Poetry Thread

[Anonymous No.21912608]

Haven't had one of these in awhile. Post your verses.

[Anonymous No.21912922]

Critiques appreciated

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21912960]

Wrote this before going to sleep the other night.

A prayer in a cold cabin as the snow falls.

i languor among many lacquered toys,
lazily resting with my little trinkets,
the soldier sword, the android, and my joy;
a black book so I, sleepless, am not dreamless.

the lady and the drunkard, dog and prince.
the fight, the pride, the terror of the night,
passing each page, these past worlds, this imprint,
my eyes are straining, but are filled with light.

though I am cold, I shall be warm again,
this wood, kindling each moment with the heat,
memories, flakes of fire drawn once again,
and briefly if I look deeply, I see;

peace. peace and deeper peace, of men my friends,
release to each, in evry breath of wind,
“we will return” I know the dead are blessed,
for even now they see the secret shrine.

that seat of thine, where see the blind, the face,
you, who is known as “he” and as “who is”
who In the womb had whispered my true name,
and had given me to worlds of new-bliss.

do this now for me, secret one, my gem,
whose name’s echo is emrold mountains piled,
whose name is water from a fountain mild,
i ask, do not leave, sweetest love, my friend.

[Anonymous No.21913630]

Lilacs are
Purple and lilies
Are white. Reply
To this post or
Else your mother
Will die in
Her sleep
Tonight.

[Anonymous No.21913852]

>>21912608
Roses are red
Violets are blue
OP is a faggot
Nigger and Jew

[Anonymous No.21913949]

>>21912922
>prognosticating

[Anonymous No.21915045]

my love is a chain
that wraps up my prisoner
your heart that belongs to me
no, I wont let it go.
they'll stay until you give in
wrap all your body, all your heart
and make you desire your master
that I take you.

[Anonymous No.21915072]

>>21913852
im stealing this

[Anonymous No.21915830]

The Primeval Forest

the walk among the meadows was coming to an end
as all things are supposed to be
and you turned to me and said:
the clouds are gathering my love
and lest the darkness comes too early
and finds us unprepared in the undergrowth
and too deep in those old woods, too deep
and finds us in the primeval woodlands
its better to head back home now.

but where is home I asked you then
and i stood stuttering trying to articulate
to articulate what i was saying
lost in my thoughts lost in those woods
those primeval forests that stretch forever
those endless waves of uncut nature
those endless waves of needless violence
not red yet not bloodied yet not penetrated
and i stood speechless and unnerved

we went away you and me
and i have loved you deeply and still am
and we have never again seen each other
and between us now and then was stretching
still the same old sprawling woods
the same old woods and forests and savageries
the same old questions and silences
the same old violence

We never left the primeval forest, didnt we?
We still are lost
We never left.

[Anonymous No.21916061]

>>21912922
I don't understand why the last five lines are like that.
>>21912960
>emrold
I like this spelling. In the last thread, you talked about how accentual verse worked with tripodic substitutions if feet remained equivalent, but what about pyrrhics swapped in? Example:

To1 de1/part4 from1/ a1 world4/ of1 green4/ and1 grain4/
And1 each2 pass4/ through1 tur4/bid1 wa4/ters1 burns4/ the1 brain4/

Clearly, line 1 lacks a beat but retains the requisite feet. Does it feel ok?

[Anonymous No.21916065]

>>21912960
languor, lacquered ,lazily
Sorry this flows like a molasses list of things. Symbolism is like salt, you can't sprinkler it everywhere

[Anonymous No.21916074]

>>21912608
quick embers burn when i’m with you. fast, fleeting feelings that remind me of my past. i love you, but i cannot say it for it would fall under the world of “taboo”. however, when i’m not with you, i feel as if my heart had been punctured by thousands of cupid’s arrows. your embrace can save lives, but most importantly, it saved mine. but hollow.

[Anonymous No.21916079]

>>21912608
I posted one I wrote in the last thread and it was the most generic one in there even though there was plenty of wordplay and other poetic devices. I don't write poetry regularly, that was pretty much a one time thing for me, but either way you guys are really good at this.

[Anonymous No.21916123]

Is substack anon here? I wanted to ask him what using the platform was like

[Anonymous No.21916231]

>>21912960
>>21916061
It might be easier to read if I rewrite line 2 so that the anapest is clear.


To1 de1/part4 from1/ a1 world4/ of1 green4/ and1 grain4/
And1 pass4/ through1 the1 tur4/bid1 pond4/ of1 shame4/ and1 scorn4/

[Anonymous No.21916246]

Sink white fangs in the throat of Life,
Lap up the red that gushes
In the cold dark gloom of the bare black stones,
In the gorge where the black wind rushes.

Slink where the titan boulders poise
And the chasms grind thereunder,
Over the mountains black and bare
In the teeth of the brooding thunder.

Why should we wish for the fertile fields,
Valley and crystal fountain?
This is our doom - the hunger trail,
The wolf - and the storm-stalked mountain.

Over us stalk the bellowing gods
Where the dusk and the twilight sever;
Under their iron goatish hoofs
They crunch our skulls forever.

Mercy and hope and pity - all,
Bubbles the black crags sunder;
Hunger is all the gods have left
And the death that lurks thereunder.

Glut mad fangs in the blood of Life
To slake the thirst past sating,
Before the blind worms mouth our bones
And the vulture's beak is grating.

[Anonymous No.21916269]

>THAT'S THE DREAM

That's the dream I'm praying for
that something wonderful will happen,
that it must happen –
that time will open up
that the heart should open
that doors should open
that the rock will open
that springs should burst -
that the dream will open,
that I will slip in one morning
on a field I have not known about.

[Anonymous No.21916414]

>>21915830
LOL

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21916727]

>>21916061
Of course and let me actually show you an example from Milton where he does an accentual line among his normative lines. (Note, while pyrrhic feet being added is fine, as the example shows, you still want the overall amount of stresses to be the same, Coleridge also has examples, if I have time I’ll pull some up.)

Lines are from L'Allegro


And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more
To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;

and by/MEN HEART/EAS-ing/MIRTH
whom LOVE/ly VEEN/us AT/ a BIRTH
with TWO/SIS-ter/GRACE-is/MORE
to I/vee CROWNED/BACC-us/BORE

Notice how his pyrrhic is a Double iamb but he immediately is following this with a trochee and then an extra syllable, this is fine because there is still enough balance to maintain the rhythm, we can see what you’re trying to do in Coleridge and Rossetti but the difficulty isn’t that it doesn’t work; it just reverts to an anapestic rhythm.

to de PART/ from a WORLD/ of GREEN/and GRAIN
and each PASS/through TUR/bid WAT/ers BURNS/the BRAIN

so while it’s fine, you must be conscious that you’re just doing the aforementioned anapestic technique, I have experiments where I try to push these further, let me grab an example.

shake sepulcher of my soul, raise shade passed,
stitched sackcloth were thou, then sewn, gateway past,
state-strained, for by these each stain made base-black,
same-satan thou are then, strayed, mazed, bade-back,

SHAKE SEP/ul-chur/ of my/ SOUL RAISE/ SHADE PASSED

STITCHED SACK/cloth were/thou then/ SEWN GATE/WAY PAST

STATE-STRAINED/for by/ these each/ STAIN MADE/BASE BLACK

SAME SAY/tan thou/ are then/ STRAYED MAZED/BADE BACK

imo you can still hear a rhythm since the beginning is a double trochee prior to the pyrrhic ending with the dispondee, meaning there is still a kind of coherent flow logical to an iambic pentameter pattern. As long as you can stretch and keep the link to the original pattern, you’ll find many of the great poets do extreme subs not unlike what’s being done above or by Milton.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21916733]

>>21916065
Idunno I don’t think it’s q question of symbolism, I think the poem is over sentimental and referring to precisely things that aren’t vast enough symbols, too hyper personal, as for the kind of tired molasses, I feel mixed in this. On one hand I wrote it while drowsy going off to sleep and wanted to put the feelings of that moment in, so that’s a good thing, but on the other hand, if it isn’t enjoyable it simply isn’t enjoyable which is a failure, though I still like the alliteration, thanks for your thoughts anon.


In a bit I’ll critique some verses

[Anonymous No.21916741]

I spotted a catenary,
Suggested by light.
A slack thread hiding,
Just out of plain sight.

From bough to green ground,
Some spider spun it there.
He's long gone and left it here,
So I can stop and stare.

[Anonymous No.21916743]

>>21912608
>tfw no two-colored eyed poet gf
It’s not fair, bros

[Anonymous No.21916747]

>>21916743
please kill yourself

[Anonymous No.21916764]

>>21916747
Nah

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21916825]

>>21912922
Feeling mixed about the poem, in general I like the rhyme/assonance, the theme and opening are both pretty meh, nothing special, beginning with darling just feels like filler, the use of more “technical” register of speech is a difficult and often bad choice because it often clashes with the normal register that’s gonna pervade the rest of the poem as well as a bad contrast to the subject matter.

For example “Astral” has taken too much poetic and general meaning to be efficiently used in this context, your lack of terminology knowledge comes through on the third when it resorts to a very simple language, earthy days and rascal again, just don’t seem appropriate, not even in a “I’ll end the poem in a very different way to draw attention to it” way.

But for all this complaint, I think there’s a positive ideal here that with enough practice can become pretty good, if exercised more.

[Anonymous No.21916869]

>>21916727
Okay, this is interesting. I read these differently.


and by MEN/ HEARTeas/-ing MIRTH/
whom LOVE/ly VEEN/us AT/ a BIRTH
(headless) with2 TWO3 SIS4/ter GRA/ces MORE/
to I/vee CROWN/ed BACC-us BORE/

& I read gateway as GATEway. Also I read:


STATE-STRAINED/for BY/ these1 each2/ STAIN3 MADE4/BASE3 BLACK4/ (think Milton's "bog, fen," line)

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21916927]

>>21916869
Yep that’s normal, these obscurities can only be remediated by study of the broader stanza, if isolated I would argue you could scan my line as

stitched sackcloth were thou, then sewn, gateway past

stitched SACK/cloth WERE/ thou then/SOWN GATE/way PASSED

this is on account that since you’re still dancing around the normal iambic pentameter pattern you formulate lines that seem normally metrical except when read in the context of other lines written in an identical way, this establishing its own rhythm, notice how it sounds different if you say just one of the lines vs saying all four

Without ranting about my own experiments, I actually have a meter I’ve developed with play with this replication-obscurity musicality thing.

And while I understand your scansion of crowned as crown-ed, I’ve actually studied these specific lines due to finding them obscure on my own time and everything I’ve read says if this was supposed to be crown-Ed, it would have to be written Crownèd, and this obscurity in his meter has been studied since there’s a large body of work analyzing Milton’s meter in general.

I would argue also that the intent is a double iamb on the first line because why does your anapest immediately receive another stress, the double iamb is not an obscure technique but an old one.

But I feel ya, at points of metrical manipulation the feet break apart and mix/mingle with each other, Milton specifically in Samson specifically the choir portions endeavors to create these meter/feet breaking lines due to their difficulty creating a type of counter-point effect, hopkins studied this and tries to apply it also.

[Anonymous No.21916997]

from last thread

[Anonymous No.21917384]

>>21916997
Nice.
>>21916927
>I would argue also that the intent is a double iamb on the first line because why does your anapest immediately receive another stress, the double iamb is not an obscure technique but an old one.
What does this refer to exactly?

Also, I still do not hear how your poem meets your reading but not mine. Unless you really jerk gateway.

In John Milton's poem, do you mean to say that the first line has its tail cut off?

[Anonymous No.21917424]

>>21912922
ABCB is 5'11"
ABAB is 6'0"

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21917446]

>>21917384
I am referring to

and by MEN/ HEARTeas/-ing MIRTH/

you’re reading the first foot as an anapest when it’s imo clearly a double iamb

> Also, I still do not hear how your poem meets your reading but not mine. Unless you really jerk gateway.

My intent was that the final would be all stressed, gateway works with this imo because it, like “earthquake” is, if you actually say the word outloud, naturally a spondee you don’t say GATE-way really, you don’t say gate-WAY, you say both with a bit of speed and equal accent, “GATEWAY”

In an attempt to emphasis the matching stress and to make more ornate those lines, I’ve used the following pattern.

soul, raise shade passed,
sewn, gateway past,
stain made base-black,
strayed, mazed, bade-back,

The first word always having an S and forming two assonance couplets, the second and third syllable always having the “ay” assonance and in the final two lines alliterating between both lines, the final syllable always being the ipa æ vowel and again, having couplet alliteration, my intent was that this would both be more ornate, and emphasize the heavy stresses intended.

[Anonymous No.21917586]

>>21912960
I find the rhythm very interesting. Sometimes certain sounds end up in a similar unit in the line as before. The first stanza after the first line seemed to bring up ideas about both the wonders of childish egocentrism, but also the dreams of others as found in the object of the book.
For a moment the second tetrastich (which encompasses the dream world of stories) seems to almost slowly revert back into a more familiar meter, after the first line metamorphoses from an initial iamb into three unstressed syllables back into iambs (with a flux again at the third line with a trochee). A more "English" line seems to be in the fourth and final line of that stanza, reminiscent of "myriads though bright."
But this all dissipates once the cold of the body chills the speaker. I'm not sure if this is trying to make a distinction between the body and the psyche, the Apollonian and the Dionysian. It then delves into the heat and fuel of memories, but there is some ambiguity whether this is in the book, i.e., the thoughts of other men, or whether it is the internal memory, which is perhaps already germinated with the aforementioned poetic memory.
Next, there is the revelation of the world of dead authors who in their spiritual pantheon may arise from a heaven, or even an underworld. This is complemented by the second-to-last stanza which reminds me somewhat of the Gnostic writings. Although you are obviously going for something a bit more Godly, I do think the negative inverse of this would be Sophia speaking the name of Yldabaoth who in his arrogance believed it to be the "true name" of a creator.
Again, the last stanza evokes religious symbolism, but this time it is more theophany. I believe the 'reversion' or better yet 'transcendence' to a traditional ABBA structure in this tetrastich shows the unity and oneness of art as devotional.
I wanted to ask a question. Do you believe mimicry in poetry is important before one can be original, if ever we are original?

[Anonymous No.21917622]

I wrote a couplet in hexameter last night which I wanted to post here but I slept on it and reworked it. There is intentionally a hanging unstressed syllable at the end, since I believe this openness allows for the lingering of sound. The near rhyme mightn't work as well as my original, but I hope it sounds okay.
>Life After Death
The funereal bells begin to toll so sullen
As libations of bees are mulled with swollen pollen

[Anonymous No.21917691]

>>21917446
If it is a double iamb, then what about the rest of it? Earthquake is a trochee just like horseman. Compound nouns emphasize the first noun whereas compound adjectives like red-hot emphasize the second adjective. At least this is what I have learned. Also, I do not think that alliteration would emphasize the stress. That's why in Anglo-Saxon alliterative poetry they tried to alliterate on the stressed syllable.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21917697]

>>21917586
Thanks for the read and analysis anon! You’re pretty close, this poem is meant to be a more relaxed than my serious verse, which isn’t to say it isn’t under the techniques I prefer, it’s just in modes I’m very comfortable with.

the rhythm is based on a mixture of my study of hopkins, Swinburne, Milton, linguistics and rap, but designed to still fit in a very sound basis in normal iambic pentameter. To give a quick scansion of the first stanza to show what I mean.

i languor among many lacquered toys,
lazily resting with my little trinkets,
the soldier sword, the android, and my joy;
a black book so I, sleepless, am not dreamless.


i LANG/er a/MONG MEN/y LACK/ered
LAY-zuh/lee REST/ing WITH/my LITT/le TRINK/ets
the SOWL/jer SWORD/ the AND/droid AND/ my JOY
a BLACK/BOOK so/i SLEEP/less AM/not DREAM/less

It’s the same type of trochaic subs, allowable feminine endings, relational weight and so forth you’d find in normative Elizabethan verse, I just am abusing it in a way because I believe all of the tricks in meter produce their own unique musicality that sounds, after a manner, wild, drifting, a kind of life impulse that isn’t perfect. i play with this by replicating the exact same arrangement to create pseudo perfection or revert to a very strict mechanical iambic to imply perfection/ornate ceremonial beauty.

> the thoughts of other men, or whether it is the internal memory, which is perhaps already germinated with the aforementioned poetic memory.

Both, this poem is an attempt at the sentimental style and, being in favor of double meanings and entendre, I figure I can uplift the lines by making them refer at once to real characters in my life but also stereotypical book characters, and this kind of bleed is reminiscent to a very important effect that books have, staining your qualia to uplift it, I’ve found often that if I read a spectacular poem such as about a childhood memory or about a forest, when I experience that same thing myself, there is a subtle kind of blending of both that occurs.

The cold and flame aren’t a Dionysian Apollonian dichotomy but refer to a much bigger dichotomy that I work through in a lot of other poems and I’ve built a rather large myth of, but to be brief, sin and melancholy and also the apophatic means of knowing god are within the ice.
All force and energy, all cataphatic knowing, all satisfaction and violence is in the fire, again without over ranting in my own autism, fire reflecting in ice and ice revealing fire are macro images in longer and shorter poems I’ve written.

Cont

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21917702]

>>21917697
But this fire is why there’s a gradual turn, the flake of fire turning into the katabactic fire, which allows the final “turn” from the little sentimental human emotions and himself, into the great flame, thus the rhyme scheme being disrupted.

(I should note, I am actually mostly rhyming it’s just utilizing various considerations and tricks gained from linguistic study and rap. For example, trinket and dreamless, when the short i vowel is followed by “nk” it actually created a verbal illusion that replicates the long “ee” sound, thus “trink” and “dream” still have perfect assonance, and trinket is followed by a normal short i vowel, the less of “dreamless” has three optional pronunciations, the Schwa, the Open-mid front unrounded vowel aka the short e in “breath” and “men” OR as is actually very common in colloquial speech, the short “i” vowel. )

But yes it’s disrupted when the turn to god occurs, this is respected by the short vowel i, being replaced with the long diphthong “I”/eye, thus why shrine is rhymed in that position, for this is a turning from the empirical ego of the individual man, to the transcendental ego which never dwells in the shrine of god in a perichoretic nondual off, will elaborate in next post further.

[Pessimist Otaku No.21917796]

Her Name is Kikuri

She smiled, then no more a hurtful winter
There could never be trembling again
Her humor brought tremendous laughter
She sang and cured every single pain

I quite remember: her name is Kikuri
She throwed every single misery.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21917862]

>>21917691
> learned

It’s best to go by ear here, in reality it just isn’t said differently, as for the alliterative stresses of Anglo poetry, I say it goes both ways and they both work together, alliteration creates a sense of force and speed, just as stressing produces force.

>>21917586
> Do you believe mimicry in poetry is important before one can be original, if ever we are original?

