/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.602053]

Any of you /lit/fags write poetry?

[Anonymous No.602064]

I'm sure a lot of us do

[Anonymous No.602068]

>>602064

Then, let's post it?

[Anonymous No.602073]

Anything with nicolas cage
Deserves a shitload of praise

Fin

[Anonymous No.602074]

>>602068
YOU START

[Anonymous No.602072]

Once, I tried to paint a picture of you,
With words. It didn't work.
Somehow my colors didn't reflect your light
In just the way I wanted.
Frustrated, I tried again to master my brush
And set it to it's task,
But forcing it only marred the picture,
And that - I couldn't have.
I finally had to tell myself that I had tried
To bridge two worlds.
For my hued words were but your simile,
My painting - Your doomed metaphor.

[Anonymous No.602076]

Yeah, but most of it sucks.

Mostly because I stick to meter like water of teflon.

[Anonymous No.602078]

>>602068

Well,I am trying to write some, but would like to see the quality of yours as.. inspiration.

[Anonymous No.602083]

My fair headed shieldmaiden, my Valkyrie,
I see such a spirit and such a tolerance!
With you I’m honest, from myself I am free
To forget and truly enjoy the time since

And there is no creeping loathing as with the rest.
In you I have yet found a fault and search for none.
Though tastes may differ, I can’t put the trivial to test.
I would endure a thousand Twilights for your hour one.

I lay down the gauntlet but you kick it away.
Without glory, I know I’ve no place on your steed.
Lead me to war! Let me berserk into the fray,
A thousand campaigns until in death I succeed.

O Mirandus, as miraculous as your name,
Let me run aside you, if I can not tame.

[Anonymous No.602091]

I've got some stuff I wrote as an angsty teen. Keep this thread alive and I'll post it later.

[Anonymous No.602094]

>>602053
Just got myself a new wallpaper, thanks!
I'm too scared to write poetry, since it may turn out shit.
And then I'll realize I'm not the literary genius I thought that I was.

[Anonymous No.602097]

I guess you could say I'm addicted.
But it isn't drugs. It's magic.
I'll explain. When my foot falls asleep
or my mind starts to dream
I'm able to cause things. I can change
how fate's head twirls.

With some of my magic, red and blue twirl
into one. It's fiendishly beautiful. You'd be an addict
too, but you'll note how I've changed
on the outside (never mind the inside), and you'll retreat from the magic.
From that point onward, I'll haunt your dreams
And you'll pray you won't succumb to sleep.

But you will, and I'll find you when you sleep
And surrounded by hell-sent helixes, I'll twirl.
It's not my fault that I can - no, will - no, must - yes - eat your dream.
It's all biological. I'm addicted.
It's a random time-frame (no pins and needles - no magic; no out-of-body experiences - no magic).
I've ripped out nerve endings for that change.

The first day I did it, I was searching for loose change
Something took over, and me and my hand both fell asleep
and then I awoke, to find I could do magic
but I needed - I needed - I needed! - to twirl
and since then, addicted
but addicted to things only real in dreams.

My waking dreams
are of change
(where I am no addict),
But I am rescued by sleep.
And I am bathed in the sun's twirling.
Magic loves me, and I love magic.

I can only be happy with magic
But I'm only happy in my dreams.
When I start to cast spells and twirl
the world, I don't feel the change
Like I used to, or like I do in my sleep
But it's tainted my spirit, created a vicious cylce. I crave my addiction.

The magic will never change
The dreams will never bring sleep
And all the twirling of the Earth won't stop my addiction.

[Anonymous No.602099]

>>602094
Plath had 45 short stories rejected before her first was accepted for publication. Nearly the same amount of poems met the same treatment before someone published one of her verses. Keep trying, dude! Practice makes you better, in every single case.

[Anonymous No.602105]

i write lyrics, so i'm not sure how they'll read without music... but here's a current work in progress. i know i use "fear" too many times, and there are shittons of pronouns.

