poetry thread

[Anonymous No.19633012]

abstract edition

post & rate
give feedback if you want feedback

[Anonymous No.19633081]

[Anonymous No.19633111]

>>19633012
The start of a thread
The unraveling of a thought
Let's hope it isn't all bad
And that this wasn't made for naught.

[Anonymous No.19633535]

I despise threads about Buddhism
They attract the worst reddit: loud, vulgar
Samsara raving spawning its flesh
As Ol'Neetch famously said:
‘Shut your mouth you ugly bitch’
That laughing Buddha of the North
Leave your orientalist opinions of the uninformed:
He was a Scythian. ‘Neither by Land nor by Sea’
And as a noble one against every infected ‘we’
Pig squeals cease
Let the silence speak.

[Anonymous No.19633692]

She'll find a man, loving and kind—
But first she has something in mind:
It's dark, it hurts, it's her first ride,
Yet she can feel both men inside.

She holds a cry, she's been through pain,
She bites her lip, she feels his vein;
She never thought it'd feel so good,
And she's not sure whether it should.

But it's too late to meditate—
She feels their thurst and feels their weight,
Her breats, their handles as they squeeze—
Her body's only made to please.

She feels her hair pulled back by him;
She knows she's not allowed to scream.
She meekly lets him grab and swirl
To prove to them she's a good girl.

She's now the perfect sex device—
For way too long she hid her vice,
Yet now she feels deep in her butt
Her new role as her masters' slut.

[Anonymous No.19633721]

Here's an original

Niggers on my screen.
People of the Jewish faith,
Why have you done this?

[Anonymous No.19633722]

>>19633692
Rhyme scheme about as boring as its content


>Evolutionary Arms Race

The lying smile of those vile creatures who call themselves women
Giving naught but pain and never understanding
Natural selection is their sole creed
Dissimulation of the goal their sole deed
For the human race must, nay shall breed
Only those strong enough to survive their heat
That single-minded and unconscious drive
That no weak man's genes must stay alive

And yet in their judgment they ever err
Due to man's lies, his soft tongue sweet as myrrh
'Twas not for naught that this was gifted to the son of God
For without it, we would be unwraught
Had we men been unarmed to answer their brutality
There would be no such thing as what we call: humanity

[Anonymous No.19633739]

>>19633722
Have sex

[Anonymous No.19633752]

>>19633739
You'll like this one.

[Anonymous No.19633772]

>>19633722
>The Way of Men, the poem

[Anonymous No.19633791]

>>19633752
This is gay. Stop being gay

[Anonymous No.19633808]

>>19633721
finally getting into vers libre

[Anonymous No.19633812]

>>19633721
I like it, but I don't like its Haiku form.

[Anonymous No.19633821]

>>19633721
here one i wrote earlier from the archive with similar theme

[Anonymous No.19633848]

>>19633821
you kvetch
like it's 2016
wretched and painfully weak
cretinism.
dialectics got you
Morbid monad left you empty eye sockets
'why wallow in vomit?'
I ask thee the same I ask my self
AAAAH, an obscene delight
not right it's of the left.

[Anonymous No.19633876]

>>19633848
Fact check:
You will never be a woman
What's that sound...
ACK!!!

[Anonymous No.19633930]

>>19633012
Prostrated to the loam
Struck by glossolalia
Abbatea gorra saloam
Satiate holy appestatia

And by ineffable exultation
Arise in ecsanity
Epoché oneiro-divination
Return to your reverie

[Anonymous No.19634033]

>>19633821
Not bad

[Anonymous No.19634046]

The trees have changed again, so the branches grieve their sunrise songs,
and heavy frost preserves the school grounds.

I don’t know when the children will be here again—

The looks on their faces have changed, too,
like the leaves, they’ve expired to unearth a personal bloom.

When is it safe for me to see their faces again?

The world and its changes hit me like poisonous darts;
I don't have time to read the scratches in myself.

[Anonymous No.19634133]

>>19633081
Very modernist, reminds me of Hemingway. You have a good sense of atmosphere but some ideas are poorly executed. One being the "the beauty of it" line, which follows anticlimactically after the long space before it. It feels insincere, as do other parts of the poem. But the effort you've given is clear and I appreciate that. You've almost found your voice but the affectedness is still palpable.
>>19633111
Cute, I like it.
>>19633692
There's a half-decent control of language here but it's overshadowed by the gross mishandling of your subject.
>>19633722
>The lying smile of those vile creatures who call themselves women
Hahahahahahahahahahahh
>>19633930
I can't tell if this is ironic but in case it's not, your diction is obnoxious lol. People want to feel poetry, not be confused by obscurantism.

>>19634046
This is my poem.

