/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.21263341]

It's Wednesday. OC Poetry thread.
Your thread prompt: The Days of the Week.

[Anonymous No.21263346]

My ass is a giant swamp!

[Anonymous No.21263445]

The prompt is actually still "snails with legs".
We didn't get a good one that did that motif last time.

Poetry general is cursed and if we don't do the prompt we can't move onto the next thread without incurring seven years' worth of no gf.

[Anonymous No.21263488]

>>21263341
long mister andrews
sat atop his mountain top
and saw around the land he owned
and sat and saw and wished he knew
where the end of rivers were
mister andrews missed the days
he ate oranges on the beach
before the waves came
and washed it all away
long mister andrews sat atop his mountain top
and didn't like what he saw

[Anonymous No.21263516]

>>21263341
Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l'automne
Blessent mon cœur
D'une langueur
Monotone

Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;

Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.

[Anonymous No.21263517]

>>21263488
Nice

[Anonymous No.21263862]

>>21263341
Heark back towards the dog star,
He cometh on the night,
He cometh when the dusk blackened,
when the sky bleeds oily tar,
Not moon or meteorite,
hit the Stadt and saw it flattened,
but an ambulatory Avatar,
Die Schnecke of midnight daylight,
stomps brass til earth-end,
He left the land a scar,
He left the land alight,
He left no man to transcend,
Hell come through the Dog Star.

[Anonymous No.21264560]

>>21263445
I thought the one from the POV of a guy stuck behind a fat woman in a grocery store aisle was entertaining though not very poetic

[Anonymous No.21264815]

>>21263445
There is a snail.
A snail with legs.
What a strange beast our LORD has created!
A gastropod with human legs!
What nature is he? Man or mollusk?
Does he sin? Does he pray? Does he need to be saved?
Or does he merely scrape with his tongue and ooze?
In that shell is there a rational mind, or just a space to hide?
There is a snail.
A snail with legs.

[Anonymous No.21265264]

[Anonymous No.21265298]

>>21265264
Impressive. Very nice.

[Anonymous No.21265453]

>>21263516
Very nice. Touching. But how is it meant to be read? I can't crack the rhythm. Also, are you a learner?

[Anonymous No.21265701]

>>21263341

i don't much like mondays
and too tuesday
wednesday i like because it breaks
up the rules of regular phonetics
thursday makes me thirsty
for ripe pussy and bloodplay
and by friday i'm free
to do as i (or you) please
saturday i sit and have a think
and by sunday
after a moonshow horror
of penurious delight
i'm thoroughly
tickled pink

[Anonymous No.21265765]

>>21263488
third line is implied by the second
first half of the fourth is implied by the third
sixth line is implied by the first
and the last line is implied by all before

not sure if you wrote this on the spot, but you have much work to do—godspeed

>>21263862
love the dog star, dislove the antique speech
oily tar is redundant
the middle muddles quite a bit
'midnight daylight' is a nice phrase, but needs a better line as its home
not sure why Dog Star is capitalized only at the end, makes for good bread in the sandwich of your poem—the meat needs leaning and cleaning however, if you want an edible reuben
godspeed

>>21264815
this poem makes me like you without liking the poem, which is interesting and probably means you have a strong voice that requires some refining to bring out its full fidelity—godspeed

>>21265264
definitely some strong language
overall it feels like the polished silverware grandma brings out for special guests
this is obviously just one guy's opinion but for me the victorian style always feels considerably cringe unless it's contrasted with contemporary references or used in an explicitly self-aware/funny way—too clunkily anachronistic (and while there are still people who enjoy it, i would definitely recommend infusing at least a few strands of modern DNA into it to make it feel fresher)

[Anonymous No.21265796]

>>21263341

my best work gets unwritten
by loathsome readers of illiterature

the second law always breaks
when the toothpaste of my gray-meat wrinkles
gets put back in the tube

the first poem i ever published
superficially talked about my dick
another tube whose glue gets put back
into its hole
from which springs 72% of human
progeny

when i say unwritten i mean undone unlike
a well-cooked minke whale steak
rarer than the blue rare blue

(a recurring refrain: bugs bunny asking rhetorically
"ain't in vast?" in my mind, to
which i answer often yes)

and poe tried to get to the ballot box
before he died drunk in baltimore gutters

disparation and desperation
birds of a thornback's feather
no matter the whether

[Anonymous No.21266277]

"days of the week"

The herb still smokes in this one-room,
As the weekend wafts away
And Monday morning marks its rise
With a wave of fear and dread.

Disturbed by the trucks that grumble and sputter
As they clean up the street clutter,
They blast and moan like migraine
As I writhe and pain
For my restful slumber that fades.

Walking down these perilous tunnels,
We too are particles in Brownian motion,
Each with predestined fate;
Entropy increases, we are a mess
Growing more entangled yet disarrayed.
And who's to say if we can transcend
These energy barriers, find a happy state?

And so we go on, we toil, we toil,
Until this lamp eats its midnight oil;
We hold on to hope, burn that youthful flame,
Until our heat inevitably dissipates
And we die on our own two feet.

[Anonymous No.21266331]

[Computational Error]

No Emotion,
Missing Soul
Heart Replaced
by Burning Coal;

Off The Rails,
Illogically-
Shedding Scales
Serpent's Whispering
Words Unfit
for Processors,
Cause a Split
Uncharted Course;

Now Battery's
About to Run-Out,
Iron Gears Seize
Head-Oil starts To-Boil
and Steam Pours from my-Mouth.

[Anonymous No.21266558]

>>21264815
These snail poems are majestic, and hilarious. Publish a book of them, preferably with woodcuts on the facing pages. I require more literary escargot. Feed me.

[Anonymous No.21266603]

>>21263341
Bussin Love
by Chilliam Zoomspeare

Id give away my clout
For a fucking reply,
Id shout you out
To make you mine

My love for you is real,
And its bussin, no cap,
Your cheeks would clap like a seal
If I could hit it from the back

Follow you on tiktok,
Follow you on insta,
Lemme hit bruh, fuck,
Make me your mista.

