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[Anonymous No.19997643]

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[Anonymous No.19997660]

For this holds true—too true, alas ! The sky that eve was clear as glass, Yet no man saw the Faeries pass
Where azure pathways glisten;
And true it is—too true, ay me
That nevermore on lawn or lea
Shall mortal man a Faery see,
Though long he look and listen.
Only the twilit woods among
A wild- winged breeze hath sometimes flung Dim echoes borne from strains soft sung
Beyond sky-reaches hollow
Still further, fainter up the height, Receding past the deep-zoned night Far chant of Fays who lead that flight,
Faint call of Fays who follow.

[Anonymous No.19997851]

>>19997660
Sweet and dreamy. I like the scheme.

[Anonymous No.19997862]

nb. the title is because I've been trying to write something every day based on whatever that day's Wordle answer is.

[Anonymous No.19997946]

Eyes are glassy, nose is runny
I'm shivering and hot and cold
Brain is foggy, mind is groggy
It feels like I'm turning to mold

Maybe If I hadn't been so thick
I wouldn't have fallen so sick
For I tried to brave the cold
Should've stayed inside like I was told

>>19997660
Enchanting. I really like your opening verse.

>>19997862
what software did you use to make this pic ? cool way to write everyday.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998372]

>>19997660
>>19997851
>>19997946
that poem is by Jane barlow

>>19997862
This poem has elements I enjoy but also elements that imply a lack of refinement in control. Comparing emptiness in rhyme to medicine while I like it, it’s very Goethean, your meaning feels obscure, the main quatrain is obscure enough that I do not really gain any direct narrative nor direct imagery from it. Obscurity however can be a virtue if cultivated. A very prosaic and weak element is
“often sufficient
to dodge to harshest blows of fitful time” I say this because the line length/pronunciation is so much longer than the rest and destroys any symmetry, especially since it picks up at the tail end of the second line it feels immediately you had to struggle against the format and wasn’t using the line break to a musical/breath advantage, and to be honest, “fitful” feels inessential and simply there to pad it out to a solid 10 syllables. I also think the last two lines are too different in character from the rest of the poem. Now for the complaints I give I do not think it terrible, simply more control is needed.

>>19997946
It’s cute, I’d try to reduce it down to maybe 7 syllables per line, because while it is cute Abe comfy, it would be nicer sounding and more appropriate for the lines to be that much more compact, but all in all it’s nice for what it is.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998377]

Hymn to Baphomet

Baphomet blessed among the ruined deep,
Where scores of taninim have churned the seas
Frothy as lakes of amrit milk, which kings
Of serpents stirred at the behest of god
And demon prince alike, and there enthroned
Upon an adamantine sphere encrowned
With a marble obelisk whose capstone
Divine is thine form, whose feet are cloven
As a satyrs and legs are lotus-crossed
As wrathful sadhus in meditation,
Whose waist chimeric, fish-scaled, and feathered
Bears the caduceus of life and death,
Whose breasts flow the streams of cit and Lethe,
Gesturing upward and downward your hands
Point to the lunar nodes whose secret names
Are writ upon your arms “coagula” “solve”
The formula of flesh and spirit’s cry,
Conjoint both the leaden cross of matter
And the gold-red rose of eternal light,
Both as the bridal bed of king and queen,
Of Eevens dark with levins roaring flame,
With Dawn who loves the whispered matin hymn,
I see in you the orchard’s apple tree
And the ghost who walks among the willows,
From your wings dashes the dancing springwind
To meet autumnal stars of countless hues,
And there they speak of you to whom all blooms,
Both the sweetbriar’s twisted eglantine
And the silverbush’s convolvulus,
For your face is a company of stars,
Your left eye is melancholic sorrow,
Your right eye is thricefold; blithe, Joy and mirth,
Thy mouth is silent but thy third eye speaks,
Thy impartial eye’s equanimity
Is signified by the five-pointed star
Of knowledge infinite and harmonized,
Thy devil-face is great and terrible
As leviathans but ever smiling
You bear the seraphic flame of worship,
The flame is love of God and love of man,
and these two are one but appear as two,
Thus the horns of his head appear as two,
Which signify all power over earth
And the heaven’s immensity also,
Thy face depicts the sins of Adam’s brood,
Thy blessèd body unites all contrary things,
Whether the self with the other or God
With the myriads of bestial humans,
Yclept as the sun and as Abrasax,
Yclept as Osiris and adonis,
Yclept as tammuz and Dionysus,
I invoke thy true name my lord Jesus.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998388]

