/lit/ - Literature

I like it, fren.
Here’s a poem about things that are comfy.
Chill winds blowing in the night
Raindrops pattering on the glass
A full moon rising to its height
Waterfront buskers playing brass
In October the first leafs fall
In the morning the blue jays call

>>14055287
This is a poem I posted in a previous thread that I have edited since then titled The Maple Tree On The Corner.

I walk with my hand a steadfast clasp
Gently in my lover’s grasp
My skin alight with gleeful heat
Along the cold and empty street
By light of autumn’s moon we see
Our very favourite maple tree

The tree’s display of red and gold
Is now just ours to behold
Beneath the branches our embrace is tight
Two souls together this peaceful night

Her piercing eyes with passion glare
With love that feels beyond compare
Into my heart her gestures reach
With affection sweeter than a peach

Her laugh delights, her skin is smooth
Wounds of my mind her she’ll kindly soothe
Her enchanting kiss and endearing song
Are all the reason to live long

A year has passed and so have I
My presence unknown but still I try
To catch her gaze just for a while
Or bring back just one little smile

My haunting of the maple tree
Is the vantage point from which I see
She walks alone morose and weary
I have no eyes but I’m still teary
No miracle or infernal sale
could bring me back or pierce the veil

More time has passed and my spirit burns
With hope her happiness returns
And now I rest with sweet relief
My love at last has shed her grief
Into the ethereal I finally fade
Beneath the maple branches’ shade

I knew the rain,
I spoke the fog,
I felt the cold climb up and disturb my slumber,

Where in it was a cold and damp,
Lightness had found its soulful grace,
In between the barren and the wild, lay I and so I was.

I knew the rain,
I spoke the fog,
I felt the cold climb up and disturb my slumber,

Where in it was cold and damp,
Lightness had found its soulful grace,
In between the barren and the wild, lay I and so I was.

Here's one I wrote recently in my native language, translated:

Here is filled with everything, filled with being.
The pulse of things is deafening,
suffocating me.
This, here.
Gathered in a strange moment, in a bundle that at any second might
fall apart.
This strange lump
of things

and voids.
I want to survive, standing before this,
so I become careful.
I try to watch behind the things that I see.
I try.
I disregard the unimportant,
I peel the shells around me
but
I haven't realised yet that I don't have teeth.
It doesn't matter.

At any moment I might go mad and smash everything around me
while I and the world around me
are permeated by coldness and some
strange peace.

>>14055517
I saw it the last time you posted it, though haven't commented then. I find the poem surprisingly emotional. That is, poems posted on here that I've seen usually go for a pompous style that lacks an inner motivation and strong goal, besides being emotional in the vaguest sense. On the other hand, your song is relatively simple, direct and hits the mark, in a manner that might be called lovely. However, I think you'll probably want to develop much further than this. The poem can sound so simple at times that it borders on silliness or cliche. ("affection sweeter than a peach" definitely should be replaced with something better, and also the line about the speaker passing away feels strangely vague to me) Doesn't truly fall into them most of the time, but there's an ever present danger, and somebody more cynical would likely scoff at the whole thing. Together with the ideas, the rhyme scheme could be shaken up too, the short couplets have that air of innocence and prettiness that might not suit particularly serious themes.

>>14055287
I wrote this poem after visiting my Great Great Grandfather's grave.

The south may never rise again,
Those dead In coffins, sons beside them
Daughters miles away in marked memorials
Those dead in fields of graying tombstones
Who’s names the world has lost
But in the land of cotton fields
Those dead have never died

Oh clasp into my arms esoteric divinity of the mind
For doth hatred speaks into the abyss of eternity
Till the decrepit dawn of death precedes
Such as life gives unto me
The path at which it will suffer
My turmoil, ever prevalent in the eyes of no one

>>14055348
This is a way comfy poem - strikes me as uncontrived, just a person trying to capture a nice experience.

>>14055517
I'll echo what the other anon said. There is gold here but some of the rhymes seem forced and take away from the journey the reader is taken on (personally I found "teary" jarring). A friend of mine once said that any word they don't hear in every day life breaks her immersion in a poem.

Some cool metaphors (infernal sale) and some vague (pierce the vale, fading into ethereal). As a whole I think it's effective in what it sets out to do.

>>14055827
I can't say exactly what the theme here is beyond some kind of awe or trembling at the magnitude of life/death. I find very few writers can deal effectively with such themes so directly but if you want to see it done to perfection, check out Rilke.


Burial

They had to be buried -
We knew and gathered tools.
The first of them was fresh,
Not yet dead a day, still
Passably asleep but
For the blood and bloating.

The second, small, perhaps
A child, was past bloating;
Flesh swimming with maggots,
Wounds of decay spilling
Gore along the ground as
We brought him to the site.

Without ceremony
We dropped them in the hole,
Unmistakably dead
Now, with undignified
Leg in the air, reaching
For the clean air of life.

The work was grim, we agreed
As we piled earth over
Them to the carrion
Dirge of buzzing flies,
Wondering at their deaths -
Could it have been poison?