[Anonymous No.19634248]

>>19634133
>the gross mishandling of your subject.
Elaborate

[Anonymous No.19634618]

>>19634133
>People want to feel poetry, not be confused by obscurantism
There's practically nothing obscure about it. It's very clearly about mystical experience in a daydream. I suppose you just have a weak vocabulary.

[Anonymous No.19634622]

>>19634133
I'm >>19633081, just wanted to ask what other aspects you thought seemed insincere

I had wrote it immediately after the scene being described to deal with some emotions and help remember it so its probably overly sentimental, only decided now to work on it as an actual poem so its very embryonic, might not do anything with it

>>19634046
interesting, I really like the last two lines, very memorable images

I do dislike "they've expired to unearth a personal bloom", I dunno, maybe its just me but I feel like the image doesn't make much sense visually

[Anonymous No.19634806]

>>19634622
Thank you. I agree about the "unearth" line and was trying to find a new word but haven't so far. I'll keep trying though, I'm glad you noticed that.

As for the insincerity thing, well after looking over it again I can understand how this would be sincere, but it feels cliché in parts and I think that's what I'd picked up on. By that I just mean the aesthetic itself feels like its too deeply influenced by authors you've read instead of being unique to you. Over time I'm sure that quality will fade but right now its still noticeable to me.

[Anonymous No.19634824]

>>19634618
Are you trolling me lol

[Anonymous No.19634835]

>>19634248
The way you describe a woman's sexual experience is immature and jarring, it's not enjoyable to read.

[Anonymous No.19634894]

>>19634824

[Anonymous No.19634900]

>>19633012
Tits for tats
Suck rats

[Anonymous No.19634907]

>>19633821
kek saved, I like the tone.

[Anonymous No.19634941]

any breathing room for a dead man

an escape of the earthly enderver

capital, transmogrified

[Anonymous No.19635173]

>>19634894
Sorry I'll take it honestly then, I'll admit obscurantist was the wrong word. But it was just to say there's a very blatant amateurism to your writing, and you attempt to hide it with a false sense of intellectualism and poetic reverie. You're too focused on aesthetics and literariness when you should be learning to hone a clear, beautiful image. Without the contrived sophistication of language.

[Anonymous No.19635223]

>>19634046
Not poetry, just pretentious "prose ≪poetry≫". Bad use of language too: "poisonous darts" is clumsy, "personal bloom" is boring. The repetition is not used efficiently either.

[Anonymous No.19635244]

>>19634835
Neither is having to think about women, that's the point

[Anonymous No.19635865]

>>19635173
>there's a very blatant amateurism to your writing
This is ridiculous and hypocritical.
>you attempt to hide it with a false sense of intellectualism and poetic reverie. You're too focused on aesthetics and literariness when you should be learning to hone a clear, beautiful image. Without the contrived sophistication of language
You suppose I'm posturing simply for using language that you're not familiar with? I think that reflects on your insecurities moreso than mine. I greatly appreciate literature that demonstrates high erudition of language. I am also rather fond of prolixity and logodaedaly, and neither are mutually esclusive to beauty. In fact, I think my poem presents a rather transparent passionate image. You admit my poetry emphasizes aesthetics yet you claim it is not beautiful. How can that be?
Let's take a look at your poem.
>>19634046
There's no rhyme or meter. The language and theme are both platitudinous. I like the "read the scratches in myself" but "I don't have time to" doesn't make any sense. >>19635223 has solid critiques as well. There's really no redeeming value in your poem, and you're coming off as an arrogant dilettante.

[Anonymous No.19636058]

>>19635865
You are a kid waving a gun loaded with big kid spelling bee words. A school shooter with a thesaurus. You are standing on the beach pissing into the wind, delighted by the warm ocean spray.

[Anonymous No.19636085]

>>19636058
And you? You are a kid without my words. A school shooter without an education. You are anything but a poet.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636342]

>>19633930
I actually liked it for what it’s worth and thought you knowingly mentioning glossolalia before increasing your register was a smart move to say what kind of poem it is, the other anons complaint is imo just a complaint in taste, I would say there are some things which do have an obscurity in meaning (that I believe is intentional) such as epoche oneiro-divination, but I think these are intentional.


Here’s a poem I’ve written in the glossolalic style not so much because I want it rated but just for another example of the style.

