/Poetry/ General

[Anonymous No.22754181]

Post your own poetry, rate and/or critique others' pieces.

[Anonymous No.22754197]

>>22754181

Could this Bronze age Hurrian text be a poem?
It seems to me like there is some sort of regularity of rhyming in stress, long vowels, and last syllables

https://youtu.be/QhD0CsCH1f0?si=5GGfxFJmYoib2ftk&t=94

[Anonymous No.22754203]

[Anonymous No.22754204]

[Anonymous No.22754245]

People usually too lazy to read poems in the geographical area where I from. In my native language, I wrote a dozen good poems that I am proud of and a hundred that I would never show to anyone anymore.

A few days ago I have collected raw material for a poem. But I was tempted by experiment and tried to write it in English. It seems that poets from different countries do completely different work, lol, as if they work in different professions. Or so it seems to me after the first experience.

Sooooo, I wrote it, read it, and realized that... I just don’t understand anything about this poem - I listen to a lot of materials in English, but for some reason in this case I can’t imagine at all how it sounds for a native speaker. So please tell me

Black grasses of November

In chambers where the past enthralls,
Pictures not ours on the walls.
Around, in a silent dance divine
Black grasses of November twine.

The gods unconscious howl command:
The world must change at their demand.
The feeble gods, moon cut in half,
Black grasses of November laugh.

In dance of tongues where meanings wry,
Mage tries to name the nameless sky.
For right to name – they die or win.
Black grasses of November grin.

They look at pictures as their art,
but pictures made them from the start
There's only pictures no one owns,
Black grasses of November groans.

The war, the fire’s flying sparks,
Their blossom left unhealing marks,
Some hundred years – forgets and shrugs.
Black grasses of November drugs.

O choice, like phantom’s fleeing breath,
The gold of fools in the dance with death.
Existed only in a plot.
Black grasses of November rot.

The silver moon in starless void,
Enchants street lamps, but trees avoid
Avoid and hide behind the light,
Black grasses of November tight.

You disappear and know your loss:
There’s no one here and never was,
The end of plots, attempts to cease
Black grasses of November kiss.

The time is only though of “when”,
The dreams from past, the hopes for “then”,
They never bind the absent one
Black grasses of November done.

[Anonymous No.22754298]

Now I know it exists somewhere far away
Someone for me
Someone who dreams with me
And when I'm awake, it’s presence is haunting me

Our spirits wandered through the land of dreams for years
They wandered through deserted streets and endless melancholic expanses
They left behind only the odor of herb of grace
and finally found themselves in a tunnel of red roses

Now as she closes her eyes on a cold pillow woven from mysterious dreams
And the last breath leaves java
in the hidden land forever she
walks quietly through the mist with me.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.22754348]

>>22754298
I hate the sentimental style, after watching an anime I wrote one to see if I could capture its sentiment, your verse reminded me of it.

Contrasting moods(written upon hearing the Kanon ost track promise/約束, Yakusoku)

I carve Chalcedony into exotic forms,
The parts of great colossi lustered with strange fire,
And search and smelt and cast unearthly monstrous ores,
Made variate by harsh effort like flame-stained iron.

Nacreous pallors set in filigrees of Gold,
Inlays of rare blue jade from foreign lands damask,
rediscovered myrrhine gives veins of purple-rose,
grisailes enlegent with the names of Abrasax.

Yet in some small moments I too feel it,
The foaming up of lost memories,
Of things forgotten yet replete,
Of things which may never be.


The reminiscent faces,
recalling things I’ve never known,
returning though the person changes,
This feeling faint, and delicate as snow.

[Anonymous No.22754361]

Have we ever done a best of /poetry/? Could be a worthy /lit/ project. This is the only general I find genuinely worth making an archive of

[Anonymous No.22754517]

>>22754298
The flow shows up in the last three lines but is otherwise basically absent

[Anonymous No.22754628]

Significata, significandum, signatories, signs
These signs are signs of the nothing, metaphors for ancient lies
My crime was taking the signs for signs of something true or real
Our lives are strivings denied and signs of dead subdued ideals
We mime and mimic what nothing lies beneath our sense and mind
We frantic dance to a song that sounds without a sound design
Mistaking signs of a void for signs that promise finished faith
No meaning meant by the lying signs of phantom dins and wraiths
I take my breath in my lungs and know I never breathe at all
I see the world for a speck and know I have no eyes at all.

[Anonymous No.22754692]

How do you write flexibly? My language feels rigid. It feels like it’s already predetermined what the lines will be and all I’m figuring out is what they are. I’m forcing them to fit.

[Anonymous No.22754834]

>>22754628
Building is real
Creation will come
See Solomon's seal
Double doors to the sun

[Anonymous No.22754870]

>>22754203
>>22754204
Pretentious
>>22754298
Bad
>>22754348
You failed
>>22754628
>>22754834
Mediocre

[Anonymous No.22754990]

hopefully this is the only one ill post in this thread, gonna respond to yalls and Iron out some old ones I've already posted

[Anonymous No.22755010]

Experimenting with free verse

[Anonymous No.22755011]

Writing they write.
Spelling they spell.
Pray they pray
On the flesh of God.
Amen.