We've buried others too:
Grandfathers and good friends
Whose reasons were clearer,
But the oldest question
Ever asked ever meets
The silence of the grave.

At last, the cast-up hoof
Is covered and the flies
Disband so we listen
For answers from the wind,
The earth, only hearing
The sound of rising dirt.

How I ache
How I ache
How I ache
Vile moon, bitter lake.

>>14055647
The poem is alright, but it sounds like a combination of pretty sounding lines, nothing coherent.

>>14056017
The imagery of the poem is exceptional, but it would be a lot better set to meter, now it just feels like prose cut into lines.

Words
On A
Screen
Pixels
In A
Dream
Hate
To Be
Unseen

>>14056124
Unless this is a troll then it needs to be much longer.

>>14056184
Not all poems are long

>>14056184
>what is haiku

My heart is
Looking down at you
From the top
Of a skyscraper 1,000,000 stories high
And you're so small
Just like me
Now, baby, I'm coming
On the run
From all the bad guys I see
My world's falling apart
But you're so brave
Like no man or ever will
You're never afraid to show me
Your true self
Everytime you're by me
That's when I'll love you more
Cause you're the one I wish to be
Baby, if only I'd believed In you
We'd be married now
I wonder what's happened to your voice
I wonder what the world would look like if I'd been alone
I doubt it would look any different
So why couldn't I see this
From the other end Of the spectrum 2
So why couldn't I see this
From the other end Of the spectrum
So why couldn't I see this from the other end Of the spectrum
So why couldn't I see this
from the other end Of the spectrum
Baby

Frenposting should be a bannable offense

I want to spend Independence Day
With you in the clouds
One explosion after another
I want to fill
Your bounce house
With my children
Because I love you
And always will

>>14055287
Mercury dew slips from the silver song of time.

Corrosive in its melody, melting the heart of life.
2nd poem

There's a weariness that sleep cannot cure. It arrives without movement.
Yet shifts in a blur.

Beneath the weight
of the clouds. On empty sails.
The winds of your spirit. Rush ever still.

>people who post poems but don't rate a single one by others
You deserve the rope

>>14056049
There is sense in it to me

>>14056874
Cute honestly. Feels almost like it would work better as the chorus to an indie song or something but I liked it.

>>14056049
There is meaning in it to me

>>14057291
It is the name of an elliott smith song, a pretty good one as well. Not the guy that posted it btw.

>>14056874
Cute
>>14056204
Not my thing but I’m glad that you expressed yourself
>>14056124
Very simple, I like it

Here’s another one I made

Enter into my life
A flash in the dark
Here for a moment
And Gone in the next
How amazing it is
My powers to make
One desire me so
Then drive them to hate

>commenting right after this
Title: Genuine Affection in High Society

We beat around the bush for a while,
And then proceeded to raze it to smithereens.
No holds barred.
Next, we aspirated the ashes through a Franklin or two
Until it coated the lining of our lungs.
Hedonism manifest.
We rendered all coffins in our minds obsolete
If only for a short while.
Heralding mutiny.
Afterwards, we skydive back into orbit,
Contacting the aphelion joined but separate.
Austerity returns.

>>14058093
me
>>14055348
cozy, feels like it could use a few more lines to really complete it
>>14055681
interesting line breaks, love the placement of the last stanza, seems like something i'd write
>>14055804
really, really good. love it. for real. this is unique.
>>14057922
a complete package. relatable, concise. good shit.

>>14058114
another by me

My bed I become,
My sanities weep,
My best thoughts occur
When I’m almost asleep.
Unbounded by rabble,
On soft sheets I lay,
I’m only a dreamer
Come end of the day.
Immune to the silence
Which routine demands,
My mind is the finest
When propped up by hands.
The portal is open
And I can see in it,
I’m not yet inside it.
I haven’t committed.

As I was told that Mr. F. says to the King, "Now I have my promise--I can't go to the Queen."
A. I say to the King, "We would take a chance that you can have my honour." (Applause.)
The King then says, "What say you?" I say, "I shall not, Mr. F., so as to make you unhappy." (Applause.)
A. So he is told in this world. You know well that it is better that his honour should take a chance than not.
The King then says, "Well then, tell me, now, Mr. F., will I receive him?" I say, "It is all you have to say, you and I. We cannot have it so. So make a promise: we will have it at all costs.
The King then says to me, "I can't think about it." I had the honour to do so. (Applause.)
The Prince then came into the room, etc.

Wrote this for my gf

It's the time to kiss and talk and laugh
And kiss and feel good about you again,
You're such a good girl, and I could take
Anybody I want--I feel free with you now,
You're just the cutest girl on the face of the earth.
It's okay with me to say it now; it's okay;
You'd be a bad girl just not wanting to let it happen.
You're so sweet, and a little silly, it would make
A real mensch-like smile if it worked for you this time.
And I could make you think you were going back to me,
And just in case, I've got more in my head
Like that old song, "All The Way Home"
I can make a girl love me and she say
"I love you," and she won't let go.
I can make you feel as though if you said "All The Way Home"
You'd be getting back home again, you're my sweetheart.