The prayer of the worm Idol

elder eld of letters wrung with welter;
speech sprung each rung from God’s strum of hum-drum
his hymn his dint had split from him each wave,
as graven vessel vassel Prismatic
prison’s prince invisible since ring’s rim
rather circumference center void devoid
of center Von Schiller “form and filler,
first eternal, second temporal both
headless and senseless fuse fully beauty
from proper proportion” but often ought
as oft empties the jokes jokesters spoke
each laugh has halved the humors fourfolded
the mystery imploded and worldly
each word misquoted, curse i! curse I curse

the verse perverse, wrath immense I immerse
myself with gnat and natures fury, blake’s
flea I drink of bowl, cant of ancient scroll
i rage the rage of primeuaton bound
not by cross nor nail I sing of Deus
absconditus the alien unknown
i shattereth the black stone I am the bone
of Ziz and Yadu’a this dua mad
and demonic of cubic speech I give
not from another soul, human lowly
hewn wholly holy from me halved of moon,
laughs of runes from Hor not Horus, Havi
one-eyed wisdom Othrorir of Odin
not olden pagan God beholden by
man’s eyes but golden mask eternity’s
masque a masquerade of carnival this
carnal cairn of caverns, heart’s lone lantern

through sensuous tenebrous of Saturn,
a star I give a sea i give a song I give
Tzimtzum brahma’s spanda i hum
the end of kala kali kalo Kal
the call the key the cry not born of me
i sing the three three three not of choronzon
but of Tetragrammaton my Great God.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636380]

>>19635173
> You're too focused on aesthetics and literariness

No such thing, there are different literary traditions with different fixations, something like thunder perfect mind or something by Nerval would not adhere to what you’re saying. Example.

Je suis le Ténébreux, – le Veuf, – l’Inconsolé,
Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la Tour abolie :
Ma seule Etoile est morte, – et mon luth constellé
Porte le Soleil noir de la Mélancolie.

Dans la nuit du Tombeau, Toi qui m’as consolé,
Rends-moi le Pausilippe et la mer d’Italie,
La fleur qui plaisait tant à mon coeur désolé,
Et la treille où le Pampre à la Rose s’allie.

Suis-je Amour ou Phébus ?… Lusignan ou Biron ?
Mon front est rouge encor du baiser de la Reine ;
J’ai rêvé dans la Grotte où nage la sirène…

Et j’ai deux fois vainqueur traversé l’Achéron :
Modulant tour à tour sur la lyre d’Orphée
Les soupirs de la Sainte et les cris de la Fée.

I am the Dark One, – the Widower, – the Unconsoled
The Aquitaine Prince whose Tower is destroyed:
My only star is dead,- and my constellated lute
Bears the black Sun of Melancholia.

In the night of the Tomb, You who comforted me,
Give me back Mount Posillipo and the Italian sea,
The flower that my afflicted heart liked so much
And the treillised vineyard where the grapevine unites with the rose.

Am I Love or Phoebus ?… Lusignan or Biron ?
My forehead is still red from the Queen’s kiss ;
I dreamt of the Cave where the mermaid swims…

Twice victorious I crossed Acheron :
Taking turn to play on Orpheus’ lyre
The sighs of the Saint and the Fairy’s screams.


Imo this dreamy highly aesthetically artificial style is clearly beautiful when mastered.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636406]

>>19633930 #
I actually liked it for what it’s worth and thought you knowingly mentioning glossolalia before increasing your register was a smart move to say what kind of poem it is, the other anons complaint is imo just a complaint in taste, I would say there are some things which do have an obscurity in meaning (that I believe is intentional) such as epoche oneiro-divination, but I think these are intentional.


Here’s a poem I’ve written in the glossolalic style not so much because I want it rated but just for another example of the style.

elder eld of letters wrung with welter;
speech sprung each rung from God’s strum of hum-drum
his hymn his dint had split from him each wave,
as graven vessel vassel Prismatic
prison’s prince invisible since ring’s rim
rather circumference center void devoid
of center Von Schiller “form and filler,
first eternal, second temporal both
headless and senseless fuse fully beauty
from proper proportion” but often naught
as ought empties the jokes jokesters spoke
each laugh has halved the humors fourfolded
the mystery imploded and worldly
each word misquoted, curse i! curse I curse
the verse perverse, wrath immense I immerse
myself with gnat and natures fury, blake’s
flea I drink of bowl, cant of ancient scroll
i rage the rage of primeuaton bound
not by cross nor nail I sing of Deus
absconditus the alien unknown
i shattereth the black stone I am the bone
of Ziz and Yadu’a this dua mad
and demonic of cubic speech I give
not from another soul, human lowly
hewn wholly holy from me halved of moon,
laughs of runes from Hor not Horus, Havi
one-eyed wisdom Othrorir of Odin
not olden pagan God beholden by
man’s eyes but golden mask eternity’s
masque a masquerade of carnival this
carnal cairn of caverns, heart’s lone lantern
through sensuous tenebrous of Saturn,
a star I give a sea i give a song I give
Tzimtzum brahma’s spanda i hum
the end of kala kali kalo Kal
the call the key the cry not born of me
i sing the three three three not of choronzon
but of Tetragrammaton my Great God.

