Poetry Critique Thread

[Anonymous No.7248676]

It's that time again, please try to offer critique of others' work as well as posting your own.

[Anonymous No.7248683]

"I love you" I proclaimed,
into the air, to nobody,
just to hear what it would sound like.

[Anonymous No.7248691]

>critique very much appreciated

If it is to change you
You will not remember the crash
By the moments during or before.
Your death is not about you,
But everyone else
And what they learn in your absence.
Like your quiet father who
Goes to church but never prays
Begging God, “Take me, instead.”
Or your hopeful mother who
Always believed in the value of
Hard work.
A car with no gas is pushed further
Than one with a full tank.
You wake with a damaged body
That hates your old one even more.
But it is forgiven.
I-85 is still dense with moving lights
That cut through your field of vision and
Fade quickly into nothingness.You are no longer one of them
And pull off across the median.
It’s only a gambling problem if you lose
And you’ve been given back years
To burn.
If angels taught you how to hate
The devil showed you how to love.
You wish you remembered why.
You think about how easy it would have
Been, and what it means that
Your brother has seen a decade’s worth of
Old movies more than you.

You think a lot
About what got broken, how everyone says
They’re fucked, and
The one person who thinks they’re fine
Maybe isn’t.
You like hearing voices over the phone
The way they are forced to be honest
Instead of hiding the truth in their faces
Like a white-printed riddle.
Your second-to-last cigarette burns out
But you decide to quit early.
It’s funny.
They would kill you if they knew
That sometimes you wish they didn’t pray
Or that you’re far too old to smoke with
Your cousin.
She conjures up images like
A chemical imbalance would after you
Inhale a ratio you didn’t expect.
But it’s too late, and the drug filters through
Your lungs and the parts of your body that
God touched.
So, you hold it in.
She smiles.
Exhale.
The reality of it all pours from your chest and
Caresses her silhouette
Like a familiar shadow that’s followed you
Into every smokey bar on the block.
You can’t tell left from right, or
Right from wrong, and
You try not to think about it,
How small you must seem.
Instead, you think about space travel
and how you’d like to pass in zero gravity,
Drifting through the black, faced with
The majesty of some distant star, wondering
Which atoms you share, and how even the supermassive
Seems so very small from the safety of
The lonely ground.

[Anonymous No.7248699]

CAN'T WAKE UP

[Anonymous No.7248708]

My girlfriend asked me to strip for her, so I did.

First I took off my pride. I wore it like a shawl to protect all my insecurities. She loved it.

I took off my shame. It hung around my legs, a thousand uncomfortable memories wound tight
like twine to hide my ability to be free and open. She loved it.

I took off my fear. They gripped my feet like stone slippers, hoping to keep me from ever leaping
as far as I was capable, often succeeding. She loved it.

Finally I took off my doubt. The doubt that was there so long it had become me. I ripped it off
revealing the flesh of my love for her and the bone-depth of my feelings for her and the blood
that rushed for only her, forever.

She didn’t love that.

She left wearing my clothes.

I dressed for winter.

[Anonymous No.7248726]

One of my best, thoughts?

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

[Anonymous No.7248746]

>>7248726
go to bed edgar

[Anonymous No.7248750]

>>7248726
>>7248746

also i actually kind of like this poem and i have it memorized lol

it's pretty middle school 5deep3u tier but i think it sounds nice

[Anonymous No.7248842]

>>7248708
pretty good

[Anonymous No.7248845]

just another guy
'til I die
just another fool
inconsequential

[Anonymous No.7248860]

Light rain is falling in Central Park
but not on Upper Fifth Avenue or Central Park West
where sun and sky are yellow and blue
Winds are gusting on Washington Square
through the arches and on to LaGuardia Place
but calm is the corner of 8th Street and Second Avenue
which reminds me of something John Ashbery said
about his poem "Crazy Weather" he said
he was in favor of all kinds of weather
just so long as it's genuine weather
which is always unusually bad, unusually
good, or unusually indifferent,
since there isn't really any norm for weather
When he was a boy his mother met a friend
who said, "Isn't this funny weather?"

It was one of his earliest memories

[Anonymous No.7248866]

>>7248860
m8 seriously, why are you talking about the weather? it's this an elaborate metaphor for being raped or something?

[Anonymous No.7248976]

It is at these moments I feel there is nothing I love in the world

Everything is a wall, and every wall is the same mirror of grey

And each of these walls is high out of their mind, and I so low

If only I was that tall again!