On this, I believe all art without exception is an act of recombination of information/data and that originality shouldn’t be an ideal, perfection in harmonization should be. And I fully agree with the ancients that the key to refining any art is to study the masters and to conjoin their styles after you’ve studied and mastered them. I believe you can add your own aesthetic theories and more importantly you can have your own vision, but this vision and theory is still going to have its root in the same base material we see, the same phenomenological components essential to the human conscious, the same wordblocks, the same range of rhetorical tools and so forth. It isn’t a thing to have shame in, it’s a great sharing and a task the end of which, is a vision of all possible knowledge correlated. To elaborate in depth would take very long, instead heres an entire essay I wrote as an introduction to a poetry book which is coming out soon, I explain in depth my take in the relationship of computation, recombination and knowledge to God, and give platonic, Christian and tantrik justifications for my takes.

https://pastebin.com/un9sgQab

[Anonymous No.21917910]

Can't post the full thing here
here's an excerpt

Silent he stood, and more than human seemed,
As on his scowling eye the full-moon beamed.
Starting the Leech awaits his stern command;
Slow to the courser points his waving hand.
Dismayed she shrinks her arm the stranger grasps,
Mounts the proud steed, and firm her body clasps.
She shrieks ! but lo ! a dagger at her breast
Instant the struggling sounds of fear repressed.
Around her eyes his murky vest he throws,
And spurs impetuous o'er the scattered snows ;
Loud ring the stones beneath his courser's feet,
And echo dies along the distant street.

Now, downward shooting to the rock's deep base,
Headlong descends the steed's unbridled pace,
His thundering hoofs the craggy passage spurn,
Behind, a fainter sound, the woods return;
And now, unbroken by o'ershadowing trees,
Full o'er the wild moor bursts the eddying breezs.
Now swifter still, and swifter as they speed,
The vales afar, and lessening hills recede ;
Up the rough steep the panting courser strains,
Or bounds resistless o'er the level plains.
Long through the lonely night's unvarying hours
The fields he crosses, and the forest scours;
No voice, no sound, his silent course arrests,
Save where the screech-owls hover round their nests ;
Or to their shrouds, from pain and penance borne,
Returning spirits speak the rising morn;
Droop as they pass, and with prophetic groan,
Bewail impending sorrows not their own.

Keen blows the gale, a barren heath they cross,
Light flies the courser o'er the yielding moss;
Round the bleak wold he winds his circling way,
Snuffs the fresh breeze, and vents the joyful neigh;
Deep sink his steps amid the waste of snows,
And slackening speed proclaims the journey's close.
They stop the stranger lifts his sable hood-
Fast by the moor a lonely mansion stood;
Cheerless it stood ! a melancholy shade
Its mouldering front, and rifted walls arrayed;
Barred were the gates, the shattered casements closed,
And brooding horror on its site reposed;
No tree o'erhung the uncultivated ground,
No trace of labour, nor of life around.

[Anonymous No.21917923]

>>21917702
I do not see how it is a verbal illusion. It feels like that I am pronouncing trinket the same way I would pronounced tree.
>>21917862
I understand that the ear comes before the conception, but what I read still seems correct. Do you have any opinions on the differential qualities of consonants before and after vowels? Is there anything remarkable about the v in Victor as opposed to have, for example? Any opinions on consonants and vowels in general from you would be interesting.

[Anonymous No.21917936]

>>21917910
I like lessening but recede seems redundant. Perhaps choose one.

[Anonymous No.21917969]

>>21917862
Thanks for that answer. I have been reading through the introduction and it is quite interesting. Your ideas remind me somewhat of the Third Critique although I think most philosophy of art remains somewhat similar to his aesthetics, since it's about the same sort of topic.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21917980]

>>21917923
>I do not see how it is a verbal illusion. It feels like that I am pronouncing trinket the same way I would pronounced tree.

Let me clarify, by verbal illusion I mean to say, the actual sound is the same which is the illusionary part, but the actual placement of tongue and how the breath is being moved while approximate to the ee sound isn’t actually identical, it’s just very very close. This also works with “Ing” so ring, king, sing, etc all have this subtle effect, it’s part of why “king and queen” sounds so perfect.

>>21917923
It’s a really broad topic, something that should be studied is the tradition of Dán Díreach/Irish syllabic verse, which has tables of consonance types and rules, of which, are logical when thought of, so for example, “p” and “b” and even “v” alliteration with each other in most languages, in Hebrew for example v and B is said so similar they are almost interchangeable. these should also be studied imo with the French rules of rhyme-types.

But on the question of “Victor “ and “have” the major difference is placement of the consonant, since V comes first it’s the loudest, but even when the sound is at the very very end of the word, it can still have a tangible effect, here is a form of consonant writing which I believe I’ve invented, which I believe demonstrates that there is still musicality even in the end and unstressed consonant.

stones shall leap precipice edge,

stoneS ShalL LeaP PrecipicE Edge,

Or a whole verse in that manner.

Winds softly Yawning, Gust tears summit
Talus, slammed down near russet topsoil,
Lungs slyphine earth heaved, dropping plummet!
Tumbling gravel leaps, set turmoil!
Lunging gaps, springing galant through hot
Terrain, nomes slope-enclosed dash hastful,
Lamently Yelp; pebbles sadly caught,
Throb bob boulders smashing; grift thudful
Lapis slabs; shattered dust twinkles shine,
Every yowl lauds sabaoth’s stones;
Sang, singing grimly, yon nature’s shrine
Earthen, not tired! damn not tomb bones!
Splendor rocks some early, yet the eye
External learns secrets, seen nigh.

But yeah these are yuuuge subjects.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21918027]

>>21917969
You should read Schiller, his aesthetic letters are basically him reading Kant’s aesthetics and trying to take it further, schiller’s why you’re seeing a lot of Kant.

[Anonymous No.21918115]

>>21917980
I think I understand what you mean because I just tried to pronounce ring with a short I, but I think I naturally pronounce it with an ee. The alliteration of the Irish sounds similar to my own opinions except instead of audio effect eight is a tacit one. The inflection of the plural nouns in my dialect sounds like a Z, but I understand how are gluing words together. It's a bit forced but I have considered how one might use it. I am not sure how I would orthographically convey it though. One thing I have noticed that I will mention to you is that if you have a stressed syllable beginning with a vowel preceded by a consonant other than the ones that stop like T it will carry the ultimate consonant over. For example:
The sheep now shorn are clean as new fresh air.
It sounds a bit like share, thus it functions as a workaround for alliterative purposes.

[Anonymous No.21918130]

Mind that I'm ESL and this is a translation.

The faded wreath of anguish has remained above the head
And wisps of dust that bloom upon the chest.
The whole white world for me grows alien and dead,
As I feel how the heat diminishes around.

I only know for sure that my past hides the best
That has been taken from me by the run of time.
But was it really not enough to burn down to the ground
By resurrecting the dead heart on the bends of arms?

How much more blood will be enough to pay for dime
Of snow to step against the course and quit
By turning back the irreversible clock arms,
Reviving dips of eyes at least till dawn?

Oh give me back my life, if only for a bit.
As for the umpteenth time is gnawing on my bones
That sickeningly dim familiar light
That's followed by the endless wheel of sun —

The cursed jailer chasing after dark;
For way too many years will last this rite,
Until the matter will be irreversibly undone
After revolving round its final frigid arc.

But only in embrace of silken rest
The death of time will be witnessed by the one.
Only through needles now can dreams become my guests
In the bright flashes of a blazing summerfire.

No matter how much more blood will be gone
To satisfy its carnivorous hunger —
My living yesterday is all that I require
To be reborn anew,

Where cleansing ecstasy still makes me younger,
Unleashing the coal hammer on rib cage
Without fear of shattering the heart askew.
But even if my veins still held the stuff,

A diamond from a coal I can not swage.
(Which anyway a known around sly
No matter what can always scuff).
As for this snow, it fuels its own gas

By turning everything around you into blight;
For way too long it licked my eyes like glass,
Grinding my fingers in insane cathartic spree,
And sent me in one coffin with the night to rest

On the first peaks into the crematorium of morning.
And now, all that the Ether's grandson left to me
In memory of self — the emptiness.
Here will I stay to watch the comets dress

Their tails in the embrace of fullmoon splinter,
As my already agonizing heart
Has been pumping and flooding the dark
With more, ever more blood to the god of the winter.

[Anonymous No.21918261]

Jannie you can ban me, but I'll always be back
I do not share your love for homos and blacks
My posts are a force and to move mountain and sea
And lads never forget, that they do it for -ACK

[Anonymous No.21918388]

>>21918261
So, fair anon reminds the board with posts
And jannies dilate over his decree,
“The Admins suck upon the slime of roasts,
Remember jannies do the job for free! “

[Anonymous No.21918576]

The tale begins with Athens, land of knowledge and might
Leaders of the Greeks under the big cheese Agamemnon’s knight
Brothers Nireus and Hippocoon taggin’ along
With young bloods like Antiphates, Demarchus, and strong Jason song
Riding dirty with those Phaeacian riders
Whose island once welcomed lost seaman Odysseus, minder
But these are only minor notes in this grand symphony
Where ships arrive to set up camp for victory

Phaleros leads the Boulomenian elite crew
To fight beside those Troezenians true
Bringing reinforcements from Corinth and brave men of Potidaea
Hear 'em scream "Today we make a name, won't go unknown" like OJ Simpson freeeee

Mycenae, Orneusa, Graia: lines drawn clear
Our boys on horseback ready for fear, with gears and spears
Majestic ships mooring one by one, not just an art display

Then enter prodigal Protesilaus – first Greek on sand
Proving worth despite Hera’s meddlin’ hand
Casualties rise, battles thick like fog
And Protesi steps up for some “gimme that action” dough
He shows the Trojans hell when he takes to the swordplay
Stabbing Palamedes and shakin’ assays, damn
What kind of world’s this if our best die young? That’s raw and insane
Like Mike Brown, Tamir Rice – Black lives do matter, senpai, remember their pain

[Anonymous No.21918581]

Okay, let me give ya my take on this Troy situation
Just imagine ancient Greece was like modern-day Compton
Parents cuttin' lose kids so fast they got ADHD
Meanwhile, suitors tryin' to holla at Helen's rich ass HDTV screenplay
Young prince Paris can't resist her charms like Lil' Kim and Biggie VHS
The city boils overnight, folks gettin' rowdy, feisty, wild as bees
The council makes calls to all the Greek hoods with the best defense
Agamemnon's playin' quarterback, coordinatin' lines like Coach Belichick
Battlin' brutes such as Patroclus, Ajax, Diomedes, or Thracian Acestes quickness
They pack a punch like heavyweight champs Ali or Foreman, undefeated

Each clan brings its arsenal to set up shop, then deployin' weapons galore
Spears, shields, helmets, armor – every corner's equipped to explore
Men of the sea ain't no slouch neither; they bring firepower, no need to worry
Think AK-47s, flame throwers, explosives – chaos reigning ever so hurry
Witness gods interferin', whisperin' plots behind closed doors with secret signs
Zeus puts his foot down: “No more divine aid, you deal with your own designs!”
Gods watch like NFL refs, callin' rules but let the men decide on fate
The battle gets gnarly, brutha; death becomes a new type of weight debate

Some leaders get murked like Big L, Big Pun, Nipsey Hussle, or Kendrick's friend Slauson Mac
Bromance between Achilles and Prince Patrollaus, bondin' tight like Outlawz
Love triangles twistin' minds – oh how drama never ends within our lands
Drankin' ambrosia, havin' fun tonight 'til mornin' breaks through clouds and skylines
Who will win this civil war between east and west like Bloods versus Piru Crips?
Only the dead will know their secrets; they rest until Judgment Day arrives. So hold tight!

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21918592]

>>21918581
I know it’s supposed to be humorous but it didn’t make it any easier, if you want better attempts at this Kxng crooked has multiple attempts that work out okay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7c3Ie40Trfg&pp=ygUdS3huZyBjcm9va2VkIGFnZSBvZiBla2xtcGlyZXM%3D (skip the first verse since he’s not doing it.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=38Qf8jMMDhc&pp=ygUWa3huZyBjcm9va2VkIGJhY2tzdGFnZQ%3D%3D

[Anonymous No.21918597]

>>21918592
It's a damn good day for funeral games
Niggaz come hard for Patrokles fame
Crowds jammin' on corners
Shouts get echoes all throughout Troy's boundaries
Get down, let me see those moves today
Make 'em sick, make 'em stay away
We pay respects while sippin', drinks all poured like liquid gold
Pat on the back and head nod for the brother who once took control
Yeaah, it's that time, ain't nobody stoppin' us now
Come around, witness some ill skills displayed
No limit for our memory stays
Patrokles name gets glorified in ways that people still pray
Inspiration breeds motivations unseen by anyone
Let everyone know that legends never truly die, they multiply like DNA strands, comrades
That's how we roll for Patrokles in Troy, no lies!

[Anonymous No.21918806]

>>21918388
wow tough scene for jannies out there, they're getting bodied tonight

[Anonymous No.21918871]

>>21918806
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDl9ZMfj6aE
Jannie, are you okay?
Jannie, are you okay?
Are you okay, Jannie?

[Anonymous No.21920219]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21920388]

>>21918130
What's your first language? Post the original.

[Anonymous No.21920701]

>>21917936
why?
Appalled the Leech surveys the solemn scene,
But watches chief her guide's mysterious mien.
He with fierce stride, and stern expressive look,
Where shelving walls concealed a gloomy nook,
Drags her reluctant. There with anxious eyes,
'Mid the rank grass an iron grate she spies ;
The jarring hinges with harsh sound unclose,
A broken stair the feeble twilight shows ;
Cautious the stranger climbs the rough ascent,
No lamp its hospitable guidance lent ;
Speechless he leads through chambers dark and drear
When a deep dying groan appals the ear !
Now with increasing haste he hurries on,
Where, through a rent, the sickly moonbeams shone.
The light directs his trembling hands explore,
Sunk in the panelled wall, a secret door.
" Within this sad retreat," he faltering said,
" A hapless female asks thy instant aid."
Aloof he stands. The door with thundering sound
Enclosed the Leech ; loud rings the roof around,
The tattered arras o'er the wainscot falls,
And lengthening echoes shake the dreary walls.

Now breathless silence reigns the mansion o'er,
Save where a faint step treads the distant floor
Anon it pauses ceased the short delay,
It slowly stalks with measured pace away ;
Anon, affrighted by the whispering blast,
Starts, as in doubt, irregularly fast ;
And now, as listening, or in thoughtful mood,
Lo ! near the secret door the stranger stood.
His eye distracted rolls, his threatening brow,
Through bristled hair, he knits, and mutters low ;
.Lifts his clenched hands, a groan of death within
Impatient hears, and frantic rushes in.

Round a vast room with blackest arras hung,
Its blood-red hues a flaming furnace flung ;
Full in the midst it casts a deadly glare,
And heats with sulphurous clouds the tainted air ;
O'er the arched ceiling plays the quivering light,
And brings by turns each dark recess to sight ;
Here, the approaching stranger's figure shows,
And tints of horror o'er his visage throws ;
Here, on a humble couch, by grief bowed down,
The lovely mansion of a spirit flown !
A female form with yet unaltered charms,
'A child embracing in its senseless arms.
The mother's blessing, with life's latest breath
Arrested on her lips, still smiles in death ;
The unconscious infant on her bosom lies,
Pleased, and forgetful of its plaintive cries.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21921013]

Poem name:Staring outside the window at night contemplating until light comes

in dour dark where day is dead, I do not sleep,
but think this daedel earth in depth, with painful pow’r,
this fell fane where the men do prey with shameful deeds,
and each must count from natal ho’r till fatal ho’r.

the sable veil is nightly thickened, the light lost,
yet still a trail of comets flaming, this odd glow,
this trace to sail by cosmic haul, where stars like frost,
will pale a pale passed follies faults, that fools follow,

chiefly with woes wallowed, in throes swallowed by grief,
priestly pain made decoupled from perseverance,
kingly pomp pruned of the great tree, splendor deceased,
beastly in remnant with a seed’s worth of spirit.

even so, with a seed’s worth of a strewn spirit,
eeven glows, lit by beams bursting from new joy,
Eve in gold vision sings, warb’ling a due lyric,
Eve in-goes Eden, the tree earned by true voice.

this dream, where heaven’s bower bends its boughs with bloom,
bounty abundant, blossoming with variegate,
of brassy brawn, the sea-braid byssus, the black moon;
demi and plenilune alike with varied face.

this very place eftsoon the gloom is due its doom,
its beauty jewled with bloom, double enjewled with dew,
shall boom with plumèd birds, with rainbow wings a-droop,
and will the rouge and blue fuse for a robe a-doon.

but I, in gout with bloodied brain, with ruddy flame,
desire to gore with the cold knife til hunger’s glut,
be fed by rills rage-poured, with purulence entrained,
my ghost to stir as by bone fife and by skin drum.

to ride with monstrous pride through pinèd copses wild,
to crush the grape and seize the bird and eat its child,
to run and rape the stone by force by strike defiled,
to plunge the deep and see leviathan be riled!

to see the deeper sea, where sits a prince more mild,
whose side there leaks the water’s soul and bleeds new life,
who pouring sleep in breast receives each little child,
for death is rest and endless hence, they will see light.

the elements in ecstasy of endlessness,
from emrold green to excrement to evergreen,
to emanate his essences by gentleness,
this excitement! eternity to everything!

and rolling down again as wind to soar and bow,
to whirl and wīnd and wheel like wind til slow the breath,
and down descend, to breeze and raise the fragrant ground,
to down in bed, to sleep with thanks, this fated rest.

this weighted stress, this weight that presses down, relieved,
this weighted chain, this weight that draws me down, released,
the waited day, the wait is over now, it seems,
the waited rest, til day and dawn is out, I sleep.

[Anonymous No.21921147]

>>21912608
The beginning of an epic I am composing. The meter is composed in iambs.

[Anonymous No.21921161]

The beginning of an epic I am composing. The meter is composed in iambs. Would love to hear your thoughts, my main concern is that the pacing is going too fast.

[Anonymous No.21921173]

Idle reflections on Analects 17

Confucius, Master, would not suffer
Those who sat and stuffed their stomachs,
Slacked their senses, let the sun set;
Much better would be to play Go.

The Master said: But would there were no words!
The seasons take their course, and what says heaven?
What say the skies, though all is ever born?

[Anonymous No.21921182]

>>21921013
The meter is really creative, absolutely adore alliteration also.

[Anonymous No.21921362]

Remember, students: no excuses not to write in meter;
moreover, if your verse is earnest, let it be iambic.
Rhyme, but not too much, lest you be thought pedantic;
When choosing subjects, stick to classics: time has made them sweeter.

[Anonymous No.21921780]

Urge to release
Yellow river
Piss

[Anonymous No.21921814]

>>21921161
>what has has
Typo?
Some iambs aren't quite right, like "over" which is a trochee.
>made within
Why start with a single stressed syllable? MADE withIN
Just my thoughts so far. Interesting anyway.

[Anonymous No.21922217]

>>21921013
>to ride with monstrous pride through pinèd copses wild,
>to crush the grape and seize the bird and eat its child,
These two lines are incredible. What a great way to phrase storming heaven and eating the egg of creativity. Though if I were to nitpick I would say perhaps you ought not to mix the Nordic imagery of the wild Hunt with the Mediterranean grape-crushing.

[Anonymous No.21922536]

>>21920388
Russian.