Every second flies
And everyone will die with their necks craned towards the sky
But the saddest thing you ever said; you gave your life to calm your fear of death
We watch as our convictions bend; perpetuate the sorrow that we bled
We hold so dear how we appear; we give our lives to calm the fear of death
I am not apathetic, but I've lost so many seconds waiting for a thrill to rise
I fear my fear will get me left behind
There's nothing without calculation; creation is baned by sensation
Convicted to a dripping faucet; disturbed to heed predictability
But I'll find the fuel to kick it
And I'll drop the pill to stop the "tick-tick-click"
I've manifested mountains
And I've felt the shadow of a parlor trick
Oh, what a pretty sound
Toss back, wash the poison down
If you're not conflicted, then you're not looking hard enough
I'm swearing off this fucking drug
We celebrate the tools that coat ideals with dust
We delegate our social rust

[Anonymous No.602103]

>>602099

But her choruses were published on the first try.

[Anonymous No.602106]

>>602091

OP here, I'm interested. I'll keep this up.

[Anonymous No.602107]

>>602094

>implying its not hilarious to laugh at your bad writing that you thought was so cash

[Anonymous No.602110]

>>602094
Used to think the exact same way as you bro

[Anonymous No.602117]

>>602094

I posted the same poem are two separate occasions on 7chan's /lit/ and got two radically different opinions, each one being unanimous in its thread.

As long as you're not really fucking sophomoric and sappy, you're biggest problem will probably be finding someone interested enough to help you.

[Anonymous No.602123]

>>602083

This one is good IMO.

[Anonymous No.602146]

Posted some in the last thread.

There's always room for improvement, keep editing and editing that shit, yo.

[Anonymous No.602150]

I felt my insides being split when the description fit
My head dropped to the pavement, and my skin ripped
Cautiously, I questioned the call and the cell it installed
Stripped down all my meaning to see where it could fit
And the stinging evening breeze had never smelled so strong
Of the seeds that we'd been sowing since our first dawn
Withered and defeated by a sudden squall
Standing tall, we flourished just in time to fall
So please, don't leave me alone
These sleeping, breathing tendencies are keeping my hands cold
So my bones, in all their glory, are just bones
And maybe this story will cause the world to grow
But you don't know

[moshi !!icEthl6C2Tt No.602167]

The fires are started in little glass tubes
Swirling designs revolving the room
The heater is coughing up a vicious storm
With the still darkness ready to perform
A duty of silence, the only thing it knows
Mass produced and shipped to bestow
My mind packed inside a cardboard box
Flashing vacancies in a chest void of locks
I am a victim of my fruitless image
Always striving for positive decisions
But some things are best left unsaid
With visions of a stuck inside my head
The stars shine brightly and twinkle in the sky
Blend in with the night, there is no need for reply
The fragile, hollowed men stop in their tracks
Thinking the impenetrable world is under attack
While the ignorant get tucked in all their forted cots
With their lives full of settings and writers block plots
And the broken hearted find hellos in alleys made of sand
Full of positive memories that their consciousness demands

[Anonymous No.602182]

This is my angsty c/lit/erature

for you
i would eat my
enemies in spite
of the bitter taste

and on
some strange isle
i would conspire to
sell my soul as
discount scraps

i would
burn my clothes and
my dreams of mother,
kill my friends and
dog.

for you
i would live in sin
more so than weary angels,
sacrifice my whimsy for
fiery blood

and in
some dark hospital i
would trade my chambered
heart for a better kind of
skin

sink into bed,
tend to the swelling
like a newly-tucked
bimbo, acquire

the proper shape for improper desires.

[Anonymous No.602183]

The night drops and you twist
away. The light—

The glimmer—at the corners of your eyes,
two small radiances that were once
warm ballast to me, they deepen, dim, and
fall away.
I lurch, come apart,

re-form crooked.

The black traces my outline.
It condenses in my footsteps.
I shamble after you, limping
after shining green and orange blooms that burst
before my eyes at every blink, flitting there and
there, and I tighten my lips against the dark
Until I must gasp for breath,
coughing, sputtering.

The night courses down my
throat in throbbing waves.

[Anonymous No.602194]

Here is one I wrote for a thread earlier today:

Pepperidge

At first, I kept you in a glass jar.

I attempted to feed you a wide variety of foods
that eleven year old me thought you might like:
Tiny pieces of lettuce, a cheerio crushed into bite sized pieces,
a goldfish cracker 'cause I thought the idea sounded funny.

Eventually we settled on bread crumbs,
and I moved you into a small aquarium
because the jar must have felt like a prison cell.

You died a reliable three months after I won you,
and even though I had long since lost interest
I never forgave myself for flushing you down the toilet
before you had time to wake up.