And when I jump I can just see the outside world

How beautiful it all once seemed


It does not take 21 years of jumping to break your back

Finally my shins collapse beneath me

I let the dirt engulf me, and the wind blow more dirt over me

Very soon I am buried

But just when the dirt finds my mouth

A trunk rips out from my decayed skull

And I finally stand high above the grey clouds

I see my dominion— a valley of dead trees

I branch out and cover my cell

[PrettLittleHammers !hJurQj6z/s No.7249314]

>>7248708
I like this

[Anonymous No.7249486]

1.
The lines of the wind can be imagined as thin quick streams
shivering gently through the spaces between the leaves of the trees.
Or, long and furrowed
and strangely still and constant
like the lines made by low hills in northern California
when the sun has descended behind them and dulled their greenness
and has stopped annoying you
so you can finally look around for once.

2.

The small things breath their tiny and full breaths
beyond the edges of where my vision has mapped in the past.
I have never seen their homes or nests
or whatever they are called in their internal speech
that is not speech but some swirling void
where symbols for food and shelter and love
are lodged and dislodged.
They are waking up. They are going to sleep.
Sometimes they cause my eardrums to vibrate,
or my eyes pick up their fur and glowing eyes,
then they are known to me,
and the fabric of their being lodges for a while
inside the mess of language. They become spoken of:
patterns of noise are made,
quilted after the perception.
I speak of them to others, others speak of them to others
they form stories and jokes or legends.
I will mention at least one after 10 years have past.

3.


Autumn comes,
the wind curls,
the trees undress,
the leaves whirl,
and dress the edges
of window ledges.

[Anonymous No.7249599]

>>7248708
This is good
Sorry bro, never reveal your romance power level

[Anonymous No.7249603]

>>7248699
WAKEMEUPINSIDE/10

[Anonymous No.7250234]

>>7248708

slam poetry is not poetry my friend, take it to starbucks and not /lit/

[Anonymous No.7250260]

In the pleasant stillness of a summer afternoon
Mirrored on a crystal lake, swimming swans swoon
An august aroma from the book on my chest
Its ambrosial scent – my eyes closed to rest
Against a tree I lay, beneath its dappled light
Into cloud painted sky, my heart takes its flight
I forget who I am, where I’ve been, why I’m here
Suspended in time, for a second (was it a year?)
I have lost myself and I feel that I should seek
But I don’t yet wish to leave this murmuring creek
Against this tree I lay, listening to the flow
Lulling in lambence, basking in the glow
I could live my life here, in God’s green grove
A hermit’s humble life, hidden in a quiet cove
Swirling my fingertips in Nature’s sweet nectar
As I read in my book that Achilles killed Hector.

[Anonymous No.7250279]

>>7248691

absolute shit, try some alliteration

>>7248708

do you not know the sonic capabilities of speech manifested in poetic form? Clearly not, or you would use more alliteration.

Mine:

Silhouettes savor safe simplicity.
Seeker swoons silently and secretly.
Sound sadness stings in synchronicity.
Searing seeming supplies sad sapphics sweetly.
Animalistic anger amplifies.
Absent aptitude and angst agonize.
Atrocities played always analyze.
Affectionate analogies apprise.

Desire for a deserving death displays.
Discerning a desolate inner daze.
Discovering detest for dying days.
Destroyed and distraught diction delays.

Does death decrease worlds of disrepair?
Does my damsel know my damning despair?

[Anonymous No.7250311]

>>7250279
that was painful to read

you suck

[Anonymous No.7250518]

>>7250279
10/10
top kek

[Anonymous No.7250542]

A simple one-stanza poem I wrote just as warm-up to a larger prose story I'm in the middle of writing:

Watch her as she wallows in her darkness and filth
Time melting away
Endless night and endless day
Crumbling are the things she built.

[Anonymous No.7250548]

>>7250260

romantic poetry is hard to pull off: keep trying and keep reading. Read Wordsworth and Shelley, Coleridge, Blake.

You need a regular meter for couplet lines like this and you have some lines that really jut out awkwardly ("As I read in my book that Achilles killed Hector...")

[Anonymous No.7250588]

Closed eyes, you can see nothing but
The strange pressure of things moving
In front of you, behind you, everywhere
At once.

The cadence of a gesture, it's a rhythm
Marked by a tension resolving: what he
Said was hurtful, because she started
Crying.

The interval between an action and a reaction;
The unvisualizable space, with resonant distress
Of tension unresolved and suspended between

Thoroughly out of touch with yourself and
Things surrounding.

[Anonymous No.7250594]

>>7248691
Sounds more like a slam poem than one that should be written, but I like it.