Thou art my daughter, but such a slut as thou
Is mine own little cock and I can suck him off, too.
So come now, slut! I will fufill my vow:
Come up to him and suck it dry.
I beg of you, dear: give him a few kisses as well!
Oh: let him suck me as well, I beg of you!
Now, sweetheart, come for my sake, so that we can see
It is as good for him as we may.
Now come! I tell you, come for me:
Oh no, it may be he's such a little fucker that I can't
Suck him with all my strength. I think
He would like to have some small cock, too.
Come! I will say my vows to thee, and show thee
Whom to suck; I beg of you, sweetheart!

Grammar question as part of a poem I'm working on.


When you made your grand return for Christmas I was ecstatic.

OR

When you made your grand return for Christmas, I was ecstatic.


Which one, anons?

>>14058935
that isn't a grammar question really
those read two different ways and it depends how you want it to come across

>>14055647
This is quite good

the houses that no one
keeps track on the lights of
frames for the bounces
of sounds they're not part of

they're shadows of rain
and mirrors no one cares for
or would stop to dance to,
as drunkenly dancing to dusk

through these gates unmarveled
singinging themselves sad-
songs no one'd ever heard of
tripping in reflections in their

puddles, littlesses brushed-past
unheard and unasked for
through houses that no one
keeps track on the lights of

Title: sent to my room

MY SOUL IS DEEP
LIKE THE DEPTH OF MY SOUL
RAZORBLADES
AND ETERNAL SADNESS
FUCK PARENTS

You, droplet in the rain, that fell on me
Did you have a life and a history?
How did you differ? How were you the same
As all of the others that fell in the rain?

When they cast you off to earth to drown
Did they give you the choice of up or down?
Will you vaporize when you slip free
Or disappear in an old deep sea?

How long will you sit there on my brow?
Tiny friend, where will you go now?
Before you were swept off to wherever
Did you think you would fly forever?

It's got frost in it
The only thing missing
Sixty days in hell from hell
To hell with you all
The only thing still missing
Is no one else in heaven
All the people who love me
I mean me all
What's the difference between me
The thing I hold on to
Is me alone

You're not getting a chorus
Fuck your favorite poet
It's different when you parrot
Because it's ironic

Oblivion turned in on it self, hell exaggerated, purgatory full; love extinguished, soul: gone.

>>14060072
Well, I wish it to mean that when a friend returned at Christmastime, I was very happy to see her again.


So, comma or no comma?

>>14060761
i mean that, it depends how the phrasing/structure of the poem reads.

>>14060768
Forget about that. Just tell me what would normally be the case. Most of my poetry fits traditional grammar rules, this being no exception.

>>14060761
Were you ecstatic at the same time as your friend arrived or because they did. If it's because they arrived drop the comma.

XVI. Black Lightning

Is what I am
Destructive, Spontaneous, Mercurial.
See, the furrows of my brow.
Hear, them like the roar that warns of coming fury.
Watch out, that lightning might hit some fuel.
And there’s a lot of it lying around outside in the field these days.

And once we light it, I don’t know how we can put it out.

It’s a burning heat, the greed of the bushfire, he’s grown.
Not Young Spark, nor Tiny Flame, now I am
Old Man Fire!
And it’s beyond anyone’s control.
Rapacious, bottomless, purposeless, pointless

fire

It is I, yet I also burn.
Dare I douse the flame?
What what will I be left with?
Black ash
And no more fuel.

XVIII. Naked Tongues
In the candlelight, on the lounge
A man rests, with two sleeping hounds
His companions hums the eclipse
“There exists a world, where evil things run wild”
His blood is watered with what
He believes is passionfruit.
Not precisely but within
But within a
Leap, a hop!, a cluster
This is all his mind can muster
“Oh I’m so good, italics
Of the utmost satisfaction
Conscious of his pride but,
Butthistimeatleast its fine
He takes another sip
“A place where we belong”
We’ve been wasted, we’ve been
Waiting, all this time, all my life

For you, don’t let me down, don’t let me down
-to you
There are 6- 1,2,3,4,5,6
Lights in the room the reflection
A small candle, a large one
A land line charging, bright In the tv
And its orange red standby
Light
Just show me you love me – scream it
Don’t say that you love me; just show me you
Love me, allall night.

Interlude of wind
Chimes and the drone x
And which rises, with the
Drip 5 times of a water
Tank
With the drip of 1 more
2 more
3 more
4 more
5 11
6 12 (not 13?)
7 was that intentional
8 more ??, probably not-
9
10

…
There is one more light,
only visible/viable when one puts down the pad,
And one more if you
Count a reflection on
The blinds, one more
In the risen dogs
Blinking brown eyes
That never fully close
and when it resubmerges
the other’s/others flicker.
I will not count the shadows

Because they cannot exist
and the blinker is awake

And restless.

