/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.2463616]

Hey /lit/
I am curious how many of you have written/write poetry. If so feel free to post. I would really enjoy reading some, considering how diverse this board is.

[Anonymous No.2463626]

Poetry is great... I try to get to open mics whenever I can... I have only written a few and most of them I don't think are very good, but I made a poem hunter account anyway so I can share it without worrying about someone stealing them... (like I said before though, not that I think any of them are good enough to get stolen)

I'm currently taking a poetry workshop and it's helping A LOT. I'm also trying to read as much poetry as possible.

http://www.poemhunter.com/cody-s-smith/

[Anonymous No.2463632]

There was the one person who posted his poetry a couple days ago. Probably the best thing I've ever read on here. Maybe we'll see it again.

[OP No.2463636]

>>2463626
Pretty excellent work man.
I am a huge fan of William S. Burroughs. I have never seen a poem about him though!
Nonethless, good work. Keep it up. I am going to continue reading through your work.
Also, if you haven't already. You should check out Charles Bukowski

[Anonymous No.2463647]

Written in the past, gotten quite a number published in assorted journals and anthologies, moved past it now. Translations are still fun, however.

[Anonymous No.2463651]

>>2463636

Thanks man, I really appreciate it. Bukowski is on my list of poets to look into, but I have a large amount of poetry I am trying to read and it's going to take me awhile... Also, I've heard mixed things about him...

[OP No.2463656]

>>2463651
Yeah no problem. I recently downloaded all his work. I have not finished all of it, but what I have read it is pretty good. If you like Burroughs I think you will like Bukowski.

[OP No.2463660]

>>2463647
I never had much success with poetry. But then again I never really tried.
Did it just come naturally to you?

[Anonymous No.2463680]

>>2463626
Man, I could critique some of those but I feel like such an asshole doing it, with you putting yourself out there like that.

Just briefly, in the poems I took a look at, your rhythm is off kilter when it should flow smoothly. But it's good that you do the open mic stuff, because poetry is meant to be spoken, read aloud, and doing that will improve the sound of your poems.

[Anonymous No.2463686]

>>2463660

I don't think it really comes naturally to anyone...

When i was younger, like freshman in highschool, I was assigned to write poetry for class. My teacher praised my work and told me to pursue it. But, I was too young and immature to take interest in it. Years later(last year more specifically), after discovering Allen Ginsberg, I knew right then and there I wanted to be a poet. I tried writing some new pieces (very few of which I went on to keep and post to my page) and I just wasn't satisfied... I had some good ideas, but truth was, I had no idea "how" to write poetry. The Poetry workshop I'm taking has helped me immensely... it taught me how to deal with subject matter and more importantly, form.

Yes, I think it's true some people (like myself) have a "knack" for it.... but I have a lot to learn still.

If you, yourself wish to get into poetry, I can suggest one way to help you sharpen your mind. Go out and read as much poetry as possible, then make a list of all the poems you HATED... that's right! HATED! Look at these poems and try to figure out a few things... like, "why don't I like this poem?" "Why can't I understand this poem?" and "Am I missing something crucial about this poem that is prohibiting me to like it?"

Believe it or not... a LOT of poetry I've read and hated have become my favorites.

[Anonymous No.2463690]

>>2463680

Yeah, that's one of the things I struggle with... but it's a process.

Please, feel free to critique... I'm not sensitive... plus it only helps!

[Anonymous No.2463745]

>>2463690
Okay, well for instance I really like the idea of "In My Grandfather's Workshop," but you did not capitalize on all the potential. You need to evoke the feeling of *being* --and not just describe what *is*. I'm not against using simple verbs per se, but you are saying outright how things are, like an autocrat, dictating how things are, had been, was and were. Instead, of saying how things are/were, you should let those sentiments arise naturally in the mind of your reader / audience, based on your selection and emphasis of words. Don't tell us that "My grandfather loved woodcarving", show us that he loved wood carving. Besides, that phrase doesn't roll off the tongue or sound mellifluous because of the jagged interaction of consonant and vowel in those particular words. For instance, even the simple "To carve wood was his pleasure" keeps the descriptive style but smooths out the sound. Also note that the conjoining of past / present tense is a little unseemly, even if it is a poem.

Last thing -- you also should always avoid cliche in your writings --i.e., don't say "Time had stopped"-- avoid cliches 'like the plague' as they say ;)

Also, I like your Dali poem, but it is trite to end with the allusion to the title of his painting. It is always better to work specific allusions like that earlier into a poem so that you can end with your own words, and not distract the reader who will be tickled by your reference.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.2463753]

In moments you are
in my I more than eye,
this is more distressing than
these many times my every earth's moved
under my worn left sole;
a peasant's shoe scraping
off rocks and scuffing
through dirt for his days
of waking.