>>7248708
Good, but needs to be broken up more with punctuation and/or more line breaks. Some of the sentences are too drawn out to read comfortably.

>>7249486
8/10 would read again

>>7250260
>swimming swans swoon

dumbest sounding alliteration ever. Rewrite.

>>7250279
Gave me a headache

>>7250542
Ineffective.

[Anonymous No.7250595]

She arrived suddenly
When everyone at home already slept
And dabbed the senior's forehead
Fading like a smoldering flame

[Anonymous No.7250620]

>>7250594
>Good, but needs to be broken up more with punctuation and/or more line breaks.

WRONG

[Anonymous No.7250622]

someone rate this

Gaius Julius Caesar

-

On the peak of the alps, he surveys his empire,
Conquered Gaul and martial Italy at his feet.
People of many tongues chant in unison: Ave Caesar!

Imperial Rome is his, the pomposity of its display.
The lavish triumphs, the outrageous Colosseum.
Caesar is transcendent, dictator for life.

He takes it in, the kingdoms of the earth.
He feels the weight of his power, the glory of his name.
Looking to the sky, he wonders if he is divine.

Yet he looks beside him, and there’s nobody there.
His heart shrinks, Gaius Julius Caesar feels lonely.
Then his friend Marcus Junius Brutus comes and stabs him!

As Caesar feels his own life slipping, the mystery of life reveals itself.
It winks at him, and Julius remembers his childhood.
Gaius dies smiling, for life is a comedy after all.

[Anonymous No.7250625]

>>7250594
>Ineffective
Well, it was merely an exercise. Figured I'd post it 'cause I like the way it sounded. Wasn't expecting much. Thanks!

[Anonymous No.7250638]

>>7250622
I like it, plus the picture seems to fit in, thus making it a complete whole.

[Anonymous No.7250642]

>>7250595
Anyone?

[Anonymous No.7250694]

>>7250625
Sorry, I now I feel I was a little harsh. To elaborate on my hasty comment; I feel like the final line needs to be more powerful. The first three have a more dramatic tone, but the final line is very bare.

[Anonymous No.7250702]

>>7250595
Nice, but needs to be extended upon. Is it intended to be part of a longer poem or is it a standalone piece?

[Anonymous No.7250706]

>>7250702
Standalone piece. Plus, it's translated from my native language (Polish).

[Anonymous No.7250708]

>>7250620
Explain

[Anonymous No.7250709]

>>7250694
Don't feel bad, bruh, it's 4chan. I expect harshness. That's why I post writing here.

But yeah, since it was a personal exercise for a larger story, there's probably subtext that's not apparent (it's about a shut-in girl spiraling into self-imposed isolation).

[Anonymous No.7250717]

>>7250706
How literal is the translation into english?

Also out of pure curiosity could you post the polish version? I'm a total sucker for languages.

[Anonymous No.7250726]

>>7250717
Nadeszła niespodziewanie
Kiedy wszyscy w domu spali
Głaszcząc starca po śpiącym czole
Gasnącym niczym tlący się płomień

I'd say It's a pretty accurate 1:1 translation, yet in Polish it's harder to estimate if it's a person, or a thing.

[Anonymous No.7250728]

>>7250709
That idea does come through in the poem. Sounds like a pretty interesting idea for a story - if done correctly. How is it coming along?

[Anonymous No.7250734]

this space is malnourished
like a child in africa
i t lacks vitamin d.
if i take a pill
will it neuter me or kill me
not that i suffer from penis envy.

[Anonymous No.7250745]

>>7250728
Literally about to close in on the ending, but not kinda feelin' it (I'm more used to writing at night).

Just slammed a 20 oz. and maybe when I'm done reading and napping I'll finish it up before heading out for the night.

[Anonymous No.7250754]

>>7250717
Would've forgot - the title's "Breviter"

[Anonymous No.7251866]

To thunder-thrum of well-lit window,
Crumbling cotton death mask swings.
Maybe loner, maybe widow,
Flutters flitters,
Touching things.

To hear now those hazy drunken bumps
Won’t dissipate the chill.
The beast, a writhing crown descends,
Against the blind does trill.

Its mausoleum, immolation,
Wish I could reveal,
But its image, in some sleepy mind
May never quite right heal.

These things don’t love our light; they’re dizzied by it,
For the best?
Butterflies lift the heart.
Moths eat the rest.

>>7250588
Nice. Good at creating a sense of disconnection.
>>7250279
Bruh.
>>7248976
I like it, but feel like it could be expressed more elaborately, feels a tad sparing as is.