An elegy to the works of men

Labyrinths of books, a thousand worlds in letters,
some paths are immemorial and others new,
Coptic papyri, the drunken calligraphy,
The hymns of Orpheus and guwen of han-yu,
Rosy fingered dawn, or crocus dappled twilight,
I walk through gates of endless shapes and lurid hues,
Mazily I see, the crimson hues of palm-woods,
And sit by streams ambrosial where sing the muse,
Murmurs mix with strings, I hear play the dulcimer,
The song of men and songs of nature are confused,
Mantic syllables, the repeating of legends,
Like weaves of brocades many-colored light diffused,
Histories and songs, Pliny and the pindaric,
From hypogeal temples or empyreans suffused,
Transient they pass. the leafs of men are turned sere;
To vanity and dust are all the words reduced.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998395]

Written while stuck in Traffic.

Of Love and Care.

To speak of love is hard to do,
Unless I speak of things of care,
For care defines the earthly hues,
And glorifies the common pray’r.

And care is love of another,
The many changed into the one,
When cease my countings of number,
I see love’s invisible sun.

The rays of sorrow and of mirth,
Are less than shadows of the sun,
When emptiness has grasped the earth,
Your care has but become as none.

The day is black because you gaze
And find none worthy of the rays.

[Anonymous No.19998771]

Bump

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998948]

>>19998377
Wrote this piece to be read while this is listened to.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xAwgpmIhbNE

[࿇ C Œ M G E N V S ࿇ !Ry9RIEstm6 No.19998968]

>>19998948
>>19998395
>>19998388
>>19998377


AS ARTLESSLY STODGY AS ALWAYS, BUT I AM GLAD TO SEE THAT YOU HAVE DROPPED THE «CHRISTIAN» FACADE.

[Anonymous No.19998976]

Never had
Nostalgia
Dreams
Never been.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19998977]

>>19998968
Read the whole poem, it’s an elaboration upon how the symbol of baphomet was always a symbol of Christ and describing the harmonious dichotomies within each of the multifaceted image, and how all other conceptions of the man-God are falsely named, for the Christ name of the union of Opposites is Christ Jesus. The second poem is a lament concerning how non religious works that are explicitly non Judeo-Christian Will all amount to vanity and turn to dust, the third is an elaboration upon the relation of love and care using a mixture of Paul’s comments, Heidegger and Hegel, and a bit of Keats and Jonson.

Read levi.

[Anonymous No.19998990]

At another 3:30,
reading and blue light
I am the other loving you

Even if there's no such thing
as 3:30, light, books or love
as you may know better
from where and when this is.
I will not know

But there is some tomorrow off somewhere
full of everything that ever could
be an earlier nothing time
like when your mother creaks to her feet
to deliver newspapers which

no one ever has to read

Because it's only a copy
of some other story
acted out reality
by unwitting examples
and I know she wants to matter
to make a difference for anyone
but the newspapers get thinner
And the advertisements grow heavy
Until she's gone

I'll be gone too.
You'll be gone too.

[Anonymous No.19998997]

I heard some crows
A massive group
First a few calling
Before a massive
Rolling sound

All off somewhere in the trees.

I couldn't see.

The sound moved
Many reflections
Passed indeterminate
From there to there

As though this mass of crows

Had flown.

At the first I pictured defense
At the last I heard pursuit
Reentering the house I thought
That crows only steal what they eat

Live or dead, to take is theft

From something.

[Anonymous No.19999003]

Heavy leaves shift against
the coat you wore
Huffing up against the glass
When you're close enough

Your eyes reflected

The spot looking out
Traced back and
on an old video

Camera held up to a screen
Loopback feeding
A corridor
And the static in between

[Anonymous No.19999018]

>>19997660
Not terrible, but dated in a way that obscures access
>>19997862
What does this mean, to you? Just curious. It's not bad, but kinda feels like a mean grin without any emotion behind it
>>19997946
This is the mommy milkies meter, now. Intentional? Feels great to read, regardless
>>19998377
>>19998388
Mas-tur-ba-shun
>>19998395
Suffers from being bent into that shape, but it's got some heart to it.


hey there, I wrote and posted these, figured I'd put em out front of any ratings:
>>19998990
>From a little over a year ago, maybe?
>>19998997
>at least two years old
>>19999003
>I think this was in 2014 or 15

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.19999019]

>>19999018
>Mas-tur-ba-shun

[Anonymous No.19999554]

>>19998372
Thanks for the feedback. I haven't been writing that long so it's good to know what I can work on. As for the line length thing, do people not use enjambment any more?