In the sense you are
in my eye more than I,
this being more bright than
a single star left in the city sky's shining
this is your gleaming:
past all man-made glows
your light steady shone
through nights for my hope
of dreaming.

[OP No.2463779]

>>2463753
Did you just write this? Not bad.

[Anonymous No.2463783]

>>2463745

Immensely helpful, thank you, honestly.

I did note a few of the things you said after writing them... but some of these are also assignments for my class and I don't have time to fix them up... I plan to though... I consider all of them works in progress.

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.2463793]

>>2463779
No, I didn't just write it. It's from a chapbook of love poems I wrote.

An Impersonation of an Eclipse

My eyes burn and out pour little ashes
stared too hard, too long at your pleasing pose.
Itty-bitty bump of the bottom lip,
(leading up to a near-perfect nose)
and orbs half-concealed by long lashes:

Milky rings around little bits of bursts,
shadow surrounding pretty pirouettes
of stalactites' drops for my buried thirsts,
dreams pour unslept from reversed minarets.

Creamwhite coronas divert decision,
shine too fine, too bright round lovely dark spots.
Maybe one day you'll hear the holy book
(with myths this savage preening priest concocts)
of prayers for small miracles of fission:

Like nights spent without longing or lust,
a day spent within its entirety,
hesitant half-hand whollyhearted thrust
in reluctant palm's piercing piety.

Dance for a rainstorm? But I don't dare dance.
Sing for the solace? I can't simply sing.
Hope for fulfilled wish? With love I don't hope.

[The Importance of Being On Time and Being !dAqyKvNZuA No.2463810]

>>2463793
>Itty-bitty bump of the bottom lip,
>(leading up to a near-perfect nose)

[Behemoth !!Twl3DmqEY/B No.2463813]

>>2463810
Heh, it is supposed to be "upper," I don't know why the version I copy-pasted has bottom.

[Anonymous No.2463842]

>>2463660
I've read poetry and have had poetry read to me since I was a kid, so it came 'naturally' in that sense I suppose.

I'd recommend figuring out your own voice and meter instead of reading shit like Bukowski and emulating it. Read a variety of poets, contemporary and classic, but avoid beats and their imitators like the fucking plague.

[Anonymous No.2463864]

I don't consider myself a good poet by any means. I've just been reading the Stephen Fry book The Ode Less Traveled recently. Pretty much an absolute beginner.

The quiet drip of yesterday's new snow
Our sun illuminates another dream
A softly murmuring recollection

[The Importance of Being On Time and Being !dAqyKvNZuA No.2463870]

>>2463842
This.

>>2463660
I'd advise starting with more modern poetry.
Robert Hass is a good contemporary poet.
You could check out an anthology, too. Probably the best method is just to read (aloud, preferably) through a couple of poems per poet and figure out what you like and go from there.
It takes a while but it's like anything else.

[Anonymous No.2463898]

>>2463864
I posted this one recently, too.

A path of gravel crunches under foot
and softly speaks beneath this ancient oak
An ever stalwart friend for all my days

[Anonymous No.2463924]

>>2463842

We..... are gunna have some problems. The fuck is wrong with the beats you yuppie. You think just because something isn't leaves of fuckin grass it's not good? That it?

[Anonymous No.2463926]

>>2463924
Look at your post. Now look at The Importance's.

That's the problem with beats.

[Anonymous No.2463934]

Here's one I've been working on for a few days.
Feel free to give some feedback.

I thought I knew everything,
Then I opened a book.

[Anonymous No.2463965]

>>2463926

Or maybe you can tell me yourself. What do YOU *think* is wrong with the beats?

[Anonymous No.2463975]

hey op I write quite a bit of poetry actually this one is really close to my heart..


