/lit/ - Literature

[Poetry Thread No.3863341]

I'll start:

And here slip I
Dragging one foot in the gutter
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios.
And there sits she
No bed, no bread, no butter
On a double yellow line
Where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer
Some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman
Blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster
Move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux
His Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them to be still more independent.

[Anonymous No.3863410]

Excuse the grandiloquence, I chose every word rather carefully... first attempt at poetry; inspired by how differently we all saw the world as kids.

To him who in the love of nature holds
I provide a timely, yet taxing admonition
be wary of a stale and lukewarm existence
for it stalks a certain man;
a man whose childhood kaleidoscope
has become opaque, and each day
its once prismatic shards become blanched,
closer and closer to a sickly inured grey

With tender hands I felt a brave new world
and with tender eyes I gazed upon it,
a pioneer to a realm of unfathomable beauty
the residual rime from a brisk autumn night was enough
Every morning the all beholding sun cooed the speckled grass,
leaving behind an iridescent and masterful mosaic
Every evening I was regaled to sleep with a distinct requiem,
composed by a gentle breeze and a cracked window

But today, I awake the King of Ephyra
listlessly awaiting Samsara's insipid embrace
Starved of color, gnawing away at the marrow of routine
My soul squandered on petty pursuits and aimless expectations

[Anonymous No.3863419]

>>3863410
damn

[Anonymous No.3863420]

>>3863341
Really like it man, you set up quite an interesting scene. However, I'm still definitely a scrub when it comes to writing/critiquing poetry.

[Anonymous No.3865135]

Flickering light bulbs,

sordid productions in the backroom

filled with thoughts of choking hands

and deadly knives slipping out of the walls.

nights going by, languishing in the dark

alone in such a way that breeds fine friends of the imagination

mysterious voices hushing

sweet dear, hush

everything will be alright

because the sun will break these bars to bits

and when that day comes

your feet will touch the warm dirt of the road

and the gate will open out

to rolling green hills

and wide blue oceans

[Anonymous No.3865140]

>>3865135
c c c c c combo breaker

[Anonymous No.3865161]

>>3865140
I know right