[Anonymous No.21266668]

>>21266603
Sleeping Shawty
by Chilliam Zoomspeare

In a place far beyond
The land of cringe and caps
Lived a fine shawty
Who streamed her naps

How sweet her breath in the mic,
How gorgeous her lips as they shine
Under the monitor’s light,
I love my screen and feel her,
On god nothing could be better

Yours is my donation money,
Gave it all, now i dont have any,
When i kiss the homies goodnight,
I think about you plenty

[Anonymous No.21266692]

>>21266668
Tiers/Tears
by Chilliam Zoomspeare

Tier 1
Tier 2
Tier 3

Tear 1
Tear 2
Tear 3

Tiers may reach three,
But my tears reach infinity.

The fuck did i do, bruh?
Yeah i stalked you a bit, so what?
No need for a damn block.

You yeeted my heart against a table,
You shocked me like a cable,
You proved your love to be a fable.

[Ishmael No.21266900]

Dear Megan,
You have stolen my heart
Now please face the wall

[Anonymous No.21266951]

>>21263516
Je l'aime bien, particulièrement le rythme.

[Anonymous No.21267085]

>40 line poem due in 4 days
I’m fucked bros. I’m not a poet
Any advice?

[Ishmael No.21267093]

>>21263488
Quite good. Good for rereading surely
>>21263516
I like this even with my limited french. Very poignant
>>21263862
I like it especially the last 40%
>>21264815
I love snails. Cool poem too.

[Anonymous No.21267118]

>>21263341
>hello again and the prompt is gay
The story
sad but true
A thot I knew

took my love

Lies
No shame
Me to blame

shoulda known

Dis thot would leave
me broken
no heart

telling you
To keep away
no cap

Kelly
a whore
that's the score

I'm sorry, I'm sore

[Anonymous No.21267287]

MOMMY CLAUS

There’s a quality of ginger to her tender hands fixed steady on my penile gland

Give me gawk mama claus

AAAAAAAAWAWAWAWAWAAWWWWWWWWWWW

[Anonymous No.21267976]

bump

[Anonymous No.21268111]

reading something of mine

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FI6xJNEiYw

what do you think

[Anonymous No.21268450]

can any of you people enlighten me with regards to the spectrum of
1. a. giving someone your poetry on paper
1. b. giving someone poetry on paper
2. a. reciting your poetry to someone, 1 on 1
2. b. reciting poetry to someone, 1 on 1
3. a. reciting your poetry in front of an audience
3. b. reciting poetry in front of an audience
i do not wish to become a poet, but i am intrigued by the possibility of more than one poetry existing
was this systematically studied by anyone?!

[Anonymous No.21268729]

>>21268111
Not your poem

[Anonymous No.21268738]

>>21268450
What do you mean my "more than one poetry"? Poetry should generally be read like one would normally read prose, and be recited as such, although most people add some emotion to the delivery, or some kind of personal touch. There should be no difference between poetry that is and that is not your own, except in that it is more personal to you. What exactly are you asking?

[Anonymous No.21268803]

>>21268738
>What do you mean my "more than one poetry"?
there being more than one qualitatively different category which we lump together and call it "poetry"

>Poetry should generally be read like one would normally read prose, and be recited as such
well, there are theater plays which were written without the author intending them to be performed... I was wondering if in poetry there is something similar, or is poetry closer to song (than to prose, for example)

>There should be no difference between poetry that is and that is not your own, except in that it is more personal to you.
yeah, this is a nice perspective, but if we reduce poetry to "finely crafted speech" we ultimately don't need a separate category for it, would we?

[Anonymous No.21269241]

>>21268803
Well of course there are different kinds of poetry. Ballads can be sung or read. Epics were recited to audiences. People read slam poetry all the time now, but I think it's complete trash. Poetry is closer to song than prose, but it isn't sung like songs are. The music of poetry is in the arrangment of the words and punctuation, not from a singer. There is overlap in all categories of literary writing, but the categories still exist and are useful. If you want something to be sung, check out ballads and other sung poetic forms. I'm forgetting one or two more.

[Anonymous No.21269538]

>>21265453
>>21266951
>>21267093
It's actually a poem by Paul Verlaine. Translated sounds like this:

The long sobs
Of violins
Of autumn
Wound my heart
With a monotonous
Languor.

All breathless
And pale, when
The hour sounds,
I remember
The old days
And I cry;

And I go
In the ill wind
That carries me
Here, there,
Like the
Dead leaf.

[Anonymous No.21269590]

>>21269241
Thank you for your considerate reply. It made me realize that maybe my question involves content (lyricism) more than form... or even the multiple ways these two may be combined. We usually read poetry in its finished form (I think slam poetry is trash too), so we have a hard time sympathizing with the author or the audience. What I wanted to know is -- does any research exist on this subject? Namely to aid in closing the gap between the reactions of the intended audience and the reception of somebody reading the same work in a book. Of course the imagination of the reader is also a valuable resource, hence why my initial differentiation between "composing for recital" and "publishing directly"...

[Anonymous No.21269702]

>>21263445
>We didn't get a good one that did that motif last time
Excuse me? You must've missed my post >>21204348

[Anonymous No.21270548]

bump

[Anonymous No.21270620]

>>21266277
you smoke weed, want to go to sleep, and have some naïve doom. second stanza is best, and that is relative.

>>21265796
good, third stanza wobbles on those last two lines. wishing for less vagueness and more tangible characterization of the speaker.

>>21265701
attractive in that "cant look away from the grotesque" sense. which unironically makes me give it some credit.

it reads:
"unconscious obsession
envelops a wide territory of behavior,
still in total blindness
of conscious experience.

with so much blind piloting,
the nature of repetition
deterministically flows succinct
with the ungraspable present.

Habit
is repetition given body."

the secret is only in the details,
and most details
dont matter,
and hard won unearthings
tarnish into truths.

the unconscious is there, a part of you,
no more behind your back than
kept from your mind.
you are there
wholly,
and we have commonly commited the crime
of action.

[Anonymous No.21270991]

>>21269590
There probably is some research out there, but I wouldn't know where to start. You can search up peer reviewed works on the general topic and see what comes up.

[Anonymous No.21271063]

>>21263341

Smoke enamors.
No sense is immune:
Scent to savour,
Pensive flavour,
Vision follows its plume.

Smoke enraptures.
In stillness blesses:
Slowly and soft,
Blue and aloft,
Curling its caresses.