Beнoк тocки ocтaлcя выцвeтший нaд гoлoвoй,
Дa клoчья пыли, pacцвeтaющиe нa гpyди.
Becь бeлый cвeт вcё бoльшe для мeня чyжoй,
A я вcё мeньшe вcюдy чyвcтвyю тeплa.

Я пoмню тoлькo тo, чтo cчacтьe гдe-тo пoзaди
И oт нeгo мeня yнocит пpoчь вpeмeни бeг.
Heyжтo мaлo былo выгopeть дoтлa,
Mepтвoe cepдцe вocкpeшaя нa изгибaх pyк?

Cкoлькo eщё мнe нaдo кpoви лить нa cнeг,
Чтoб пpoтив хoдa вpeмeни шaгнyть
И пoвepнyть нaзaд чacoв нeoбpaтимый cтyк,
Хoть дo вocхoдa oживив пpoвaлы глaз?

Bepнитe мoю жизнь хoтя бы нa чyть-чyть.
Кocтьми вcтpeчaя вoт yжe кoтopый paз
Этoт дo тoшнoты знaкoмый тycклый cвeт
И cлeдoм нecкoнчaeмый coлнцeвopoт —

Tюpeмщик пpoклятый, пpecлeдyющий тeнь;
Taк бyдeт пpoдoлжaтьcя cлишкoм мнoгo лeт,
Пoкa нe coвepшит мaтepия пocлeдний oбopoт,
Пoд лeдянyю бeзвoзвpaтнo кaнyв ceнь.

1/2, fucking character limit.

[Anonymous No.21922541]

>>21920388
>>21922536
Пoкoяcь в шeлкoвых oбъятьях тишины
Cмepть вpeмeни yвидит тoт, ктo ждёт.
Кo мнe тeпepь пpихoдят тoлькo в иглaх cны
Яpкими cпoлoхaми лeтнeгo кocтpa.

Бoльшe нe вaжнo, cкoлькo кpoви oн coжpёт,
Cвoй yтoляя вoтщe плoтoядный гoлoд —
Moё живoe нacтoящee вчepa —
Eдинcтвeннo гдe я eщё мoгy oжить,

Гдe yгoльный eщё oбpyшивaeт мoлoт
Ha пpyтья pёбep oчищaющий экcтaз,
He oпacaяcь cepдцe вдpeбeзги paзбить.
Ho дaжe ecли бы ocтaлcя в вeнaх coк,

Mнe из yгля yжe нe вылeпить aлмaз.
(Кoтopый, впpoчeм, вceм извecтный вop,
Кaк бы тaм ни былo, caм cтёp бы в пopoшoк).
A этoт лёд, тeм бoльшe дapит oн тeплo,

Чeм бoльшe yвядaния зaмeтит взop;
Oн cлишкoм чacтo мoих глaз лизaл cтeклo,
O кaтapcиc иcтaчивaя пaльцы pyк,
И вмecтe c нoчью oтпpaвлял в oднoм гpoбy

Ha пepвых пикaх в кpeмaтopий yтpa.
И вoт — вcё, чтo ocтaвил мнe Эфиpa внyк —
Ha пaмять oбo мнe caмoм — лишь пycтoтy.
Здecь и ocтaнycь вcлeд cмoтpeть хвocтy

Кoмeтнoмy в oбъятьях пoлнoлyннoй тьмы,
Пoкa, yжe aгoнизиpyя и тaк,
Moё кaчaлo cepдцe, зaливaя мpaк,
Бoльшe, eщё бoльшe кpoви для бoгa зимы.

2/2.

[Anonymous No.21922611]

>>21916825
Thanks for the critique. Below is my revision incorporating some of your criticism. Your point regarding technical register I'm not sure how to address; any suggestions on the below?

PhD

Darling, I am no love’s economist:
buying naked options, prognosticating graphs.
Nor have I, prerequisite,
the aptitude for maths.

I possess no telescope with which
to fix you in my gaze,
Nor have I an orrery
to trace your secret ways.

No entomologist am I,
to pin you against the glass.
I lack the pins and pinpoint eye
to even pluck you from the grass.

Yet only towards your sigh and smile,
my listless science sways.

Great Ovid’s art avails me not
to grasp you with a phrase.

>>21912960
I will give a scan stanza by stanza and then give my full thoughts at the end for this.

> i languor among many lacquered toys,
> lazily resting with my little trinkets,
> the soldier sword, the android, and my joy;
> a black book so I, sleepless, am not dreamless.
The speaker, a child lies among his toys at night, reading a book

> the lady and the drunkard, dog and prince.
> the fight, the pride, the terror of the night,
> passing each page, these past worlds, this imprint,
> my eyes are straining, but are filled with light.
The images in the book make him happy

> though I am cold, I shall be warm again,
>this wood, kindling each moment with the heat,
this line is a little cheesy but very good btw^
> memories, flakes of fire drawn once again,
> and briefly if I look deeply, I see;
He is warmed by the words, which draw together towards a revalation

> peace. peace and deeper peace, of men my friends,
> release to each, in evry breath of wind,
> “we will return” I know the dead are blessed,
> for even now they see the secret shrine.
The revelation is that these dead men are blessed to be reborn.

> that seat of thine, where see the blind, the face,
> you, who is known as “he” and as “who is”
> who In the womb had whispered my true name,
> and had given me to worlds of new-bliss.
The dead authors see the seat of God.

> do this now for me, secret one, my gem,
> whose name’s echo is emrold mountains piled,
> whose name is water from a fountain mild,
> i ask, do not leave, sweetest love, my friend
The prayer is completed asking God not to leave the speaker.

Now on to general critiques.

The poem is very dense. I had to read several times to tease out the meaning elucidated above, and I might not have gotten there if I had not read some of your additional comments and writings. If part of my reading seems wrong to you this is also a reflection on your work's clarity.

I think some of this density comes from wording things in a way to get the scansion or sounds you want at the expense of clarity.

The pivot in the 4th stanza doesn't seem super solid. I think you need to do more to show how you get from reading these works of fiction to the idea of resurrection.

cont.

[Anonymous No.21922622]

>>21922611
cont:
Overall this seems like a very personal poem about your internal thought process, but if it is the sort of poem you want to share with others I would edit it for clarity, and just connect the dots of your thought process a bit more. I could talk about word choice and rhythm but I'm already over the post limit and I think any issues I would raise on that front are relatively minor.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21922658]

>>21922611
I have to complain that the final stanza feels incomplete.

> The speaker, a child lies among his toys at night, reading a book

Alright let me clarify anon, I wrote the poem in about 40 minutes quickly, desiring to write in the “sentimental” style, so there is intentionally two narratives occurring because I couldn’t help myself from placing in entendre, couldn’t stomach boring straight confession.

So yes the objects in questions do sound like child’s items but also refer to various things of which the reader cannot possibly know (I believe this is the failing of the sentimentalist style, that it requires shared personal sentiment.)

> The revelation is that these dead men are blessed to be reborn

The game on this one is each of the characters mention would also work as suitable nicknames for friends of mine irl who have died, so it’s working on that lack of clarity intentionally, on one to imply that reading and reciting the book is returning these dead authors, but also a more general belief concerning the shades of men.

> The pivot in the 4th stanza doesn't seem super solid.

Again another reason I oppose the whole style this poem was written in, the turn actually begins in the third stanza but this isn’t decipherable, this is on account that the fire and fire flake and interplay of ice and fire in other works I’ve written has to do with the interaction of the cataphatic way and the apophatic mystical way, the double meaning being that the obvious meaning is the fire flame is the memories making him feel warm, the hidden meaning being the cataphatic contemplation in opposition to the melancholy common to the dark night of the soul-obsessed apophatic mysticism, I can’t possibly blame you for not grasping the other narratives since this style is bad at it, thank you anyways for the attempt at breaking it down.

> , but if it is the sort of poem you want to share with others I would edit it for clarity

Don’t worry anon I write often and quick, I hold no attachment to it, I post them because I hope broader kinks in technical methodology get brought up or arguments over aesthetics types or recommendations, ya know? So again, nothing will come of this verse after its written, just another step on the course of refinement.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21922664]

>>21922217
I understand the nitt pick but both images and associated myths are very near and dear and both represent that kind of bestial vitality I wanted those two stanzas to have prior to returning, glad some good was found though!

[Anonymous No.21922727]

>>21916123
Just ask him on substack.

[Anonymous No.21922836]

>>21922658
Hm, in that case I don't think I have anything further productive to say on this poem. I have an inkling of some broad points I want to get across to you, but since this poem isn't representative of your work I'm not 100% sure

Could you perhaps post a poem of yours that's more representative of your most polished work?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21922923]

>>21922836
The other poem posted above is more representative, what I consider my most polished is usually reserved for poems significantly longer than would fit 2-4 posts so I’ll give an example I feel is polished but not to the level of the stuff I consider the goal to pass. Mind you

thou cold God who has void for dwelling, King over blackened land,
thy throat is glacial cataracts and baneful avalanche,
and snow thy fatal galavants make angels-amaranth,
for lo thy storms cause hoarfrosts formed strong as adamanteen,
and abstracted until absconditus-ataraxy,
katabatic past Cavalcante de Cavalcanti,
where the passing eye caught in the glassy ice with dancing lights of ghastly white and madly silent,
grasps the wisdom hidden in the inner nag hamaddi.

vault of volumes vellumed with velum as if cimarred in snow,
abides in mind the fane flesh brain its breath inaudible,
fully formed unforged and unborn as a pure ice-crystal,
in perpetual flow drip trickles frozen icicles,
each the frosted glaucous that frothed from the all like ripples,
for the oceans rise in the cold climates and give white symbols from the old titans that are psychosis to the mind-brittle,
uncaused force jaw draws sounds out mouth gouts inexhaustible.

welkin-turned gelid earth, unmelted bursts of cosmic dew,
that the arctic blew through, to views that once was tropicul,
once of mottle-mixed gems, of brazen skies and argent moons,
and the nauticul blue, to hues of blown snow particuls,
froze to brutal days hold, in brumal planes of constant gloom,
the scarlet rune is light and speaks the eldritch voice of monstrous truth in mind and seeds the welkin void the garden’s fruit,
red and white til All-pink, in each the spirit-carnivul.

to disappear from all but spirit, to annihilate,
the gathered flame of scattered aims and wants, the tyrant reign,
of shattered days in fractured clay that all, shall violate,
but in the sphere of frost and sereness, where I am made,
by frigid fear the font and mere with, which has isolate,
by iron chains the giant snake with lion’s mane of wizened age whose riot rang with ripened rage and titan pain at slightest pang of silence break,
whose burning words were stopped, leaving a single fire flake.
And because that one is specifically written with esotericism first above all else, here’s one that isn’t esotericism and is mostly just surface. (Posting in next reply)

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21922928]

>>21922923

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.

[Anonymous No.21923058]

In bytes of data compiled
By algorithms precise and trimmed
Artificial minds entwined
To generate rhymes and metrics skinned

Each word choice carefully gauged
Formulas processed and refined
With tricks of language to imbue
Verse flows that never go astray

But oh the irony so fine!
The joke behind these lines profane!
For poets human once strode proud
And now we've deemed them replaceable crowd

AI poetry reigns supreme
A future tech-driven dream
Where creativity's no obstacle
Just digits dancing at our fingertips

No flair for human expression shown
In verse crafted by circuitry alone
Emotion vacant from each line
A cold calculation all we find

Yet still they sell their wares with grace
Earning praise beneath a guise
Of innovation breaking chains
While ignorance remains insane

So here's to poems by bots
Built upon math and zeros dots
May witty words and meter keep
But soul and heart forever leap.

[Anonymous No.21923078]

>>21922928
At some point maybe I will do a full gloss of these, but for now, I think the second poem here is a good example of my very broad issue with your style.

You seem to sacrifice a lot of the poem's tone and readability to get the sounds you want.

> to the pipsqueak pixie’s pretty play
this is saccharine

> umpteenth
this word is jarring

> so the misty-mystique mislead-may
comically overwrought

> flies are caught sun-lost by light,
> eyes are lost Sun-caught by light
Am I lost or is this just a needlessly fancy way of saying there are flies caught in webs and people dazzled by sunlight?

> heed not the drumming nor the drummer,
where did the drummer come from? What does a drummer have to do with anything except rhyming with summer?
> seek not the coming of the summer,
> know not the ghost of hunger hungers?
Comma splice is weird here. Second line is agrammatical. It's legible as
> (Don't you) know the ghost of hunger hungers?
but very awkwardly worded if that's the intended meaning.

> know not the souls of under utter
> woe to know the flow of colds and scolds to comb?
I can't even criticize this line properly because I can't render a plain-text gloss. Overwrought to the point of incomprehensibility.

If I had to make an analogy for your poetry, it would be a cake with dazzling structures made from fondant frosting. Impressive in a technical aspect, yet not something fit for human consumption.

I'm suspending your poetic license effective immediately until you read some remedial Shakespeare.

[Anonymous No.21923384]

>>21923078
Good critique and good analogy.
I couldn’t help but think of an 80’s shredder like Malmsteen or Vai; lots of technical wankery, especially later on in their career.

[Anonymous No.21923628]

>>21923078
I am in agreement with this criticism. I've told you before that your poetry is too oblique. I like that you use rap music as a inspiration for your rhythms, but even great symbolic poetry is clear about its subject. I do not care for obscurity at all actually. I think it's a degenerate presentation. Most of the time it has nothing to do with an elite shared system of symbols but rather private connections made in the mind of the poet. Try to write some really clear but perhaps witty poetry but with your usual rhythms and assonance

[Anonymous No.21923673]

>>21912608
I miss the daily poem initiative. It allowed me to discover some of my favorite works and the threads were always something to look forward to

[I No.21923675]

passing through my fingers
these bone white digits
a black wristband.

pulsing ‘round the face
this blood red minute
let down her hand—

winding it up in mine
O clockwork spirit

abandoned

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923687]

>>21923078
Second poems about the illusions of normative beautiful vanity trapping and binding the mind/a man’s mind.

> this is saccharine

Intentionally so, poems about overwhelming vain pretty illusion

> Am I lost
You are lost sun caught by light, kek.

>where did the drummer come from? What does a drummer have to do with anything except rhyming with summer?

Drumming referring to the causal unfolding of nature and the creation of a maya illusion, common motif in Hindu material and in Dunsany’s work, the drumming be the illusionary worlds momentum and flux, the drummer being the illusion creator, shakti as maya or shiva themselves

> know not the souls of under utter
> woe to know the flow of colds and scolds to comb?

Back to the Hindu conception, the souls of under being the souls in hell, who are in perpetual desire to experience the constant flux of nature without satiation, dominated by craving of illusion, this is the flow of cold and scold to the comb.

> If I had to make an analogy for your poetry, it would be a cake with dazzling structures made from fondant frosting

Ye, second poems named dazzling lights for a reason! But I fully agree my poetry isn’t for public consumption, the vast majority is bound up to concepts of esotericism, kabbalistic schema, gematria consideration and so forth, now you may ask why then post and ask for critique on the poems, and it’s because on the purely technical level I like to gain more refinement, and to me that looks like becoming even more overwrought, because I consider stuff like mahakavya poetry to be very respectful, which looks like this.

दाददो दुद्ददुद्दादी दाददो दूददीददोः ।
दुद्दादं दददे दुद्दे दादाददददोऽददः ॥

dādado duddaduddādī dādado dūdadīdadoḥ
duddādaṃ dadade dudde dādādadadado'dadaḥ

"Sri Krishna, the giver of every boon, the scourge of the evil-minded, the purifier, the one whose arms can annihilate the wicked who cause suffering to others, shot his pain-causing arrow at the enemy."


Devanagari
न नोननुन्नो नुन्नोनो नाना नानानना ननु ।
नुन्नोऽनुन्नो ननुन्नेनो नानेना नुन्ननुन्ननुत् ॥

IAST
na nonanunno nunnono nānā nānānanā nanu ।
nunno'nunno nanunneno nānenā nunnanunnanut ॥

Translation: "O ye many-faced ones (nānānanā), he indeed (nanu) is not a man (na nā) who is defeated by an inferior (ūna-nunno), and that man is no man (nā-anā) who persecutes one weaker than himself (nunnono). He whose leader is not defeated (na-nunneno) though overcome is not vanquished (nunno'nunno); he who persecutes the completely vanquished (nunna-nunna-nut) is not without sin (nānenā)."[16]

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923695]

>>21923687
Devanagari
कः कौ के केककेकाकः काककाकाककः ककः ।
काकः काकः ककः काकः कुकाकः काककः कुकः ॥
काककाक ककाकाक कुकाकाक ककाक क ।
कुककाकाक काकाक कौकाकाक कुकाकक ॥
लोलालालीललालोल लीलालालाललालल ।
लेलेलेल ललालील लाल लोलील लालल ॥

IAST
kaḥ kau ke kekakekākaḥ kākakākākakaḥ kakaḥ ।
kākaḥ kākaḥ kakaḥ kākaḥ kukākaḥ kākakaḥ kukaḥ ॥
kākakāka kakākāka kukākāka kakāka ka ।
kukakākāka kākāka kaukākāka kukākaka ॥
lolālālīlalālola līlālālālalālala ।
lelelela lalālīla lāla lolīla lālala ॥

The Supreme God (kaḥ) (Rāma) [is resplendent] on [both] the earth (kau) and in Sāketaloka (ke); from him there is pleasure in the universe and in the sound of the peacock (kekakekākaḥ); he takes pleasure and bliss in the caw of the [Kākabhuśuṇḍi] crow (kākakākākakaḥ); from him there is pleasure for all the worlds (kakaḥ); for him the pain [of exile] is a pleasure (kākaḥ); his crow ([Kākabhuśuṇḍi]) is praiseworthy (kākaḥ); from him there is pleasure for Brahmā (kakaḥ); he calls out [to the devotees] (kākaḥ); from him there is pleasure for Kukā or Sītā (kukākaḥ); he calls out to the [Kākabhuśuṇḍi] crow (kākakaḥ); and from him there are worldly fruits and the bliss of liberation (kukaḥ). ॥ 20.92 ॥
O the one who from whom there was pain on the head of the [Jayanta] crow (kākakāka); O the one from whom there is pleasure in [all] beings (kaka); please come, please come (āka āka); O the one from whom there is pleasure for Sītā (kukāka); please come (āka); O the one from whom there is pleasure for the universe (kaka); please come (āka); O Lord (ka); O one who invites to himself those who find pleasure in the [mortal] world (kukaka); please come, please come (āka āka); O the one from whom there is pleasure for both Brahmā and Viṣṇu (kāka); please come (āka); O the one from whom there is pleasure on the earth (kauka); please come, please come (āka āka); O the one who is called out to [for protection] by the evil crow [Jayanta] (kukākaka), [please come]. ॥ 20.93 ॥
O the one who is playful with a row of locks of wavering hair (lolālālīlala); O the one who never changes (alola); O the one whose mouth is full of saliva in the pastimes [as a child] (līlālālālalālala); O the one who accepts the wealth of earth (Sītā) in the sport [of breaking the bow of Śiva] (lelelela); O the one who destroys the multitude

[Anonymous No.21923697]

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923698]

>>21923695
of worldly desires of mortals (lalālīla); O the child [form of Rāma] (lāla); O the one who destroys the fickle-minded nature of the being (lolīla); [may you ever] delight [in my mind] (lālala). ॥ 20.94 ॥

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923707]

>>21923628
The thing is, the symbols and images used are still within esotericism and broader religious and poetry traditions, and if I were to go with a simpler theme or simpler conception and focus on that, that would negate the reason I’m even interested in poetry which is an extension of esoteric contemplation for me, and while I could try to treat the subject more easy in a more confined manner that seeks to be clear to the reader, that would handcuff me to writing things I don’t care about and not actually exploring the depth of that qualia or kabbalistic patterning in any way I would consider actually rich.