[Anonymous No.22755027]

>>22755010
clearly you also like pound, I like cathay a lot and think this is pretty good poem to pay respects. but ultimately needs more and if you can't add anything it should be condensed

[Anonymous No.22755043]

>>22754870
>Pretentious
Well yeah

[Anonymous No.22755055]

Reposting my sonnets from the last thread:

01.
If, by coincidence, we were to meet
In passing, would you choose to pass me by,
And turn, indifferent, down another street,
Or would you stop and look me in the eye?
Would you restore the hopes I thought had gone
And gone forever—hasten dreams deferred?
Or would you just, uncaring, carry on—
Not spare a glance, or speak a single word?
But, faced by you, perhaps I’d turn away,
Too conscious of the past to stay and talk.
Perhaps there would be nothing left to say,
I’d duck my head and hurry down the block.
How strange, that we’d be strangers if we met;
Unspeaking, yet unable to forget.

02.
At first your form looked close enough to touch;
I gazed, enraptured, scarcely dared to blink.
I’d never longed for anyone so much;
Then, something changed: I watched that image shrink.
I saw you, all at once, cut down to size;
You looked so different—distant, blurry, small—
A silhouette I scarcely recognized.
I wondered: had I known your face at all?
What is the truth? I doubt all that I see.
My faithless heart deceives my helpless eyes;
I look back through the lens of memory
That so distorts the one it magnifies.
You seem so near, then suddenly so far—
Come here, and let me see you as you are.

03
As time runs out, I, spendthrift, waste my days;
Let seconds, minutes, hours all slip by.
Yet, daily, I resolve again to try
To settle my accounts, and change my ways.
Yet always, in an apathetic haze,
I watch the sun pass slowly through the sky
And see it set, and the last daylight die,
With nothing done. My frantic mind delays
The simplest acts, as I grow more afraid
With every passing moment. Have I lost
That bright, unrealized future? Will it fade
Into the darkness? Has my name been crossed
From fortune’s shortlist? Guilty, I have paid
Inaction’s price, yet cannot count the cost.

>>22747622
I totally agree with your analysis of the last one. The different metaphors are sort of clumsily sandwiched together—I should’ve found a way to interweave them more subtlety. And I’ll try to incorporate your suggestion about the enjambment in future.

[Anonymous No.22755084]

>>22755010
The one you posted in the last thread was better desu

[Anonymous No.22755093]

STICKING OUT YOUR GYATT FOR THE RIZZLER
YOURE SO SKIBIDI
YOURE SO FANUM TAX
I JUST WANNA BE YOUR SIGMA
FREAKING COME HERE
GIVE ME YOUR OHIO

[Anonymous No.22755147]

>>22755093
take a step back and see
the forest for the tree
see the truth, that the whole
of this board is coal

[Anonymous No.22755646]

don't die overnight

[Anonymous No.22755728]

[Anonymous No.22755951]

>>22755055
I enjoyed reading these anon. Creative rhymes, and the form isn't ridiculously clunky or inorganic (which is something I've struggled with when writing sonnets and have seen in others). These definitely all enhance each other when read together, by the end I had a more full experience of the elements of your voice I wished you had let out when I was reading the first one. I think the strength that I connected with here was the way you trace the achings and self-defeats of consciousness. Very psychologically sensitive verse. I was worried this was going to be Vita Nuova-inspired exclamations of the incommensurate beauty of the one you desire and how you just wanna cry and sing to her or something, and we were gonna miss any self-aware or nuanced reflections on the experience of desire and the denial of desire.

Still, I would really love to read more where you turn the focus inward, try to catch your longings as they move, before they've gotten to the "Has my name been crossed / From fortune's shortlist?" point.

My favorite bits in each were

>But, faced by you, perhaps I'd turn away, / Too conscious of the past to stay and talk.

>Then, something changed: I watched that image shrink. / I saw you, all at once, cut down to size

>Yet always, in an apathetic haze, / I watch the sun pass slowly through the sky / And see it set, and the last daylight die, / With nothing done.

[Anonymous No.22755962]

>>22754245
I'm gonna be honest this just reads like it came from chatGPT. Not accusing, just saying that's the feel it gives to a native English speaker.

[Anonymous No.22755966]

>>22755962
It sounds fine to me

[Anonymous No.22756000]

I work as a farm laborer, these two poems are about that experience. Farming in sunshine when life is love and everything is awake and desperate, and farming when the air is not very breathable and hurts every part of you.

I. Summer

This day has got me held
in her long embrace –
in her long, coarse embrace
where I feel my sweat ignite
to the fertile sun, where
my breath, like liquid flame,
flows without end into the dirt.

where the touch of living heat
awakens every dormant seed within my blood.
where the heavy hymn
of light
soaks deeply into every pore of my skin –

this day,
where time, like clay,
is shaped by my own hands,
where I can pull forth the dawn,
catch the fleeting twilight caress –
this day,
its hours etched into these hands –
these hands,
releasing every secret they hold into the wind,
unfolding all the stories of the earth, of the day, every song
crawling off every blade & blossom, dancing, to etch themselves
onto these loving hands.


II. Smog

Now the air clings to everything –
now the love-soaked grasses slow-dance with me into the grey,
now the restful landscape hums itself away,
now I follow my breath eternally into tomorrow,
and, folding the cloak of time
over shoulders made of dirt,
shaking dead-bark bones of crumbling wood, I
close my eyes to the dreaming sky.