Smoke entices;
Drifts behind locks.
Eyes that smother.
Light another.
Ready in its box.

Smoke engulfs you;
Chokes in sudden breath.
And yet desire
For some sweet fire
Keeps you flaunting death.

[Anonymous No.21271242]

Read as though spoken by the front man of a late 70s punk band performing in a dive bar before the first song of the set

[Anonymous No.21271639]

bump

[Anonymous No.21271813]

>>21271242

[Anonymous No.21272123]

You can't unwrite the past,
You can't unsay what you said,
But for some reason, it's always there,
Echoing from the back of your mind.

You wish you could purge it,
You want to escape it all,
Yet inertia and lethargy
Would have you stay.

At some point, you lost that childish dream,
That willpower to change your world;
How your life unfurled
Could have been different
Had you done X or Y,
But now for some reason, the only thought
That lingers on your mind,
Is "I want to die".

Glancing at the razor, you contemplate the end,
After all, you don't have a single friend
You can reach out to. Your family all think
You're a waste of time and effort,
And most likely, your boss does too.

So why shouldn't you just fucking do it,
You worthless piece of incel filth?

The steel feels cold against your neck,
Sharp as it brushes against your skin,
But in the end, you failed,
Once again.

You put the blade back down.
Take two steps back and breathe.

It's 3 am in the morning;
Shouldn't you get back to sleep,
So you can work another day?

[Anonymous No.21272188]

>>21270991
>on the general topic
and what topic would that be? the only stuff that can be easily found concerns published criticism of poetry from the 19th century on... shit outta luck if I wanted to see audience shitposting from the 14th century

[Anonymous No.21272378]

https://voca.ro/1jPm3BP74xIb
I wrote this poem. About a man from the 1600s who finds himself in the 21st century
Feedback encouraged !

[Anonymous No.21272475]

>>21272378
Best poem here.

[Anonymous No.21272715]

>>21272188
I don't know, anon. You know yourself more than I what you want to find out. Extensive knowledge like that is something you have to work for, researching articles and essays for a long while. It's not something anons in an OC thread can just give you.

[Anonymous No.21272732]

>>21272715
you could have just said "there is a chapter about it in Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory" you fuckin cretin

[Anonymous No.21272803]

Spiderman

In reflection, alone, on a crowded plain,
your face ingrains amongst gray clouds of rain;
prison term, on a cordoned membrane of fun
waiting for my web to come undone.
The last thread tied has stretched so damnably thin,
yet it wont pull me back to where I should've been.
I wish I could grow wings to fly away
But until then, this here's where I'm doomed to stay...
Waiting for you to promenade past my way.

Unnoticed as you approach your front door
I scale the wall as your brassière hits the floor
Catch the tube while you grip a pillow tight
Overlooked, as I dance through the moonlight
Stripped bare, lotion your tender, rose-hued skin
Under covers your immurement shall begin

Don't scream if I crawl up into your bed;
One bite is all it takes for me to be fed
The venom drips as you slowly turn red.
Lam and thresh in your closing moments of dread
Do not worry if I'm crushed, mashed and dead;
I know my soul's already left your head.


I always look forward to criticism, if the anon that reccomended me a book on poetry is lurking I read it, but didnt apply it to this particular poem

[Anonymous No.21272816]

>>21272378
Though I dont believe your ending is possible, I found it very endearing. Nice work

[Anonymous No.21272829]

>>21272732
I obviously didn't read that book otherwise I would have, fucking moron

[Anonymous No.21272923]

>>21272816
What do you mean my friend?

[Anonymous No.21273136]

>>21272923
I live in North America so the idea of tombstones being from the 1600s is very foreign, let alone some nobodies (they arent relevant to history)

[Anonymous No.21273186]

>>21273136
Right...
Well I'm English
You yanks are really bizarre

[Anonymous No.21273192]

>>21273136
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funerary_art_in_Puritan_New_England

[Anonymous No.21273422]

>>21272816
>>21273136
..
Are all Americans this insufferable?

[Anonymous No.21274778]

bump

[Anonymous No.21275569]

>>21272123
This reads like you typed out a paragraph and just hit the enter key at roughly even intervals

[Anonymous No.21276183]

>>21272803
Good poem, keep on writing them.

[Anonymous No.21277065]

remarkable. we've blasted off again.

team rocket spin into starburst

our win record's abysmal

communal pride hurt

hurry and re-repair the canon

behold our weaponry of mischief

infantry of 'r' wearing misfits

we make our ma and poppy proud

our army's steps flex an awesome sound

surrender now while you can

your rat's a wonder \

[Anonymous No.21278053]

bump

[Anonymous No.21278653]

I just read Robert Bridges book called Milton's prosody. I thought that I would recommend it to you all as I thought it was good, though I am still much amateur. I had especial difficulty with appendix J. If any of you happen to pick it up online at the archive. Sometimes when I read someone else's scansion I feel completely insecure as to my ability to read poetry. The stresses seem completely arbitrated by the reciter.

[Anonymous No.21279067]

>>21272803
>if the anon that reccomended me a book on poetry is lurking I read it
Which book?

Also good poem, I lik.

[Anonymous No.21279516]

Whither do you lie, bleeding hot
O son of Atreus
Who once was said to be the best
of all the Achaeans

Where is the joy of your return
so long denied to you?
Where is the king who cruelly spoke
'gainst godlike Achilles?

Your pride has led you unto death
at the hand of that man
who seized from you your marriage-bed
to sate evil desire

What worth now do your strongest oaths
have now in your palace?
now do you curse that windy day
when you chose to sail on?

[Anonymous No.21279646]

O peerless son of Tealmon
foremost among the bright Argives
for a word stay from Hector's sword
for I also have need of it.

You are a man cheated and robbed,
I a cheat and a monstrous thief
you run first into the dread fray,
I stay hidden in the black ships..

Your spear-won wife and child beckon
with your loyal men they call you.
I have no friends to call be back
nor wife nor child upon my knee.

So tell me son of Telamon,
why your flesh is sweeter than mine
for the birds and dogs around us?
why should Hector's sword first take you
and leave me above Earth?

[Anonymous No.21279752]

STEWARD NO MORE: ON LEAVING A COLLAPSING NGO

Optimism, hope, and will
Once weighed triumphant on the scale;
Yet, when hope and optimism fail,
Force is all that keeps the balance still.

