakest battle, to see who wins
and then the winner, he fights again

>> No.1889055

>>1889032

serious? Is english a stagnant unchanging language?

Is your critisism bad meaning bad or bad meaning good?

>> No.1889062

the turtle purple
said to the orange door hinge
"hey, did you know, nothing ryhmes with your color?"

>> No.1889072

Here is an ekphrasis I wrote, when I was high, about the revolutionary Greek sculpture the Kritios Boy. In hindsight, it is very homoerotic; apologies in advance.

Upon his face no secret smile has flowered.
such a face is shut like lineless stone.
it hinted once but never dwelled entire,
when he turned his head minutely in his step
and caught a glimpse of something, so beautiful and dire
it took from him his eyes.

Quite smug, the child who stalks behind the day
he needs not march or hurry with the hours.
so palpable his beauty, now that he is robbed of joy,
that I admire his grief
and ashamed despite his body, the shining Kritios Boy
he turns away his face.

Stand I as Myron's teacher here today?
Did he curse his Boy's lithe, frozen love?
petite the sin he carved, to have the lover's hips
and body proud in beckoning.
the life is surely there, but if I kissed his lips
they would be cold to touch.

His perfect chest flexed open for a sigh
heard by no-one- but perhaps-
did there live a boy whose beauty came near this
for which the sculptor burned?
if there was, the beauty is no longer his.
encased in stone it stands.

It pains to watch this blonde ephebe begin
to turn his waist and stride elysian grass.
Living, shifting pearl, and tactile, one with time
-enough, I must believe
that cold pentalic stone displays him at his prime,
void of flesh and heart.

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IsHxM0pccZ0/SwyU9JerFGI/AAAAAAAAAF4/FKN-lKRlY4Y/s1600/Kritios+Boy.jpg

>> No.1889086

If I could flip a coin
To determine whether
What I'm seeing
Is stone, or just a
Cordial lump of possibility
For defence against warfare

I don't have a coin

>> No.1889105

People say 'I'm only human' when they've done something wrong
I like to think when I sing,
and song,
People will call me human and throw their arms up high and long

>> No.1889109

>>1889105
i don't know why i like this so much

but i do.

>> No.1889113

Happy Birthday
You're a year older it's the 12th of May
I miss you.

It's been a while, I should go away
This was the wrong time for "Hey" and conversation
This is my long rhyme, poem, whatever. .

I love you.

>> No.1889115

As I was going up the stair
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish
I wish he'd go away

>> No.1889116

>>1889109
Me too, it has a lovely childish quality about it: "sing and song," "throw their arms up high and long." Reminds me in some way of e.e. cummings

>> No.1889139

>>1889115

yes.

>> No.1889146

>>1889116
>>1889109
Thanks fellas.