And the hours take my hand in theirs as I walk back,
somberly, slowly,
through the light inhaling,
stepping softly over birdsong temples –
drifting above the flower-veiled soul,
and passing the hope that flickers on my skin,
walking back,
finding where we came from.

We wander through a maze of
newborn questions,
into the chill of truth,
the heart now bountiful in the night,
now still,
barren, haunted by an ageless solace.
I feel the hour’s stepping
I touch the earth on which they’ve tread;
sinking my fingers into each footprint,
each mark a testament to the toil of love.

[Anonymous No.22756092]

>>22755962
Haha, thanks for the feedback. Beware now chatgpt - two or three more poems in English and I'll take your job.

It’s hard for me to give up vagueness in an attempt to convey direct experience; when translating from raw material, the meanings and images morphed even further than I expected.

Can you say is it too simple in form, does it sound childish in rhyme?

[Anonymous No.22756096]

>>22755966
>It sounds fine to me
>fine

[Anonymous No.22756138]

Work in progress but I'll post what's done so far:

I'd had my fill of countryside,
of moonlit nights, of cooing birds.
The rural writings left my mind,
replaced by burning urban words.

I moved into a new abode
that better suited what I sought:
a place in which my prose could flow
without regard for other thoughts.

The floorboards wept with every step,
the sideboards sighed with just a gust,
the ceiling's cracks were deeply set,
the pipework was reduced to rust.

A perfect place to write within!
Such deprivation frees the mind.
Below one's feet a raucous din
while vermin skitter right behind.

Before I let my inkwell run
I chose to tidy up the rooms.
The former boarders left a glut
of memories among the gloom.

They surely were a family
according to the cluttered walls.
Small portraits clustered on a tree
that stretched its branches through the halls.

I followed one 'til it grew bare
and wandered into where it lead:
a dark room filled with dusty air
as dry as deadened riverbeds.

In order to illuminate
what lay inside this ersatz night
I struggled with the windowpane
and dowsed the place in dawn's first light.

[Anonymous No.22756181]

Prophecy

Allow me to speak of a dream
Jungian thought emphasises the unconscious

The beautiful school boys of dionysiusian age.
Told me to hurt the queer, fellow student.
If I did so I could follow them to the lake into ethereal eternity.
I refused.

I received your letter after a decade.
We met and I hoped we'd have a Holderin friendship.
I always thought you'd turn into a Don Gionvanni or a skinhead.
You seemed safe but a tad unfulfilled.
I smoke cigarettes now which flair my death drive.
My superego pangs constantly.
I think the world is falling apart, that we were threshed of the good times we were promised.
Enjoy suffering but hate in others.
That's all we can do.
I'll talk to you in another ten years.

[Anonymous No.22756204]

Waning moon above the night’s charade of
Bright firework and pyrite smoke possessing
Minds forlorn and weak – to You I claim but
One more fair and grand: a beauty brighter
Than a thousand buoyant rays reflecting
In the midst of clear lagoon at eventide.
Cloud may shroud your bliss within the dark of
Night and turn my view away, yet mist does
Clear again and dusk a pleasant grey, but
You’re a sweet eclipse across a beryl
Sky – not even weathered rock or blackened
Sight could force your beauty from the eye.

[Anonymous No.22756271]

ESL here, my own original's translation.

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,
Losing 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.

[Anonymous No.22756274]

>>22756204
nice

[Anonymous No.22756875]

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

[Anonymous No.22756881]

>>22756875
>posting an excerpt from a famous poem and passing it off as your own work
cringe

[Anonymous No.22756916]

>>22756204
finally a good poem :)

[Anonymous No.22756965]

>>22756916
(You)

[Anonymous No.22757238]

>>22756274
>>22756916

thanks guys. wrote it for my girlfriend on the 2nd date haha. she seemed to like it. meter goes off a bit near the end

[Anonymous No.22757574]

I am no stranger to trickery -
And I always question things before me,
but soon I began to see
the chains that hold this world together

[Anonymous No.22757578]

>>22757238
yeah it was good famlam

[Anonymous No.22757587]

'nother

... Just the lengths they'll go to not remember
- to not sever all there was to comfort.
But, alas, it goes away.

[Anonymous No.22758227]

>>22756204
Sappy and cringey

[Anonymous No.22758251]

>>22757574
cool
>>22756181
name dropping jung, dionysius, holderin, and the freudian concepts is cringe. it's trying too hard. you could write something not bad if added some form and got rid of that shit.
>>22756138
it should just be about moving to a new place, making it about writing is cringe. You need to generalize it. recreate the same feelings that the context of being a writer adds but without actually saying that you're there to write. Adding in the lines about writing just makes it less relatable, less universal, and if I was understanding the other lines, those ones break the flow and seem to be about something totally different to me, because I would not associate those things with writing necessarily. I would only keep that context if you're writing it only for yourself.

[Anonymous No.22758347]

>>22755147
diamonds are found in the coal
which you consider this board as a whole

[Anonymous No.22758415]

Reposted. The last rhyme is weak.