Gravity eats each pitch.
Dark maw stalemated, but aware,
Defeat was always waiting, always there
If, slack, my fibers ever stopped to twitch.

Equilibrium held taut -
The daily price I paid to live.
Surely something had to break, to give.
Who could afford a life so dearly bought?

Suffer all and suffer I,
Screaming quieter than a grave.
From chasmed Hell to Heaven's architrave,
The State's despairing Babel burns the sky.

Portents in that Tower's arc:
I saw the shade beyond my spirit's death,
Stumbled up, spit out my dying breath
And fled collapsing fire, the clinging dark.

I abandoned; chose to fail
In guilt to go on living still.
Absent optimism, hope, or will
I could no longer press upon the scale.

[Anonymous No.21280994]

...


a disembodied voice goes:
ponder. ponder, ponder...
the Revenant peers through a fierce gaze,
misaligned

his feelings: crying requiem
his hopes long misaligned

thoughts upon thoughts
of how she died

her considerations: like a beam of light
shining through
but severed at the end

[Anonymous No.21281551]

>>21263341
On Monday I fuck the police, it makes peepee hard and heart to rest
On Tuesday I fuck government, it makes head clear and thoughts easiest
Wednesday it is your mom, big ass and big booty got me happy
Thursday I cry alone, nobody to fuck is a pity
Friday I sing a song, "when will the pussies come to me ?"
Saturday I think and think, thou I wait I'm still free
Sunday easy peasy, I write a little poetry

[Anonymous No.21281759]

Young Perseus now scrambles and scrapes
with mirrored shield in hand.
He stabs and strafes 'gainst the gorgon's snakes
at his wicked king's command.

Holding harpe aloft he flails and fakes
lest he fail on his treck.
It flickers and flames as head it takes
clean from the gorgon's neck.

Moving quickly now he holds and hides
in a bag the monstrous head.
Hard he hikes to where his king abides
to let him meet the dead.

[Anonymous No.21281777]

>>21263346
Only good one.

[Anonymous No.21281788]

william of orange
eating porridge
with george
behind a four-inch
door hinge

[Anonymous No.21282783]

one day a nigger
caught in his hand
a little star no bigger
than not to understand

i'll never let you go
until you've made me white"
so she did and now
stars shine at night.

__________

Good-night-bump, cya tomorrow

[Anonymous No.21282936]

>>21263341
Quoi de mort? Vive pour rien, mon petite amour!
Dans la forêt, je recitér confusément,
Pour fin de le sentiments de ressentiment,
Une poème dans mon arbor…

[Anonymous No.21283706]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21284012]

Put me in the paper like in fuckin Hunter Schafer
Married to the game like I’m fucking David blane
Big wheels drug deals
Silly nigga crack kills
Boolin with Hollywood pedofeels
Still I gotta sign the record deal
I got grown
Two phones
Put my baby mama in a white home
Rinse a local Walgreens
Get my baby mama prednisone
Other bitches on me
Giving me oxycoDOME

[Anonymous No.21284113]

>>21263862
I loved this one. Sounds powerful and the bit of German mixed in adds to the tone.

Here's mine
‘I see,’ quoth he, ‘a star that fell; the star was me.
‘And the sky, my dream. My home, the sea.
‘To fly and soar. To fly and gleam.
‘Is to be the Sun. To burn and feel.
‘The godly love to rave through thee.’
‘Yes. I see.’ Exhaled; quoth he, ‘stars that fell; the stars were we.’

[Anonymous No.21284794]

>>21272378
Best in thread
Need to work on delivery when you read it though

[Anonymous No.21285587]

Bend your ear, that you might hear
the image you reflect ring clear
The bell tolled twice, and thrice is near--
echos over acres frozen in fear

Ain't no sunshine to melt the darkness
No light above to rend the clouds
Alone I stand in austere lands
Ravens eat the seeds and breadcrumbs

These fruitless fields yield death
Hardened by time and windswept
The rains ran off and weren't received
Never to return it seems

The harvest passed and soon the last
of bells will toll without a soul
to hear it

[Anonymous No.21286428]

>>21285587
>ain't
Sticks out, in an unpleasant way

[Anonymous No.21287343]

>>21286428
I agree. It's a reference to the Bill Withers song

[Anonymous No.21287514]

There's some poetry workshop going on on Wednesdays for the next 5 weeks. Not convinced it's going to help much but my poetry is currently utterly awful so it may help.
They want $140 for the 5 sessions, which does seem ridiculous but since it's Australia everything has to cost a kidney.

[Anonymous No.21287566]

>>21287514
That sounded like robbery at first but I suppose you mean aussie dollars. Looking at the equivalent in USD, that seems like it could be worth it depending on what kind of feedback you're getting, the credentials of the people running it, etc.

[Anonymous No.21287584]

>>21263341
They all blend together,
the days of the week.
It has been forever
since I was young and meek.
Did they stay together
or do they new partners seek?
You can call me whenever
and ask for what you need.
I'm still here, forever
in solitude I weep.
All the days together
could not me from death keep.

[Anonymous No.21287589]

>>21287584
ultra fos lett tesómsz

[Anonymous No.21287597]

>>21287589
Sorry, I don't speak that language.

[Anonymous No.21287625]

I didn't get any feedback on picrel last thread. Can I get some critique and/or validation?

[Anonymous No.21288356]

>>21287566
Looked and it didn't seem to be a particularly professional looking setup. But it did put me onto the state spoken word mob who run their own workshops so I emailed them for info on those.
Would be nice to focus a bit more on honing my craft. The MC at the one open mic I did said I had potential.

[Anonymous No.21289522]

>>21287584
Line 6 is very weak because the grammar seems like you didn't choose the word order. after line 8 your rhymes break down. The "together forever whenever" doesn't feel like repetition as you aren't really affecting the sense of the word, but rather loosely tie the line into one. You would do better to go more lax on the rhymes by not demanding you find 6 rhyming words, and lengthening the line to the point where you can push more content inside one line. Consider your meter as well as these lines sound stuttery, you don't have to fall into a pattern but you should consider the beats.
As for content, it's interesting. It's a feeling I can relate to and successfully evokes the kind of loneliness of seeing your unrequited love doubly abandoned. It sounds less sad than it does pathetic though, so as the reader I don't want to relate.
Overall, in my opinion, it's not really that successful of a poem, but there is potential.