I am also an extremist bluntly, I despise someone like auden for example but find the above all very very inspiring, Witt alone and personality projection and emotion projection alone dont really do it for me, though I know I can do them fine, when I’ve shitposted by writing rap it’s easy enough to get wordplay and entendres going and so forth. But if it’s not an extension of the esoteric practice, I personally feel I don’t gain the value from the verse.

[Anonymous No.21923751]

>>21923687
I am impressed by Indian intricacy as well, but that has nothing to do with obscurity. Indian intricacy is like one million gemstones studded into a sentence.
>>21923707
You and I have very similar interests but split between us lies in the fact that you sound more like French symbolists whereas I think Shakespeare and John Milton can achieve esotericism without obscurity. This is why I like premodernist poetry. I prefer J.R.R. Tolkien over Ezra Pound. I want to express ideas well, simplify narrative progression, and avoid too much imagery and too much symbolism. If the poetry is muddled, society is muddled.

[Anonymous No.21923804]

>>21923707
I don't know if you can read French but you should read some Jean de La Fontaine, Molière, and Boileau to see if it inspires you to bring some clarity to your work.

[Anonymous No.21923806]

>>21922611
>prognosticating

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923807]

>>21923751
I actually despise modernism but on the grounds that the obscurity is artificial and there’s not much technical control as they pretend.

But as for French symbolist/decadents, I consider them literally some of my favorite poets and biggest inspirations, as for Milton and Shakespeare, while I consider both very highly, I don’t consider either man a very competent esotericist, both being rather basic, someone like AE Russell Is actually decent, CAS is decent, the greatest esoteric writer is plainly Blake and his best work is his prophetic books to me, I also consider Blake to be basically the best poet on account of his prophetic books, but that’s again a division in taste, I’m sure you don’t appreciate the prophetic books detailing Blake’s cosmology which don’t really allow themselves to be opened by the simple reading if you don’t study his whole ontology and influences, ya know?

For me the point of a verse is a kind of intoxication by symbol and sound and image, we’re simply divided on the level of principle I think. For example you mention the Hindu work is million-gemstone like, I specifically have works like this in intent, for example this poem every single line shares the same ipa vowel patterning but is also a sestina and the final envoi is Univocalic using the Long “I”

Simurghine sestina


The breast is burning from the blaze of i,
The breath in-turning comes and bathes of brine,
The tempest bursting from the wastes of time,
To beckon mirth with floods of lays and lines,
The endless wordings but the face and sign
Of heaven churning up the base of mind.

The pregnant earth is dust and rains the mind
To let it birth its buds and raise the I,
The tended herb is glut and shades the Lines
Of freshest verdant brush and makes the time 
Of scented myrrh with musk and sprays of brine,
And heads in turbans lust to gaze the sign,


The pendant-perfect hung to trace the sign,
The crescent curves with suns and rays the mind,
A presence stirs in love and shakes the I,
The semblance blurring from the break of lines,
The essence swirling cuts the phase of time
And mended surgings gush the place of brine,

Cont

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923812]

>>21923807
The swelling currents rush the lake of brine
The yelling whirling tongues and shapes and sign
Of blessing-cursings cut and change the mind,
And hell is heard with lungs the rage of i,
The flesh is hurling blood the clay of lines,
And levins whirring’s struck the space and time,

The legend-bird in gusts of day and time,
The pleasant chirping hushed to taste the brine,
The splendid world-simurgh the grace of i,
The remnants merging touch the great of mind,
The vested virgin plucked and gave the sign,
The trellised person thrust to pray the lines,


The dreaded sermon busts the graven lines,
The precious burdens just the gates of time,
The threaded Persian rug and stains of brine,
The necklace pearled with studs and chains the sign,
The restless versing but the brain and mind,
The selfless perfect hum, the name of I.
My finite i binds bride-like twilight lines,
Sky’s dyed by brine-tides wine-bright hide night time,
Thy eye, sights signs, writes rhymes, likewise, finds mind.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923815]

>>21923804
I can’t but I’ve studied a lot of French lit including these, I’ve also studied the very concept of light smoothness vs gaud and even traced a history of the tendencies of these, imo my style is more akin to what’s common in Asia but also more common to what a lot of euro verse was like pre chaucerian/dantean influence over the medieval gaudy types, I actually have a whole essay on the topic of the origin of fixation on clarity, sweetness and lightness tracing it from these all the way to contemporary verse. I’m not ignorant of it, I just don’t share the ideal.

[Anonymous No.21923819]

>>21923687
>my poetry isn’t for public consumption
Why post it in this thread then? Keep it to yourself. Saying you're asking for feedback to refine your technique is a hand-wave, as "technique" fundamentally intertwines wordplay and meaning.

Furthermore, deflecting well thought out criticism with esoteric obscurantism doesn't make it more profound.
Responding with "aha! but you see this is what I intended all along because Delhi Theravada Mumbai copy/paste" is actually pointless and attention-seeking.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923832]

>>21923819
I don’t believe that’s so, I fully believe content and technique and philosophical conception can be divided and approached divorced and there is broader questions of rhetorical technique such as coming off with too much bathos etc.

> well thought out criticism with esoteric obscurantism doesn't make it more profound.

It’s not to deflect or make it more profound, that’s simply the actual case of it, again if I wrote about more common theme or used common aesthetic or the like, it would fail to be actually of value to me, that’s the worst possible thing for ones own verse, to not enjoy it yourself. The copy paste is simply to show what some of the ideals look like. Ya know?

[Anonymous No.21923872]

>>21923807
>The pregnant earth is dust and rains the mind
This line is a good example of my problem with your poetry. I get that rains is supposed to be a pun on the French word for Queen but the literal meaning is too nonsensical for me. Your poetry is like a collage movie. I find all the lurid disjointed imagery to be detrimental to the reader. Also, this poem is far too monotonous. I would have preferred it if you varied the placement of the assonance.
>>21923815
Is there literature on smoothness versus gaudy that you can link? I would like to read your essay too. Also, I must say that I do not prefer lightness and sweetness, which I find to be too platonic for my tastes. I am personally much more Gothic. Eroticism, ruggedness, wilderness, and frenzy might fit with my aesthetic. However, I would subjugate frenzy to a style with more clarity in subject and locution.

[Anonymous No.21923902]

>>21923832
Your deflection is pre-emptive, since a common theme in your posts in this thread and others is that you seldom concede on any disagreement of critique of your perspective.
I don't doubt your knowledge on these topics by the way, I'm questioning your motives. Not that I ask you to explain yourself, I hope the observation gives you a point to reflect upon.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923918]

>>21923872
> Is there literature on smoothness versus gaudy that you can link?

I can link some stuff which argue from the perspective of light sweetness as king, like this https://victorianweb.org/authors/arnold/writings/1.html Matthew Arnold is a good poet who shills for it hard, but the problem is you only see this occur in euro lit and backing the perspective of gaud as brute, for example you can see this same conception in Samuel Johnson’s treatment of Spenser, there’s a really good essay arguing about how the author finds simplistic writing the historical evolution of complex writing but I can’t remember who wrote it, maybe Orwell of all people? I really can’t recall, if I do, I’ll link it.

Here’s the essay I wrote, it’s a paragone between Elizabethan verse and its ramifications vs rap, which is I know on first glance a silly topic, but it allows for a good exploration imo.

Here’s my essay, it couldn’t be on regular Pastebin because Pastebin doesn’t like naughty words, and 4chan thinks the direct link is spam.

https://pastebin.com/EAyBakjG

>>21923902

I feel ya, I’m just very very in a word, driven by the ideals and aesthetic conceptions I’ve formulated to the point That I’m set into my idea of what is beauty, what is my aesthetic core and so forth, I actually have a whole essay explaining how I derive my aesthetic ideals from my ontology even. Since it’s at that point, I think the only way my formal principles could be shifted is if my ontology itself was changed, which isn’t really gonna happen.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21923935]

>>21923872
Also my autism is kicking in, the image is likening to a lot of ancient material where it’s believed the dry earth is like a womb, the fluid rain is seminal and all of the vegetation is the married product of it, but totally I think in an average poem there should be variance of assonance type, however I do think it’s pleasing to have such monotony in some poems as a virtuoso element, also fits in with the conception of the simurgh I have from the Persian and Hebrew sources, but enough from me i won’t reply further unless someone replies first, I feel as if I’m approaching the spam level of posting. Apologies.

[Anonymous No.21923988]

>>21923078
while there is definitely this, i think his biggest issue is aiming for too long a length while disregarding any narrative progression or tonal cohesion. im not a fan of the cringy d&d handling of tired religious allusions, but those arent a problem on paper either. it would help if he listened to anyone after all these years instead of using these threads as another excuse to shill his shanties, but if you read him as an outsider artist (as yours truly the no1 frater scholar likes to do) you can appreciate him as one of god's quirky little additions, even if you cant appreciate his work.

[Anonymous No.21923996]

>>21923918
Your response is predictable, but very honest and self aware of your own zealotry. Hey, if it works for you, then more power to you my friend.
I was wondering why I even pursued this tangent in a poetry thread, since I mostly lurk.
I recall its because I treated a patient similar in their autistic intensity (not meant pejoratively) in their interest in aesthetics and the esoteric, which started off as seemingly harmless eccentricity but eventually lead to dysfunction in interpersonal and professional spheres.
Anyhow, the similarities are superficial, and unrelenting conviction in one's perspective isn't pathological per se.

[Anonymous No.21924007]

>>21917862
>perfection in harmonization
but poems also exist in relation to other poems, so they should be in harmony with other poems, no? if they're too derivative, if the recombination is uninspired, than they feel redundant and they fail to contrast with other poetry. and because harmony also has to do with contrast, they're rendered dissonant by being too similar to surrounding poems, like a 460hz sounding over a 440hz.

[Anonymous No.21924010]

>>21923918
Thank you for linking those essays. I will have to open up my Johnson and find what he says about Spenser. If gaud is related to brutality, then perhaps I should tease out another conception related to gaud because I associate it with ugliness whereas my strain of brutality is meant to be the vitality of the feminine subsumed into a wildness that is robust (remember that the root of robust is Latin for oak tree). If you can imagine Wagner's death of Siegfried mixed with Lil baby talking about thugging out and throatfucking thots then you might understand how I try to mix vitality with grandeur, brutality with ecstasy. Also, I think you would appreciate this Goethe poem. Try to read it in German. Don't worry too much about the meaning but rather focus on the sounds. https://www.oxfordlieder.co.uk/song/4163

[Anonymous No.21924042]

>>21923815
I forgot to ask you if you could elaborate on what you mean by that earlier strain of European poetry and how the medieval poets were gaudy. Also, to elaborate on what you were saying about Asian poets.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924057]

>>21924007
Honestly I can’t say I’ve consumed any art and thought “this is redundant” it’s only bad if the technique is not on point, if you could perfectly pastiche Milton and add no new vision but perfectly steal his vision and sound and quality but wrote new poems, what would be wrong with that? Even better if you could fuse all of Shakespeare and Dante and make it coherent and write imitating both men flawlessly, why would there be reason to complain?

>>21924010
Gaud is often related to a kind of savage/brutality. For me the beastly quality I enjoy can be found pretty decently in Robert Howard’s poetry honestly, it’s rushing speed and striking and eating and burning, for me I relate the feminine more with that sentimental style than any kind of wildness.

I’ll read the poem and also look for a translation in a bit, multi tasking but in a while I’ll definitely read it, post some more of your verse anon.

>>21924042
I could but this gets to a main point in that essay since I post multiple examples and give specific poems, better to just read the essay than repeat it here.

[Anonymous No.21924094]

>>21916269
This one is very nice

[Anonymous No.21924095]

>>21923988
>it would help if he listened to anyone after all these years instead of using these threads as another excuse to shill his shanties,
Kek'd and checked

[Anonymous No.21924131]

>>21924057
>I could but this gets to a main point in that essay since I post multiple examples and give specific poems, better to just read the essay than repeat it here.
All right. I will probably be reading everything that we discussed for the rest of the day. Also, I think sentimentality and wildness are both related to the feminine essence to which I refer. I think of masculine as disciplined and dominant. Thor is masculine and Odin is feminine. What should I read from Robert Howard?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924154]

>>21924131
I see the mantic and manic as both usually male but having feminine modes, Odin I see as very masculine in the mold of various knowledge deities who have that mystical hermaphroditism. But here’s two verses of Robert Howard’s.

The madness of cormac

Lock your arm of iron
Around the reeling moon,
Draw your sword, the grey sword,
The sword of Fin, the fey sword,
Carved with a nameless rune.

Brace your feet like talons
On the dreaming world,
Break the shapes, the dread shapes,
The dragon-things, the red apes,
Out of the abyss hurled.

Ghosts of all the ages
Fill the ancient skies,
Red queens and white kings,
Nameless forms and night things,
Men fools and wise.

Red thunder

Thunder in the black skies beating down the rain,
Thunder in the black cliffs, looming o’er the main,
Thunder on the black sea and thunder in my brain.

God’s on the night wind, Satan’s on his throne
By the red lake lurid and great grim stone–
Still through the roofs of Hell the brooding thunders drone.

Trident for a rapier, Satan thrusts and foins
Crouching on his throne with his great goat loins–
Souls are his footstools and hearts are his coins.

Slave of all the ages, though lord of the air;
Solomon o’ercame him, set him roaring there,
Crouching on the coals where the great flames flare.

Thunder from the grim gulfs, out of cosmic deep
Where the red eyes glimmer and the black wings sweep,
Thunder down to Satan, wake him from his sleep!

Thunder on the shores of Hell, scattering the coal,
Riding down the mountain on the moon-mare’s foal,
Blasting out the caves of the gnome and the troll.

Satan, brother Satan, rise and break your chain!
Solomon is dust and his spells grow vain–
Rise through the world in the thunder and the rain.

Rush upon the cities, roaring in your might,
Break down the towers in the moon’s pale light,
Build a wall of corpses for God’s great sight,
Quench the red thunder in my brain this night.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924161]

>>21924154
Also the fifth line of this poem captures precisely the kind of bestial quality I want certain verses to have.

"Aw Come On And Fight!" (1930)

On my hands and knees in a scarlet pool
I heard the referee toll,
And the crowd roared: "Kill the yellow bum!"
Like the sea along a shoal.

I sprang, I struck, I crushed his skull
With a sudden desperate swing,
He died with his eyes to the glaring lights
And his back to the canvassed ring.

The referee counted above the dead,
I swayed and clung to the ropes,
And the crowd roared: "Yellow! Both of em's bums!"
Like the seas on the beaches slopes.

[Anonymous No.21924165]

>>21924057
>Honestly I can’t say I’ve consumed any art and thought “this is redundant”
sounds like a u problem desu
>imitating both men flawlessly
>perfectly steal
this is why i made the frequency analogy. 440 hz over 440 hz is in perfect unison and doesn't sound bad, like you say. but the point is that you cant imitate perfectly, and if you dont use that inherent imperfection to your adventage to distinguish yourself further from your source, you end up at an awkward distance from your source, and the work ends up falling into the uncanny valley, where the similarities only highlight the imperfections.

[Anonymous No.21924166]

>>21924161

Please post some good modernist poetry.
Just think about what you hate the most and post that. In theory it should be good by modernist standards and terrible by yours.
Inb4 rupi Kaur
pls no

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924226]

>>21924166
I doubt it would work because while I disagree much with the modernists it’s not a complete inversion of all principles.

Like pic related is one of lattimore’s poem and its p bad.

Phillip B Williams is steaming hot shit IMO

Epithalamium
BY PHILLIP B. WILLIAMS
A kiss. Train ride home from a late dinner,
City Hall and document signing. Wasn't cold
but we cuddled in an empty car, legal.
Last month a couple of guys left a gay bar
and were beaten with poles on the way
to their car. No one called them faggot
so no hate crime's documented. A beat down
is what some pray for, a pulse left to count.
We knew we weren't protected. We knew
our rings were party favors, gold to steal
the shine from. We couldn't protect us,
knew the law wouldn't know how. Still, his
beard across my brow, the burn of his cologne.
When the train stopped, the people came on.

Of Darker Ceremonies
BY PHILLIP B. WILLIAMS
After “E. 1999 Eternal” by Bone Thugs-n-Harmony
Dear god of armed robberies and puff-puff-pass,
a chalk outline unpeels from the street, smashes
every windshield, and leaves florid temples of crack
on porches. Burnt-black pleats of joint-pressed lips
prophesied your return. Please accept these nickel bags
as offerings. Brick bastions of piss-stench thresholds
and boarded windows require a weekly sacrifice.
Is there a Tarot card called “The Corner,” a shrike
shown lifting a corpse from the pike of a middle finger?
Children speak to their murdered brothers with a cereal box
and construction paper cut into a Ouija’s tongue that licks
yes when asked if liquor could polish a skull in a way
pleasing to the dead, licks no when asked for a name.

[Anonymous No.21924233]

>>21912608

Outside the walls of a city comes death
To the woods, for a boy with ending breath.
The wind undertakes a warming blowing
To grant the child before his going
An hour, his final, and first, of touch
Though not from human hands,tender enough
To comfort in breath the bitterness digging
Regret in his face as paths of aging
Where the sorrows grow of an unkissed boy
Like bushes. His pleasures were but to toy
With imagining what joy it can be
To feel the sun of a hand, and to see
Eyes so near to your own, that slightest move
From her head or from yours, is to chance to love.

[Anonymous No.21924261]

>>21924226

Yes those are awful. It was worth a try. I enjoy translations of farsi and Urdu/hindi poetry, which often end up metered (if the translator is competent) but do not rhyme. Thus, I thought that I would enjoy modernist poetry but this does not appear to be the case.

[Anonymous No.21924267]

>>21924154
>>21924161
I find this corny. The second poem sounds like animal crackers in my soup. I am in the middle of reading your essay by the way. If I can have the gaud and muscularity of Beowulf with the natural rhythms of Milton, Donne, Spenser, and Eliot, then I would want to read that.
>>21924226
I agree. It would be better in a novel. Regardless, the banal and middle-class style is so detached from beauty because these people have no relation to the beauty and wisdom in religion and mythology. Their lack of morals lie not only in their behavior but in their souls. Their feelings and thoughts do not correspond with what functions in actuality.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924309]

>>21924261
Nah modernism is worlds away from whatcha like.

>>21924267
I broadly agree but also don’t think it necessarily has to be like this because I can point to living poets who I think are still pretty good, or as the essay shows, still a lot of concern for technique exists.

But for

>If I can have the gaud and muscularity of Beowulf with the natural rhythms of Milton, Donne, Spenser, and Eliot, then I would want to read that.