[Anonymous No.19636463]

>>19636406
Is that a technical word for the psychiatric term of “clanging”?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636481]

>>19636463
Eh kinda, glossolalia refers to the phenomena of “going into tongues” which may use complex or a multitude of languages or strange repetitions, if you want the Logorrhea type of clanging there’s authors who specialize in that like MP Shiel (I’ll post some of his work if you desire.) but in general the glossolalia is anything that has that extreme forceful almost nonsense and raving tone where you’re using every possible register you know in an ecstatic way to express yourself.

[Anοnymous No.19636559]

I like writing poetry but it always comes off as sappy and self-felating
>>19633111
>dat rhyme
>dem trips
Impressive. Very nice.
>>19633535
did Nietzsche will say that?

[Anοnymous No.19636564]

>will
meant to say "really," not sure why I had an ESL moment

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636575]

>>19636559
Write about topics or themes unrelated to you, for example William Blake wrote plenty of poems in the persona of different characters; and there’s plenty of very non-human centric poetry. Give it a test shot.

[Anonymous No.19636592]

>>19636085
Listen to yourself....
"No you..."

You fall apart at the first challenge. Your rate words are a whores makeup. You have nothing to say, only your breasts and ass to flash. Your poem has the personality of freshman girl afraid not enough people will attend her funeral after her suicide which won't even make the student paper because of the lack of shock value.

Poetry? You dirty the word and disgrace the idea.

[Anοnymous No.19636609]

>Skinned knees, shoes with flat bottoms, thick summer air,
>Its hard to balance when those shorts are so short,
>I want to lick sea salt ice cream off your thighs.

[Anonymous No.19636723]

>>19636592
Ramble on

[Anonymous No.19636820]

They found him
by the river bank,
drenched and cold,
the life within him
away down the river
early the night before.

Around him
scatterings of blank pages,
field of unfinished poems

His hands
fag stained and pale.
His body
all hair and tweed and wine.
Two eyes gawking out
endlessly towards nothing.

Even in death,
a poise of pretension,
the expression of a liar.

>>19636406
I like this, its overwrought at times but it reminds me of Medieval English poetry. feels like what Hopkins wanted to achieve but falled short off. though I don't understand it, its fun to read which my favourite poetry always is

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19636834]

>>19636820
> Medieval English poetry. feels like what Hopkins wanted to achieve but falled short off.

Extremely high praise to me, have you ever read any John Lydgate? I think you’d like him if you haven’t.

[Anonymous No.19636977]

>>19635865
I understand why my criticisms would be taken personally but I want to double black and encourage you not to. As another anon pointed out (more crudely), your language feels superficial contrasted with the strength of the images, musicality, themes, etc. That's why I said "amateurism", because it's reaching for too high a register that the poet can maintain effectively. If it's any reassurance, and I really mean this, it's a very normal stage in a writer's development, especially if it's someone like yourself who is clearly well-read and relishes the fact. Those qualities are good and will help you flourish once you discover where your greatest talents lie. But for now, they are overwhelming you and causing you to write affectedly rather than with pure creative honesty. If you want to keep rejecting these crits and justify yourself as being "too erudite" for your lowly reader, then you won't get anywhere. I know you don't like to hear these things, no one does, but once you learn to stop being defensive and discern when people are trying to help you instead of just give you a hard time you will grow. I hope this clears things up anon.

As for your feelings on my poem, I agree the themes are common, and that's intentional. I tend to take my own advice regarding not reaching too high for your skill level. Sure my themes aren't complex, but I don't believe that's necessary to write good poetry. I'm concerned with a clear expression of mood and feeling, vivid images, and tangible experiences. Am I ineffective in those areas? Thanks for the feedback.
>>19635223
I was worried about "personal bloom" too and was looking for another phrase but settled because it was easy to understand and fluidly written. If I can find a more surprising image then I will certainly use it. I'm kind of struggling with the balance of crafting sincere beauty and maintaining linguistic rigor. I can probably take things up a notch, I'm just playing it safe. But art is about risks I know. Thanks for the feedback. Where's your work so I can return the favor.?

[Anonymous No.19636985]

>>19636564
this board is somethin else

[Anonymous No.19636987]

>>19635865
I understand why my criticisms would be taken personally but I want to double back and encourage you not to. As another anon pointed out (more crudely), your language feels superficial contrasted with the strength of the images, musicality, themes, etc. That's why I said "amateurism", because it's reaching for too high a register that the poet can maintain effectively. If it's any reassurance, and I really mean this, it's a very normal stage in a writer's development, especially if it's someone like yourself who is clearly well-read and relishes the fact. Those qualities are good and will help you flourish once you discover where your greatest talents lie. But for now, they are overwhelming you and causing you to write affectedly rather than with pure creative honesty. If you want to keep rejecting these crits and justify yourself as being "too erudite" for your lowly reader, then you won't get anywhere. I know you don't like to hear these things, no one does, but once you learn to stop being defensive and discern when people are trying to help you instead of just give you a hard time you will grow. I hope this clears things up anon.