I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky
And I swear like the shadow that's by your side

I see the questions in your eyes
I know what's weighing on your mind
You can be sure I know my heart

'Cause I'll stand beside you through the years
You'll only cry those happy tears
And though I make mistakes
I'll never break your heart

And I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky
I'll be there
I swear like a shadow that's by your side
I'll be there

For better or worse, till death do us part
I'll love you with every beat of my heart
And I swear

I'll give you every thing I can
I'll build your dreams with these two hands
We'll hang some memories on the walls

And when just the two of us are there
You won't have to ask if I still care
'Cause as the time turns the page, my love won't age at all

And I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky
I swear (and I swear) like the shadow that's by your side
I'll be there

For better or worse, till death do us part
I'll love you with every beat of my heart
And I swear

I swear (I swear) by the moon and stars in the sky
I'll be there
I swear like the shadow that's by your side
I'll be there

For better or worse, till death do us part
I'll love you with every (single) beat of my heart
I swear, I swear, oh, I, swear

[Anonymous No.2464423]

Blue saxophone, the moon is deaf!
I am here
You are here
Pedal to the metal!

I am disabled.
Prove it.
Okay:

Ham
Ham
Ham
Ham
Ham
Ham

Uncle Pumblechook is fizzling out the spiralling culprit radio disaster,
And so am I!
Imagine!

[Anonymous No.2464448]

>>2463975
Fuck,
I liked this.

[Anonymous No.2464452]

>>2464448
Really?

[Anonymous No.2464460]

(Upon touring the Mountains for the first time)

beyond the shredded verdant veils of wooden limbs
which hug the tortured spines of rocky hills
where the long-drawn skin of the ever placid plain
shrugged it's hips and spilled into the sky
the heaving hearts of mountains guide the course of wind
which in it's keening howl comes passing by
with sharpest hands to clench the rosy-fingered Dawn
and drag an Ida sigh across the spires:
the exhalation of a god

[Anonymous No.2464478]

My sister, careening through the forest.
My brother next to her. Me in the back.
A metal head sits in his lap. We pass
near a church and I wade in the pond
by the sheepgate.

This facial scrub is up and down my stairs
rattling, until its cap for final
gleaning lifts. Though having never smoked
I turn to buy a pack of cigarettes,
and awake.

I cannot tell the meaning of the dream,
only the overwhelming sense of loss
it cast over me upon my waking,
like an evening shadow stretched too long
to escape.

[I'mmortal !!eX0JdHVhqqC No.2464482]

Dicks have feelings too
Dick is a nice guy
Dicks keep him down
Dicks keep popping up
Dicks thrust
Dicks are thrust into their worlds
Dicks are licked
Dicks like being licked
Dicks tire of constantly being licked
Dicks are sucked
Dicks suck
Dicks wear pants
Dicks stay in pants
Dicks want to emerge from pants
Dicks dive into caves
Dicks spelunk
Dick search for chasms to jump into
Dicks jump from the tops of parking garages
Dicks threaten to jump
Dicks never jump
Dicks can’t jump
Dicks can’t just jump and leave, now can they?

[Anonymous No.2464488]

>>2464452
Yeah. It hits close to home. The fourth and fifth stanzas could use some work. The fourth stanza feels a bit like filler, and extrapolate on "for worse." Give example to show dedication. The speaker proclaims his/her dedication in the poem, but never delves into the specifics on just how much they are dedicated. But yeah, I liked it. That doesn't mean it's good (it might be, but it also might not be). That being said, I did like it.

[Anonymous No.2464558]

[Anonymous No.2464562]

I personally don't write poetry, but my father did. He was a typical Irish father with Irish vices. Anyways, here is a piece of his work.

"Once more into the fray.
Into the last good fight I'll ever know.
Live and die on this day.
Live and die on this day"

[Anonymous No.2464569]

>>2464562
I googled this and I'm getting results about Liam Neeson.

[Anonymous No.2464587]

I must go down to the shore again
where the salt perfumes the air
I had half of a perfect august day,
and I'm sure I left it there.

And the bonfire burned
and the moonlight turned
the sea to a silver plain
I must go down to the shore once more
and find that day again

I must go down to the shore again,
lest I lose those angry skies
when the gentle blue
turned a darker hue,
like the shodows in your eyes

and the sweet salt spray
and the warming day
left a savor on your skin
so I must go down to the shore once more
when the summer tides roll in


I must go down to the shore again,
i have stayed away too long
for my arms grow pale
and my thoughts grow stale
and I can't recall that song
that we sang that day by the quiet bay
on our blanket on the sand
and I miss that heat
on my cold bare feet
like the soft touch of your hand


I must go down to the shore again,
I must not forget the touch
of the sweet warm breeze
off the southern seas
I would feel that loss too much
for my eyes have lost the fleeting shade
when the last red rays of the suns light fade
on the ocean when it sets
and I must go down to the shore again
before my heart forgets.


Might work better as a song.

[Anonymous No.2464602]

>>2464569

Crazy. My dad was a Liam Neeson fan.