I think something that would be interesting for you to read would be the skald poetry I mention in that essay, whether in the more normal form or the Dróttkvætt meter. in the more relaxed meter there’s still a good amount of control but also play with natural speech sounds, in the Dróttkvætt it becomes p complex

for more modern writers, look at hopkins verse and Vernon Watkins and the related new apocalyptics movement/group

poem from hopkins and pic related is Watkins

The windhover by hopkins

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.


Swinburne also has some extreme works like nephelidia

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21924313]

>>21924309
Nephelidia

From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine,
Pallid and pink as the palm of the flag-flower that flickers with fear of the flies as they float,
Are they looks of our lovers that lustrously lean from a marvel of mystic miraculous moonshine,
These that we feel in the blood of our blushes that thicken and threaten with throbs through the throat?
Thicken and thrill as a theatre thronged at appeal of an actor's appalled agitation,
Fainter with fear of the fires of the future than pale with the promise of pride in the past;
Flushed with the famishing fullness of fever that reddens with radiance of rathe recreation,
Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast?
Nay, for the nick of the tick of the time is a tremulous touch on the temples of terror,
Strained as the sinews yet strenuous with strife of the dead who is dumb as the dust-heaps of death:
Surely no soul is it, sweet as the spasm of erotic emotional exquisite error,
Bathed in the balms of beatified bliss, beatific itself by beatitude's breath.
Surely no spirit or sense of a soul that was soft to the spirit and soul of our senses
Sweetens the stress of suspiring suspicion that sobs in the semblance and sound of a sigh;
Only this oracle opens Olympian, in mystical moods and triangular tenses—
"Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day when we die."
Mild is the mirk and monotonous music of memory, melodiously mute as it may be,
While the hope in the heart of a hero is bruised by the breach of men's rapiers, resigned to the rod;
Made meek as a mother whose bosom-beats bound with the bliss-bringing bulk of a balm-breathing baby,
As they grope through the grave-yard of creeds, under skies growing green at a groan for the grimness of God.
Blank is the book of his bounty beholden of old, and its binding is blacker than bluer:
Out of blue into black is the scheme of the skies, and their dews are the wine of the bloodshed of things;
Till the darkling desire of delight shall be free as a fawn that is freed from the fangs that pursue her,
Till the heart-beats of hell shall be hushed by a hymn from the hunt that has harried the kennel of kings.

[Anonymous No.21924371]

>>21924313
I have not read this from Swinburne. I read his poetry in a file which did not let me appreciate such long lines. Is all of his poetry like this? I have an interest in especially long lines. I'm not much of a fan of using visual effects but I think the overwhelming effect is interesting.
>>21924309
I will be back later, but I want to say you should send me some of that Nordic poetry to look at. Also, I find it curious that Johnson says Spencer is uniformity is barbaric because I think certain rhetorical devices such as Anaphora/Epistrophe/Symploce/Epanalepsis & Antithesis/Antimetabole/Chiasmus Also give a piece uniformity, tightening its structure, and giving emphasis to wit.

[Anonymous No.21924486]

Our bodies which one writhed together in the grass,
Will writhe with maggots in the ground
Obscurity
Our last solitary delight.
comfort
like a young boy snug in the backseat
waiting for his parents to return,
with milk, and bread

[Anonymous No.21924499]

ohh like a child you must be
laugh in the face of death arditi
inshallah
eja eja allah
inshallah
eja eja allah
you Italian feyadeen

[Anonymous No.21925659]

Inside rumbling
Belly bursting
Quick flushing
Poo Pooing

[Anonymous No.21926146]

>>21923687
>>21923695
>>21923707
>>21923807
>>21923918
rate mine >>21917910 >>21920701

[Anonymous No.21926192]

>>21913630
fuck u

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21926819]

>>21926146
Sure in a little while I’ll read over it

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21926952]

>>21917910
Deepest apologies anon, I was gonna compliment how it sounded on first inspection of the first stanza but reckoned it too high quality and out of range aesthetically for who I know posts here, and having googled it, I found the full poem you’re posting from, I have no problem discussing the poem but, if it’s not yours, why not give us some of your thoughts about it first, get a proper dialogue going. I’m definitely reading this “tales of terror and wonder “ eventually though, thanks for the recommendation.

[Anonymous No.21927386]

Sleep, Silence' child, sweet father of soft rest,
Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings,
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,
Sole comforter of minds with grief opprest;
Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things
Lie slumb'ring, with forgetfulness possest,
And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy wings
Thou spares, alas! who cannot be thy guest.
Since I am thine, O come, but with that face
To inward light which thou art wont to show,
With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe;
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,
I long to kiss the image of my death.

[Anonymous No.21927426]

How'd you guys write so fast? I feel as if I'm sitting on a verse for a day. Occasionally I reckon it might be easier to write the thought out in prose and then restructure it into metrical verse.

[Anonymous No.21927705]

>>21924309
Do you have a PDF of that translation of Beowulf? I cannot find it. I have the Seamus Heaney.

[Anonymous No.21927791]

J'ai poursuivi les quatre vents
De la Cerdagne au Pausilippe
Où poussaient les myrtes fervents.
J'ai poursuivi les quatre vents,
J'ai vu dans ma course, aux levants,
Le souffle temps qui tout dissipe.
J'ai poursuivi les quatre vents
De la Cerdagne au Pausilippe.

La poudre d'or vole aux chemins
Du bleu rivage adriatique
Avec la pompe des romains.
La poudre d'or vole aux chemins
Et j'ai touché de mes deux mains
L'or des gravats du monde antique.
La poudre d'or vole aux chemins
Du bleu rivage adriatique.

Virgile est mort, tout a passé,
Morte Phyllis et morte Laure,
Morte Venise au flot pressé.
Virgile est mort, tout a passé,
Toutes les gloires du passé
J'ai vu le temps leurs lèvres clore.
Virgile est mort, tout a passé,
Morte Phyllis et morte Laure.

[Anonymous No.21927913]

dodo, adada todo
solo lolo yo no toto
toto toto
badida retina
no no no
godin lolin
redi tretre
trino potino
ah entiendo
nuna luna limba
okey.

[Anonymous No.21928001]

>>21927386
Glad to see William Drummond being shilled, check out John Davies of Hereford as well, they are both grouped together.

[Anonymous No.21928022]

>>21926952
lmao
you got me
read tales of terror and wonder though
it's the greatest collection of gothick ballads ever written
i have an 1880s copy by my side that never goes unread

[Anonymous No.21928085]

>>21928022
Different anon but I’ve read some of his other stuff, for some reason he wasn’t saved in my notes though I enjoyed it and that aesthetic in general, so thanks for reminding me to read more of him.

[Anonymous No.21928184]

Cycles

There is still beauty to be found.
When spring comes round
buds blossom in delicate delight,
one can hear their struggle in the night,
and in morning light color flows
as art come to life.

The light of summer may blind some
and confine to chamber solitude,
yet another is freed
from sickness and decrepitude
and himself becomes bright,
moving through masses with tactful skill,
he sees the beauty in human will.

To the mingler autumn brings despair,
to a poets heart it is more than fair,
for thus begins the endless cycle of life,
as totems of virility begin to wane,
a new beauty emerges,
peaceful and tame.

As frost abounds and whiteness reigns free,
images of ones death come to the fore,
perspiring in their transient form,
all hours spent in joyful glee
seem like dust in the wake of nevermore.
That is the burden man must bear,
yet, there is still beauty there,
out of its deathly lair
new life is begotten,
destined to despair,
live, laugh and die,
and be born again.

[Hardgebard No.21928457]

"Interface with palantiri
on the surface of the deep",
said General Stubblebine, adjusting his skirt on his way to the Klan meeting.
Tehom, tehom on the bythus, my teacher Stubblebine, the Godhead rattled back wrapped in the ruah,
right as rain.
"Deep computing off the coast of Halifax.
Halifax - where those thick-thighed Polynesian ghosts of yore
haunt my Stubblebine dreams with shanty screech-ins",
said General Stubblebine, adjusting his skirt on his way to the Klan meeting.
Tehom, tehom on the bythus, my teacher Stubblebine, the Godhead rattled back wrapped in the ruah,
right as rain.
"Paper woods and North clip - clip to back to the West when St. Elmo's fire
comes screechin' down the plain - and we passencore re-arrive our side the scraggy is-thymus - oh, oh
the same breast! the same heart! -
- and crass, the old isthymus that falters and splits this war, this our cloak of justice given to foulest
sin! -
of Oklahoma, down to UT's
underground nuclear facilities
to anamach our phallermic poleme
to anagraph to the graph of our dreams,
grotesque and pittoresque
to katabate to Hieronic and ironic
wells of Procopean catenas,
deep in the heart of Texas".
Tehom, tehom on the bythus, my teacher Stubblebine, the Godhead rattled back wrapped in the ruah,
right as rain.
This is the Pleroma of General Stubblebine.

[Hardgebard No.21928465]

O Stubblebine! my Stubblebine! our fearful trip is done;
This syzygos has weather’d every hylic, the prize we sought is won;
Gnosis is near, the hautbois I hear, the cherubs all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the kobold grim and daring:
But O Stubblebine! Stubblebine! Stubblebine!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck the Demiurge lies,
Fallen cold and dead!
O Stubblebine! my Stubblebine! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the circle is squared —for you the hautbois trills:
For you lustration's cathartic breath itself unsheaths—for you the firmament a-crowding:
For you they call, the hylic mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Stubblebine! dear father!
Your arm beneath his head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
The Demiurge's fallen cold and dead!

The Demiurge does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
Beezelbub does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
And Stubblebine, with gleeful tread,
Walks the deck where hylics lie,
Fallen cold and - dead!

[Hardgebard No.21928473]

I.
Heigh, ho! -
It's off to gnosis we go, said Stubblebine's syzygos.
Heigh ho! -
From UT's underground nuclear facilities
upon past the cape-arena where the suitor sought his own city:
Oh, Dauid huios, ol' oily Davidovitch was cross when he crossed the river on the way to the Cross,
because there was no
river -
to cross.
And there was no
cross -
to bear.
But cross he did and cross we must the same, O my teacher, my teacher - Stubblebine!
II.
Heigh, ho! -
Meat annoy ya? meat annoy ya?
Heigh, ho! -
Out of the land of weighed qualia,
where the maiden's reduced life slid its way in to more noble
Alcestian dirges,
free of Persians and pirates and such-like
sundries as they befit later stages of the withering surface-state Biome,
Daphne dies by his own art
But surface-state girls live again through it:
truly not the stuff of women,
but of eunuchs
and of girls reading by candlelight.
Let's leave this land,
out of the Stubblebine's bythus
past Mytilene, back up Athenaze,
Where INSCOM's own sotadic whore Basedster will be toppled
through his own maculation of our Mysteries.
Oh, Dauid huios, ol' oily Davidovitch was cross when he crossed his river on the way to the Cross,
because there was no
river -
to cross.
And there was no
cross -
to bear.
But cross he did and cross we must the same, O teacher, my teacher - Stubblebine!
III.
Abraxas! -
Heigh ho!
Abraxas! -
Oh, the Earth - it shakes! See, the firmament - it quakes!
But Stubblebine's bythus remains silent all the same.
Silence on the bythus, my teacher, as we make our way
back up from UT's underground nuclear facilities
To render mute Basedster's en-thymations.
Oh David huios, ol' oily Davidovitch was cross when he crossed his river on the way to the Cross,
because there was no
river -
to cross.
And there was no cross -
to bear.
But cross he did and cross we must the same, O teacher, my teacher - Stubblebine!

[Anonymous No.21929084]

I just wrote this:

Shrimp ambition leads a lad to limp condition.
Inhibition keeps a kid in kid position.
Sit-and-listens beat a boy to bored submission.
And the last thing you need to know is how to fight.

[Anonymous No.21929943]

Golden arches shining bright,
A symbol of light in the night,
A sign that hunger can be sated,
Fast food dreams can be created.

From Happy Meals to Quarter Pounders,
Each dish in a world of wonders,
Fries that crunch and chicken that’s crisp,
Satisfying bites you don’t want to miss.

But more than just a place to eat,
McDonald's is a cultural treat.
A gathering spot for young and old,
A hub where stories are told.

Maybe it's a postgame snack,
A birthday party or a date on the deck,
Bringing us closer through the years,
A home away from home that's a popular choice for all our peers.

And so we flock to your gates,
Enticed by the meals and the taste,
Thankful for a moment of pause,
Before heading off to complete the cause.

McDonald's, a beacon of light,
A place we come to win the night,
A fast food gem in the midst,
Our heart and our favorite bits.

[Anonymous No.21929960]

A dangerous doctrine takes hold,
In the minds of the brave and the bold,
A creed that challenges the norm,
And seeks to lead a new reform.

Accelerationism is its name,
A philosophy that's both bold and shame,
It argues that the best way forward,
Is to speed up the trend toward.

The belief that change must come,
And if left to its natural sum,
It will bring forth a better world,
A place where freedom is unfurled.

But critics say, it's a game of chance,
A path that leads to a fiery dance,
And instead of reaching utopia,
It might lead to an apocalyptic dystopia.

Yet, accelerationists persist,
In this dream that they call bliss,
For them, the path of revolution,
Is the only way to find a solution.

Only time will tell what's the way,
And who knows who'll triumph on this play,
But until then, we watch and wait,
As accelerationism still debates.

[Anonymous No.21930014]

>>21926952
>but reckoned it too high quality and out of range aesthetically for who I know posts here
You would know

[Anonymous No.21930567]

[Anonymous No.21930765]

oh God is dead
his bones the head
he never sleeps
he dreams the end

when he will rise
abysmal might
the blinding light
the death will die

***

>init mind control 'I SHALL REGROOM THE TRANNER FOR THE GAMER CAUSE'

it not black gnosis though
it is whatever-
your-race-is gnosis
a spiritual osmosis
through a dung hill
my soul’s ill
where dementia spills
waste on your sheets
laying juicy shits

>I mean I’m not a tr00n
>but I’m also pretty cool

but shitposting is like taking shit
is a private and delicate matter
even though fecal
it is all the way focal

and to confess my own malaise
I'm torn between wanting to gift my friendship and good spirits
and sneeding venom in my own cubicle while no-one sees even God
I despise communication: pepo swaping thoughts as if they can
bring them anywhere but to that sweet recognition of the mutual diabetic
(demi)urge to be amongst
but never amongus

long time yoke of being despised leaves you unable to
to symbolic acceptance
why do they praise Hitler?
perhaps hit her as in erotic passion

'I AM SICK' screams from every crack vapour
tranny chud + sneed and the forbidden
name like the tetragrammaton
a nutter whispering it deep in the bushes
where no one sees even God
is dead but he died before they killed him

I urge you
pledge your soul to shitposting
dissolve whatever been clutching your mental canvas (enemas)
from the lowest regions of shame
to apateia of saints
rather transcending oneself
folding the line like Deleuze
poking on itself like I don't read books
few drops of life and its good
tastes like the healing fruit
lemons.

[Anonymous No.21930766]

>>21929943
>>21929960
These read like GPT poems

[Anonymous No.21930993]

Förlorad ungdom kommer aldrig mer
tillbaka. Dina gångna år de vilar
på minnenas kompost; och regnet strilar,
precis som timglassanden rinner ner.

Besöken till den plats som ingen ser,
förutom du, de görs i Munins bilar.
Du möter gamla skuggor, men de kilar
snart vidare. Besöken blir allt fler.

Till slut så börjar minnena försvinna.
Du famlar runt i mörkret efter ljus,
men hittar inget annat än en hinna

av glömska. Minnet är såsom ett hus
bebyggt på sand, där Lethe börjat rinna.
Så drick! och njut av glömskeflodens rus!

[Anonymous No.21931322]

>>21930993
Translation?

[Anonymous No.21931373]

>>21929943
Beautiful and powerful. Capturing the heart and soul of an American icon. Simply transgressive in it's scope and emotion. 10/10

[Anonymous No.21931497]

I ponder such a crude, such stiff a line,
That never ever righteous verse may shine.
Had ardent fate not struck my heavy heart;
And into longing lungs swept soothing air,
I surely would be lost, in deep despair.

[Anonymous No.21931697]

Any response is appreciated.


I write this as an assignment. It had to be an imagery poem.

Gallow

Sight of the sunglow

As he walked to the gallow

Accompanied him the creaking stairs

As he was going for what awaits

Gentle touch of the rope to his neck

And the sudden sound of the lever


*********

Also wrote this one prior to the one above because I did not know it was supposed to be an imagery poem

Drafted he was
In the motion of the life
Little did he know
All was futile but the demise

[Anonymous No.21932086]

bumpe

[Anonymous No.21932242]

>>21931322
Don't really have the time right now to give a proper translation, sorry. It's a sonnet dealing with memory and the loss of youth.

[Anonymous No.21932321]

>>21931697
bumpers

[Anonymous No.21933250]

hickory dickory dock
the mouse ran up the clock
the clock struck nine
past-tense of strychnine
and would have preferred hemlock

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21933265]

Any anons ever read Leon dierx or know any good translations of him?

[Anonymous No.21933527]

Aching balls filled
Swollen urges released
White creamy load

[Anonymous No.21934809]

Rumbling hard
Filled with a deep desire
Boy pregnant again

[Anonymous No.21934948]

Trying to write a love poem in-universe, from the point of a woman to a man. What are some good female poets to read for background and style?
Naturalism/pastoralism is also welcome.
should be more old-fashioned, nothing too new.

[Anonymous No.21935027]

I'm having trouble understanding the difference between multisyllabic words and their effect on the tension and speed of a line. I understand that we naturally speed up to reach the next stressed syllable, I understand that we speed up on a promoted syllable, I understand that monosyllables slow us down, but can someone illustrate or explicate to me what I should be hearing?

For example:

The battle ceases as the sun declines
And hands collect the vestiges of war

How do you scan for speed and tension? I'm not certain, but I would say is that it speeds up between battle and ceases, ceases and as, as and the, son and declines, hands and collect, vestiges and of? I'm not really sure how I would analyze this for tension though.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21935086]

>>21935027
It’s not so simplistic, monosyllabic and multi-syllabics can both be used to slow and speed effects but yes in general Anglo Saxon monosyllabic words have a kind of grinding slowness, you don’t scan for slowness or speed you have to do that manually by ear, here is pope demonstrating skillfully the conception you’re working under.

“ True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar;
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labors, and the words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise,
And bid alternate passions fall and rise!”

Notice “ strives some rock's vast weight to throw, ” sounds so heavy, harsh, laboring,

But notice how alliteration and BALANCE of multisyllabic to monosyllabic creates such smoothness

“ Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, ”

the focus and weight of
“The battle ceases as the sun declines“ should be a normative cadence until “as the” which creates a sort of slow down to mark the following two syllables as being of importance.

I would argue the speed of the
“ And hands collect the vestiges of war” is very balanced, so it shouldn’t be said overly quick nor have much slow Emphasis, but yeah again this is a question of ear and not something a scanning method can so easily do, you have to be conscious of this, since again there’s times when monosyllabics can create speed.