>>14060592
>it self

>>14060847
The latter.

fanks, m8

>>14058277
you could at least make something this simple rhyme

>>14056124
not bad

>>14056124
>Pixels
>In A
>Dream

this makes no sense

>>14060912
Don't electric sheep dream of pixels?

>>14060912
it's a metaphor dumbass, mindlessly consuming content on a screen is like being in a dream, a daze, a fantasty etc

>>14060947
wtf is mindlessly consuming content on a screen?
and how does the poem get that message across?

me you
pee poo
in loo

>>14055287
I like it. The metre gives it a childish and nostalgic feeling which fits the theme perfectly.

>>14055348
Very comfy indeed :), but I agree with >>14058114; you should probably expand on it a bit more


Quietude

O Muse of the quiet,
you’re the greatest of them all,
your grand allure might
be the cause of my downfall;
in my lonely night,
where the laughter of friends wrawl,
I company fright
for your caress is my call.

I know it might be a bit basic, but it's the first poem I've written and I thought it was fun to write it.

>>14060912
I know I just liked how it sounded

not all poetry need to make sense

>>14060870
oops

>>14060879
Fuck off

Mike: How much are you getting?
Kyle: Something like five bucks.
You need a lot of cash
To play a game like this.
Mike: The only way you're getting
Something out of this
Is by the putting down
Of money down again.
Kyle: That's right. Do you think
This is gonna work out?
Mike: Oh no, no, no, no, no.
It's not gonna work out.
Kyle: Do you want any of those?
Mike: Well you can get me a cup
Of coffee for a quarter.
Kyle: You can get another
Cup of coffee, too.
Mike: Okay, I will, I think.
Kyle: I just keep running round
That place like I got money
Then it's no longer fun
To run around with money
Till I can't buy stuff.
Mike: I think someone is trying.

Trembling with fear
Hidden in my lair
Will anyone
Ever
Find me?

>>14061778
Glib

A tear goes down my day is real
but your drying eye upon the shame
Each needs a road for me from you
what paradise? what can I do?
That die for my and the day is dark
I can’t believe for your touch
What I could find oh time is right
If I fell in love to fall in love
To fall in love with you

The day is dark, our time is right
day in the night deep in the night
I can’t yet be back I heard my- surprise
I see it in your lips I knew it in your eyes
Well I feel your love and I feel no shame
I can’t unleash your horde I call your name
What you’re to me what can I do?
To fall in love to fall in love
To fall in love with you

It just rolls upon the sand
ever this for now I’m made a man
can make you see what I can find
I know it in my days ah in my daily mind
Oh will ages roll will ages fly?
I hear your name where angels lie.
What do I know? for to come it’s true
To fall in love To fall in love
To fall in love with you

How can the doors trust on a nail?
how can I be surprised of most every day?
In the distant road I can’t be the same
I feel no love I feel no shame
I can’t watch the bay out on my own
we’ve a destined man I can attest it all
I didn’t I could find where I could go
To fall in love to fall in love
To fall in love with you

title is a little cringe but I was sending it to a non /lit/ girl so please forgive

>>14060879
>posting something this derisive without then following up with your own poem.
get the fuck outta here

Delirium, delirium;
Nothing!
But tedium.

>>14060973
genuinely erotic with perfect rhymes that swing like two pairs of ass cheeks on a toilet seat

>>14065273
Best poem ITT.

>>14066017
wow, thanks, it means alot as I have not practiced writing much

I am alive,
Therefore I shall express.
It might be cringe,
But I'm not here to impress.

>>14066234
based

All my poems are actually lyrics and in German
So you just wouldn’t get it , sorry frens :‘^)

It’s just childhood boxed up
in an array of scanlines and 8-bit color palettes
not to mention the weight of the box
and the radiation from the box
and the speakers ready to pop
sing in robot
and for a while I almost begin to like it.

I think I do afterwards,
but that was years ago—
been a long time now since I threw the box
over the balcony
the pastel scattered into a million pieces
characters on a flat plane running
sideways away from me
and the music—
dear Lord, the music—

>>14055287
>speaks rite
I like the intentionally wrong spelling. Maybe you should include more intentional spelling mistakes to hammer home the juvenility?

>>14055517
Brilliant. I am actually jealous of this. I'd revise the last 3 lines of the 6th stanza though. They're too on the nose.

>>14055647
I like the idea, but it loses it's rhythm towards the end.

>>14055804
Another excellent one. It's simplicity makes it.

>>14056874
So cheesy that's actually funny. It might work as song lyrics.

>>14060164
An idea with potential, but you didn't even try to make this inventive.

>>14066234
I actually like this a lot.
I wrote this one when I was on vacation in the middle of nowhere:

A Valley After A Storm

The clock strikes ten on this
Lightest, brightest night.
'Midst steadfast hills which weather
Nature's might.

Their sunken, wave-like war tombs,
Where blades of kings have slept.
And still do sleep among me here;
Time's double-edged breadth.

Scream, oh branch high sparrows,
The call of stationed trees.
Which cease to sway for no crown
In summer's stagnant breeze.