[Anonymous No.603417]

Whoa this thread is still alive.

[Anonymous No.603470]

A little excursion in rhyme and meter.

Winter has returned again
Men scurry into doors.
Ice and sleet pour down upon
Men walking cross the moor.

Frozen wind sharp ice blades
Chill folks walking through
The center of town all cold
And bare, silent dead too.

The sword of winter pierces
Even the thick wool
Of all who pass by and look
Upon the frozen pool.

And in that pool in summer
Did swim ducks in formation
The source for old weeping men
For need consolation.

But this is but a memory
As spring is come again
The buds bloom and heard
Is the fine song of wrens.

[Anonymous No.603525]

MANDATORY
on
this
worksite
HEAD
protection
protective
GOGGLES
safety
BOOTS
fullbody
HARNESS


I read a sign at a construction site. It seemed funny to me.

[Anonymous No.603539]

>>603525

aww, it screwed up my formatting

[Anonymous No.605071]

bump.

[Anonymous No.605088]

>>603470
>in rhyme and meter
Oh FFS, you broke the meter in the second line with a pyrrhic.
>sleet pour
l2meter.

[Anonymous No.605101]

>>602194
Horrible free verse is horrible. Free verse needs to convey imagery, it can't just be prose chopped up into separate lines.

[Anonymous No.605122]

>>602194
>>602183
>>602182
>>602167
>>602150
>>602072
>>602097

ITT dilettantes attempting free verse without learning formal verse.

[Anonymous No.605144]

how the sky is falling down
but you say it's just the sound
of lightning escaping from the clouds
and when the flood waters rise
you just roll your eyes and sigh
and say how dumb is this metaphor
and when the waters fill our lungs
and I can no longer sing this song
you say thank god it's over

in our next life we're strings
on a violin that sings
a love song for no one
and when we finally break
you say it's fate
as we're tossed in the garbage
over time we fall apart
and once again we begin to start
a whole new life again

we come back as lonely lovers
always looking for another
to fill our lonesome hearts
but then we meet again
we think it's by accident
but its happened many times before
we trade secrets like cigeretes
merge together like droplets
on a speeding car window

like the memory of a dream
this moment's fleeting
and unraveling into fragments, into hues
and over time we will fall apart
and maybe next time there won't be a start
for us to repeat this all again
like lightning from a cloud
like a face in a crowd
we're here for a moment then we're gone

[Anonymous No.605149]

there's a cage that is my home
I'm too afraid to leave alone
there's so much comfort and naught to fear
why would I go anywhere but here?
Still and yet though, by and by
my life just dwindles, fades and dies
and they say there's nothing beyond death
and I must listen to this secret
and the more I hear, the more I wish
that God might snag the wriggling fish
that told the secret and set afire
all the living and made me the liar.
I want for little yet work for much
a single kindness, a loving touch
and the more I look up, the more I pray
the more I wonder every day
if anyones listening, if anyone cares...
if anyone tends the light at the top of the stairs.
And the more I wonder, the more my faith fades
the more the sunlight is replaced with cool shade
and you do not get it, and you cannot see
how your presence can bring so much sadness to me.

[Anonymous No.605182]

>>605144
i think that's lovely, depressing as hell, but lovely.

[Anonymous No.605194]

>>605182
Thank you very much!

[Anonymous No.605239]

I found a violin
full of paper hyacinths
scrawled with the notes
of a melody you wrote
for your lover long ago
it was buried in your garden
flooded with the dew of the morning
I found it in the orchids
that were wilted and disjointed
like memories of a dream

so I broke off a branch from a tree
and used it as a bow to play that melody
for that lover
you never got over
and pretend that It was written for me

I found a skeleton
nailed to the wall of your garden
and carved in it's bones
were confessions that shone
in the sun like drops of blood
it's finger was pointing towards something
but I try to pretend that it was nothing
but the fevered creation
of an overactive imagination
and not a warning sign

so I broke off the finger from it's hand
and thew it underneath your passing marching band
that was playing a dirge
with players on the verge
of weeping but I didn't understand

so go
so go and find another
find someone else to love
so why
so why do you still stay here
and wallow in your misery
maybe that's not everything
maybe there's more to the story
than what you can see
it's wonderful
the things you cant control
it brought me to you
but all you can do
is sift through the wilted leaves
of my history

I found violin
full of paper hyacinths
just beginning to unfurl
and bloom into something more
than notes from the past
it was buried in your garden
flooded with the light of the morning
I found it in the orchids
covered and protected
like memories of a dream

So I broke off a branch from a tree
and used it as a bow to play a melody
something new
something for you
beneath the canopy of blooming leaves

[Anonymous No.605266]

i hate you, me
you're all those things
I didn't want to be.

you're selfish and stupid and boorish and lame
and stubborn!
why keep playing this pretend-game?

you're all those things I swore I wasn't
and worse
what I promised I'd never be!

so I thought I'd just mention for the sake of myself
that I hate you,
you being me.