As for your feelings on my poem, I agree the themes are common, and that's intentional. I tend to take my own advice regarding not reaching too high for your skill level. Sure my themes aren't complex, but I don't believe that's necessary to write good poetry. I'm concerned with a clear expression of mood and feeling, vivid images, and tangible experiences. Am I ineffective in those areas? Thanks for the feedback.
>>19635223
I was worried about "personal bloom" too and was looking for another phrase but settled because it was easy to understand and fluidly written. If I can find a more surprising image then I will certainly use it. I'm kind of struggling with the balance of crafting sincere beauty and maintaining linguistic rigor. I can probably take things up a notch, I'm just playing it safe. But art is about risks I know. Thanks for the feedback. Where's your work so I can return the favor.?

[Anonymous No.19637188]

"I'm starving" he said "
like a dog, you know
with saliva built on the smile
of its mouth, you know, saliva:
thick, like what you would expect
flesh to taste like on a corpse
sweetly rotting on a hot day
beside a country road
" and the rest if the crowd
doesn't dare take a breath
a child is sent to give him coins
the lights change. Someone says
"Bravo" and it is safe to go.

"Fare well"

[Anonymous No.19637231]

[Anοnymous No.19637294]

six hours til work
I've already listened to an entire album
the sleeping realm continues to elude me

[Anonymous No.19638023]

>>19637294
Not a poem. The lines hold no individual weight, nor do they affect those around them. Insomnia will do that to you

>>19637188
I hate myself, that is why I am here

>>19637231
I did a big shit once that also took a lot of paper to clean myself

>>19636820
>the life within him
>away down the river
>early the night before
Nice turn of phrase. Are eulogies poems? Regardless, can you come and read this at mine? My ex will be there and will suck your knob

>>19636406
You don't want critism, good. You write like what I expect the next generation of AI to write - disproportionately full of pomp and theology

>>19634046
Trees are always in a state of change, there are some great books that go over their cellular metamorphosis, distinct from seasonal change. However:

>branches grieve their sunrise songs.
Nice. Mourn(?) Maybe instead of grieve. You have a foundation here, bit generally poor execution. Lots of redundancy. Look at it in a couple of years, but don't forget the core aim of the piece.

>>19633821
Very evocative, pitty you are obviously a racist faggot.

>>19633752
Should have stopped after the first stanza.

>>19633722
Just donate sperm, fuck prostitutes, and stop writing shit like this

>>19633721
Faggot. Can you die already? Or is it too hard for your pea brain to understand that all sinister machinations are of such biblical proportions that they demand that people who are Jewish be in the foreground. You're wasting away as a pawn in some megalomaniacs fantasy, ajd taking us with you. Poem was shit too. It enforced itself upon the reader, rather than open up something within them, not surprising considering your obvious shallowness

>>19633692
Hot. Pitty you turned her into a prostitute slave. Sexually liberated women are fucking amazing, after one night they'll have you rock hard thinking of what they did for the next couple of months. Take your puritan shit to confession

>>19633081
Sorry anon, you are trying, but not succeeding with this. Is it about death in some way? Anyway, too many bludging words, not pulling their weight you are relying on daytime TV emotions to evoke something in the reader. Just bin it, as a poem


>>19633111
>/lit
You'd be better of sucking substance from an AIDS who're corpses nipple

[Anonymous No.19638236]

Enter wandering soul with torchlight's bubble
beneath the waist of the world, but not alone:
through shadows shuffle thin men of bone
whose hearts grew long past cold gravel stubble.

Endless webwork tunnels belie forgotten trouble
and hold no shelter for those who roam,
but harbor leviathans born from stone,
whose boulder scales leave trails of rubble.

Then booming echoes from hell just
when slumbering serpents wake,
and stir great billowing clouds of dust.

Now those great halls shake
and run damp with rivers rust
to the drumming of the children's quake.

[Anonymous No.19638264]

>>19636559
don't write about yourself then.
>>19638236
Well structured sonnets are always neat.

[Anonymous No.19638290]

>>19633012
English is not the language in which I wrote this, but translated it best as possible.

Do not cry for youth's sorrow,
It is made of the same fabric
As dreams gone in the morrow,
And be not afraid of old age,
You will be accustomed to
Underwhelming dissapointment.