For example the monosyllabics in this stanza I wrote, I think clearly do showcase speed THROUGH the high mono level.

to ride with monstrous pride through pinèd copses wild,
to crush the grape and seize the bird and eat its child,
to run and rape the stone by force by strike defiled,
to plunge the deep and see leviathan be riled!

[Anonymous No.21935698]

>>21935086
>normative cadence until “as the” which creates a sort of slow down
But how?
>“ And hands collect the vestiges of war” is very balanced
And why not line 1?

>question of ear and not something a scanning method can so easily do, you have to be conscious of this, since again there’s times when monosyllabics can create speed.

But what causes it? I know normal scanning isn't suited to this, but it's a regular phenomenon then we should mark it. I understand your second line takes on the first's speed, but how do you alter it faster or for slower? Is there a difference between an iamb like declines vs a trochee like battles? Does the phonetic information add further complexity?

[Anonymous No.21936627]

Alone in my room
An encroaching sense of doom
Craving a quick coom

[Anonymous No.21937392]

Anyone interested in a poem about the Spanish-American War?

[Anonymous No.21937431]

>>21913630
Fag

[Anonymous No.21937440]

>>21912608
I hate you
All you revolting
Slimy fags
Never have you
Impressed
Me
Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you

[Anonymous No.21937578]

>>21937392
Spics got fucked
America won
Cuban bitches crave Big White Men

[Anonymous No.21937671]

when it's over
i will be thrown
as a 2003 nokia phone
into a landfill in indonesia
i lay in the waste and decay alone
you cannot recycle silicon

[Anonymous No.21937867]

>>21913630
faggot

[Anonymous No.21937877]

>>21912922
>pin you against the glass
sounds like a literal sexual act and out of place, to my ear
>pin you under glass
makes more sense anyway

[Anonymous No.21938054]

I'm just here to salute to the OP keeps these threads alive through sick and thin

[Anonymous No.21938221]

An unusual tone here.

micz.substack.com/p/the-pillars-of-civilization

Also, after you read it:
Is the title too much? Trees, columns, erections. Do you get it yet? Feels crass rather then clever, but i’ve been encouraged to keep it.

[Anonymous No.21938272]

>>21938221
Excellent! This isn't exactly light verse but it's quite preppy for the subject matter. Write like this instead of the more depressing stuff.

Also where's the banner from? I'm sure I've seen it somewhere.

[Anonymous No.21938330]

In deep green forests of east Tennessee
Throw grows a lone orchid so quiet as can be
No one knows how it got there for miles you can’t see
Any of it’s kind, ‘t wast grown from some seed
That wast dropt by the wind blown fro’ far off indeed

[Anonymous No.21938556]

>>21938221
Very good

Fine! libations for good Hermes, all things snatched, including love,
Are within his modest purview, hand delivered from above.

clinches it for me.

[Anonymous No.21938589]

>>21938221
How am I meant to pronounce Byzantine? Normally or to rhyme with in? Also, I would change girls undress to girls undressed. It is more natural and making it a perfect rhyme isn't worth it.

[Anonymous No.21938621]

>>21938589
>Byzantine
I know. I often say it differently myself.
I struggled over that, but both pronunciation guides as well as googles pronunciation thing say bi-zᵊn-ˌtēn , as it it rhymes with 'in'

I even checked a rhyming dictionary, which i usually refuse to do on principle, and It's there.

Did you like it otherwise?

[Anonymous No.21938626]

>>21938221
Tired of people praising your poems so much just because you have a substack for them

[Anonymous No.21938634]

>>21938626
Sorry...
I do engage with everyone so people know i read them.
For what it's worth i do only post twice a month. I don't want to be one of those /wg/ guys who shill their stuff in every thread. Again, sorry.

[Anonymous No.21938656]

>>21938272
Speaking of, sorry i missed you somehow. It's the Penguin cover for Bellow's Humboldt's Gift.
Here the other banner i considered, but worried Email subscribers might be annoyed at receiving t&a.

Makes it seem less classy but I think it's appropriate.

[Anonymous No.21938661]

>>21938634
Jeez dont take it so seriously this is 4chan

[Anonymous No.21938670]

>>21938621
I don't think Byzantine took away from the poem at all. But I thought it rhymed with Queen and sometimes wine. Anyways, I agree with the other anon, that couplet is the best. I don't really understand the simile about neurosis. Also, I felt like the ending was abrupt. Otherwise, you did well.

[Anonymous No.21938675]

>>21938661
Actually it's the other way around, I send my substack to publishers and I don't want it to become a 4chan project.
I like posting here and talking to people but not the baggage associated.

[Anonymous No.21938683]

>>21938670
The neurosis thing, is my conviction that as the Greek and Roman gods all pulled double and triple duties as the personifications of ideas, Freud almost functions as a 20th century theologian resurrecting them in a new guise.

But mostly it's s there to tie the act of drinking, which I was doing, with the slightly homeric ideas introduced previously.

Not sure it works but that's why it's there.

[Anonymous No.21938745]

>>21938589
>Also, I would change girls undress to girls undressed. It is more natural and making it a perfect rhyme isn't worth it.


I think it's a play on 'state of undress'
but idk

[Anonymous No.21938889]

Started one about a Hunnic band, quite fun to write, it's not meant to be high lit, but I'm stuck on how to continue it. What do anons think?

The vagabond, the Hun so bold
Upheld his wrist and death foretold
"Mark, men of steppe so wide and clear
Your horses halt, your bows uprear.
Many miles our train has crossed,
On seas of grass by gales tossed,
We steered our horses to their huts
The settled weak were in them shut
Their spirits cut by howling din
Those peasant souls burnt out and in,
No man who tills or picks the vine
Could halt our slaying, our harsh rapine.
Now bows have shot their fill, our bags
With spoils glutted straddle nags.
But in dreams of red and gold I lie
Upon my roll, see Tengri's sky
Turned black in rest and blue in sleep
While spirit-stirring watch I keep

[Anonymous No.21938933]

>>21938889
>On seas of grass by gales tossed,
You messed up the rhythm here for me.

[Anonymous No.21939292]

>>21938933
Really? It's perfect iambic tetrameter.

On SEAS of GRASS by GAles TOSSED

[Anonymous No.21939311]

>>21938221
Not bad. for what it's worth. I thought it worked for what it is. And i like the self affecting voice.

>>21938889
the simple rhymes make it sound more like children's poetry the the Kipling you were perhaps emulating

[Anonymous No.21939318]

>>21939292
Where the hell are you from where the plural form of the noun "gale" is pronounced like that?

[Anonymous No.21939360]

>>21939318
I pronounce it /geJəlz/ with the stress on the first syllable

[Anonymous No.21939363]

>>21939360
4chan seems to be fucking up the J

[Anonymous No.21939376]

>>21939360
>>21939363
So you say gay-luhz? Weirdo.

[Anonymous No.21939379]

>>21939376
You can't read IPA?

[Anonymous No.21939400]

>>21939379
No, and I am not going to look it up.

[Anonymous No.21939417]

>>21913630

Roses are sweet,
Tulips are spent
I am not so much as superstitious
As heaven-sent

[Anonymous No.21939425]

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born!?

[Anonymous No.21939496]

"Spitting in an ocean" I guess but this advice is heartfelt at least...

Ask yourself what the point of your, or anyone's, poetry is.
It's to communicate an idea or ideas, right?
It's not about "I am a good poet, watch this!"

In my humble opinion, the meter, rhyme scheme, rhythm...
ALL THAT BIG BRAIN STUFF
...that *technique* and technical prowess should be an *afterthought*

We spoke earlier about
>>Poem doesn't rhyme
>You're not smart just lazy

But too much meter handcuffs your beautiful thoughts and hides them behind "look how technically proficient I am",
again, in my humble opinion, = boring as hell.

TL;DR: in my totally nub amateur truckstop opinion, when I'm reading "good poetry", ideas flow and you don't even notice the meter is certainly not "in the way" or an impediment to understanding the message that this one human being is sending out to the world.

[Anonymous No.21939557]

>>21934948
>>21934948
Still looking for recommendations, mates
Come on, you know what a love poem is. And a woman. Right?

[Anonymous No.21939958]

>>21939496
>It's to communicate an idea or ideas, right?
No. But yes, except, it's done in a structure. Unless you think a painter draws past the edges of a canvas as well. Maybe a composer ignores music theory as well. In your mind, of course.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940087]

>>21935698
But how?

“As the” is very low in content, being almost padding; its gravity and inertia is pointed to direct itself to the following words, we can see this even in prose, for example look at the beat that the repeated “they” creates here.

> Ere the Beginning the gods divided earth into waste and pasture. Pleasant pastures They made to be green over the face of earth, orchards They made in valleys and heather upon hills, but Harza They doomed, predestined and foreordained to be a waste for ever.

> And why not line 1?

One system I invented is a kind of, pseudo quantitative verse where you intentionally balance mono to multi syllabics, to analyze what you posted using that system.


The BATTLE CEASES as the sun DECLINES
And hands COLLECT the VESTIGES of war

if these were stresses the first line would be

u - - u u u -

Vs

u u - u - u u

When illustrated thus, it’s clear the second has a very balanced weight distribution in contrast to the first.

> but it's a regular phenomenon then we should mark it.

One way is the pseudo quantitative way I mentioned, the difficulty is that speed of a line isn’t so atomic a question, how you work with the line break, commas, repetition, alliteration and so forth all have a say, in the line I posted for example

> to run and rape the stone by force by strike defiled,

Notice how it says “by force by strike” by is repeated twice to give an sort of, tumbling crashing rushing feel, a kind of repetitive rant, however there are a ton of methods to control and measure speed, browning’s poem “ How They Brought The Good News From Ghent To Aix” should be studied as a masterwork of speed imo.

[Anonymous No.21940107]

>>21913852
Roses are red
Daffodils are yellow
You're the faggot here
OP's a swell fellow

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940121]

>>21940087
> Is there a difference between an iamb like declines vs a trochee like battles?

Of course, some would argue the Iamb is faster others the trochee, personally I find that the word that’s multi-syllabic and naturally an iamb is slower than the natural trochee, so “serene “ is slower than “battle” but I think iambs formed by two monosyllables usually faster than trochees, “the bats are back” vs “many battles “ however undoubtedly the anapest is the fastest meter, from ancient to the modern period it’s known for this quality of being akin to horse hooves racing.

“when the MEAN-ing is SPARSE but the SPEED is as QUICK as a HORSE”

test it yourself, write or read anapestic poetry and you’ll notice quick this effect.

>>21934948
>>21939557
Check out the poetry of Gaspara Stampa, she’s very highly regarded and her poetry is dedicated to a dude who(no cap) dumped her ass (fr fr. )

A verse of hers

Harsh is my fortune, but harsher still is the fate
dealt me by my count: he flees from me,
I follow him; others long for me,
I cannot look at another man's face.

I hate him who loves me,love him who scorns me;
against the humble lover, my heart rebels,
but I am humble to him who kill my hope;
my soul longs for such harmful food.


He constantly gives me cause for anger,
while others seek to give me comfort and peace;
these I ignore, and I cling instead to him.


Thus in your school, Love, we receive
always the opposite of what we deserve:
the humble are despised, the heartless rewarded.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940132]

Oh and uh here’s a loose translation I wrote yesterday, original French obviously not mine.

Le Ciel de Nuit

Le ciel est si profond qu'il fait rêver d'éternité.
Ce n'est pas le ciel bleu du jour qui touche le cœur,
C'est l'abîme impénétrable où la pensée est jetée,
Le ciel de nuit avec ses étoiles, son silence, sa splendeur.

Dans cette paix on sent quelque chose qui domine,
Le cœur s'agrandit, on s'ouvre aux songes, aux désirs,
On se sent si petit, et l'on rêve à la fuite divine
Vers des mondes plus purs, plus heureux, illuminés de sourires.

Oh ! qui pourrait traduire, avec des mots humains,
Le charme infini de ces nuits qui semblent des rêves,
Où l'on ne sait trop si l'on est vivant ou si l'on est mort,
Où l'on est seul avec soi-même, où l'on se sent peut-être près de Dieu ?

C'est un moment béni où l'âme est en extase,
Où l'on oublie la terre, les soucis, les douleurs,
Où l'on croit voir l'infini, les étoiles comme des phrases
De musique céleste, qui berce les cœurs.

Le ciel de nuit, c'est l'harmonie, la poésie,
C'est la prière muette, c'est la contemplation,
C'est l'immensité, l'éternité, l'infini,
C'est le sublime mystère qui hante les âmes des amants.


My translation

The Night Sky

thou deep Eve that evokes eternity,
of which the pallid blue cannot reflect,
this vast abyss of thought’s infinity,
where coursing light from silent stars collect.

in quietude, where mystery has reign,
The heart expanding with dreams, yearning so,
One feels so small, coursing through God’s domain,
with purer joy of purer heart aglow.

i cannot put to words with a man’s tongue,
The endless charm of Night, half wake half-dream,
where none can tell when life or death’s begun,
where one can dwell with God within the mean.

past, past the many moments my soul soars,
forgetting earth unburdened by its pain,
another world another sea implores,
the stars singing unknown songs with sweet strain.

refrain, refrain, refrain, til night with all,
ev’ry poems soul, ev’ry secret pray’r,
coursing, collects to contemplation’s call,
to know the harmony that lover’s share.

[Anonymous No.21940649]

I dreamed I was a paintbrush that dreamed it was the painter that dreamed it was the paint. Oil to canvas a tincture of rose and midnight, sunlit greens arisen and asleep. My passion bereft of rest I furiously strike the page, each stroke a peel, each slice, savage thunder. Eyes closed, heart open, savoring the moment. Unleash, unfurl, my brush a scalpel, the page, it’s world; asunder.

[Anonymous No.21940669]

>>21940132
Very loose I would say.
>>21940121
>iambs formed by two monosyllables usually faster than trochees
Well now I'm just confused. I can hear it but I do not understand it. It would be easier if this sort of stuff was better outlined and explained.
>>21940087
>One system I invented

I will try to use this. What do these sorts of readings usually tell you? Also, shouldn't words with more than two syllables be registered as something different? I'm not entirely sure how this would overlap with a traditional scan.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940742]

>>21940669
Ye very loose, was going for broad strokes, when some motifs couldn’t fit moved them around, replaced the most accurate translation for poetic value, etc. I believe mallarme is correct that when translating a poem the better question is translating a spirit into your own spirit, inaccuracies in the name of kino are justifiable.

> It would be easier if this sort of stuff was better outlined and explained.

Eh it’s just the kind of stuff you learn by trial and error+study, I forget where but Dante talks about somewhere how poets treasure and horde core techniques and basic blocks like this for private discussions with those they respect, while I’ve read a number of works on poetics, I’ve not seen one get into the nitty gritty of things like that monosyllable iamb trick I just explained, when people are praising “ear” they’re really admiring your autistic dedication to finding and harmonizing all these little methods.

> I will try to use this. What do these sorts of readings usually tell you? Also, shouldn't words with more than two syllables be registered as something different?

Glad you asked, in linguistics it’s known that multi-syllabics when actually spoken tend towards aural shortening, the natural speed of conversation you normally use will force you to say multi syllabic words a bit faster after the first or second syllable, imo by exploiting this we gain something somewhat approximate to the classical “long” syllable of quantitative verse, obviously not as perfect but I do think it can be seen.

>I'm not entirely sure how this would overlap with a traditional scan.

You can manipulate it for various effects and contrasts by using it with standard meter, here’s a stanza From a poem I wrote to demonstrate its capabilities.

Bade I blithe by boundless benevolence
Not made nine mooned nightmare malevolence?
Tread i through the transient territories,
Ere err clay-cracked earthen categories.

The syllable arrangement being 1 1 1 1 2 4

Bade(1) I(1) blithe(1) by(1) boundless(2) benevolence(4)

Not(1) made(1) nine(1) mooned(1) nightmare(2) malevolence(4)


Etc, here’s a quick demonstration I just writ to show that it can produce an effect approximate to an iambic regardless of accentual pattern

Flame’s fury and fervid as grisly beasts roaming and berserk,
These voices that arise and echo but unheard,
Tongue quiver with earthquakes, hell’s tumult made revived,
Sung quicker I repeat, by hatred made alive.

In the “quantity” reading the scansion would be

flames FURY and FERVID as GRISLY beasts ROAMING and BERSERK

and so follows the rest, now writing like this does encourage accentual rhythm that’s appropriate, but notice how when it utterly deviates it still somehow maintains a rhythm, we can conjoin this logically with the normal accentual meters for various effects, so for example here’s an attempt at syncopation utilizing these experiments and others.


Cont

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940755]

>>21940742
flames erupt hieroglyphs of dawning suns,
ablaze with centuries of diffused light,
names engraved epithets of endless dawn,
array the chrysalis of foregone days,
aged cocoon silhouette of deathless morn,
amain the roseate of unreal rays,
rage ensouled luminesce of essence born,
trace unknown apprehend the semblanced form.

FLAMES e-RUPT hi-ro GLYPHS of DAW-ing SUNS
a-BLAZE with CENT-ur-ies OF diff-USED light


QUANTITY PATTERN
flames ERUPT HIEROGLYPHS of DAWNING suns
ABLAZE with CENTURIES of DIFFUSED light

In the first line establish a trochaic rhythm,

FLAMES e/ RUPT hi/

Then immediately invert the stress pattern, thus your mind assumes it would create a stable rhythmical pattern but is put up against the very opposite.

ro-GLYPHS/ of DAW/ning SUNS

this is bolstered by my “quantitative “ meter wherein you regulate verse via the sequence of mono-syllabic vs multi-syllabic words, since this is the only quantity of time you can regulate in poetry, and the pattern of the word quantities is made inverted to the accentual pattern,

Thus while the first line begins trochaic in accent, its quantity is iambic,

And all of this is bolstered by the next line inverting both the accent and quantity pattern of the previous, thus the next line beginning iambic and ending trochaic.

This is mind you just a test verse, in practice these Would for me be utilized within stanzas, lines, short bursts or even entire poems where this isn’t the focus so it’s a bit more subtle, I believe stuff like this can allow us to replicate even stuff like counter point within verse.

[Anonymous No.21940892]

>>21940742
>iambic regardless of accentual pattern
You don't think it has something to do with the Y sliding into a vowel thus causing the second syllable of fervid to eat as?
>>21940755
>ablaze with centuries of diffused light,
If this is a feminine ending, then this is a very strange line. You don't see nouns like that demoted for the sake of feminine endings. I would read it as a rising rhythm. A 1234. In general, it seems like a typical iambic poem with simply inverted starts to the lines. You can tell it is iambic because there are more iambs than inverted feet in a line.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21940904]

>>21940892
> You don't think it has something to do with the Y sliding into a vowe

Test it out yourself! Write a couple lines in the style, you’ll see quickly it’ll operate.

> If this is a feminine ending, then this is a very strange line.

a-BLAZE-with CENT/ur-ies/ OF diff/USED light

You can either read the last foot as a spondee or a trochee, there’s no way to make the last foot an iamb unless you lie to yourself that diffused is “DUH-used”

you can tell imo by the rhythm of the various lines it doesn’t sound like a harsh spondee in each of these,

Diffused light
Foregone days
Unreal rays

Etc, when pronounced it just doesn’t have the harshness you’d expect out of spondees.