Coffee and cigarettes;
breakfast in the cold before class.
Her hair is pulled back tight,
and her yoga pants hug her hips
in a way that makes me forget
what exactly I was going to say.
She smiles brightly,
blue eyes forward,
craning her neck to see me
while I puff and laugh off autumn
with Nothingness on our tongues.

I've long since quit smoking,
but I love coffee just the same,
and I wish that I could draw
instead of just remembering your name.
All that remains is for certian,
it's eidetic I suppose,
are the embers and the anguish
and the life that no one knows.
I moved on long ago,
and you moved on a lot sooner still,
but in the night I remember
both the danger and the thrill.
A decade has passed
and in anonimity I confide,
that all the time I've wasted
was time I chose to bide.

[Anonymous No.22759130]

>>22758415
Do you know about metre? Your poem is lacking it.

[Anonymous No.22759358]

Thou pluckest me, one from
The fiery branches of eternity,
Left me burning upon the deep
Created ripples that no eye
Watched, away from all matter,
My essence scattered and
Expanded over nothingness
I am nothing, wishing upon a star

[Anonymous No.22759426]

>>22754181
the biggest problem is (and has always been) that while some anons in these threads can write well, absolutely none of them have anything to say

[4channel reform movement No.22759480]

I said sneed
Time to feed
Wait,
he brew?
No, not you
I mean Him
Made a hymn:
Once a sneed
Thrice defeat
On that side like a run out dish
This spaghetti? Squid-like limbs
Out my pockets hinting twins
Roll a rocket from the crack
Be it hundred little lamps
With the blackest hardest gas
Oil to proceed the craft
To chew out through sluggish mass
Blindness grail its bibled glass
Burns with fire of the Das.

[Anonymous No.22759743]

>>22759426
you obviously didn't read mine

[Anonymous No.22759797]

>>22759426
I think the problem is that most of these 'poems' are written by people that don't know anything about poetry. They're like people trying to express themselves through an instrument without knowing how to play it.

[Anonymous No.22759955]

The heavy pen
Too much to say
Beyond mortal men
Some words must stay

[Anonymous No.22760110]

>>22754517
This is translated to English from my native language, in my native language it flows
I hope you anons got it,actually it can explain feeling of absence you had while reading it because that vibe is in poem

[Anonymous No.22760204]

>>22759955
Nearly
>Beyond mortal men
>x / / x /
This line messes up the flow imo, you have to say beyond quickly, as if it was one unstressed syllable for it to fit as mortal is trochaic and there's five syllables in that line. It ends with a stressed one so stops it being dimeter like the other lines and turns it into a wonky trimeter. To change it you could change beyond to an unstressed single syllable word, or change beyond to one.

[Anonymous No.22760218]

>>22759743
I'll bite - which ones are yours?
>>22759797
>express themselves
they have nothing to express, anon

[Anonymous No.22760320]

>>22760204
Thanks. The flow feels right to me. A slight deviation from a pattern creates pressure that's resolved when the original pattern continues.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsU-a7ATt3I

[Anonymous No.22760337]

>>22760320
That's fine then, I'm not a fan of the word beyond for some reason which may have put me off.

[Anonymouṡ No.22760341]

Some translations.


---


GATO QUE BRINCAS NA RUA

Gato que brincas na rua,
Como se fosse na cama,
Invejo a sorte que é tua,
Porque nem sorte se chama.

Bom servo das leis fatais,
Que regem pedras e gentes,
Que tens instintos gerais,
E sentes só o que sentes.

És feliz porque és assim,
Todo o nada que és é teu.
Eu vejo-me e estou sem mim,
Conheço-me e não sou eu.

— Fernando Pessoa


CAT PLAYING IN THE STREET

Street cat on your playful paws,
Snug as someone warm in bed,
How I'd love the luck that's yours.
Luck? No. Something else instead.

Faithful servant of the rule
Guiding sternly man and stone,
You are instinct's wisest fool,
Feeling what you feel alone.

Living thus amuses you;
All the naught you are, you've got.
Meanwhile I, with fractured view,
Scrutinize the man I'm not.


---


Parfum exotique

Quand, les deux yeux fermés, en un soir chaud d'automne,
Je respire l'odeur de ton sein chaleureux,
Je vois se dérouler des rivages heureux
Qu'éblouissent les feux d'un soleil monotone;

Une île paresseuse où la nature donne
Des arbres singuliers et des fruits savoureux;
Des hommes dont le corps est mince et vigoureux,
Et des femmes dont l'oeil par sa franchise étonne.

Guidé par ton odeur vers de charmants climats,
Je vois un port rempli de voiles et de mâts
Encor tout fatigués par la vague marine,

Pendant que le parfum des verts tamariniers,
Qui circule dans l'air et m'enfle la narine,
Se mêle dans mon âme au chant des mariniers.

— Charles Baudelaire


‘Exotic Perfume’

When, eyes closed, on a sultry autumn night,
I breathe the warming fragrance of your breast,
I see expansive shores before me, dressed
In summer's dazzling unrelenting light;

A lazy isle, where Nature sets in sight
Exotic trees, and fruits of luscious zest;
And slender-bodied men with vigour blessed,
And women too with open gaze and bright.

Drawn by your fragrance to this pleasant land,
I see a port where sails and rigging stand
At ease, still wearied by the ocean wave,

While in my soul, the verdant tamarind scent
That fills the air and makes my nostrils crave,
Is everywhere with songs of sailors blent.