[Anonymous No.7251875]

>>7248845
Nice

[Anonymous No.7252003]

>>7250594
>8/10 would read again
thanks how can i move up to like an 8.5/10

[Anonymous No.7252054]

I had a revelation about some of the blind spots in my history class
My professor got the gen ed western civ 1 class really into the idea of the Spartans
She turned the volume up really loud and played the agoge scene from 300
Not a bad idea, to get the people that think the class is boring/hard as fuck interested in some badassery
Of course there was 2-3 lectures about the Spartan government and the ephors and the ethnic population of slaves they kept perpetually enslaved to be able to focus on badassery
Which doesn’t really take away from them in any sense
It actually kind of makes it more badass in a way
I talked to a guy recently who works at a jimmy johns and was smoking indoors
He said he thought that if we had more than the 4% of aristotle’s work than we currently have we would be way more cognitively advanced than we are right now
I’m not sure I believed him because I think we would just get to ‘now’ sooner
It did make me wonder though
Why didn’t we talk about Spartan guys fucking each other’s asses
It didn’t even get mentioned in passing
Like how in the Troy movie, we never get to see Brad Pitt as Achilles fucking the ass of his younger cousin
His cousin dies, and I can’t help but think that throughout the rest of the movie Brad Pitt must have been torn up inside because he knew he would never feel that asshole again
And you know, almost for sure, that the Spartans must have been famous for their lack of foreplay
I read recently that in some male worms there is a unique neuro-synapses that gets created when orgasm is achieved
And we can’t think back to original memories because we always are remembering that last time we remembered something
Except maybe males can remember orgasms
And maybe that memory is unchanged
My memory is a beach and the only sizable rocks are just the orgasms
And eventually I meet someone nice and the winter comes and we have to build a small encampment and the only building material we have are my orgasms because hers are all sand
And so the first few nights we just dig out some sand over by a dune and throw some of our memories out onto to other ones
And I think about the ones I’m losing that I’ll never remember even when I’m losing them and we both dig sort of slow because we’re both thinking about what remembrance we’ll never remember again
And we build a fire pit and we line it with the only rocks we have which are just a bunch of memories of my orgasms
I made sure that earlier when I told her I would go find some rocks that I got all the ones that took place in the dark
Because even though my original plan was to leave other people out of it I soon realized that any feelings she had for me might quickly deteriorate if I brought back a bunch of memories of me furiously masturbating while the shower runs in the background

(there's more but idk if you want it and it's too long, plus I need to critique someone else too)

[Anonymous No.7252097]

this is all le trash

[Anonymous No.7252112]

>>7251866
I would move
>they're dizzied by it,
down one line, as long as it doesn't mess up any syballistic meter

I do like it, which is a lot considering I feel that rhymed verse is passe to the max. I would be interested if you did a series of these on 'What Goes Bump in The Night'

[Anonymous No.7252122]

>>7252097
thanks anon, I'll try that on the next one

[Anonymous No.7252153]

>>7248683
>>7248708
>>7248726
Stolen

>>7250622
Also is this a troll? Because it's really terrible

[Anonymous No.7252159]

>>7252112
I think you're right, will move it. I mainly write in verse because I feel like the restrictions it places on me make me more creative. You have to try a little harder to express what you intended, and in my experience that means I put a little more thought into it.

While I'm attracted to the idea you mentioned, I'm not sure if making more of them might make this one lose its lustre, or if I even could without just writing the same poem. Thanks very much for the feedback though!

[Anonymous No.7252821]

>>7252003
i was trying to learn latex so i made a little collection of all the stuff i wrote this summer. critique on any of it would be really welcome. critique on the formatting is good too

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B0WRgczvQg8OekU3S3EzOER0ajg/view?usp=sharing

[Anonymous No.7252877]

>>7252821
not a poetry guy, but I will say that your poems are very comfy, especially the last one. mostly wanted to see what amateur LaTeX work looked like, because I intend to use the program myself, and that's pretty nifty if you went into it w/out much knowledge of .pdf preparation beforehand. the cover looks like period panty crotch though tbh.

[Anonymous No.7252899]

>>7252877
thanks. comfy was definitely what i was going for.

using latex to make that was easier than i thought it would be, it only took me a few hours. i think my latex code is probably really messy and bad compared to what someone who was good at it would do though

also
> the cover looks like period panty crotch though tbh
lmao yeah i should probably do better

[Anonymous No.7252977]

>>When violence crept into her life a second time she wondered if it was a contagion, if maybe it spread from parent to parent in households across the world. She wondered how long it sat dormant inside of her and how long it would take for everybody to catch this new disease.