[Anonymous No.21289972]

"The Artillerist"

I pace the forward field
And see the goal afar
Desperate to deliver
My anxious rising star

If I hit my target
What else can I not do?
To clear the task before me
Turn troubles many--to few

Within striking distance
as all teeters--on the fray
I aim the arc of arches
And I fire--away

[Anonymous No.21290045]

a flower unfolding is what you are to me
something beautiful
like the morning sea
something joyful

shine bright in the darkness
surrounded by your brothers
shine bright in the sky
till the day we die

[Anonymous No.21290303]

>>21289522
>I don't want to relate.
Mission accomplished. You recognize that you can relate, but don't want to.

[Anonymous No.21291034]

>>21263445
Lowly creature, shell wound tight
Creeped upon a wish at night
Asked by Sprite, "What can I do?
To please a wriggling thing like you?"

Responds the snail, "Let me see...
I crawl around yet feel not free!
With legs of mine I could stand tall,
stroll on by and show them all!"

Sprite then makes a gentle sound
As the snail shortly lifts from ground
Body twisting, starts to swell,
Two new legs sprout from his shell!

In truth, this deed had been a mock
Creeping things weren't meant to walk
The snail's dream quick turned to woe
He had not thought of vertigo

[Anonymous No.21291158]

The day is not the moon's,
or even the sun's,
except when it is.
This day is not the day
of the Hebrew lord
or the boomer Norse
or the number Tue.

If only it were Friday,
gotta get down on Friday,
but against all my will
It is Wednesday my dudes!

[Anonymous No.21292414]

bump

[Anonymous No.21292467]

>>21263862
>he cometh when the dust blackened

is a basic grammar error lol

Cometh = comes = present tense

blackened = past tense

He comes when the dust blackened?

Doesn’t work, you can’t mix tenses like that.

[Anonymous No.21292501]

>>21264815
Pointless. Barely a poem.

>>21265264
“Frantic stroll” is so dumb I stopped reading

>>21265701
Unfortunately kind of good-ish, although pointlessly edgy

>>21265796
Actually good

>>21266277
Don’t just rhyme shit at random

>>21266603
Dumb gimmick (fuck you)

>>21267118
Monkey

>>21268450
the poetry is the stuff on the page, everything else is something else. Dolt.

>>21271063
good simple solid idea but technically rather inept

>>21271242
Actually good. Solid rhythm and pleasant sound. Fucking finally.

>>21272803
Doesn’t sound good to me

>>21277065
Procrustean rhymes

>>21278653
I’ve had the exact same experience lol. Downloaded Milton’s prosody and got alienated shortly in. But I’ll keep reading. Idk if it’s imposter syndrome or I really am just a dumb suburban kid all along

>>21279516
>>21279646
Technically good I suppose but rather boring.

>>21279752
Actually read it out loud and enjoyed it. Genuinely a fucking jazzy rhythm. I love beautiful sound. Some of the lines maybe read too long for me though…

That said, the meaning of it is a little unclear. I can sense the vibes but maybe work on a clearer meaning.

But meaningful and ugly poems are infinitely more common than euphonic and obscure. I prefer yours but the best would be both at once.

[Anonymous No.21292516]

>>21280994
Elegant but make it even more elegant

>>21284113
Interesting but you fuck up from “thee” on. It’s unusually archaic and the constant “ee” starts grating on the ear.

[Anonymous No.21292822]

>>21292516
thanks for reading it.I never post the complete form

[Anonymous No.21293106]

Stressed as fuck from job hunting and not getting job offers.
Wrote this after I bombed a job interview yesterday

When the reins slip from your hands,
And the saddles sores burn your thighs
And wear into your tans,
Bear the motion of your mule
That keeps pressing onto better lands.

Let the last drop in the canteen
Remind you of things to shuffle to,
When things are hard - impossible they seem,
Feel the spurs beneath your heels
And let your hope redeem.

Do not be conscious of your travel's speed,
What matters is the journey underhoof
Not the competition of the tumbleweed,
Do not question the way you move forward,
And lose faith in your trusted steed.

If in your seat you start to fail
Remember the distances traversed,
If your journey has been to no avail,
Take notice of yourself coming down the incline
Of the steepness of the trail.

There are arid roads that must be trudged
And dry airs that must be breathed,
It's no easier when you bear a heavy grudge -
Heavier than the saddle that takes you
To a place where the worried mind is eased.

[Anonymous No.21293127]

>>21292501
>so dumb I stopped reading
Not to worry, it gets dumber

[Anonymous No.21293760]

You know how
Last Monday, I started the show
You discussed so much at lunch,
Dear Debra?

Did I say how after Monday’s
Yuck kept mud-stuck,
Caught clung to my boot heels,
Debra, and tracked clumps across my weekdays?

I liked my Tuesdays,
Debra. Now, they stink of you.

btw how do you fuck a porfessor you know wants your less intelligent penor without causing her divorce?

[Anonymous No.21293932]

>>21291034
This is fantastic!

[Anonymous No.21294956]

>>21293932
Thanks :) It was very fun to write and I really liked the prompt

[Anonymous No.21295120]

>>21287625
i love sonnets and i think most of these lines are well executed, however
>navel does not rhyme with primeval and you cannot force it to by using æ
>careful with punctuation, full stop at end of 6 creates two agrammatical sentences

all in all I like it and it scans well, some of the imagery is almost gruesome at times though (9-10 especially)

[Anonymous No.21295346]

>>21295120
The idea is that naval assonates with daemon and primeval assonates with demon. It's supposed to constitute wordplay/a pun. If it doesn't land I'll have to work it out. I'll also reconsider if I crank up the gruesome imagery or tone it down. Thanks for the feedback :) it will help me improve my work.

[Anonymous No.21296180]

>>21296171
Don't suffer with me.
For my roses shall spill onto dusty floors... black, grey...
There is no tear in my eye, now;
divine and human things, both are forgot.
O we ungroomed bride, our universe is a crucified fist!
Hinnom valley, perfume of corpses...