---


Dicis formonsam, dicis te, Bassa, puellam.
istud quae non est dicere, Bassa, solet.

— Martial

You say you're young and beautiful. But Bassa, is it true?
The really lovely need not speak, but just appear in view.

[Anonymous No.22760358]

>>22754197
why do you talk like a FAGGOT? tryin to look smart? well YOU FGUCKING FAILED!

[Anonymous No.22760392]

I want the light to die out - for the sun to burst and cool down
Exhausted all fumes -
stepping in gumboots

[Anonymous No.22760874]

>>22755055
These are unironically good

[Anonymous No.22761829]

Bump

[Anonymous No.22761901]

>>22760341


Pretty good (very loose translation though) but I might prefer it like this

>Meanwhile with fractured view,
>I scrutinize the man I'm not.


While the perfume of green tamarinds
Which fills the air and swells my nose
Mixes in my soul with the song of sailors

>>22755055

It's ok but very old-fashioned sounding. And it's very devoid of imagery, very abstract. Where you do use some "imagery" in the third stanza, it's very clichéd (about the sun and daylight).

[Anonymous No.22762325]

>>22761901
Your edit of those two lines completely fucks up the metre, retard

[Anonymous No.22762338]

>>22762325

You are a meter retard. This is the 21st century.

[Anonymous No.22762918]

Bump

[Anonymous No.22763052]

>>22754870
>t. brainlet who farts out wannabe-cool one-word replies
>calls others pretentious

[Anonymous No.22763285]

>>22761901
>>22762338
You are the reason these threads are shit

[Anonymous No.22763382]

They want me to waste away in delirium
Harnessed to trial drug chariots and meth pills
Comatose in my own head drowning
Aren't I right to be paranoid?

[Anonymous No.22763402]

>>22763382
The lack of any metre whatsoever makes it read like song lyrics.

[Anonymous No.22763810]

>>22763285
Agreed, dunno why these genuine retards think they can give criticism

[Anonymous No.22763817]

>>22763052
Mad?

[Anonymous No.22764362]

>>22763817
Fuck off, brainlet

[Anonymous No.22765049]

Bump

[Anonymous No.22765089]

>>22765049
I'm learning about villanelles, it's a nice form but I'm not stuck trying to think of good refrains.

[Anonymous No.22765206]

>>22763817
no, mildly disgusted by how many dumb fucks are swarming the world.

[Anonymous No.22765572]

>that one anon obsessed with meter
Here's a poem for you.

There once was an anon from /lit/
who dreamed that his dick was a clit.
Full of failure and scorn,
his mom wished him unborn;
his slack hole just a womb counterfet.

[Anonymous No.22765617]

Oh fireside bliss! -
I know not the path I walk on,
the down-grass springs beneath my feet,
I have no good reason to be warm.

After now, the rocks below,
a plunge into darkness;
to lie amidst the waves.
I shall not not know them then.

But still I seek, will always seek -
this night, this now, this starlight,
above me, and the stilldark grass below,
each footstep certain, and the grass...

Oh! Halt me now forever!
I tremble in the wake of the void.

[Anonymous No.22765811]

>>22765572
There once a poet on /lit/,
with imagery about dick.
It's transformation
come masturbation.
My fetish is too sick

[Anonymous No.22765975]

>>22765572
There once was a wannabe-chad
Whose poems were appallingly bad.
As his comments were crude
One could only conclude
That his life was incredibly sad.

[Anonymous No.22765981]

>Smart enough to do something stupid
i'm gonna fit this in somewhere and it's gonna make heads roll

[Anonymous No.22766011]

Anyone ever written or read a poem that goes through multiple languages? for instance, using a dozen different languages for a dozen lines? i feel like it's dangerous and exciting new territory, with the caveat that every reader will have to translate to try and make sense of it. and the lines follow AABB, but in different languages

[Anonymous No.22766023]

>>22766011
>Anyone ever written or read a poem that goes through multiple languages?
You’ve seriously never heard of The Waste Land?

[Anonymous No.22766028]

>>22766023
Nah, sounds homo and I'll look it up, thanks

[Anonymous No.22766053]

Other than being cliché, any thoughts, anons?

[Anonymous No.22766063]

>>22766053
Dogshit. Stop writing

[Anonymous No.22766066]

>>22766053
delete the word forever and the exclamation point and the ellipsis and move "not" down a line to the other side of the enjambment. "the once obsidian" also sounds better than "what once obsidian".

[Anonymous No.22766071]

>>22766053
KYS

[Anonymous No.22766118]

>>22765811
So you admit your a faggot

[Anonymous No.22766244]

>>22766053
I like the idea, but the execution is not good.
Read it aloud to yourself – it just doesn't click.
Rework it, lose the exclamation mark and post it again.

[Anonymous No.22766543]

>>22755951
Thanks; I really appreciate the kind words and detailed critique.