[Anonymous No.19638330]

Wolf (Backwards Hands)

All night the wolf’s lazy eye,
marred by silver and kiln embers

tilts up, shepherding the moon
as it treads silent

through a sky of tripwires
and the ghosts of stars long rotted

And do you see the signs of the loan you forgot?
That interest you keep accruing—
new wrinkles when you smile,
these iron-woven threads sorting themselves
out of your scalp
and into the shower drain

Well, it’s like the four fangs you were born with
or the twenty-six cages of the English language

or the fact that before you are you, you were a bear
pulling the angel out through the ribcage,
or the fact that after you are you, you will be a dog
pulling the devil out through the tongue,
or the fact that while you are you, you will pay back Nature’s loan
pulling the human out through the years

All night, the wolf’s aimless croon,
that soul’s wick long coated in glass

safe from the flames of Being and Nothing,
the feeble resistances to being disrobed,
laid bare by the green-brown-gray of Earth’s drift
each time a little closer to hugging oblivion

And daily, it’s the lovers’ duty
to untether themselves from themselves

my outline and your outline
in the silhouette of an ocean,
hiding inside the colder lamps
like minnows to the Coast Guard

The constant midnight against telephone poles
threating to come inside,

I must have buried you while sleepwalking
it seems:

your fingerprint calcified on my window,
Daily, coming home
to check ourselves for exit wounds
like twin lithographs

[Anonymous No.19638391]

>>19638264
Five of Swords

[Anοnymous No.19638554]

>>19638023
>Not a poem. The lines hold no individual weight, nor do they affect those around them.
I would argue that those specific things are not necessary for a poem. It fucking sucks but it is a poem nonetheless.

[Anonymous No.19638565]

>>19638023
>you are obviously a racist faggot.
Non-white detected, opinion discarded

[Sage No.19639084]

>>19638565
Try again. Sage for irrelevance.

You're a cunt, that is all. You obviously have some level of sensitivity, but it seems to be classic 21st centurary, thank you facebook, pitty is me sensitivity. It is not a sensitivity to the world, but a sensitivity to how the world feels to you. Not ideal in someone who could potentially be a poet, but unfortunately, something that is very popular currently, aparently it doesn't matter your message, as long as it is about you and only you.
Funnily enough it is a trend transcending race and sex, yet race and sex are their only topics. Pull your head out your ass

Isn't anon free of this shit? Can't we have somewhere with a modicum of equality. Of thoughts liberated from flesh?

In other words kill yourself, or go back to facebook, then kill yourself

[Anonymous No.19639100]

>>19638554
There needs to be reason for line separation in a poem. I know we live in a time where truth is increasingly enforceable, but seriously, what is the point of separating any of the lines in this poem, this thing? They offer no rhythmic structure, nor any isolated weight, there is no poem but what we are being told is a poem, and I refuse to acknowledge some shit that is dictated to me against my better judgement

[Anonymous No.19639105]

>>19638554
>>19639100
Maybe I am just being a cunt. Love you

[Anonymous No.19639230]

>>19639084
Cringe

[Anonymous No.19639592]

>>19636820
melodramatic. icky. no one would take their unfinished poetry with them.
>>19636834
nowhere near hopkins dont worry. thanks for the rec
>>19636406
>vassel
vassal?
>vessel vassel
>headless and senseless
>fully beauty
we talked about this.
>lowly
>hewn wholly holy
this one works
>worldly
>each
first ends with the sound the next begings with. breaks flow.
>i sing the three
expected you to write "sing to thee the three..."
>>19633752
>my hearts
tf??
>but thats
but its is better, since you wont be ending with t and starting with t.

third stanza good. you can still humorously misdirect without cliches
>>19633721
good. cant decide if "people of the jewish faith" is superflous since people of the jewish faith are called "jewish" but that adds to it
>>19633081
more journalistic, less poeticism
>>19634900
good
>>19636609
everything else already says summer, but it cant just be taken out. maybe something with color and more minute details. third line is obviously good
>>19637294
bad third line. "sleep eludes me" is the right direction
>>19638264
>got confused
could be phrased otherwise
>enthusiastic
the lack of "the" or "an" is wierd.

should adhere to 11 sylables a line. very good scene.

[Anonymous No.19639727]

The warm bug:
What I coulda beendicus
Burrows deep

[Anonymous No.19639787]

Ich habe gerade mit dem Auto gesessen und ich bin jetzt in der Nähe von der Arbeit und bin jetzt auf dem Weg nach Hause und dann habe ich noch mal die Woche noch mal mit dir gesprochen und ich bin jetzt zu Hause und bin jetzt auf dem Weg

[Anonymous No.19639887]

an assignment to emulate the black mountain poets

>>19639727
why warm?

[Anonymous No.19640016]

>>19639887
I expound in the second stanza [witheld]
What’s a black mountain poet?

[Anonymous No.19640159]

>>19639887
I can't read that type of homosexual poetry lol you and your professor should kys

[Anonymous No.19640178]

She's in your mind;
he's in her body.