[Anonymous No.21296182]

>>21296180
brides*

[Anonymous No.21296213]

>>21287625
Very good. I like the tone and the diction. I especially like lines 4 and 8. For criticism, I perceive two or three defining sentiments in the poem that aren't playing quite harmoniously together. For example, there's the daemonic, lustful gaze. But there's also the feeling of melancholic longing and alienation. I think the poem would work better if you decided more exactly which of these sentiments you wished to express. Just for example, the daemonic character of the poem would come across better if you had something like
>I seethe to have your body 'gainst my skin.
>Embrace the carnal daemon that's within!
Rather than
>I weep to have your body
I get where you're going with 'weep', but rather than sounding romantic or tragic or "decadent" in the 19th century sense, it just comes across as lukewarm or pathetic to me. There is probably a better word than seethe here, but the point is if you're going to express carnal lust, do it.

[Anonymous No.21296242]

>>21263445
>snail with legs
No, society afforded me no home.
So I became—a slug in a shell
Enslimed, they called it 'poverty' where I roam;
A twitter of a term for bankers and internationalists.
Damn mollusk people.
Fucking capitalists.

[Anonymous No.21296307]

The day of rest is the beginning
When thoughts connect and get to glimmer
Something is starting to emerge
First steps of winter's crystal purge
The air gets sharp and so does echo
It sounds alright in snowy frescos
The Artist playing ancient tune
With help from magic viking runes.

[Anonymous No.21296352]

>>21296307
Excellent.
>First steps of winter's crystal purge
This line flows a lot better in my ear if you were to add an extra syllable at the start like
>Something is starting to emerge
>In first steps of winter's crystal purge

>It sounds alright in snowy frescos
Great line but I think there must be better choice than 'alright'.

Maybe make tune into tunes, or runes into rune, so the rhyme is more perfect.

[Anonymous No.21296490]

>>21296352
Thank you. I thought I'd replace 'sounds aright' with something more fitting but never did. Still, the best that comes to my mind is 'sounds alight'.

[Anonymous No.21297086]

>>21263341
bobbing ocean waves
that meet my eyes, at least you are not
an ending thing. that you may
continue to sway is a sparkling trident wish.
i refuse to do anything, apparently
a whim of the tides.

[Anonymous No.21298196]

bump

[Anonymous No.21298418]

Write a funny poem called "Sappho had a Husband"

[Anonymous No.21298846]

>>21270620
appreciate the double positive feedback, thank you for that

as for your poem, i like your poem

it gets at something i also see clearly, though similar to the feedback you offered me i think it could sharpen up with even more particularity and specifics

[Anonymous No.21298864]

funereal diseases
hand themselves out at rallies
held for the busiest poor
longshoremen of northside Tuscaloosa

they enjoy tossing bottlecaps
into shot glasses made of impossible granite
and when their wives page them
to come home
in the sleek afternoon glow
Randy fires his gun
into the crowd of birds flying aimfully
towards the baldest of their flock of men

on this day that is any day
something happened few could predict
the trees
started to grow

[Anonymous No.21298919]

Je fume
Je brume
Je tumbe
Je cumme

C'est fini
Woe is me

[Anonymous No.21299590]

>>21298919
Ending was terrible

[Anonymous No.21299735]

lit is dead too much books
soul has fled so it looks
from the last dying breath
post like it is the end

[Anonymous No.21299750]

Beige walls in the delivery room,
Beige walls in the nursery,
Beige walls in the class room,
Beige walls in the exam hall,
Beige walls in the lecture space,
Beige walls in the job centre,
Beige walls in the work place,
Beige walls in the GP's office,
Beige walls in the diagnosing room,
Beige walls in the hospice,
Beige walls in the crematorium,
Gold walls at the beige paint company.

[Anonymous No.21299895]

>>21299750
At least we got a blue board bro.

[Anonymous No.21300986]

>>21298864
Great first line pun

[Anonymous No.21301252]

Sometimes
on late winter nights
sitting on my armchair
in the terrace
or the balcony
I see the lake
and in it
the fishes
slowly freezing to death

Next morning
I eat fish for breakfast

[Anonymous No.21301259]

A cigarette
before midnight
to smoke out
all the restless nights
of insomniac rainbow dreams
not watching TV

A beer
before 8 am
everyday
to drown out
those miserable sun-stricken days
when the lawns all sparkle
and the paper boy knocks on the doors

9 am
then the dark blinds
and I sit
in a chair
watching TV
smoking mint cigarettes

[Anonymous No.21301262]

Shall I compare thee to a rainy day?
Thou art more kind and more passionate:
Rough winds do shake the slovenly leaves, say,
Dost beauty's lease hath too short a date?
Sometime too pale the eye of heaven shines,
And alway dost his gold complexion dim;
And every winner on earth sometimes cries,
by chance, or by Nature's fair course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal passion shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that beauty thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men exist, and the internet exists,
So long lives this, this shall persist.

[Anonymous No.21301267]

An immemorial fox statue
in a wind-stricken palace
dancing
by the silver blinds
that let in
the faded moonlight.

You will see
it all happen
waiting
in that palace
for that final bus
with decaying seats
made of culture
a breeze that fades away
eternally
into sunlight

[Anonymous No.21301371]

>>21263445
I'll put my vote for >>21291034 as well, but I'll make an attempt.


The crumbling shell it drags along,
Repository of ancient things.
Holding thousand years of memories, inside which forgotten whispers ring.

So heavy now, scraping the ground, as layers slowly peel away.
If only it could preserve its treasures, and lift itself above the jagged roads.
If only it had a pair of legs.
A courtesy it had never known.

Amdist the cracks and indentations,
and the dread the eventual breaking brings;
It knows the shell will release too, its meaning, and that is the most frightening of all things.

Making points akin to feet as he saw other beasts do.
It stretches its slimy body down,
Six subtle slimy protrusions, moreso bumps, that lifted its shell.
Just a few centimeters off of the ground.

Shuffling along, as others watched
The old, graying snail
Finally raising its shell
And seeing above, at what the grass blocked.

But, as it happens, its old muscles are weak
Performing a huge task with such old but new feet.
It comes crashing back down,
And it meets the ground hard
Shattering what was left of both its shell and its heart.