[Anonymous No.605499]

>>605266
/wrists

[Anonymous No.606180]

bump
I know there's more of you out there who write poetry

[Anonymous No.606189]

For we have thought the longer thoughts
And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes,
Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
Another in the day.

[Anonymous No.606190]

I could have sworn that I saw you
weave a veil of rose petals
beneath the shade of the willow tree
where the pollen pours from the branches
into the mouth of the hanging ghosts
their feet rest just above your head
You sit on a sea of orchids
that bloom in the dusk like fireflies
this could all be a dream of the coming night
and all the stars, they surround you
speaking in tongues of prophecies
of fields burning bright

I could have sworn that I saw you
weave a noose of piano string
in the garden where the devil sings
and he hands you a paper hyacinth
scrawled with the ghosts of sonnets
he twists the roots around your neck
and he hands me a burning book
that's dripping pitch and empty words
before dousing me in gasoline
The fire spreads down my spine
and burns the whole garden down
and all that's left is the ashes
of what could have been

[Anonymous No.606204]

>>606189

[Anonymous No.606212]

well...since you asked, here's a villanelle.

The Ant King

Fate was the shoe hover'n high over his crown,
there down below was the brutal ant king.
Though I tried, I could not put my foot down.

He came stumbling, bumbling into town
with six squirmy legs and a song to sing.
Fate was the shoe hover'n high over his crown.

His black, olive face bore grimace, no frown,
staring in defiance at this human being.
Though I tried, I could not put my foot down.

I let loose a battle cry, a small coy sound
and he replied with a pose poised to sting.
Though I tried, I could not put my foot down.

And slithered away a survivor reknown'd,
a warrior marching into the Sun's ring.
Fate was the shoe hover'n high over my crown.
But today, he could not put his foot down.

[Anonymous No.606220]

And something I wrote this weekend...

Redesigning the American Flag

This flag has grown tiresome, copied, and gaudy.
Time for a change to make our flag naughty!

Hey we'll get cameras, make it a show!
Live and online where the waiting cocks grow.

But make sure to charge because nothing is free,
Into our theaters customers come see

Artists, intellectuals, all gathered around.
To envision their voice in mono-surround sound.

First-
Spread Dillinger's blood, run red in the streets,
Saved by darting hands, they sponged it with sheets.

Mix in the blue eyes of boys sent to war,
Their pea-patch bodies still block the draft door.

White flash of a fat man who fell down too fast,
To blot out the black that burdens our past.

We'll change those stars into dollar green signs
Right below that, tag a pair of tech nines.

Remove a stripe, there can only be twelve,
One bar to keep you locked up with yourselves,

Or take that stripe to put on it's side,
A finger flipped high for our tough Yankee pride.

Drip some Budweiser for that down home scent
And coat the edges with crusted cement.

Hang it up at a bar by bodies soaked in coal,
Or put it in the grave next to rock-and-roll.

Or hang it on a battleship, then shoot resolute,
With tears in our eyes, we'll all rise and salute.

[Anonymous No.606730]

there's a cage that is my home
I'm too afraid to leave alone
there's so much comfort and naught to fear
why would I go anywhere but here?
Still and yet though, by and by
my life just dwindles, fades and dies
and they say there's nothing beyond death
and I must listen to this secret
and the more I hear, the more I wish
that God might snag the wriggling fish
that told the secret and set afire
all the living and made me the liar.
I want for little yet work for much
a single kindness, a loving touch
and the more I look up, the more I pray
the more I wonder every day
if anyones listening, if anyone cares...
if anyone tends the light at the top of the stairs.
And the more I wonder, the more my faith fades
the more the sunlight is replaced with cool shade
and you do not get it, and you cannot see
how your presence can bring so much sadness to me.