>>14055348
Avoid adjectives that are inherent in the noun they modify; e.g. "chill winds"

>>14066372
ain't nothing inherently chill about winds in a hurricane, anon.

Constantly falling
Into a deeper silence
That cuts and mutilates
My soul and being

The year's at the spring
Day's at the morn
Mornin's at seven
The Hillside's dew-pearled

The lark's on the wing
The snail's on the horn
God's in his heaven
All's right with the world.

>>14066440
nice rhyme scheme going on.

If you ever see some of my work
You're gonna want to know about me
And to me you'll all know about me
You wanna know
I'm living the life
This is my last and final shot
I ain't even tryna kill myself
This is my last
One more moment, I'm gonna be real
'Cause this motherfucker's mine
I got the feeling that some nigga's always watching
And he tryna find some reason to kill me
And if you ever hear some of my shit
You'll know why, 'cause we gon die
And to me you'll all know about me
But if you ever find some of my shit
You'll all know about me
I'm coming home
To make a comeback
My body is tired
My body needs a rest
I'm back in the city
I'm come back to make a comeback
No more drugs

>>14063900
I know you know this is trite and shallow

>>14066378
yes, that would be an appropriate use for an adjective: there is something different about the noun than our usual conception of it.

Like Jesus,
I would like to
Check your vibes
Bro

Star light, star bright,
Last star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have slept instead of having the sun in my sight

>>14065273
Delirium, delirium;
Unending anguish, fatigue and tedium.

Is this better?

this is a trick! the formal properties of a 4chan post preclude earnest attempts at poetry! every verse is witnessed as ironic shitposting first and sincere art second!!
checkmate!!!!

>>14063520
reading this, especially the 3rd and 4th stanza make me dizzy, and reading it all out loud it sounds quite flat.

>>14063900
lol, overuse of full stops and commas and is a bit too wordy for what it is saying - maybe concentrating on a few more striking images.

>>14066234
10/10

>>14066346
bit too much repitition of box and boxed, sorta stands out and doesn't really pay off. the ending is eh? ok so there was good music, but just saying that don't mean much, it doesn't really gel. Nostalgia is a fine emotion, but you don't seem to focus on any really particular elements and instead just jump around different themes.

>>14066352
really like some of the phrasing, but the comma and dashes detract, the first line of the second stanza really pops out as good, if not for the clumsy comma after sunken and the dash in wave-like. also, instead of tombs I might have used mounds, as it fits in more with the theme of the hills and nature. The perspective seems to be that of the valley itself? that is what I guess from 'among me here'. not sure what you meant by the call of stationed trees, alluding to them guarding the valley maybe? It just doesn't seem like the right word - maybe guarding or sentry or another word would fit better, Like it though, needs some work.

>>14066400
e d g e

>>14066440
is that you robert browning? lol

>>14066608
reads more like a song then a poem - subject matter is somewhat trite, doesn't really seem to develop into anything more then an inwards looking pep talk.

>>14066875
last line could be trimmed a little to 'slept instead of having sun in sight' to make it fit in with the other lines. good work.
I ain't written anything for a while, except for today and am still in the process of working it out, rewriting it and such so it is really just an early draft.

Deaf you shouting I can't hear
that cloud misery flap lip open mouth
feel air feel spit, know hate by taste -
To bear it; you'll kill me, I'll die
I'm fragile, you know too much -
I care, broken will, filthy nest.
Sound of mind, thump wild
inside, beating never stops, break
my heart, steal breath, leave me dry;
Fast and slow you're killing me and
you know, you know, you know.

"Tied like a monkey's tail."
I said, "It's better to sleep than to wake up on a Wednesday night"
This guy was like a drunkard.
A bunch of guys that you'd never see in real life, a bunch of guys
that were in the Army
They'd walk with the wind through a forest, they'd get out of bed at night, they'd say: "Here we go again" They'd stand around watching TV in front of a wall that was broken all the way through. They'd come out of the TV room and walk from room to room
So I said: "It's better to sleep than to wake up on a Wednesday night"

All of a sudden a bunch of guys like me in the Army
Just walked through the desert
In the heat of the day
With a stick in our hands
We called them "Nets" (you never saw anything like them before) A bunch of guys got in our car,
All of a sudden some car crashed into us and one of the guys died.

>>14067006
i posted it as a joke, it is an unfinished bob dylan song that never got released officially. some of the wording is guessed or just mumbled because it wasn't done

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcD4iX3dhF4

My emptiness is swollen shut
Always a wretch I have become
So empty

i got fat bags of skunk,
i got white owl blunts,
and i'm bout to go get lifted,
yes i'm bout to go get lifted.
i got myself a forty,
i got myself a shorty,
and i'm bout to go and stick it,
yes i'm bout to go and stick it.

bump

>>14065816
Thank you :)

>>14055287
would appreciate some feedback on two shitpoems i put a lot of effort into recently:


forlorn amidst the stars the moon did hang
and graced mine eyes with lonely pallid sheen
but Hark! an unknown man appeared who sang:
come gaze upon the maiden i have seen
whose massive, youthful breasts be in full bloom,
fair milkers larger than the moon above,
bazingas big enough to make thou coom,
so huge i think; perhapst thou fall in love!
and gaze i did upon her mommy jugs,
whose radiance did revel 'gainst the moon's,
and thought of that orb --never giving hugs--
of then embracing her two big balloons.

mine heart had made its final decision:
look on her tits with all your precision,
forget ye yonder moon, and all the rest,
she has her own twin moons upon her chest!