>I was worried this was going to be Vita Nuova-inspired exclamations of the incommensurate beauty of the one you desire and how you just wanna cry and sing to her or something, and we were gonna miss any self-aware or nuanced reflections on the experience of desire and the denial of desire.
I can see why you would worry about that, given the associations that most people have with sonnets. But actually, one of the things that I like most about the sonnet is that the highly structured form forces you to use very controlled language, meaning that you have to rein yourself in and excercise a degree of emotional self-restraint. Anyway, I wasn’t really talking about physical appearance at all in the second one—I generally dislike poetry that fawns over another person’s physical beauty. I was trying to use the idea of looking through a lens that magnifies and distorts the object of your desire as a metaphor for how you can build up an idea of someone’s character in your mind that’s different from how he exists in reality. I was trying to convey the experience of questioning the accuracy of your own perceptions, and of desperately wanting to replace a fantasy of closeness with the real thing. And I suppose the first poem focuses more on the denial of desire, as you’ve mentioned—that tension of grappling with desire that is perpetually unsatisfied.

>turn the focus inward, try to catch your longings as they move, before they've gotten to the "Has my name been crossed / From fortune's shortlist?" point.
Yeah, I see what you’re saying. I think that specific line came across as a bit of a melodramatic conceptual jump. I had a hard time fitting my ideas into the Petrarchan rhyme scheme, so I ended up taking the poem in a direction that may have lacked subtlety. I think I just need to practice more with that specific form.

Got any poetry (or prose) of yours that you’d like to share? I’ll happily read it and critique it in return, if you’re still around.

[Anonymous No.22766586]

>>22756000
>I work as a farm laborer

It's palpable, therefore tolerable verse that might otherwise be meh. Concatenation of lived experience, real or spiritual, is necessary to a poem; imagination alone can rarely brute force dim facsimile. Take note of animals you see, what they do, and when, until synchronicities start showing their hand more regularly; especially the birds

[Anonymous No.22766598]

>>22756138
Take the events and delineate them. Make the most concise prose description of each (not first person). This is still 'head talk' and not diaphragm/gut driven.

[Anonymous No.22766632]

>>22766586
your comment sounds like you shoved a chicken tendie in your mouth, wiped your greasy sausage fingers on your cum-stained sanic-pants and wiggled them in the air for a second, before you filled your moms basement with the typing sound of those eternal words, a half chub for yourself in your undies.

[Anonymous No.22766636]

>>22756271
First of the thread that gets a pass. Probably more passable in the original. Not terrible.

>>22758415
>iii
>mememe
>shesheshe
>herherher
>youyouyou

Maudlin, saccharine, concupiscent, juvenile simping sentimentality. Your target is WISTFUL not coom FOMO. You get one of each of half of the above. Try again.

[Anonymous No.22766648]

>>22756000
and to you: look at them trips!
I love both. I can feel them as if they were sweat on my forehead on a
scorching hot day. Did a lot of manual labor in my life, too, and you take me right back there.
Cumstain-anon is kinda right, the flow is a little clunky at times – but I love both as they are and I'm going to save them just to re-read them once in a while.

[Anonymous No.22766651]

>>22766636
arrogant prick.

[Anonymous No.22766662]

>>22766636
and using them big words doesn't make you sound capable, au contraire. they make you sound like a wannabe writer, I edited a lot of verbal diarrhea excreted by people like you in my life.

[Anonymous No.22766689]

>>22758415
I like the first half, rn you could just cross out the
second part and it would work. use less words to say what you wanna say.

[Anonymous No.22766866]

The poison land to be now backed
Appeal now to one who's sacked
For he hath turned underneath
Whichever way is flawed to pick

Taste and forge, depart from thee
Those who shall poison thy ?- me
Preserve and raise from this one seed
A prideful side of selfless deeds

Match him and her and now shall yell!
For there cannot be a lower hell!
Trade in and out and mould the face
Of that whole they call "the race"

Visit place, see object, visit object
See place, visit (caress), see project
See comfort, visit comfort, chase chase
Chase chase comfort see comfort space

The grail for which they so ordain
Essence called by its soaked name
Destroy and pair and now unfold,
The gestalt of no one's world

[Anonymous No.22766952]

>>22760341
It should be in the reader's mind to question whether the cat is dead or alive, especially after the final stanza.

[Anonymous No.22767145]

>>22766866
Mid

[Anonymous No.22767183]

Metre is love, metre is life.

[Anonymous No.22767585]

>>22758415
I liked it personally.
>laugh off autumn
I like this especially.

>instead of just remembering your name.
>All that remains is for certian,
>it's eidetic I suppose,
>are the embers and the anguish
>and the life that no one knows.
This sucked dick though.

[Anonymous No.22767968]

>>22766689
>>22767585
Thanks anons, I appreciate you. Yeah the second half it went off the rails, that was my vibe too. I tend to do the broken prose-ish part just fine, I worked really hard to develop that style, but when I try some semblance of structure or end rhyme it gets all gummed up and shitty because I'm not super comfortable with it.

[Anonymous No.22768125]

>>22766118
Stop acting so coy.
We jerk to Japanese toys,
of both girl and boy.

[Anonymous No.22768754]

I'm drawn to oblivion,
like summertime wasps;
doom bound decisions warped
in a heat-addled meatlust.
Smooth walls hold me
in transparent angst,
yet I cant contort my form
to escape through the hatch above,
and so I sink into sacchrine depths,
struggling against ambrosia's sweet kiss.
Faces ebb and flow like the tide.
Am I actually a bee?
My queen and my sting are the same,
but I know my mortal dagger
could come with my entrails.
And so I wait in fate's perfect trap;
the panopticon of the soul.