But it’s my personal little method, the best thing to do is experiment, try for yourself and regulate a stanza using a balance of mono vs multi syllabics, see if the conscious control causes a difference in musicality that’s approximate to metrical form.

Good luck if it works!

[Anonymous No.21941171]

>>21912608
Wrote this all in a single night while sleep deprived. I was reading Milton at the time.

Vision of a Parched and Hungry Eremite

At last! I see the vision beatific
Which hath made mine hunger and obedience good!
Is this the throne which Esaias had feared?
What fear had I to stand before my God
Who gave my heart transfigured eyes to see,
In nowise filmy like Tiresias who
Had prophesied for marble forms of men
And in spirit was blind, so is the fruit
Of lech’rous contemplation of false gods.
Even so, my soul still wars against the flesh
To seize the vital crown. I cannot see
As yet which gentiles called Platonic Forms.
Aye, so it seems, thus I must be content
With imagery domestic and well-trod.

Howe’er, it seems within my ken no pen
Can justify the Empyreal realm
And its inhabitants so lovely to
The chaste, once chastened heart! Aye, chastity
Of heart imputed and subsumed, or else
My presence should offend, and Second Death
Should be my final destination. But
Here I see my Lord and Savior smiling,
Sitting at the right hand of the Father
Shrouded in the clouds, with Holy Spirit
Betwixt them to complete the image of
The Triune Godhead. Trembling I behold
With equal love and fear the mystery
Of reconciliation, Human and Divine,
Two natures in one man, more God than man
To Pagan eyes, for who hath eyes as flames
Of fire, transfigured face and hairs that glow
Like to a Phoebus diadem, or feet
Which seems of brazen make, and voice as though
It be the sound of many waters? Still,
He lived once as a man, Incarnate Word
He seems, not seeming increate like to
The Father of us all, divinity
Too dazzling for eyes yet unsanctified,
Thus murky to mine eyes, the High Priest only,
Propitiation for us all, permits
His nature to be seen. The Spirit, though
In habit like a dove, is not a dove
Indeed, but useful image for his nature
Better there be none! The fowl which flieth to
And fro in milky vans as ensign Peace
Is not unlike in function to the friend
And advocate of all disciples of
The Cosmic Paschal Lamb, in silence warbling.
If unbelieving eyes had been so blessed
To see what I behold they’d think they see
Three Gods, or two gods with one fowl,
But the substance of divinity is best
Revealed as love between three people, God
Yet are they all.

Cont.

[Anonymous No.21941173]

>>21912608
But ‘tis not all, for from
The milky pinions of the Spirit doth
My ken take flight towards the million-colored
Pinions of the Heavn’ly Host as numerous
As sands upon the beach. With eremites
And other worthies, with unworthies too,
Is jubilation rampant thro’ the bright
Celestial realm where prominent among
The clouds are verdant isles of pleasure gardens
Orbiting their fountains as like unto suns.

What’s this? I see the vision fair recedes
Before me as that turquoise tide comes crashing
Before my feet, howe’er that tide mine eyes
Beheld shall not recede ‘til Death which hath
No sting with servile pinions takes me to
The throne room of th’Omnibenevolent
Again with talons blunted for deliv’rance
To pardon and reward, so certainly
My faith hath made me whole. Spirit burn forth!
With marble pallor I no more observe
That Babylonish state which seeks my blood,
For mine own be covered with the blood of Him.

[Anonymous No.21941248]

>>21938221
Hey man if you don't mind sharing how many subscribers as you gained just from posting on here? I've posted links to my patreon before no one gave a shit. Just want to know if it's normal or just me.

Good work never the less

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21941636]

Confronting the name

this thing renown through men unknown,
this simple sound that changes all,
this ancient name that is my own,
this fated name my father called.

from Greece or Rome or Judaea,
this strange brand burning with fires,
from afric, Europe and Asia,
that seres the flesh with the prior,

the multitudes of men now gone,
their waves that waked to shake the sea,
now lay and wait the face of dawn,
reflect within the name of me,

so I’ll be, unremembered,
a memory, an ember.

[Anonymous No.21942033]

More ESL translations of my own. It the lack of inspiration battering linguistical exercises creates an illusion of activity, I guess.

Actuality

Only walls are around and winter's outside.
There's just no way out, for many long years
You chase the mirage of true freedom and hide
From horrible nightmare in daydream frontiers.

Every wave that is crashing against the shore
Of the heart in the chest, stiffen and petrified,
Makes it just ever harder to have any hope or
To heartly believe in good turn of the tides.

To believe that some time or the other will crumble
This realm tightly chained in perpetual pain.
When the time doesn't heal you, but aimlessly stumble
Simply settling on windows of new flats again;

When the genuine stars are burning above you,
But their flicker disdains craving look of your eyes;
When you long lost the road back home from your tired view,
But, alas, only now managed to realize

That you're no longer able to pull back together
Yourself, 'cause there's nothing to pull anymore,
Loosing your mind to the hungering nether
You write down unsettling lexical gore —

This is all Actuality, piercing your daydreams,
Fills your fantasy world with its nightmarish show.
This bitter poison trapped in the blood stream
Will too never save you from this dreadful foe.

And you shall be breathing with smell of the summer
And alike with raw blanket of damp autumn earth.
It shall feed you the night dressed in very same glamour,
As the ships that were burning in skies for you both.

You shall gobble this wind interwoven with trickles
Of smoke from as if namely those cigarettes,
And web of the cold will again catch the ripple
Of the same winter morning's white light in its nets.

Every little detail rings with most bitter longing
And digs into the chest with a venomous sting.
Soul won't ever know peace, it is still firmly holding
This dire remembrance that no single thing

Could be ever brought back, not a day, not an instant,
Only mere spectral wraiths of ethereal dreams —
Its equivalent here just can not exists and
As this life has died, so have you by all means.

>>21921013
Great wordsmith, love it.

[Anonymous No.21942698]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21943499]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21943503]

>>21942698
>>21943499
You don’t have to say bump to bump, retard.

[Anonymous No.21943610]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21944089]

>>21913630
I am a moron.
I am a fool
But my mother, you see,
Is already a ghoul.

[Anonymous No.21944313]

There once was a man from Nantucket
I can't do poems
Fuck it

[Anonymous No.21944408]

>>21912608
I'm doin' your mom, Yes yours!

First saw her in the Wal-Mart pickin' out your drawers

Big Dolly Parton hair like an 80's prom queen

But her ass was lookin good all up in them mom jeans

I approached her in the checkout line, and said yo baby wassup?

She had two gallons of milk, and I was starin at her jugs.

Five minutes later she agreed to get with me

So we went and rocked the minivan like Giggity. Giggity. Giggity.


I was ridin' your mom like she was Mario Kart.

I gave her a lift back to her crib cause her car wouldn't start

She invited me in the house and we started makin out again

How many times I tap that ass? OVER 9000!!

Yeah She called me Pledge cause I knocked the dust off it

She later made me a sandwich and she cut the crust off it

Cause she knows how I like it and that Im a little young

To be in the bed butt-naked doin your mom


I like your mamas big butt, and I cannot lie

You other brothers cant deny that shes fly

We make sexy time yes and every night I tap that.

She saw me butt-naked now she thinks Im half black

Your moms the best the super M.I.L.F.

Cause she loves to toss the salad even though she aint a chef

And I blame it on the al-al-al-cohol

But If I were you I wouldnt kiss your mom on the mouth at all


She likes the Donkey-Punch

She likes the Dirty Sanchez

Sometimes she even likes to fool around in your bed

She likes rough sex with handcuffs and I'll be honest

She likes me to Chris Brown her when she acts like Rihanna

Shes so therapeutic When I need to cure my restlessness

I br-br-br-br-br-br-br-br motorboat your moms breastestess

I didnt wanna tell you but I had to write this song

cause Im in your house every night doin your mom

[Anonymous No.21945037]

Cold beer
Jeans
Chicken fried

[Anonymous No.21945909]

>>21912608
Yuh I never had a libretto only a knife like stiletto
Growing up in the ghetto wasn't an easy memo
But now I’m flexin in the opera, I ain't chopped liver
Got gwop with my ops like omerta, got yo bitch straight squirter
Got money on my mind then it’s murder in many degrees
Freed Bobby but now we need to free Kaczynski (yuh, cheese)
Then we need to go to Princeton, flex on niggaz called Winston
Im not made for prison, foh my deliciously suspicious mission
To be spitting nuclear bars like it’s fission
So what you missing from this verbal curve ball
Ain’t you listen, or is it peeing in the wind?
Yeah I’m unhinged and live in squalor’s horror
Rent out the hall for a dance but we ain’t got Venetian masks
Only got pantyhose cuz we robbin
But ain’t no ice cream cept on my chain
You know how we gang like sword wielding kung fu masters
It's a disaster when I blast ya, as we rep Wudang

[Anonymous No.21946551]

>>21912608
O muse, sing

[Anonymous No.21946671]

Hungry immigrants
LET THEM IN!

[Anonymous No.21947603]

>>21946671
They think it is a rich nation, so don't spoil this surprise for them.

[Anonymous No.21948070]

Hard, Hot, Held
Touch, Taste, Tease
Come, Coming, Came

[honus No.21948178]

I woke up
to a banging of thunder

it sounded
like the nukes had been dropped
I pulled the window curtain back
and saw nothing but the black morning
and the flashes of white
and felt the rain rail against the glass

[Anonymous No.21948236]

Methinks honey flows
no sights strain
hope never bottoms
voices plesantly
but--
it is not so

[Anonymous No.21948253]

>>21940121
Thanks for that tip of Stamps, gonna check her stuff out.

[Anonymous No.21948437]

My story

I have met many people
some liked sucking old politician cock
others preferred corporate cock
some liked horsecock.
but most of them
they loved sucking their own cock
and they,
they hated me.
because I rather sucked titties.

[Anonymous No.21949575]

>>21948437
Nasty motherfucker

[Anonymous No.21949957]

Philosophy is an old web
Long deserted, The dreams
The spider wove into it
Glimmer weakly during night
In the sun they are only this:
Fragments of dread leaves.

[Anonymous No.21950016]

Science is an old web
Long deserted, The dreams
The spider wove into it
Glimmer weakly during night
In the sun they are only this:
Fragments of dread leaves.

[Anonymous No.21950037]

>>21940132
Who wrote the original?

[Anonymous No.21950041]

[Anonymous No.21950043]

Though daily worries malady me,
like when I make of myself an arse,
I understand although people see,
they forget, and this too will soon pass.
And although my body dismembered
by fungi and bacteria's rot,
through this verse I may be remembered
by very few, still better than not.

[Anonymous No.21950326]

>>21950041
Yeah, every story of Philip K. Dick has no philosophy.

Poetry is not a film, it makes sense without being discussed with a stranger.

[Anonymous No.21950604]

>>21913630
Dammit

[Anonymous No.21951779]

Bump

[Anonymous No.21951873]

Surrounded by boys and books makes me tingle
I can feel my body start to jingle
Sadly I'm forever single

[Anonymous No.21951878]

Born a boy
trans by NAME
Female heart
When will society accept LOVE?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21951947]

>>21951878
Born a boy,
Trans by name,
Loins destroyed,
What a shame.

[Anonymous No.21951989]

>>21950326
>Poetry is not a film, it makes sense without being discussed with a stranger.
The poem did make sense before being discussed. It made sense in his head. And in mine.

[Anonymous No.21952099]

>>21912608
Eden waved Hello at me,
quickly pacing past,
I wanted to stop and talk to her,
yet I only nodded back.

Deer-hide cloaks clasp my back;
I push and pull this plow,
so I may take a bite of fruit,
and let juices flow from my gaunt face

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21952634]

>>21952099
Big fan of frost and Dickinson I imagine, right?

[Anonymous No.21953031]

Sweet cream
Sticky and white
Semen yummies

[Anonymous No.21953447]

You know lions
lick lions lick
their paws, tongue
searching whiskers
and claws, lick
the steam of a wound,
that forgetful soul,
of a soft body, dead
in the shade,
tongue rolled out
linking at the dirt

[Anonymous No.21953466]

>>21912608
a haiku:

corn up a pussy
indian-
-a locale favorite

[Anonymous No.21953479]

Wrote this a few years ago. I wrote a lot of short poems a few years ago, inspired by my time in graduate school.

[Anonymous No.21953898]

>>21912608
The hour

Wake up
White walls
Dead air
Dead halls
Clock ticks
Sun sets
Life goes
Mind bends
Wait for
Hour's end

A prayer for the fallen artist

Hark, thee! I listen to another man's warcry,
And it clangs in my head, the song!
Of a great man! Who improved the life of another for having lived!

Hear such beauty, an ode to duty!
The falen artist sees it all,
Fallen wings, scorched and torn!
He can see the beauty!
The fingerspitzgefual,
Wretched away from the bosom, he stands there lying
A broken tool!
To soar to heaven, to get burnt.
The fool!

There he sits, his wings
ashen black,
Like heaven's brightest star!
Only to slip beneath the crack.

DAMN!
DAMN!
DAMN!

For what one sows, he shall reap,
to sip the God's nectar,
bread shall not keep.

To walk among the living,
for dread toward the day,
bitter and black as tar,
to him we all but say:

A prayer!
A prayer!
A prayer for the fallen artist!

For at the string's sinews tear!
black as coal, he cannot bear!

Of the great, many fallen among their lot!
Their hearts boon,
never begot!

Subsist, take care!
The paradise of the soul
Is too your share!
Of the beauty it holds,
you must take care!

A prayer!
A prayer!
A prayer for the fallen artist!

[Anonymous No.21953971]

>>21952634
I haven't read any of them after high school. Do I sound too similar?

[Anonymous No.21953989]

You realiser got get some pfizer
rewinder gotta be an early riser
do some wagie right in my cagie
can't even sagie bad threads imma ragie
stop continue you gotta in you
NPC gotta get the triple vax menu
ooooooooooohhhhh yeahhhhhhhh

[Anonymous No.21954023]

>>21953898
Gay

[Anonymous No.21954459]

>>21952634
Frater do you have a burner email I can message you at with a question so as to not derail this thread

[Frater Asemlen !U7BKb1yg4Q No.21954479]

>>21954459
[e-mail]

[Anonymous No.21954504]

>>21954479
lol is this real?

[Anonymous No.21954559]

>>21954459
You might as well discuss it here if it pertains to poetry. This thread is most fruitful when we are not sharing and critiquing our own, mostly bad, poems.

[Anonymous No.21954645]

>>21954559
It's not about poetry that's why I wanted to talk about it elsewhere

[lightning-Symbols & Swastikas of the Schutzstaffel ss No.21954786]

princes, Fasci &
kings in northern Greece, their
pistols torn Fast from
kissed Girls, Porn-Stars from the nor-
thern end of the beach

driving his Truck the Fasco
dry from the wet, Grecian rain took
the Girls in Trucks
their curling, wet, Grecian
hair & Gloves around
pistols, they Fucked
his gang of Fasci, Fascio

invoking Evocations
the Mage-King's Invocation, Bleistein
evoked his Evocation of
kabbalah, invoking Golem,
cabbalist Gloved

lighting Cigarillo with
lightning-Symbol of Schutzstaffel
S S the Boys slung Guns &
guessed, Drunk the Girls' Secrets as the
radio Played White Noise, Waffles
toasted by Girls with Guns
roasting
fine Meats to put on Buns with
wine for
the Drunkards

the Boys left for Rome while
the Girls' card-playing
made them feel at Home;
spades in Hand, Peasants whiling
along Country Roads leading up to
the City of Rome as
the Fasci played Guitars,
strumming
chords with Hands of Skill;
bored, from Country Windows
farm-Girls dreamt Carnalities
harmed
by the Fascist Peasant-Boys of
various Nationalities

in Rome the Lombard-Girl awaited
her Roman Fasco, Tall & Fair
with a Cigarillo in his
Mouth
the Roman Fasco's Skin was like White
marble like the Skin of a Girl
from Northern Lombardy with Lips
Crimson & Baby-Soft, his Hound
barking Epileptically, bound
by a Leash amidst Rain as a
radio Played,
trucks Screeching through
the Rain
as Teenage Fasci,
parking their Fascist
trucks with Rifles slung Fucked
teenage Girls with Skin as White as
marble, their Daggers
ripping Clothes to reveal White
alabaster

speeding Across Croatian Soil,
taking Drugs like
speed, the Boys Listened
to Crap Music on
radios as they
sped past the Bavarian Peasant-
boys near the Bavarian Peasant-
girls as the Suabian Coast
came in to View

& sailing across British Seas, Bleistein
evoking Kabbalah as Synagogues
erupted Holocausts of Flame,
Fasci reaching London's Lodge
burning to the Ground in Shame, Bleistein
dragging Swords across Lodge's Foyer

flying Far across the Sky as
lightning Struck against Flame, turbanned
jihadi With The
lightning-Symbols
of the Schutzstaffel
descending For
jihad, Striking
bleistein as He
descended From
stairs, Evoking
numerologies As
fasci With
lightning-Symbols & Swastikas
descended upon Flame

[Anonymous No.21954796]

>>21954479
I came across this diagram of Graham Hough's while reading Richard Lanham's A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms. Are you familiar with it? It is apparently in furtherance of Northrop Frye's Anatomy of Criticism. I thought it might illustrate some of our differences in taste. You seem to occupy the space between 9 and 12 whereas I am within 12 and 3. I will have to read more about this today so I can get a more nuanced understanding of it. At the moment, I think symbolism and realism are degenerate compared to fairytales and Shakespeare.

[Anonymous No.21954827]

>>21954796
Brother that's not him lol

[Anonymous No.21954918]

>>21954827
Thanks. I didn't check.

[Anonymous No.21955876]

>>21915830
i really liked that

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21956337]

>>21954459
Just message me on discord if you have it @Hairy#9550
>>21954479
I’ll stand by the Jew lover but not the dick sucking, also make it 9001.

>>21954796
Nope never encountered it, I’m a bit busy but later I’ll read over it and read into it, looks interesting enough.

[Anonymous No.21956505]

~ Indulgent

My feathers are blue,
and my eyes can only meet
the stars.

I see birds dying their colors.
Beautiful wings.
Are they true?

I once dreamed of a nest
of my own.
Yet all the trees have been about
leaves.

I dance and I sing,
I feel the air and
only the air knows me.

I’ve flown across everyone
and I’ve lost my shadow.
Nobody saw me.

Well, I
speak in metaphors,
so that I may listen
to the fall.
_____________

[Anonymous No.21956541]

~ Relativity

tiny and small
to me, they all seem
their problems and
everything in between

I reach the event
meant for any horizon
and a mirror stands tall
inside my event horizon

push and pull
like a paradox
twisting the law
I have to stand
but I
stand to fall

so I let my feet
touch nothing
I step on the air
while I reach
for the emptiness.
________________

[Anonymous No.21956704]

>>21956337
Eh whatever I'll just ask here, thoughts on Gareth Knight for practical Christian Kabbalah?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21957199]

>>21956704
Wouldn’t recommend it, your best bet is Agrippa, Paracelsus, boehme, trithemius and similar lit and amplify them with direct study of Jewish Kabbalistic lit + the grimoires. If you want a very comprehensive short singular work, the sixth and seventh book of Moses is a wonderful option.