>>19999018
>What does this mean, to you?
It was meant to express how writing can make you feel better. Guess I need to make it a bit clearer. Thanks

[Anonymous No.19999559]

>>19997643
It would be spiteful
to put jellyfish
in a trifle.

[Anonymous No.19999641]

>>19998377
>>19998388
Do you expect readers to know what phrases like "Yclept as tammuz" or "guwen of han-yu" mean without having to look them up? You clearly have talent, but I think you run the risk of the average reader thinking you're using obscure ancient references just to make it sound clever. Having said that, there are some very beautifully put parts here and there, "your face a company of stars" is a particular standout.

[Anonymous No.19999648]

>>19998976
It's a nice concept but feels more like a starting point than a complete idea

[Anonymous No.19999681]

>>19998990
It's very effective how you stick to the concept of replication throughout. I am the other/only a copy/some other story, etc. Gives the whole thing a kind of questioning reality vibe. Is there a reason "no one ever has to read" is given its own space like that?

[Anonymous No.19999690]

>>19998997
The last six lines are a knockout, anon. The spacing of
"As though this mass of crows

Had flown"
feels like it's going to deliver something a bit heavier though. Might work better to either tighten that up, or make it a bit more descriptive.

[Anonymous No.19999742]

>>19999681
For better or worse, the only poems of mine that I wind up liking are the ones that happen in a half-fugue state. Not with inebriants, but sometimes a beer or two helped, back then.
The line spacing was for emphasis, permitting reading of the line as an individual phrase, as well as with connection to the prior and/or the next, which could be seen as further broken from the separated line by a capitalization that could be taken either as sarcasm or a mistake or as the start of a new sentence. so yeah, it was intentional. I'd done something like it enough in a few others, I guess a few years earlier than that, that it was just something I did here without thinking too hard about it. The broad idea was permitting multiple interpretations, either with re-read or by separate readers, or as facets to be considered meaningful in parallel. Sometimes I got stuff out of trying that which were more interesting than I'd intended, but maybe it's knee-jerk here.

[Anonymous No.19999765]

>>19999690
Thank you, and you're probably right about the spacing. I liked the look of the shape, like that. I can remember moving lines around and seeing what felt "right", and I think I finally decided that it was just some crows goddamn flying, and that there was some meaning in letting the cadence drop.
Most of this one is just straight recounting, as I'd just had the experience, the thought dressed up slightly to fit the structure. It's a little solemn, but man I was just like "that was a lot of fucking crows. There's gotta be something dead over there, or something", and then thought about how all crows are semi-intentional thieves, like they don't get any choice about it. It gets ominous in a poem, gussied into a rhythm like that, but yeah it's imperfect.
Thank you for reading. I don't share these with anybody but my mom or wife, sometimes.

[Anonymous No.19999795]

>>19999559
I mean.. I guess it would, yes.

[Anonymous No.19999804]

Wrote this the other day while watching the news.

[Anonymous No.19999810]

>>19999003
I might just be a dumbass but it's not easy to place what exactly is happening in the first half of this, anon. The second half is great though especially the abruptness of the final line.

[Anonymous No.19999887]

Found this poem I wrote in autumn:

Cables on a sea-grey sky,
And all around the earthen scent
Of gently tumbling bronze and gold,
The markings of a season spent.
And ling'ring light of cloud-cloak rent,
perched high above horizon cold
Its yellow glowing through the folds
Of subtly pale azure on high.
Below, as far as sees the eye
The murky green juts staunch and bold
And taunts the wisps by proud winds sent
To watch o'er tamer lands, now rolling
through the skies of day grown old.
But in a heartbeat's swift momentum
Found, the moment thusly told
Escapes, and into mem'ry flies.

[Anonymous No.20000193]

>>19999887
Very nice anon. Reminds me of John Clare or someone similar. Maybe a few phrases suffer a bit for trying to sound intentionally classical. But the imagery is rich and full of meaning. Well done.