[Anonymous No.22769576]

>>22768125
Degeneracy made manifest

[Anonymous No.22770831]

thread is dead af desu

[Anonymous No.22770838]

I just looked over the washington crossing the Delaware anagramatic poem. Fuckin mint

[Anonymous No.22770844]

>>22770838
Post it bitch

[Anonymous No.22770858]

A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!

The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.

Ah, he stands – sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens – winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.

George can't lose war with's hands in;
He's astern – so go alight, crew, and win!

Hope it pasted fine on phone

[Anonymous No.22771041]

>>22768754
>heat-addled meatlust
gay. so fucking gay.

[Anonymous No.22771929]

>>22770858
Is every line George Washington jumbled?

[Anonymous No.22772009]

shitposter's opus
latter day Jules Verne / ship
in the blind alleway
stuttering through
as if words lay beyond immobile gestures of educated opinion
'dualism is not dialectics'
he though, dividing honourable decision from hectic
conditioned reactions
contrived in their origin.

it is opened in the distance between the gnomepill
and the coming of the dwarf capsule
the vision of future
how the burried shards were meaningfully hidden
in abandonment
staying by the child / and its secret
detonation.
holding towards the heart
through empty denotation
revealing the black sun
rays of beyond the dialectical
sharpened separation of dew.

posting is other speech
fugitive like Atalanta's deer

[Anonymous No.22772202]

I don't know how to write poetry, but I tried to put something together. Not even sure if this counts as poetry or not.
Nervousness and fear, awe inspiring foes they are, faced by many in their short mortal life. Sword, by which emotion in hand, they strike your chest and head, by which your thoughts entail, and your feelings converge.

[Anonymous No.22772279]

>>22772202
This isn’t poetry. It’s just shitty overwrought prose.

[Anonymous No.22772295]

>>22756881
it shows how much of a pseud you are that this is the first time you've noticed this despite the fact that i've been posting incredibly famous poems for months in these threads
stupid poetrylet

[Anonymous No.22772383]

>>22755055
These are good but theres a weird sexual subtext in them that makes me uncomfortable

[Anonymous No.22772404]

Think of the edges of speaking
Falling dearly in bold iterations
Of noise. That stuffs an empty room
With calligraphy of possible entrances.
They cannot be understood beforehand
But in the process; Of becoming
Of speed. Of shedding away cautious control
Being the reemergence of memory of the mysterious island
From the childhood's book. Its pictures new with colors
Tubes are revived and connected with organs
Even with the newer ones, that were absent yesterday
Stutter falling into sounds of speaking
Made with boldness of an Ox.
The language that says living words
Lighting up the trail towards a possible entrance.

[Anonymous No.22772795]

>>22772404
Pseud shit

[Anonymous No.22773074]

Whispers the name of his bride
Deacon in saddle sits
Moon watches a dead man ride
Mangled god-rune on his lips

[Anonymous No.22773123]

"Pseud shit", say the Last First Men, and they bl
ink.
One still loves
one's neighbor and rubs against him
A little poison now and then
that makes for pleasant dreams
He is
a fool who still / stumbles over stones or men!

"Formerly all the world was insane,"


but they have a regard for health.

"We have discovered happiness."

[Anonymous No.22773142]

Are none of you worried that your poems will be plagiarized? Do you save all of the poems you write?

[Anonymous No.22773152]

>>22773142
it is the highest honour.
Medieval planes and fields
you walk your horse
across.

[Anonymous No.22773156]

The red apple rots
The fair princess shits
Malignant indifference, is what humanity gets.

[Anonymous No.22773162]

>>22773142
Meh.
I'd be happy
if someone
read my poems.
Anyone really.

[Anonymous No.22773173]

>>22773156
The red apple falls
The fair princess dies
I watch through the smog
Humanity cries

[Anonymous No.22773180]

hmm, I don't follow. Fire again.

[Anonymous No.22773190]

>>22773142
I post them as images so they don't show up on a search, and everything I write is also automatically saved on a distributed backup network I operate with a couple friends of mine.
There's enough proof of authorship that if something gets plagiarized for profit, that's just a delayed payday.

[Anonymous No.22773196]

>>22773162
I'm reading them all right now, it's pretty fun, I never come in these threads. I decided to start writing today he he. I just wrote the one about the fair princess.
>>22773173
Very nice, I like the element smog brings, and the 'cries' becuase I wanted to imply suffering more than I did. Nice nice.

[Anonymous No.22773199]

>>22773190
interesting

[Anonymous No.22773290]

>>22766053
I like the idea. don't kys.

[Anonymous No.22773302]

>>22759480
I read this in a thick british accent. i think it works as the ravings of a madman.

[Anonymous No.22773653]

It's not at all nice to look back at people you once admired:
You see all over them those features which once you never noticed.
Like how they weren't as strong as you had thought they were,
nor ever so kind.
And you might even see, if you look at them now,
that they haven't changed one bit from who they were when you knew them.

Really, it's incredible how little people change over so long a time,
and how that stagnation of spirit can reflect itself on their bodies —
Stagnant bodies of water attract disease, right?
Diseased and full of unstirred grief is how these people look to me.