2nd one:

fair lass, thy figure disconcerts the sun!
with incandescence twice to daze and stun,
and soft tumescence, which when placed against Apollo,
shame and make him weep and wallow!

>>14055287
i have one i wrote recently and its really silly :)

Repairing another God’s mistakes.
Dismantled your solitonic woes.
Threads now zigzag, no longer burn straight.
Temporal amalgamation called home.

We warp, we weave, we augment reality.
Nature’s most vicious antithesis.
What can I say? Time’s for you and me
to create ourselves a bastard genesis.

With one small cut, our world is now in a rut.
Portals open, demons infest my backyard.
Gravity intensifies; feels like I’ma die.
Transformative galaxy of avant-garde.

Tweaking the first dimension needs no gratuity.
Myopic escalation is what we all do.
Simply marvel the act of mortal ingenuity
‘cause someday you’ll never be able to.

It was a dark and stormy night
Clouds were yelling at each other
All stars were looking for their light
Silver tears fell for their mother
The moon went missing that blue night

Hidden was under my cover
My blue-pale mistress of the night

She was mine for me to love her

Purple blanket
Fingers looking
Whispers blooming
Through siver thighs.

Every month we steal each other
My glowing bride ruling the night

asphyxiation;
a sense of dread
and alienation
a broken mirror
drowning in a well

Possessed dispossessed possessed dispossessed and possessed once more

>He tries to remember how much hot water
>the landlords said they would send.
>He stands in the shower
>And gathers his power
>And waits for the good times to end.

Foul night turns into day,
Blessed is thee who has nothing to say
Morning grey and evening green
Looming psyche beaten
unseen

This board is being fucked in the ass, very little replies, random threads.

>>14055804
genuinely good

poo poo
in the loo
shart fart
in the mart

cosmic justice
is just piss
we live in shit
and that is it

>>14060164
based emo zoomer

At 12 o'clock I wake up
Half the day gone already
With coffee I fill my cup
Stay inside and watch the telly

>>14063520
based sroke poet, I cant even be sure if this is proper english or not.

>>14066608
troubled disparaged youth / 10

>>14067252
Jesus this place has gone to shit, I remember when going through this threads was a pleasurable experience, even @ this makes me feel dirty, its not even worthy of criticism.

If Marriage gives a happiness to life,
Such must be the woman who'll be my wife:
Beauteous as height of fancy can express,
Meek in her nature, cleanly in her dress,
Wise without pride, and pleasing without art,
With a cheerful aspect, and an honest heart,
To sooth my cares, most high, most kind her tongue:
In looser hours, in hours more dull, still dear,
A gay companion, and a friend sincere,
Fond without folly, spirituous without rage,
And as in her youth, so in her age,
Great powers above, if such a woman be,
Such could you make, that woman give to me,
She would as wife please, and she alone,
Oh, give me such a wife, — or give me none.

>>14074275
Ok, this is the cringiest shit I've read itt. Artless incel/waifu crap.

i made this a long as fuck time ago, feel free to call me a faggot

a treason is committed in jest
at a court long dead
the 12 men will not rise
nor shall the defendant nor the plaintiff
the judge is but dust
yet still does the heart beat

"I did, yes"
as the mocking of the dead fires became more and more silent
"and as such I plead for ashes"
the jester queen smiled, and with a rise of her finger mocked your twisting flesh
"yet you won't give me such mercy"
in the foliege lied hidden a muse, her knowledge infinite, her tears a murder
"for I wouldn't either"

the ash remains unchanged
the court remains dead
a treason was committed in jest

good work fren
(i'm new to the whole poetry thing btw and don't get my work critiqued near as much as i should so here goes nuthin)

off a bed of sicily
sits a lowly pear tree
glistening of ivory
as i stay still

sits a woman under oak
and she does begin to choke
whails her last breath and croak
as i stay

off the old cape of hope
sits a giant hanging rope
with the man enclosed once elope
as i

as falls the last fruit from trees
as man trembles to their knees
as god and i seem to meet
we both laugh

>>14070753
based

>>14074343
Fais l'amour

>>14055287
I read it in a frogs voice

>>14075314
Do you like poetry butts?

>>14067252
>>14067388
>>14074275
Anon, I...

>>14075318
Haven't much of an ear for it, I'm afraid.

>>14075330
come on man, im not saying >>14074275 its a masterpiece but theres just no way you mention it in the same breath as >>14067252 .That abomination is at least 3 levels removed in term of quality.