[Anonymous No.2464637]

>>2464587
That's really quite good! Well executed repetition and rhyme and metre - really creates a captivating motion. If I were forced to make a criticism it would be that the sentiment of the poem is perhaps a little, well, sentimental. But yeah, great job. Probably the best in the thread. You seem very skilled.

[Anonymous No.2464676]

>>2464637

thanks. It is a little sentimental, I guess. Every time I see a "post your poetry" thread on this board i feel guilty for not writing more and dash one out if i have the time.

I just googled the first line and it looks like a lot of people had similar ideas though...

[Anonymous No.2464929]

Travelogue

"Pray What is the news from Babylon?
Does Xerxes ancient town,
Still hold inside the Lion's Pride?
where once the world bowed down?"
"There is no tale of Babylon,
that great long-storied land
The Lion's gates are broken now.
The fields are choked with sand"

"You Tread the Path from Illion
Where gods and men did greet,
Does Priams mighty fortress still,
Show all assault defeat?"
"What gods have sown, the raven reaps,
I offer you no joy
neath broken stones her treasure sleeps
I bear no news of Troy."

"Speak, pilgrim, of Jerusalem,
I know you passed that way.
The palmer's badge adorns you yet:
does David's line hold sway?"
"Where prophets sowed the seed of love,
the weeds of hate now grow:
the peace that was Jerusalem
was broken long ago."

"well, traveller, What of Camelot?
does Arthur's blood still reign?
Do boldy go the shining knights
across the feudal plain?"
"A trusted friend's betrayal;
a bastard's vaunting greed.
The moon that watches Camelot
sees stones upon a mead."


"Good host, I beg you, ask no more
you waken in my mind
the shadows of vain, fallen hopes
I fain would leave behind.
You long for comfort; this i know,
that grandeur might abide,
that strength of stone and arms and hearts
can bear the waxing tide,
And Gilgamesh the strong yet stands
upon his mighty wall.
That works endure the waning sands,
that towers might not fall.
Content yourself that legends live
where men are just or brave,
and deeds of lives may yet survive
their castles in the grave.
I will not comfort you with hopes
that Rome may live again;
don't ask me of Tenochtitlan,
I've no news from Berlin.
In sorrow i depart you now;
regretting lenten cheer.
But the road is long
towards London town,
i cannot linger here."

[Anonymous No.2464939]

Red and pulsing
twichting, bolting,
ready to squirt
holding off til it hurts
oh my!
oh my!
the fireworks!

[Anonymous No.2464950]

I was feeling real bad
and incredibly sad
So I fap fap fap fapped
till my penis was taxed

the hard work was now done
so I wiped off my cum
and fell right to sleep
still holding my peep

[Anonymous No.2464951]

It started out slow
but its pace crept higher
the brown slimy goo
squelched into the mire
I used moss nearby
to wipe my hole dry
but my attention
quickly shifted
to making mud pies

------------------------------------------------------

oh yes, oh yes, the smell of ones shit
brings tears to the eyes and blood to my dick
how I love and adore the smell of my shit
oh what would I do, would I do without it

[Anonymous No.2464955]

I look out to the moon
on clear starry nights
with my dick in my hand
in the other, a sprite
I fap and I fap
swaying to and fro
I hope no one sees me
from the street down below.

[Anonymous No.2464959]

and finally my magnum opus:

some days I take my shit out of the toilet
I knead it and squeeze it and roll it
I play with my poo cause it reminds me of her
The girl i followed into the restroom before

I followed her in
disregarding all sin
heard a delicate splash
so I crawled under right then
and there rose from the toilet
with a glimmering a sheen
the most beautiful shit
I had ever seen
I ate it at once
while she fled screaming

[Anonymous No.2464967]

i don't have the belly
for Wordsworth or Shelley
and Sylvia Plath
is a pain in the ath.

[Anonymous No.2464968]

>>2464959
>>2464955
>>2464951
I think you should self-publish these on Amazon as an ebook called "Three Poems About Shit".