Yet I can look upon a picture of a man in my family;
perhaps he's old now, with a back that pains him,
or a mind that betrays him,
but still I feel a sense of pride.
I know that there is something of him now in myself,
and in fact when I look in the mirror, I see small fragments of his form there sloppily glued together
to make mine.

My brows are vignettes of his power.
My shoulders make a rude frame for his power.
My eyes don't see the things he saw,
And my legs won't bring me where his brought him.
Nonetheless, this rough likeness makes me hopeful that
One day, some event, some earth-shattering experience will turn my life upside down
and give me a chance at having my everything be stirred up.

But my grandfather's courage and strength,
the basic elements of him who once sat in the seat which now I sit in,
those elements are only really properly portrayed in his face.
And the poetry he never wrote — it never needed writing.
His poems were a natural extension of his being,
each line engraved as he grew, on his face, like
the rings of a tree can tell you things about its age.

[Anonymous No.22774003]

Two types of insects interest me
through what they share and what they won't.
I speak of wasps and bumblebees,
of what they do and what they don't.

The hornet is a horrid thing,
which stings whatever passes by.
Yet skinny waist and slender wings
display the beauty wasps belie.

In contrast is the humble bee,
who wears a coat that's never lush.
With bumbling rotundity
these grubbers toil in the brush.

Alluring wings aren't always best
and dullness never tastes too tart.
The garden welcomes he whose vest
is soft as what's inside his heart.

[Anonymous No.22774007]

>>22774003
I like this. Very good anon.

[Anonymous No.22774070]

I went to the store yesterday
And I'd just like a moment to say
That I saw a young lass
With a pert, shapely ass
Which her leggings put on display!

[Anonymous No.22774151]

>>22774007
Glad you did.
I've been trying to incorporate more meaningful repetition in my poems. I think I succeeded in doing so here by contrasting the bees and wasps.
I've also been moving away from perfect rhyme and started doing assonance/rhyme/assonance/rhyme. Everyone undergoes the same shift to varying degrees, most likely.
To criticize my own work: The transition from stanza 3 to stanza 4 feels somewhat abrupt, but I feel that saying more than what I want to would be worse.

[Anonymous No.22774160]

>>22774003
Very nice
Do you have some others to share?

[Anonymous No.22774351]

>>22766023
Maybe make this the last finger
measure, peaked with the power
to gouge trenches in sodden clay
or any type of planes of sand

to trail flowing liquid; the amber
golden goelum measure gripped
around the base of a pint glass

just two more fingers to forget

to forget

to forget

and drink again

[Anonymous No.22774446]

>>22774351
What does this have to do with The Waste Land?

[Anonymous No.22774482]

>>22774446
It has more to do with people exploring frontiers of art drunkenly and openly and ignorantly; how it seems implausible that anyone who'd set pen to poetry wouldn't have read the weateland, and yet in context the languages spread through the poem itself are a toll of reference for the breaking of ignorance during the war, the remnants of the wasteland sewn between cold unfamiliar secens of home, the sobering after effects of ignorance


Eat a dick

[Anonymous No.22774536]

>>22774160
Here's a really skimpy one, I'll probably continue to post any I feel good about in the future:

A melancholic frolic clears
The cobwebs troubled minds collect
And gives to them their just arrears
Before they lay themselves to rest.

[Anonymous No.22774998]

>>22774536
Mid

[Anonymous No.22775088]

Best Wishes, Chinggis

I got the go code
From the big man himself.
Send us down steppe-slopes
O Great Commander! they cry.
But the angle of the Sun belies you,
Cause it’s already the Spring of our
Good Ol’ Youth.

[Anonymous No.22775488]

Through slums she strolled, a princess singing,
Welcomed by grandeur, the impoverished spring.
Men gazed, women smiled, children danced entranced,
In the enchanting slums, where beauty enhanced.
Princess walked on, blissful and unaware,
Ignorant, she continued, in the slums so rare.

[Anonymous No.22775933]

>>22774998
For every good poem there are five bad ones, just gotta keep growing

[Anonymous No.22776753]

>>22774003
Finally a proper fucking poem, good work.

[Anonymous No.22776848]

>>22774007
>>22776753
>>22774160
The poem is totally valueless, kys bugmen

[Anonymous No.22776928]

>>22776848
Shove your 'free verse' up your arse you talentless mong

[Anonymous No.22776948]

>>22776928
Anon is trapped,
stuck in a box
of autistic design.
He can see
frolicking strangers
but he can never know
the wind on his face.

[Anonymous No.22776959]

>>22776948
I can
press the enter
key too.

[Anonymous No.22777172]

>>22776928
So you think any poem with meter is good, and any poem without it is bad? Why do You think I must write free verse simply because I recognize that that guys poem is insipid?

[Anonymous No.22777317]

>>22776959
Not very well, at least there was an attempt.

[Anonymous No.22778322]

>>22777172
Brainlet take

[Anonymous No.22778670]

>>22775488
Here's an alternate version:
The princess walked through the slums singing.
The slums welcomed her, grand and imposing.
The men looked on, the women smiled, and the children danced
Beautiful were the slums, so enchanting
And so the princess walked
Happy and ignorant

[Anonymous No.22779880]

Bump