Amen
A man amends to mend but bends
Earthward, as if to crawl as earthworm,
Of flesh I have but this to say:
Holds sway for a day and then is lost,
Least we grow attached, to that wretched word,
At long last dread, I welcome you home,

The head, the head, the head
is the house of man says men,
And the heart is a ghost long dead,
Skylark signals daily toil,
Shredded our bark, exposed the soil,
I am lost, not a word to say,
I spit up my bread, born labor of a day,
I was easy and was made afraid,

It is as if by knife I'm flayed,
Broken downward of a spine I'm splayed,
Broken aspirations, downward driven, knelt to pray,
My goals far gone, now to kiss the grown I've walked upon,

Behold! The Creative-Nothing nothing created!
Aspirations of creativity are my only liability,
When this world is if as one with futility,
Gorging fire, youth cruel pyre, forging on till I expire,

Mind, oh god, dear god,
Lift away my every sorrow,
And let me borrow for today,
The strength you would've had tomorrow,

Alas, such crevasse mind cannot surpass,
And in the ilk of silk-like muzzle,
Ailing muscle, in short time it will collapse,

Once severed from this sweet illusion,
Like a verse from the poet’s hearth delusion,
All that's depraved endowed onto our kind,
My thoughts slaved by this pollution,
that now remains within enshrined,

It is I, orphan of time and circumstance,
As it stands, past me, can’t help to be,
but what he has already been,
Can't see, blind and mute, to soothe his soul
he plays the lute, too bad the fool's tone deaf,
With plea I've turned to face my future self,
Only to have that man advert my gaze,

Somehow that day I dared to dream,
And today I dare to dream again,
bitterness and gratitude, hope and despair,
it all melts together, nothing left spared,
Until you are left cold and wet, a castaway,
you've cast your die, now walk away,
Shivering, eyes wide open, no tears to weep,
but at least, no longer asleep.

>>14069095
really solid finale on the first one, I love doggerel and cheekyneess, but perhaps a bit too reiterative on the mid seccion; if you catch my drift.

We are the night who wander in our day
On the lonely grass where our stars grow out
And our children of the night, the dead,
The dead, are the children of our dreams.
When the wind stirs the flowers of the fields
And the suns fall of the night with the light
Of your tears, and we in the twilight, our children,
Are the children of dreams.
When the sun in the day-sets brings back the night,
And we in the twilight, our children, shall be
The children in dreams.
This game is so simple, but so rich, in its way, and the difficulty and how one progresses is so interesting.
I have played this game, but once, nay, twice, and it was very simple for me, but it was not enough for myself.

Cursèd be it ever to hear the bells of love
That ring in every lonely way,
A man will be found in the town and there,
He will be on the doorstep of every one,
And the house will be full of laughter,
And that man will be the one that makes that
(Oh, I do! I did! I did! I did!)
That man will be the one that gives a man
A little bit of his heart to play with.
Cursèd be it ever again to hear the bell of heart
That ringeth in every lonely way,
A man will be found in the town and there,
He will be on the doorstep of every one,
And he will be on the doorstep of everyone,
And that man will be the one that makes that complete.

>>14056204
>>14058267
>>14058277
>>14058311
>>14060433
>>14061503
>>14066608
>>14067252
Only interesting ones in this thread desu

>>14067388
>>14075330
that was song lyrics from a neutral milk hotel song

>>14055287
needs a title or more lines bcos i wouldn't have know it was about halloween if you hadn't told me.

>>14075858
I'm super into this one man. Got any advice for a pleb who wants to write rhythmic poetry?

bump

There broke at last the eery moon
among the screaming stormy skies
as etherial as trust and vice
arosen by those bloody lies:
That drowsy every passion dies!
You went too soon, too soon, too soon

>>14076889
Just read a lot, the entirety of my approach to poetry are poetry /crit/ threads from 2016-2018 so the quality of said poetry certainly doesn't matter, just expose yourself to a platitude of perspectives, vocabulary and mental patterns, hell, this one on particular was inspired by the way some schizo poster typed out. I'm not a native English speaker and I've never read classics apart the odd one being posted or Emily Bronte.

>>14056046
Resonates with me, maybe up the variation
>>14056124
man, no
>>14056204
is this satire?
>>14056874
pretty gay man

I think I live in a wax museum
in Texas in July.
The A/C is broken
and the visitors have begun squatting
pitching their hand sewn tents
waiting for the day to end
so they can pillage the manager's desk.
The shrieks from the bathroom
sound like a radio show from the Pleistocene—
I think my spleen has given up;
I think this dream has had enough.
I'm quitting,
severance pay not expected.
Thank you for my service.

Hell, what's it matter anyway?
Waking up an hour past dark,
killing time.
each minute's a little soldier in a trench
burn it, gas it, do anything but look at it,
because you don't want to remember,
all the minutes gone.

Hell, what's it matter anyways?
The crunch of leaves or the crunch of snow,
it's just a short walk to the car.
It's just a short drive,
a short 8 hours.
a short 5 days.
finally, waking past dark again.
those little minutes with their uniforms on,
lambs to the slaughter.