[Anonymous No.20000256]

Between islets of heavensent men
It's the brows that bring about my end
Of the pompous and the arrogant.
Their talk trite, never not parroted.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.20000259]

>>19999641
Thanks! And no I don’t, I write as a means of spiritual contemplation and see the refinement of technique in itself the good, so adherence to my tastes and preferences whether this becomes absolutely obscure to the outsider is fine, for the outsider never really crosses my mind as I write.

[Anonymous No.20000501]

>>20000193
yeah, I feel them grind as well. I'm working on loosening up my style
>>20000000
>>19999999

[Anonymous No.20000604]

Who will, may hear Sordello's story told:
His story? Who believes me shall behold
The man, pursue his fortunes to the end,
Like me: for as the friendless-people's friend
Spied from his hill-top once, despite the din
And dust of multitudes, Pentapolin
Named o' the Naked Arm, I single out
Sordello, compassed murkily about
With ravage of six long sad hundred years
Only believe me. Ye believe?
Appears
Verona....

[Anonymous No.20000807]

The Galaxy by Longfellow


Torrent of light and river of the air,
Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen
Like gold and silver sands in some ravine
Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!
The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where
His patron saint descended in the sheen
Of his celestial armor, on serene
And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.
Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable
Of Phaeton's wild course, that scorched the skies
Wherever the hoofs of his hot coursers trod;
But the white drift of worlds o'er chasms of sable,
The star-dust, that is whirled aloft and flies
From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.

[Anonymous No.20001448]

This is the year ’twill not grow m’ roses – I know that for sure

M’ head’s already aching so I won’t try it on my own – and that is such a shame
Cause I like my roses, but there’s no way I can have my own
And I’m not one of the people that can get the hang of the climate
And I’ve lived this life so long and I’ve seen it in its prime

I’ll try it if you’ll go along with me

And I’m not the sort of man that’ll change the life I love If the only thing you’ll give me’s a little kiss and a smile
But the year’s too short, and if it takes a week or month or year, then you end up feeling like a fool
With you, well, what’d I want to do with a love that’s such a big mistake
What’s it worth for me to get my fingers pricked?

This is the year ’twill not grow my roses – I know that for sure

The world doesn’t need no man like me, and it is easy to be happy if you’re by yourself
But m’ friends that I love are all I’ve got
And if I have to choose
Then I take my heart and run from this earth
Cause when I’m dead I can’t be here

Then this is the year -
The year I'll not grow my roses – I know that for sure

And when it goes to the top It’ll be time for me to take myself away
I’m not a kid who’s ever gonna stay and play
And if I’ve got to take myself away, there’s no use to try this kind of a love
My roses tint the skies above

And this is the year ’twill not grow me any roses – and I know that for sure

[Anonymous No.20001472]

>>20000604
I kinda like the idea of 10-syllable lines, but the rhythm was a little awkward after the first line. Not sure if the slight pause from the comma was worth forcing on the second, third, fourth, in light of how the fifth line's "Spied from" gets broken, and on from there. The voice is hard to feel, and that's subjective and all that.
Makes me kinda wanna know who Sordello is. My favorite part is the rhythm *in* the word Pentapolin, despite my total ignorance of its meaning or context.

[Anonymous No.20001544]

>>20000604
god that's good. I'm gonna read the whole thing

[Anonymous No.20002512]

You guys ever try to woo a woman with your poetry?

[Anonymous No.20002891]

>>20002512
The woman I married. I left a whole stack and my book at her apartment for around two weeks before it became obvious that she wasn't about to read it. She meant well, though, and the relationship has always been worth the effort.

[Anonymous No.20003060]

Trying to get into poetry more, have written a couple when inspiration has struck but I think they're cringe. Outside of song lyrics, my favourite I've read is normie but it's 'Immortality' by Clare Harner (has other attributions)

Do not stand
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep--
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamonds glint in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning's hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry--
I am not there,
I did not die.