[Anonymous No.2464975]

>>2464488
I see the questions in your eyes
I know what's weighing on your mind
But you can be sure I know my part
'Cause I'll stand beside you through the years

You'll only cry those happy tears
And though I'll make mistakes
I'll never break your heart

I swear
By the moon and stars in the sky
I'll be there
I swear

Like the shadow that's by your side
I'll be there
For better or worse
'Til death do us part

I'll love you with every beat of my heart
I swear

I'll give you everything I can
I'll build your dreams with these two hands
We'll hang some memories on the wall
And when there's silver in your hair

You won't have to ask if I still care
'Cause as time turns the page
My love won't age at all

I swear
By the moon and stars in the sky
I'll be there
I swear

Like the shadow that's by your side
I'll be there
For better or worse
'Til death do us part
I'll love you with every beat of my heart
I swear

I swear
By the moon and stars in the sky
I'll be there
I swear

Like the shadow that's by your side
I'll be there
For better or worse
'Til death do us part

I'll love you with every beat of my heart
I swear
I swear

He didn't write it. lrn2google.

[Anonymous No.2464980]

>>2464975

a pretty sad effort for a poem anyway. Are any other poems in this thread just copy/paste? some of them are pretty good.

[Anonymous No.2464982]

>>2464980
Probably. Reason why I never generally touch poetry threads.

[Anonymous No.2464984]

>>2464968
I make art for pleasure, not profit, but thanks for the advice nonetheless.

[Anonymous No.2464997]

I'd like to claim credit for this poem, but I can't. A fellow il/lit/erate posted it in a poetry thread a while back. Here it goes

A man has told me god is good,
and stands above all men,
that he will never cast us forth,
though drenched with lust and sin,
That though we heed him little,
and pursue our own accord
he will not seek our bane nor yet,
unsheath his deadly sword
that he forgives excesses
and will not our prayers reject.

There was rumor in Gomorrah,
to that very same effect.

A friend avers that government,
has all our cares in mind.
And will not neglect the comfort of
the poor, the halt, the blind.
he maintains unreservedly,
his failth in policy.
to bring the fruits of honor to
the strong the just, the free.
he says the great in power seek
the profit of all men

It was mentioned in Treblinka,
but I did not heed it then.

Technology will save us,
i have heard a stranger say.
The wonderment of science,
skill and tools will win the day.
Our comfort and our safety
we may leave to wise devices.
And men who build and train them up,
will coddle all our vices.
they'll see the futre clearly
and avert all waiting dooms.

I think I heard it spoken in
Titanic's smoking rooms.

[Anonymous No.2464998]

>>2464929


Any good? original? I like it.

[Anonymous No.2465003]

>>2464997

ha ha! One of mine. I'm glad to see people like them well enough to keep them.

I wrote these two today for this thread. the Travelogue one is a variation on the theme from the Gomorrah one, I know...

>>2464929
>>2464587

[Anonymous No.2465010]

>>2464997
The forgiveness of the strong is great,
Im sure most meen agree.
The wisest and the best of us
will surely all be free.
the bold men, wise in letters
with their eye on public weal.
will never be cast out or forced
their knowledge to conceal.
Time alters soon the hearts of kings,
and all will be put right.

I heard it in the Gulag
almost every single night.

So go forth with the banner
of of redemption wafting high
and shout the slogan "Liberty!"
in land and sea and sky.
Of justice, peace, forgiveness, love,
proclaim the coming reign.
And cry the truth to power,
and the vanity of gain
That mercy always triumphs,
and that men will all be free.

Go tell them in Gomorrah,
but you didn't come from me.

that's the rest of it

[Anonymous No.2465017]

>>2465003
Yeah, I posted that one and then saw the one above it, and thought to myself "That style seems familiar." And so it was.

Nice to see you again!

[Anonymous No.2465022]

>>2465017

Always glad when someone likes my stuff. I''ve started saving the ones that people like instead of letting them fade into the aether. here's one i did for a thread that's dead:

A Walk in the Wind

Out in the northwoods the weather freezes
and winters blast is like summer breezes
there's a bundeled up girl, that laughs and teases
and for a walk in the wind we go.

She's a tender bit, with the smallest smile
That you'd think would the coldest of hearts beguile
And it might be so, for the first bright mile
as we dance through the sighing snow

And the second mile is a merry lark
and the old pine wood isn't all that dark
and the drifting white hides the least foot mark
why should aprehensions grow?

Why we're almost there, so we'd best behave
see the big iron pot? see the axe by the cave?
why i guess it does look a bit like a grace
but its oh so much deeper, you know

She shivers then, and stares around
At the deep white snow on the trackless ground
at the pines that swallow the loudest sound
as the flames neath the kettle grow

be a brave girl now, no time for tears
see there's things far worse than your darkest fears
and I've told that tale for years and years
It would have helped you a touch to know

now she's mostly gone, though unforgotten
partly eat, and partly rotten
a fate for which we were all begotten
and a gnawed pile of bones below

so I must venture out and seek another
sister sweet or tender brother
perhaps her fearful, anxious mother
will follow me through the snow

When for a walk in the wind,
for a walk in the wind,
for a walk in the wind-i-go...