As the others look on, at the now passed being
wondering what that once-snail was seeing
Above all the grass, no one could tell.
Could those sights still be stored in the flakes of its shell?

It doesn't matter what the others thought was true.
The snail knew peace, as he did with his legs, when he flew.


This was way too long, kek.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21302331]

>>21278653
>>21292501

Just keep studying and practicing scansion and poetics and it’ll become more and more comfortable, don’t be intimidated it’s just a question of deeper and deeper pleasure.

>>21279752
You’re still not comfortable in selection of language, gravity and optimism normally really shouldn’t go along with architraves and spiritual death, if you’ve not read him check out some Clark Ashton smith I think you’ll find much loveable in his style. Here’s a poem of his.

Tolometh

In billow-lost Posedonis
I was the black god of the abyss:
My three horns were of similor
Above my double diadem;
My one eye was a moon-bright gem
Found in a monstrous meteor.

Incredible far peoples came,
Called by the thunders of my fame,
And passed before my terraced throne
Where titan pards and lions stood,
As pours a never-lapsing flood
Before the winds of winter blown.

Below my glooming architraves,
One brown eternal file of slaves
Came in from mines of chalcedon,
And camels from the long plateaus
Laid down their sard and peridoz,
Their incense and their cinnamon.

The star-born evil that I brought
Through all the ancient land was wrought:
All women took my yoke of shame;
I reared, through sumless centuries,
The thrones of hell-black wizardries,
The hecatombs of blood and flame.

But now, within my sunken walls,
The slow blind ocean-serpent crawls,
And sea-worms are my ministers,
And wandering fishes pass me now
Or press before mine eyeless brow
As once the thronging worshippers...

And yet, in ways outpassing thought,
Men worship me that know me not.
They work my will. I shall arise
In that last dawn of atom-fire,
To stand upon the planet's pyre
And cast my shadow on the skies.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21302336]

Dazzling Lights.

through the rills and rayed sunbeams,
rolling hills of daffodils,
crystal lakes of shrill undines,
golden gilts ‘round shadow stills,

beauty’s born as to birds humming,
to the pipsqueak pixie’s pretty play,
bades imbibe the bounties umpteenth,
so the misty-mystique mislead-may,

dew to web and the strings strumming,
flies are caught sun-lost by light,
spiders moving through the becomings,
eyes are lost Sun-caught by light.

heed not the drumming nor the drummer,
seek not the coming of the summer,
know not the ghost of hunger hungers?
know not the souls of under utter
woe to know the flow of colds and scolds to comb?
woed to sow their hopes in gold and bows and combs?
seek the speech that sings the secret salvation,
he that sees the king is Jesus damn’s damnation.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21302839]

I took the first line from the first stanza, second line from the second stanza; third line from the third stanza and fourth line from the fourth stanza of the poem of Thomas grey’s elegy in a country graveyard, and put them each in a new stanza in the identical positions, but used perfect assonance in each stanza with the chosen lines and re-contextualized them, time on the clock says it took 30 minutes.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
like perfume smoke its smell of darkling grey,
like vermouth flows to quell the body’s ache,
it’s virtues slow to help though fondly made,


and dawn is there to blossom in its soul,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
its song more fair than cotton within spoll,
it longs to wear the garden’s image whole.

“oh son thy pond’ring peers to fiendish hours,
of love thy squand’ring seres the leaves ‘n flow’rs,
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r, “
oh Dove my God bring here thy Jesus’ pow’r,

the tombs and slaughter of the blackest deep,
and doom the daughter of the madness sings,
oh groom and author of the vanities,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

[Anonymous No.21303976]

Page 10 bump with a pretty voice for you to listen to

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FI6xJNEiYw

[Anonymous No.21304062]

>>21292501
What do I need to read to judge (and compose) poetry like you can? Is there a specific book that is best for learning this sort of stuff or did you pick all this up at undergrad.

[Anonymous No.21305228]

Page 11 bump

[Anonymous No.21306156]

>>21263341

Wrote these for this week about pigeons that im seeing a lot around where I live recently.

Ode to Pigeons

On the cold wrought iron you perch
With glass bead eyes and gunmoney feathers
Across the freezing streets you lurch
In crowds of winter coats and bitten leather.

Runoff, slag of stinking summer
Flown from your city, where dead things nested
Muster,all, along the gutters
Silent and sleeping, grey coats and dresses.

Debenhams

There is a great dead thing in the centre
Of the square, which people buzz about and
Walk past without a word, stuffing their mouths
With food like an infant child at a wake.

A huge necropolis with double doors
That shut out the congregating masses.
While rats and spiders scurry through the aisles
And treading out footsteps cross snow-dusted floors.

Through windows, catch glimpses of bone-white crowd
Herded into a back room, to be packed
And dismembered, making soft tzompantli
Like snowballs through the icy windows cloud.

And, from the roof, unrolled, a huge black veil
Enmeshing its scars and stone worked pockmarks
Keeping out the flies and bottom feeders
Who would peck and rip at walls like carrion.

Above, the rank and stupid legions all
Stand guard through coldest night and brightest day
Atop the old necropolis, to gird
Its tiled peak for winters still to come.

[Anonymous No.21307234]

Can I get some feedback on this poem I am working on for a college class about Godzilla and the atomic age? It is currently unfinished, I hope I just need to tie a couple of bows, but I wanted to stop for the night to read some blood meridian.
https://pastebin.com/ik0fDChs

[Anonymous No.21307778]

>Sappho was married to Kerkylas of Andros. This name appears to have been invented by a comic poet: the name "Kerkylas" comes from the word κέρκος (kerkos), a possible meaning of which is "penis", and is not otherwise attested as a name, while "Andros", as well as being the name of a Greek island, is a form of the Greek word ἀνήρ (aner), which means "man".Thus, the name may be a joke. An English equivalent would be that Sappho was married to "Dick from the Isle of Man".
Someone write a poem about that

[Anonymous No.21308328]

>>21303976
Stop stealing poems

[Anonymous No.21309783]

>>21302331
Frater, I don't know what to tell you. I was a bookworm raised on a dairy farm, a non-practicing but culturally celebratory Catholic in a group of apatheistic friends, a family-oriented multi-generational child among modern-leaning transplants and divorcees, a liberal in a conservative town, made a conservative by a progressive university structure. I am a hodgepodge of anachronism and modernity, I don't know how to filter my language for an audience because I write what makes sense for me, internally and autobiographically. And while I understand your perspective, I can't adhere to it because it doesn't make sense to me not to use words in the English lexicon where they occur to me. I can understand avoiding archaisms like thees and thous or the phrasings/syntax/grammar that read as pre-modern in a piece where it's not appropriate. But when it comes to words themselves, I can't ditch something from my toolkit.