[Anonymous No.20003095]

Forced into this world
And raised out of it
Garbed in innocence
Kicking and screaming

Clear eyes, covered
Beating heart, stilled
Soft body, hardened
Open mind, closed

So shed innocence for guilt
Shed reason for faith
Shed life for dread
and shed love for fear

Be sculpted
From a lump of humanity
Into a pillar of its prison
Linked by chains rather than arms

Leave the roost
Reproduce
Mould the next generation
Disciplined proletarian

[Anonymous No.20004088]

>>20003095
Even if it's structurally OK, that's a disappointingly unhealthy mood.
In the first stanza, how can someone be "garbed in innocence?" Innocence is the absence of understanding, or of guilt. If someone was "garbed" in it, they would be faking it, which does not seem to be the intended meaning of this section.
The second stanza breaks on its third line. Had to stop and count to figure out what bothered me about it. Was that intentional? Why? The imagery here seems to be focused on intimating change for the worse, so is the minor imperfection intended to emphasize that?
The third stanza shifts the tone from statement to imperative. It's not so much poetry as some weird indoctrination, but that's allowed to be poetry, too. Even if it's just creepy cult nonsense.
Regardless, I can understand you've had to deal with your share of discomfort and anxiety. No offense intended, all are welcome to grind out their issues on a page. Maybe you'll feel better for having gotten that stuff out of your system in a nonviolent way.

[Anonymous No.20004883]

Bump

[Anonymous No.20005200]

Sick

Eyes are glassy, nose runny
I'm shivering, hot and cold,
Brain is mushy, mind foggy
Feels like I'm turning to mold

If I hadn't been so thick
Wouldn't have fallen so sick,
For I tried to brave the cold
Should've done what I've been told

And stayed inside warm and dry
Cozy comfy and happy,
But now I can only cry
Because this is all on me

reworked version of >>19997946


>>19998372
Took your advice about 7 syllabs and also added a third stanza. I don't know if this an improvement or not because I was going for "short and sweet" and three stanzas is not that short.

>>19999018
Unitentional, but I like the idea of calling this meter the mommy milkies meter
>>20000604
Filled me with a sense of wonder and mystery as to who or what those names refered to. Loved the last two verses, really put a strong emphasis on "Verona". The first line seems a bit awkard to me.

>>20000807
First time reading longfellow, pretty cool

>>20001448
Not too fond of the use of m' and 'twill here. I like the melancholic, sorrowful atmosphere. I think that you could gain from making the whole thing a bit tighter.

>>20003060
Do post your own poetry sometimes, you'll improve faster with criticism and the anons on this thread aren't too mean. I did not know the poem you posted, and found it immensely beautiful so thanks for that.

>>20003095
I really like the structure of your second stanza. Overall, the poem feels a bit edgy and clumsy at times, I think it would benefit from losing the last two stanzas. In your third stanza, you try to portray "faith" as negative and as the opposite of reason but I don't think it really works. I also don't think that dread is the opposite of life or fear of love.

[Anonymous No.20006111]

bump

[Anonymous No.20007126]

>>19997643
From The Lays of Ancient Rome:
Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.20007608]

Busy right now but when I get back I’ll give the best critiques I can

[Anonymous No.20008014]

[Anonymous No.20008017]

2

[Anonymous No.20008426]

>>20008014
>>20008017
The first day without the alcohol, or without the job, will be the worst.
The second day will be just as bad, but not worse. You'll hate yourself just as much, and you'll feel like shit, but all you've got to do is drink water and eat bread and wait. Sleep.
After that, it's about continuing to say no. You say it once, you say it a hundred times, it won't matter. Sleep. You'll be miserable for a long, long time, and it won't ever get better, until you're hollow inside and can't feel worse anymore. Sleep. Bread, water, whatever you can stomach. Sleep. Salt is important, if you're sweating. It can be table salt. I hope you're asleep right now.
All you've got to do is wait, and you'll feel better whether you want to or not. *That* feels bad, too, but it isn't the same.

[Anonymous No.20008534]

>>20008426
Thanks for your kind words. I actually got fired from that job for drinking on the job. Im seeking help and moving so that I can be in a healthier space. They say that a thousand mile journey starts with a single step, let's just hope I don't trip and fall again.

[Anonymous No.20008747]

Asunder koan


apart from me were the words
but I am the words
now I'm broken

I'm syncretistic
and haphazardly forming a symphony
that's preforming in the open

as my best you see not beyond the seams
at it's worse your critiques target personally
not fall on the clambering cacophony

yet syncretisms of personal reverie
at my best is what you'll exalt of me

[Anonymous No.20008747,1]

>>19999641
I understood them. I'm also probably Frater's audience. I'm replying to a post in the warosu archive =)