[Anonymous No.19640426]

>>19640159
you really want to see me and my professor get all greased up with gasoline and light a match to make the room hotter than it already is huh? kinda homo ngl

[Anonymous No.19641028]

A dirt road—upon which it never rains
I travel
Each step leaves a mark
No storm to wash it away
Who is gonna bother?

I can almost hear the rainbow
All too dull for me
All too dull
Way too dull

[Anonymous No.19641102]

>>19639887
Poetry written by those studying poetics for other poets that emulates other poets or poetic styles is the Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band of poetry. I'll reword it simply as: lost within itself.
Like saying "ultraviolet tingles radiate my senses" when all that needed to be said was "the warmth of day"

[Anonymous No.19641144]

>>19640178
They all say that sex is a need--
Biological programming
impossible to supersede.

But if you will to not pass seed,
you really just want help cumming.
Intelligent, yet slave indeed.

If you want her, you'll go get her.
There is no in-between.

[Anonymous No.19641154]

>>19639592
>>enthusiastic
>the lack of "the" or "an" is wierd.
14 years since I started to learn english and I still mess up the articles. Just eastern european things.
>very good scene
thank you. It means alot.

[Anonymous No.19641260]

>>19641102
nigga its homework from the only elective class that wasnt political (sadly the second half failed to stay that way) and beefheart mostly made striaght blues rock except for the fish one.

the whole shabang with BMP is that they wrote without having a set thing to say and finding it out as they wrote without editing, so "lost in itself" is relevant-i edited a little but dont tell-i wanted to start from the phrase "like a thing from without" which i read in The Island of Dr Moreau, used to mean something like "out of the blue"

none of which is to excuse the gay, just wanted to share
>>19641154
guess im three years ahead of you my fellow eastern-european :3

[Anonymous No.19641291]

>>19641154
I would say it must be difficult for those who are ESL to master use of articles because at times omitting one is concise (having one is verbose), but at other times (especially in poetry) it's better to have one for linguistic/phonetic integrity (if I'm being honest it's closer to pleasantness than integrity). And being able to determine their use masterfully absolutely is a skill.

[Anonymous No.19641330]

>>19641260
You and I both know I was in fact referring to Trout Mask Replica. And while I understand what you're saying, all the stylistic choices you made photographically have nothing to do with black mountain poetry. And that was the focal point of my post. It's very rarely done well, and in your image it's masturbatory at best.

[Anonymous No.19641396]

>>19633721
based

[Anonymous No.19641467]

>>19641291
learning italian rn and articles seem completely random

>>19641330
do you mean the fragmantation? projectivist/black mountain poems do look like this. and there is purpose to it (it becomes scrambled and alligned again)

however i agree that its rarely good and can see that its masturbatory here and normally wouldnt write excuse posts to criticisms, just wanted to explain the guidelines of the assignment etc

[Anonymous No.19641953]

>>19641467
The first line of my of my first post pretty clearly said I understood this was for academics.

[Anonymous No.19642217]

>>19633012
Alluring haze of plaza commerce
Signifies a life inverse
If such a glow could be so cold
And numb the form to bruising blows
As birds on wind and fish to stream
The fallen takes to neon gleam
And lines of flight do weave and cross
Like tangled mats of concrete moss
Where deep inside a pool of beacons
Faithless Fortune has wills weakened
Prismatic light does blind and daze
The wayward walkers’ hapless craze
Where columns reach from asphalt mire
They drown and sink in backlight fire
Here meat-on-sticks from men-with-stalls
Attract the passing wherewithal
Policemen drunk on tea and talk
Moist twilight air which nurses walk
New meditation smooth as tonic
Whose pour does birth a new harmonic
To quell activity abound
And silence all the loud with sound
Of reaching out into the current
Can galvanize the waning moment
Those fingertips where dew condense
Scream to the nightwalk: Day hath commence!

[Anonymous No.19642655]

>>19642217
This is nice. My favorite line of imagery is:
>And lines of flight do weave and cross
>Like tangled mats of concrete moss
And my favorite line linguistically is:
>To quell activity abound
This does a decent job painting the image, and your meter is fairly tight too. It was an enjoyable read. My only note is it's a bit meandering, buuut the language is still fairly clear all the way through. So where meandering is usually a serious critical imo, here it's more of a suggestion and this draft is fine.

[Anonymous No.19642808]

>>19642655
Thanks for the feedback. I was actually trying to make it feel like an aimless stroll through a night market but I'm not sure if that was too overboard.

>>19638330
>tilts up, shepherding the moon
>as it treads silent

>to check ourselves for exit wounds
>like twin lithographs

These are my favorite lines from your poem. Really great job mixing images from everyday human life along with broader "natural" images. Not exactly sure who the speaker is (guessing Time personified?) but it comes across as very foreboding and sage-to-student-like. It's got good reread value. Also noticed that you capitalized the first words of some stanzas and not others, which was a nice way to delineate new ideas instead of just dividing them along stanza breaks.