[Anonymous No.2465036]

>>2465022
I get the impression you write these poems quite quickly - I think I remember you saying you wrote that Gomorrah one in five or ten minutes.

Do you ever work on longer projects and send them off to magazines? I bet you could get into some pretty top magazines like Poetry.

[Anonymous No.2465037]

>>2465022

here's another old one:

Deduction
If the world were designed,
with man in mind,
it wouldn't get so warm.
gnats, mosquitoes biting flies
would not have leave to swarm.
the damp, the heat the billion bugs
suggests a different end.
for such a bog i think the frog
was in gods mind, my friend.

If earth were for a human home
intended, let me ask.
If oceans would envlope it
like some amorphous mask?
and fill it with such bounty
so well concealed from us?
more fit, perhaps this planet for
the squid or octopus.

The lion is a lordly beast,
and rules the desert veldt
and has about him many wives
both dexterous and svelte
He roams the plain in great disdain,
of all who'd stay his whim
I think it better to regard
this world as made for him

The bat, the master of the night,
in many billions reigns
and god's reward a smorgasbord
of insects for his pains
he fears no let, no worldly fret
perplexes his great line
oh lordly bat, the mighty earth,
of certainty is thine!

It comes upon us now to limn
the outline of god's shape
for you can bet his silhoutte
is not some hairless ape.
The frog, the bat the octupus,
the lion, what's this sight?
oh well, i guess we must confess.
That lovecraft got it right!

[Anonymous No.2465046]

>>2465036

I write them mostly when I think of a good idea or phrase, that has a nice rhythm to it. mostly these days when I'm on here and see somebody has started a poetry thread. Then I'll either finish one that I had a few lines of, or make one up to fit the thread's topic, or somebody else's poem.
For a long time on /b/ i wrote dirty sonnets and rap lyrics that I signed "steggo" but i didn't get much response.
a lot of my stuff on this thread has been satires and parodies of other people's stuff, or on the thread topics/ that's what the Lovecraft poem was from; somebody was dissing evolution.

[Anonymous No.2465053]

>>2465036

and I'm not sure there'd be much interest in classically constructed verse outside the internet or children's books. Still, i guess you don't know till you try.

[Anonymous No.2465065]

>>2465053
>Wiman [editor of Poetry] has "expressed in print a stern preference for formal poems, and a disdain for what he calls 'broken-prose confessionalism' and 'the generic, self-obsessed free-verse poetry of the seventies and eighties", according to a New Yorker magazine article.[1]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetry_%28magazine%29

[Anonymous No.2465085]

>>2465065

Good deal. I'll work up something and try it on him. Here's a long one i did for the thread a few weeks ago about picking up girls in bookstores.:

There's a pretty bookshop
In the mall where I stop
of an evening to bask in the glow.
of keats and Jerome,
before toddling home
i might linger an hour or so

It's a pleasantish place
and they fill up the space
in the front with a smallish cafe
and sometimes, i confess,
if the hours do not press
i might hang about most of a day

I'm not on intimate terms,
with my fellow bookworms
and wont let myself tax them unduly
still perhaps its unkind,
but when they bring to mind
certain authors, i christin them newly

On a day I won't state
I'd stopped in for a plate
of biscuits and perhaps a small chai
when the svelte sillhouette
of a winsome Collette,
with a volume of Proust caught my eye

She'd been snagged by a stripling
not unlike a young kipling
who held her attention , and arm
I began to suspect
that the virtues of Hecht
werent the ones he pursued with his charm

then I chanced to glance round,
drawn perhaps by the sound,
of a Seneca, muttering in Greek
and I beheld not a few
folk arrayed two and two,
intermixed in amongst the more meek

A saturnine Poe,
with a pert Woolf in tow,
was pretending to parse Kierkigaard,
While a stately Ayn Rand,
With Anne Rice, hand in hand
was affecting amused disregard
an assertivre Camus
had assembled a crew,
of pale Kafkas, and one hapless Twain
In a booth by the door
where he regaled the floor
with contradictions implicit in Paine

[Anonymous No.2465089]

>>2465086


the poetry section,
i thought, on reflection,
I'll certainly find respite there!
No! A Pince-nezzed Stout,
had his Longfellow out,
and was bending Le Guin crost a chair!
And a youthful Stendahl
had an Atwood asprawl
with her Brontes spread open before.
I spun round, so to flee,
but then what should I see,
but a shy little Oates by the door!