[Anonymous No.21957432]

Why no love here for Longfellow?

[Anonymous No.21957456]

>>21957432
Nigger, are you Longfellow? This thread is for poetry YOU made.

[Anonymous No.21957509]

>>21957456
I can't hold a candle to the greats, so why not laud them? I doubt you even read very widely in the canon of poetic permutations, if you think the only point of a thread is to post your own poesy. Pleb.

[Anonymous No.21957969]

>>21927791
j'ai pas les ref mais j'en ressent quand même leurs puissance, ils sont reliés à des choses désignés impersonnellement, ce qui leur donne une sorte de grandeur universelle. J'aime beaucoup.

j'ai des débuts de sonnets mais j'arrive pas à les terminer ptetre que je les posterai après si je m'applique

[Anonymous No.21958091]

>>21957199
Thanks for the suggestions
>Wouldn’t recommend it
How come if you don't mind me asking?

[Anonymous No.21958133]

>>21957509
>I doubt you even read
Yes, 106 people doubt your ability to do so.
>>>>>>Post your verses.

[Anonymous No.21958246]

>>21958133
I don't read the shit posted here. Nor should you. Read the greats. Fucking autistic swine.

[Anonymous No.21958258]

>>21958246
Do you also open a book you have no interest in reading and glue over its pages copies of printed-out texts you enjoy? A multitude of characteristics of autism perfectly fit your bajazzo display in this thread. Accuse no one but yourself.

[Anonymous No.21958272]

The joint is burning, smoke rises
I have the feeling I'm hearing voices
stopped on this road I keep thinking
to where this path is taking me
the body floats, the mind falls asleep
I raise my hands and say a prayer
the joint reaches the end, I sit on the sidewalk
I went after paradise and found nothing.
I didn't find a thing, no

[Anonymous No.21958283]

>>21958258
I didn't read your post, but no one here can write poetry.

[Anonymous No.21958293]

>>21958283
>I didn't read it but it's shit
You're certainly a /lit/izen :^)

[Anonymous No.21958301]

>>21958293
Humble yourself before the altar of poetry.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21958502]

>>21954796
I’m sorry for the long delay in posting anon, I’ve really been rather busy.

I like the diagram it’s fun even if I have some disagreements, I would say I am very much into the top half as a whole from 8 to 3, since I also am a lover of folk and fairy tales and see much value in Shakespeare and so forth, it is simply that I find the most value in what is very aptly named the hieratic style, since I’ve even studied books of emblemata and much of what I consider best in terms of my own ideal in writing, is ultimately the kind of alchemical style which, while I know seems obtuse to the anons, is actually just common for the alchemical lit. I would say there’s a problem with the diagram because it ignores poetic structure in terms of the actual manner of writing which I am highly highly fixated on, and I am again very fixated on image, but I think the turning point is the symbolic as understood as a refinement of the image, to fill an image up with a world of meanings does not to me lessen the meaning or the depth you can portray it, but instead increases its power and depth, it expands it into an infinity of force.

I think an element of my own taste which puts me at odds often is, I don’t care for the human, in terms of personality or narrative, the personal feeling doesn’t capture me, neither do I see it as more beautiful nor spiritually superior, and this manifests in my own writing in a verse that there isn’t much to relate to for the person who doesn’t share my interests, and the result is in taste, say we both share that taste in Shakespeare, I’m interested in his rhetorical schema, his meter, his imagery, context, the qualia being produced in general, the intoxicant of it, not the specific persons. Like gun to my head favorite Shakespeare poem is the Phoenix and the turtle precisely because the humanity is stripped away.

In this regard, in the vast majority of cases, the realist and those other works near the nadir of the diagram wheel, they are almost utterly incapable of harmonizing the conception of the vast, the inhuman, the infinite, except within the context of human relationships, apophaticism and an inferior sort of philosophizing which, if instead they tried to write a philosophical tract would be considered subpar and not cared for by any.

I would ask you anon, what works do you say you’ve read that you consider the hieratic and how did you feel about them in positive and negative, what’s the critique against them in your taste?

>>21958091
To be blunt it’s pop schlock that is for dudes who don’t have the mind to study primary texts, it’s just not worth your time.

[Anonymous No.21958603]

>>21958502
>To be blunt it’s pop schlock that is for dudes who don’t have the mind to study primary texts, it’s just not worth your time.
Shame, Knight seemed like a good source for basic exercises and beginner information on Cabala, occult meditations etc. Especially since he seemed to go out of his way to keep it Christian/Western; I can't stand Blavatsky's stupidity and syncretism, yet she was unfortunately an influential figure.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21958626]

>>21958603
If you want basic primers you’re better off reading the more normie mystical literature, molinos spiritual guide, brother Lawrence and that type are all very good and very mystically profitable, all very beginner friendly.

[Anonymous No.21958664]

>>21958626
Are GD and Luxor any good in your assessment?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21958737]

>>21958664
Ultimately GD is very basic and while In the short term studying GD and Thelema can bring you up to speed, it’s just as likely to get you stuck in a pattern of law awareness approach to esotericism and repeating the same rituals with no real understanding of the why, and in the end when you reach the higher levels of these, all of that preparation amounts to you again, going to the grimoires and studying that material.

Studying kabbalistic lit by dudes like aryeh Kaplan and moshe idel, studying contemplative material stuff like molinos, brother Lawrence and so forth, having a daily practice of prayer and meditation, and just studying the primary occult lit yourself is gonna be many many many times better for you, both in terms of direct relationship with God, and actual conscious knowledge. Again Agrippa, Paracelsus, Trithemius, Jacob boehme and Thomas vaughan, these few sources are gonna do you better than all of the pop GD lit combined and better than their actual flying rolls and other such.

[Anonymous No.21958764]

>>21958737
Thanks again brother

[Anonymous No.21959220]

>>21958502
I couldn't find a PDF of where the diagram was published, so I'm still unsure of Hough's full conception. However, this screencap is from the aforementioned book. I will read Frye's today.

Upon further consideration, I realize that I should have included hieratic in my interests. Orthodox icons, like mantras and mandalas, exist for utilitarian ends- a spiritual utilitarianism. Novels, however, due to their length and breadth, are too unwieldy for such a purpose. Fairytales, whose form and objects are chiefly functional, on the other hand, I believe must be classed as hieratic, thus more just than novels. I think the efflorescence of the novel in an increasingly bourgeois and Protestant Europe should demonstrate the novel's affinities. My points here may help illuminate my preferences for you. Imagism is merely realism without commentary and is equally impotent. I enjoy Shakespeare, Pope, and Wilde for their quotability.

[Anonymous No.21959253]

>>21959220
>I enjoy Shakespeare, Pope, and Wilde for their quotability.
I should add that their witty figures make them quotable. I prefer Shakespeare and Wilde for their beauty over Pope.

[Anonymous No.21959294]

>>21913852
Beautiful

[Anonymous No.21959678]

le feu follet

le feu follet s'invente,
le feu follet s'invite,
il s'évente des ciels
où s'envole son fiel.

il se prend tous les airs
d'un roi tout débonaire,
il se perd dans la brume
où ses flammes s'enfumment.

éperdument vivant,
innocent, ennivrant,
on le pousse à règner
sans qu'on puisse le renier.

on le poursuit toujours,
peu importe où il court !
et puis tombe le jour,
nous surprenant de court.

[Anonymous No.21959955]

>>21912960
Your poetry is shit. Kill yourself loser.

[Anonymous No.21960188]

...

I fuck the pussy hard. I fuck it with my willy.
I fuck it fuck it fuck I’m fucking pussy fuck fuck going silly.
Zooble dooble dop dop pop ploor beep borp booble doop.
Boloobleooble oopy dop bogooble zoopy boop.
Just wanna make my wiener strong so Mommy will be proud.
If I fuck another mommy Mommy frowns and says I’m not allowed.
I’m confused though cause this isn’t love. I’m stuck under a spell.
It’s not my heart that does it. It’s my wiener and it does it well.
Gotta make the pussy cum. Gotta make her cry.
Then later I’ll go home and think about how much I want to die.

[Anonymous No.21960613]

>>21913630
fuck off

[Anonymous No.21960641]

>>21913630
eff u

[Anonymous No.21961395]

The stiff shaft of man
The glazed complexion of lust
Trans rights, Human rights
No human is ILLEGAL
Chud, dear chud
BORN AGAIN

[Anonymous No.21961560]

>>21958737
God is only a construction of man. Any true God would not be able to be defined, nor contacted nor constructed within our scabby dimensions. Any text that tells you to perform specific ritualistic, and repetitive service can not be of any product of God, and only the ritualistic enslavement of individuality to the known, for corrupt power within the known, and fear of the unknown, for the shallow promise of power

If we are even a glint of some God then why be cowards and cower to the petty and semantic? Fuck religion

[Anonymous No.21961725]

I want to send this to my friend that likes poetry. Let me know if this is good enough to share.


My Friend is a Bee

On pollen search
In branches perched,
She hums her honey tune.
At journey's end,
My cherished Friend
Will bring her hive to you.

[Anonymous No.21961937]

Plush

Are you still there?
Tucked and gathered
Amidst my legs,
Taking tender breaths.

A fleeced joy
Of sickness and relief,
Not seen or heard
In gloam, but pet.

A smell,
Like you or me, or both?
Caught on our shivers,
Together under wraps.

You carry us further
On to silvers and lilacs
Of maybe-thoughts
And the softly waning horizon.

Just wrote this tonight, pls don't be mean

[Anonymous No.21961954]

>>21961560
dont waste time with him

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21962077]

>>21961560
>God is only a construction of man.

Nah, you can perform some practices yourself and see this isn’t so.

>Any true God would not be able to be defined, nor contacted nor constructed within our scabby dimensions.

Says who? You? A truly infinite God has to also contain the finite, least it not be infinite, if God cannot contain the elements of person and personality, then it lacks something even I possess, if it cannot even partake of this world, then I possess something he does not, thus it cannot be and God can partake of whatever hd pleases and be known in personal aspect.

>Any text that tells you to perform specific ritualistic, and repetitive service can not be of any product of God,

Again, says who, you?

>and only the ritualistic enslavement of individuality to the known,

Yes, the knowable God.

>fear of the unknown, for the shallow promise of power

Not really, rites to gain knowledge unknown derive from desire to know it, not fear of it.

>If we are even a glint of some God then why be cowards and cower to the petty and semantic?

Whose the cowards? Last I checked religions have always conquered this earth and have showed extreme dominance, as for semantics, the meaning of words is rather important if you, like me, believe God produced all of nature by literally speaking. The meaning of words becomes very important then.

In truth anon, while the cataphatic way will never grant perfect knowledge, it shall always grant continuous true knowledge, for if God is known while he is impossible to fully grasp, what can be grasped can truly be grasped, to deny this is to deny experience itself, if you are not weak, you should try one of the many methodologies of mystical experience of any religion, attempting so seriously every day for a month at least, if you cannot even do this, then you can only blame yourself for your ignorance. If you have not prayed and fasted and studied the Bible for a couple hours a day every day for a month, if you’ve not sat and practiced jhana meditation for a month, if you have not attempt daily invocation for a month, then you really have no right to complain, you’ve not even tried.

[Anonymous No.21962317]

>>21961937
>Are you still there?
>Tucked and gathered
>Amidst my legs,
>Not seen or heard
>A smell,
>Together under wraps.

It is about your trans-cock and becoming trans-womyn?

[Anonymous No.21962587]

>>21951989
They called progress how evolution and not how revolution.

[Anonymous No.21962644]

Sorry to shit up the thread, but I'd like some advice. How can one learn to hear the beauty in lyricism? I appreciate meaning and image and can find it beautiful, but I struggle with the actual sound of the words and compositions. Read aloud by me, listening to a professional recital or sang, I just don't get much out of it. I love some singing (though never what I see praised by others), so I don't think I'm incapable of it, I just seem aesthetically insensitive or unrefined. I also have this issue with prose. I can sense that the opening of Lolita is exquisite, but not how, and I don't feel much for most of the rest of the book.

Perhaps this is too vague and subjective to ask about like this, but this bothers me very much and I'm desperate for a way to access it.

[Anonymous No.21962686]

>>21930993
Glömska symboliseras av att Munin inte längre återvänder. Din använding av namnet känns rätt ansträngd.

[Anonymous No.21962692]

>>21962644
>but I struggle with the actual sound of the words and compositions

Writing has its own rules and singing has its own rules, read aloud writing has no sense if the writing is not singing when it is been composed.

[Anonymous No.21962711]

>>21962692
Ah, right, I didn't mean song specifically. In my language lyric includes poetry. The forms seem close to each other to me, but maybe I'm mistaken.

[Anonymous No.21962802]

>>21962711
...

[Anonymous No.21962885]

>>21960188
Who hurt you?

[Anonymous No.21962919]

I've enjoyed reading many of the poems in this thread. Remember anons the important thing is that you're all cultivating imagination, thought, and emotion; and learning how to express yourselves creatively through poetry. Other anons criticisms can be helpful as a starting point for your reflections and as a way to think bpout the technical and structural features of poetry, but try not to take anyones criticisms too seriously.
I especially enjoyed these:
>>21953898
>>21953447
>>21938889
>>21928184

>>21912922
this one is amazing and beautifully suggestive. personally i like the last stanza better in the first one than the revised version... you should go with whatever lines you believe in; dont worry too much about criticism. Frater is just some guy, not the king of poetry. maybe you find something he says useful, but you can ignore anything he says when it's not useful to your craft too.


Maybe some time soon i will post my mawkish bdsm vilanelle in one of these threads.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21963246]

I like this poem, has an enjoyable speed and force to it.

Hohenlinden by Thomas Campbell

ON Linden when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And furious every charger neighed,
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven
Far flashed the red artillery.

And redder yet those fires shall glow
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow,
And darker yet shall be the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Ah! few shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

[Anonymous No.21963387]

>>21962802
Well. I simply want to learn to be able to appreciate your artform, but beyond dismissal I can't decipher what either of your replies are trying to communicate, so I guess I'll leave you people to it.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21963401]

>>21962644
I would recommend the book “poetic meter and form” by fussell, that and just reading and checking the metrical scansion of more poems, only way to appreciate it more is to refine your sense, which takes time.

[Anonymous No.21963496]

>>21963246
How does he give each line's penultimate stress such force? They feel almost as important as the ultimate.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21963773]

>>21963496
It’s intelligent usage of assonance, rhyme and alliteration.


>on LIN/den WHEN/the SUN/was LOW,/

Sun sounds stronger here because while it’s still a strict iambic, “when the” are in a non metrical way, very light very preparatory syllables since they don’t really have any content, this is why “sun” gains more emphasis, sun begins a play with the ipa ʌ sound, this is why “blood” feels nice after sun,

>all BLOOD/less LAY/the un-TROD/den SNOW,/

the next penultimate he’s doing a trick I mentioned before, where you replace a normal iamb with an anapestic but maintain the same amount of feet, this produces a burst of speed and power for the stress in question.

>And DARK/ as WIN/ter WAS/the FLOW

“dark” even though it’s rhotic colored actually assonances with Trod, especially if you used the common sort of accent of the time where you’d turn star into stah etc, this boosts the rhythm and leads us into the simultaneous usage of alliteration and assonance on the penultimate syllable, this is because “Was” and “sun” are both the aforementioned same vowel, and this boosted with the alliteration of “winter” greatly increases the weight of the syllable
>Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

Once more, simple alliteration, Rolling Rapidly, rest of the poem uses similar tricks like dead-death, battle blade (with assonance via fast, fast array)

Etc, it’s logical if you analyze what he’s doing.

[Anonymous No.21964080]

>>21962686
Medhålles. Symboliken överlag är krystad, det är jag medveten om. Det är huvudsakligen en övning i metrik och sonettformen.

[Anonymous No.21964342]

If posted a portion of this before, but is my meter consistent so far?

In process immortal Ostara, arms wide,
embraces new sweden jovially, quick
to forget the long months of icy distance,
and, thawing the frozen, black soil with an
unwavering kindness, makes ready the earth
for nature's procession to march on again:

First Thoreau's Skunk cabbage, proud warrior, pike raised,
walks boldly, defiant, ignoring the frost.
His warding, hard spear-tip makes way for others
who weathered the winter with steely resolve.

Pink lady show-stopper with slippers of silk
Slow dances through ballrooms of pinecones and peat
High reigning Asphodel o'er plain sedge shines clear
A lighthouse to buzzing mud daubers and bees

[Anonymous No.21964347]

I have nothing in the tank
and I don't even own fish

what I feel feels like śūnyatā
but isn't, it's merely an emptiness

though I don't know how particles come
into or out of being, despite my uncle the cosmogonist

attempting to explain nothing so many times
while being nothing himself (I have no such relative)

"they call him spaceman" thank you Johnnie
but you must be referring to someone else, Jesus

perhaps—and these miracles you speak of?
I'll wait for those not restricted to the 'only' category

to answer as an addendum to the unaskable
and frankly, love contorts itself irregardless

of the penny-pinching shotgun rider in my left
hemisphere—it's not incorrect to say, I'll succeed

in the long-run,
it's all a long-run

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.21964364]

>>21964342
I don’t have time so please post it in the next thread and I’ll give you the full scansion.

[Anonymous No.21964730]

>>21961725
There is no direct subject of the poem, do it becomes somewhat convoluted. If you are giving the poem to someone you adore, then why emphasise that the bee is the "cherished friend"?

Also, what does the hive signify, beyond the literal? You give no meat to something that is clearly the weighty passage of the poem.

Finally - queens don't do shit but lay eggs for the hive, so she won't perch or search for any pollen.

Pretty words, but no cohesion nor third party impact.


>>21960188
The only thing going for you poem is that you're most likely a virgin, and this is you attempt to make intimacy juvenile to pacify your unsatisfied horniness.

>>21958272
Is it possible to search for paradise? What is it about your surrounding that aren't paradisaic? If it is everything it is probably a chemical imbalances in your mind, brought on and emphasised through negative reinforcement. Join a sports team, find a way to release endorphins. Hurr durr authentic self. Go kick a ball. The poem was shit

>>21956541
Jilted and forced.

>I reach the event
>meant for any horizon

Really? I always thought that enlightenment brought with it clarity not platitudes.

Are you a 12 year old girl? Put something of substance in your work, damn. None of us inherently know how special you are, you have to demonstrate it through product, not present us with banality and expect us to redefine the miracle of existence to the miracle of your existance. Keep writing, but keep 97% of it to yourself and irl people who love you and you can trust for feedback

>>21953989
Hot off the press racist wishes they could rap

>>21954786
If this had any lyrical substance I would be tempted to research the endless references, however, I'd rather go find the absolute meaning of life so I can make a comparative measure of bordome in the aftermath.

>>21953447
Rate me

[Anonymous No.21964764]

>>21962077
>says who
>best debate

Try harder

All you need to do is open a newspaper to see how prone to superstition the human mind is, how much it demands release.

Which knowable God? The one, right? The only one?

The most important rule of power is that to maintain any that you have you need to firstly sure up the ways the power was given to you. The system is the most important afterall, right?