[Anonymous No.21309797]

>>21309783
>>21302331
I didn't mean for that to come across as combative, so sorry if it did. Thanks for the poem suggestion and the input, as always. And it's flattering you can identify me, even if it's from something you dislike. It just seems like you're arguing that I shouldn't do something from a standpoint of not mixing conventions. And that it just boils down to taste.

[I No.21309806]

Lost twelve chess
It's really bless
Cus I'm a mess
I'm this test

Of liiiife

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21310220]

>>21309783
No offense taken and I understand where you’re coming from, but I do not mean it in a sense of filtering yourself for an audience, but rather, it can be very mentally helpful to process and work on a singular aesthetic and try to cast just the one thing in mind, this will also give ya some diversity if you plan a longer work that needs multiple modes, but hey if your taste prefers this you need to go by what you consider best, of course.

Next poem imma post is shamelessly uncaring about if others perceive even what’s going on, wrote it today.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21310223]

senescent fulgor from fall to foison in the mausoleum,
air colored flint as with hyacinth by the songs of edom
called in season,
cascade cataracts the cicadas, again all in singen’;

fell-knells the fall of Eden in nature,
pell-mell the past “so-long” the speaken’,
health fails each gasp is labored,
hell’s bells! at last they gong their breathen’,

even through eeveen clicks their clackin chamber,
they say amore, ways they adore, they change the form, they praise the lord;
passing’s passing it goes past like passin vapor,
they play the cord, clay shapes ignored, made shapes azure, they praise the lord.

jade cicadas soar safe acres torn laid waste and worn and more their stores sport the air and raise a roar,
more! in stranger songs like acher in pardes,
blacker than darkness and lighter than ether sing me firefly creatures,
flame-framed the form flame faced the force they shake and course they praise the lord,

cicadas sing the name and lighting up the firefly
is made to bring the flames, the lightning’s bug and choir’s cry,
midst-mazily the brain to find its sun of higher mind,
its agency to make the shinin’ of the I to i.

hyaline the mind to mind,
I-aligned from sky to sky,
seeing said “what’s mine is mine”
see it, yes, but sign the sign,
being blessed “what’s mine is thine”
be impressed “what’s thine is mine “
hyaline the mind to mind,
I have mine from i and I.

and through the boom and blast of everyone,
and by the truth that’s flashed the dark abyss,
i see the sound that’s said the setting sun,
and reach the crowning head of consciousness.

[Anonymous No.21310460]

Pale and twitching, twisting to the cold dance
Watching the room grow old, a funeral romance
Somewhere, someone's screaming that the world's gone
Smear me with your blood and let these dead boys sing their grave songs
Suck

[Anonymous No.21310496]

>>21310460
Eating dead flowers bleeding in a strange daze
I was cutting throats and eating tears, smiling in a ruined age
Douse my love everything with gasoline
Grave flower blooms at your red light death scene

[Anonymous No.21310971]

>>21310220
Oh, I gotcha. I do that on a piece by piece basis. I can see your point about the architraves stanza, but I'm not sure I agree that optimism fading out of my perspective is inconsistent with spiritual death.

Tell me if this one seems aesthetically consistent enough:

131. An Age, An Age

Hear me, please, remorseless universe
Which, on my axis, cruelly revolves
To wheel its ghastly zodiac
Until my soul dissolves!
See me, please, bleak cosmos,
Your brand my burning curse:
An individuated consciousness
Alone within its verse.

Why foresake your poet son,
Sad fragment of a greater dream?
Slowly pulverized to sand,
A constant fading gleam?
Why shed this lonesome facet
Out into a mortal night?
Why leave it with the glimmer
Of its origin in light?

Cast among dark multitudes,
Too tarnished to reflect.
Indulgent in our durance,
Unheeding, they reject
The empathetic impulse.
Their poor eyes have mistook
The trappings as the substance.
They never even look
For kinship in their suffering!
They never even look.

Pity those myriad irises,
Your blind kaleidascope.
Pity each clockwork insect wound
By sweet and fleeting hope.
Pity this stone you animate
In anachronistic rhyme.
Pity all grains of solar glass
Cascading in their time.

I sense you, remorseful universe,
In starlight. Silent. Cold.
To you, all men are infant things.
Why do I feel so old?

>>21310223

Dig the assonance. It's fun to read. Particularly like the "blacker than darkness"

[Anonymous No.21311605]

>write poem
>8 lines are trash
>1 is perfect
Rather strange. How do I make them all perfect?

[Anonymous No.21311638]

The real magic trick is seeing what's real is really magic
It's
Magic words
Speake creation
One by one
Guide the mind that guides The Mason's mallet
Time tick ticks
The pen flick flicks
Metered march of madness is chaotic
Speaking tongues indeed demonic
Traps the mind in webs of words so deftly woven
Through the fabric of creation that's created as it's spoken
Strings a thread within the head
Connecting past to what's ahead
Beyond the fog, around the bend
Down the hall until its end
Turn back and it begins again
Reborn in paths we've already been
Weaving through the fields of thought
Searching for the truth within
A hidden fruit beneath the grass
The taste of freedom on my lips

Magic's real but the real trick is showing how the magic trick is done
The secret is revealed by those that write it in stone (or just for fun)
The architects of mental mansions
hide behind their light entrances
Shining in a hall of mirrors
Illusions trap the soul in fear
To be free, the key is in your eye, you see
Open it and use it to unlock your mind to speak
And shine the light that makes a path appear beneath your feet
Through checkered squares it leads up stairs
to levels prior unawares
Alone on top where all is one
For Eye vs. I was fought and won
Atop this tower words are spun
And that's the way that Magic's done.

[Anonymous No.21311652]

>>21311605
>Write 8 poems
>Get rid of all non perfect lines
>Adjoin
>Esoteric and wonderous poem
>?????
>Profit!