My tongue grew quite thick,
as she reached for my Dick,
and soon cradled my Balzac as well.
"Why such treasures your finding!
I've always thought binding
with leather was awfully swell!"

The whole thing turned out good,
when I quite understood,
and we afterwards went out a pair.
And we went to my den,
where we essayed Anais Nin
on the sofa bed next to the stair.

Now I'm straight home of nights
and I eschew the the lights
of the quiant little shop, without sigh.
for she's bought me a Nook,
and declared that a book
store's not for married men, such as I.

[Anonymous No.2465086]

>>2465085

till a black-clad Millay,
did a studied sashay
through his prospect,
and made the lad stammer,
and throw up his tirade,
as though she had laid
him across the forehead with a hammer

I had seen quite enough
of this singles-night stuff,
so I made deft repair to the stacks
where the used classics rest
side by side with the best
of the second hand trade paperbacks.

By a Disneyfied "Alice"
I picked out a "Valis"
and "Melmoth Reconciled" bound in calf.
to go home and unwind
with this fortunate find
was my thought, when I heard a quiet laugh

i beheld two thin chaps,
quite in each other's laps,
with expressions that brought to mind Wilde
clandestinely thumbing
a volume of cummings,
best works, with the joy of a child

I detoured through suspense
so to raise up a fence
of fiction betwixt me and them
When I got quite a shock
passing Iris Murdoch
and I felt myself out on a limb

There was Sandburg himself,
hair mussed up like an elf
out of Tolkien, chatting up Jane
Austen, she preened and laughed
while they spoke of Lovecraft,
but escape was what I wished to gain

[Anonymous No.2465106]

so
on page one
wondering about things
lots of things
so
i clicked reply
not sure why
faggots...
why am i here
hear?
i forget how it's spellt
cancer

[Anonymous No.2465108]

When the cucumbers green in the morning
In the evening no joy can bequeath;
When the woman who gives you no warning
Has (you find) a vagina with teeth;
When you find hairy lumps in your jell-o
("Owl pellets," says your best friend);
You're the very last literate fellow;
The world's at an end.

[Anonymous No.2465111]

peenus, weenus
please father,
clean us.
We are ever so dirty
yes,
in a sexual way
please, please
come out and play

[Anonymous No.2465121]

Walking in the Mall on a Snowy Evening

Whose store was this, was this old Bens?
Sold flavored popcorn packed in tins?
He will not mind me resting here
to watch them put the Starbucks in

My college friends say only queers
when they could be home drinking beers
and watching football glumly trudge
past Gap and Deb and empty Sears

But my cholesterol is high
My doctor told me, "walk, or die."
And so I stalk up wheelchair ramps
in Nike trainers, suit and tie

The mall is humid, loud and bright
And "Jersey Shore" is on tonight
And now I'll probably miss the fight
I guess I'll miss the fucking fight.

[Anonymous No.2465140]

>>2465121
I enjoyed that, it's nice to read a poem that isn't grand or romantic but sets an interesting mood.

[Anonymous No.2465141]

i remember wise words
from a man named duke nukem
he said
eat shit and die
amongst other things
I admire the man
and I admire his words
I could easily eat my own turds
and die

[Anonymous No.2465151]

>>2465121
If Philip Larkin had been American, he might have written something like this.

[Anonymous No.2465160]

Rough magic for man's spellings must suffice
on moonlit height, in secret, and alone
the throat, the blade, the blood of sacrifice
must conjure his stark prayer to silent stone
a woman's sorceries are subtler things
dumb suppers, petal-oracles and sighs
enchantments writ on promises and rings
epithalamion and lullabies
For love alone it seems a futile end
discrepant supplications to beguile
and join that which seems best disposed to rend
and such diverse rogation reconcile
But cupids bolts contrive to hearts combine
contrary pleas, in single valentine.

[Anonymous No.2465165]

it shot up like a fountain
drip dropping onto my face
splattering here and there in pairs
of warm golden wet jewels
the taste and smell, sinking deep
as urine dripped into my face hole

[Anonymous No.2465172]

From an Unfinished Almanac

March has a black flavor
the ocher billows rising
from the west horizon
savor of mollasses
and the glumed and saline
wrack of smokehouse leavings
smells of melancholy
By the ruin of woodpile
An evenings rough-as-kindling
sharp and splinter shadows
push me under porchways
where the waning season's
last crop of icicles
build of morning's snowmelt
their inverse palisade.