[Anonymous No.19643123]

>>19633012
I'm not OP
The host

Now too late
To post

My OC
>>19633111
Fun.
>>19633821
The first stanza is simply sublime
>>19633930
blah blah blah
>>19640178
>She's
>In your mind
>As he's
>In her body

I like it either why. But I think this reads better outload.

[Anonymous No.19643144]

>>19633012
Did that poetry contest end up going anywhere?

[Anonymous No.19643646]

>>19633012
To the floor

I 404
This whore

For fun
it's done

Gotta run

[Anonymous No.19643671]

>>19633012
A rose
Tattoo
On your cheat

So a basic
Bitch
At best

>>19633821
The third stanza inspired me. How did I do?

[Anonymous No.19643714]

god ordained upon me
the deed
to be
comfy

i can but obey
mmmmmmmmm
now go
away

[Anonymous No.19644371]

>>19643123
Don't like these poems posted ITT with short lines. No melody.
>>19643646
>>19643671
Same as above.
>>19636820
Lacks melody.


Golden heavens locked the sky
Angels hid from human eye
Only one escaped so far
Fleeing down the rising star

But she's trapped today again
Held in locks, forced to abstain
Patient in her room she waits
One day she'll collapse the gates

[Anonymous No.19644907]

Every day I need a dope flip
I was on some broke shit, a nigga was a po' pimp, do or die,
Nigga play me on some mo' shit
A nigga might as well kill his motherfuckin' self, that's a suicide,
Got a Draco, let it rip, nigga hopped up quick
So I had to double back, hit him two times,
I ain't new to this shit, bitch, I'm true to this shit
And every mornin', I wake up and throw a gang sign.

Yeah, I just wanna be legit,
Fuck a bad Insta bitch, Bunny Rabbit off the rip,
Bunny Rabbit wrist is lit, 'Mighty-'Mighty know it's lit,
All is well in this bitch.
Hundred shells in this bitch, fifty shells in this bitch,
Never tell in this bitch, fuck 12, suck a dick, fuck 12, suck a dick.
Cutlass, all talk with the top off,
Hit Diego, he gon' hit me with the drop-off,
Tryna floss in the town get you knocked off,
Take your chain and your rings and your watch off,
Yeah, I just wanna be legit
Fuck a bad Insta bitch, Bunny Rabbit off the rip,
Bunny Rabbit wrist is lit, fuck 12, suck a dick.

Every day I need a dope flip
I was on some broke shit, a nigga was a po' pimp, do or die,
Nigga play me on some mo' shit
A nigga might as well kill his motherfuckin' self, that's a suicide,
Got a Draco, let it rip, nigga hopped up quick
So I had to double back, hit him two times,
I ain't new to this shit, bitch, I'm true to this shit
And every mornin', I wake up and throw a gang sign.

[Anonymous No.19645800]

bump

[Anonymous No.19646992]

Outstretched, reaching bow
Twig-like fingers cusp lush fruit
Swallows swooping down

[Anonymous No.19647389]

>>19639084
Why'd my post get culled? Fuck you mod. Was it not antisemetic enough?

Why are you trying to promote that the unknown is violent and unreasonable, by only allowing the violent and unreasonable to post?

Was /lit/ ever good? Take your big brother CIA squirel AIDS elsewhere. Zealot

[Anonymous No.19648398]

Raindrops drum leaf pads
Gentle winds, and grass cymbals
Cars trumpet afar

[Anonymous No.19648931]

>>19644371
>Don't like these poems posted ITT with short lines. No melody.
satisfied?

A rose, tattoo, on your chest
So a basic, bitch, at best

[Anonymous No.19649842]

three soldiers enter
he screams with his teeth:
“prepare the feast, these killers three
“bring their prayers royalty to my ears!
“bring the wine, the sweet wine, cheers!
“return ye beasts to Tangier!
“now, let us bathe in tears of gluttony.
“yes, eat! eat!
“now, if I may speak sarcastically
“you are great guests, just lovely!
“lucky am I to accept thee!
“look, I won’t play guilty. just kill me.”

[Anonymous No.19650343]

These aches and pains are nothing new
My swimming head,
In blood or booze?
Warm currents bring about the storm,
And sailing them inside is you
I'm here again and
Bound to ooze
And drip and drop and mourn my dues
The fears that I faced long ago
The people that I used to know
Every scar etched in my skin
All the evil I let in
For lack of any good
If I were able,
if I could
I'd have left so long ago
To be with those who left me low
The warmth and wet
Of bleeding hearts
The distance keeping us apart
All that once frightened me
Is inviting me

[Anonymous No.19651641]

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.