April hides no secrets.
the snow, so well-concealling,
of mousetrack and vole-tunnel,
has left the fields denuded.
The frightned rabbit-mother
broods her blind pink morsels
hesitating, dreading
flames of fox-brush through the
thicket, and the fewmets
of the owls excurions
mark the ground with murder
draggled quills indict him
with bony revenentia
of March's depradations
upon the populations
of winter's scurrying hordes.

[Anonymous No.2465173]

the fungus living weary on the tree
has lived so long, I cannot say
where the fungus joins the pale tree

the grey boats creaking on the leaden sea
have slept so long, in fog so deep
I cannot tell the grey boats from the sea

[Anonymous No.2465185]

>>2465173

excellent!

[Anonymous No.2465193]

When the greater players create,
Flowing or jagged forms fill the air.
The structures snake in, remind, reveal.

It is a language beyond what I have or had.
Flicks of the tongue on their reed slabs or cups,
Uncover that which my granite tongue tried,
Without fruit, to reveal to inquisitors.

My reasons can be found in the their improvisations.
There would never be need for frustrated mumblings
If, for an answer, the curious would accept
So many bars of total expression.

[Anonymous No.2465196]

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

[Anonymous No.2465209]

HWAET!
OP RAN RAGING, FURIOUS IN FAGGOTRY
DEMANDING POEMS, ANGUISHED IN HIS ANUS
LIT WAS LONG AFEARED, TILL ANON ARRIVED
WITH STRESS SOURCED, METRE DEVOID OF RHYME
HARD AS HORN, OP'S BONER BECAME
STILL STOPPING, TO WRITE RAGING LINES
UNTIL I COME, STONE SMASHER
SKULL SPLITTER, WRITER OF HEAVY HARSHNESS
BARD OF THE BANGING, KEYBOARD TAPPING TENTATIVE
OP WAS KILLED, BLACK STREAMS OF BLOOD
FROM THE FAGGOTS HEAD, BRAINS SPATTERED

[Noko No.2465214]

Why did you leave me girl? is it because I Did a creampie up you're nose? C'mon girl I know it touched you're soul, fell it slow feel it slow.

[Anonymous No.2465215]

NOTHING WILL BEAT BIRD POETRY THREAD

[Anonymous No.2465217]

>>2465121
best poem in this thread
by a long way

[Anonymous No.2465218]

It slithers down
through hoops and tangles
slowly towards its destination
rumbling inside, irritably
it peeks its head, apprehensive
but the source of its being
squeezes squeelches shoots it out
brown and corn speckled
a deep hearty brown
and I smile
and I sigh
and with a forlorn glance
I flush my short-lived child into oblivion

[Anonymous No.2465289]

When first thy titties verged upon my sight
I had believed my lfe endured no lack
But then thy nipples peered thru blouse so tight
till all my hopes depended pon thy rack
Thine ass, tis true, is wider than the norm
thy face is but a shade above a two
but oh, fine boobs redeem indifferent form
and steal the eye from less engaging view
Let hips be broad and swathed in cellulite
Let stretchmarks reach across thy abdomen
Let thy left leg be longer than thy right
and hairy moles adorn thy triple chin
Love stops not for such minor flaws as these
whip off thy bra, and out those double Ds!

[Anonymous No.2465315]

With eyes demure you gingerly advance,
Your hot-pink rocket stirs beneath the fur.
With trembling hands, I quickly drop my pants
And kneel to take the mounting of my cur.

My pucker'd rosebud, pulsing with delight
You sniff and lick, and with a feral growl
Pounce firmly 'pon my back with canine might,
and with surfeit of joy I scream! I howl!

Your stiffen'd meat my sphincter penetrates
and with each thrust it cleaves my colon wide,
as, sweat-bedewed and crying I await
your frothy spunk to paint my fleshy hide

With shudd'ring frame you come; I can't, I've found.
Dear Fudge, a dog can't give a reach-around.

[Anonymous No.2465318]

>>2465289
beautiful, touching even

[Anonymous No.2465475]

poem in the style of tao lin

i would like to make a work of art that is not an imitation
i would like it to be self-reflexive in a way that is actually intelligent
i do not want to feel incomplete in the way that is necessary for producing such a work of art

i would like to find a nice person
i do not want this person to use up any of my time

i would like to own a pet
i would like something unusual like a swan or a duck
i do not want to clean the shit of swans or ducks

even though i would have to clean the shit of a swan or duck, it would still be easier to look after than a person

i would like to catch hold of swan or duck just as it's taking flight
i would it to take me with it