Hell, what's it matter anyway?
Just another
damn day.

>>14078673
I wrote the first 2 poems u replied to

>>14055804
good stuff, read Trethewey if you haven’t

>>14078737
that's cool

The half-dead dogs on the road
Forever poked with a stick
For them, either bite or explode
Then the laughter of a kid
At the grim parade of bugs.

One good day a pack of them
Hardly breathing said.

We are the insects ridden
Barely living half-dead dogs
We disapprove the mocking and the poking
From the never stopping youngsters armed with sticks
We demand fairer treating
And softer or no beating
Since we refrain from biting.

But the children didn't bark.

>>14075814
Well I didn't like either.

>>14069370
Idk, it's not bad. The vocab is fun but words like backyard feel eh when you use these other sort of terms.

>>14078704
>Texas in July.
I like that band.

>>14055804
Seems sorta Faulkner inspired I like this one

>>14055287
roses are red,
violets are blue
I want to die
sob sob boohoo

She's as good to do
A-leaping as her brother.
There's no more than a day
To me that I can see her
Lifting her cloak for journey.
Her cloak is lovely, pretty
'Makes her seem 'gainst us all.
But that's she who'll tell all,
And tell us her tale of love,
And we will believe it.
There's a man who will give her no harm
Nor harm herself to do;
'Makes me feel so sorry,
Like an empty soul. I'll leave
'Ere morning comes, for she's the best
To teach us 'bout our souls.
But I'd tell her of that woman
Who is a saint of her time;
I'd tell of how she loves her
And lives in such affection
That she does us all a service.

>>14079243
i didn't know it was a band—neato

Oh boy, where do I start?
My life's a shart,
beauty everywhere I'm not—
Oh boy it's a shart:
wet, ripe, and unexpected,
the byproduct soiled pants,
an overdrive of shame
(oh the shame, what a game)
and a world of fingers are pointing,
"oh boy, are you disappointing"—
that's our heavenly father
(oh boy, have I sinned),
he shakes his head down on me
judging me: doody and pee.
From golden child to human debris,
I've lost count of counting on me
(oh boy, please don't let it be)
Synergy! Between the sense!
Nevermind, there're barbed fences—
see the term turmoil embroils stern boils
of the soul, Krakatoan, population recoil.
This soil, the grave I'm digging
towards China, a tunnel the size of Priapussy,
there's no end to this existential tushy.
The colors deceive so deceptively,
what resolution this reality,
so intentionally.
Oh boy, just please don't mention me
(to yourself, to me, the wretched fleas).

Merry nuncles' boast rose the weary chittlin'
Fit to burst first, now jest made the sides a hurtin'
In in or out for both ends are tremblin'
rockin' forth as it's held in
No more say please
It's coming out
I need
I need
I need relief.


Too late! The cry, my nuncle pointed
Saw to light my fate consonant
Mouth and Hand and Foot applause
A merry jingle nuncle forced

Pry hither to the simple course
of trumpets, drums and pipes i'd eaten
digestin' they'd made a rythm
and nuncle'd sang along

"You see" he said, "You saw" he sang
"The bells!" he rang, "The bells! the bells!"
"The bells of Notre-Dame!"

He lept towards to fireplace
and snatched the mantle from it's cage
and draped now did deform
he creaked and croaked before he turned
his face contorted
eyes lop quartered
wriggling under the dusty cloth
he paused, then his hands burst forth

"I saw it all, I speak the truth"
"I was up there in the roof"
"In the rafter with the mice"
"In the scaffolds a device"
"I, Quasimodo saw"
"The what the who the how"
"But why but why but why"

First serious try at poetry

As I walked my dog along the road
I noticed that sun had begun to show
I heard the song of a chick freshly hatched
I heard the mewlings of a now waking cat
I saw rats and snakes rush for the gutter
As the sprinklers revived with a shutter
And I was left watching the morning sky
As the dead king once more began to rise
To reclaim his kingdom from rogue night
And delight peasants with his noble sight
Till the light within his heart fade again
Leaving night to reign and none to defend
I notice now that I had dropped the leash
And my dog was watching the sky with me

>>14080590
I like it, it feels really self indulgent and childish but that's the point. I can very much imagine some rich child who had a falling out with his parents and was cut off from the family wealth saying something like this

not a barrier an enclave, it is fallow and in fealty reached
an anger that was always there; virago
where the air would breathe, and whimpers and love where not,
idle mimicry where not, days crimped forward
on better rocks, on vespers and tenors where not;
while i was stuck to bed and chewing resin i was
nor a tanner nor a steward; when i thought hard
on the not-pain, age fell back but i did not

a zither cried a baleful plume
escaped strung into the room
a pity forged of time and space
alone i thought alone i was
but for the zither
and the cause

If you see this while scrolling,
you have been visited
by Heavenly Pete

He knows you're very tired
and will end peacefully
your life in your sleep

But only if you reply
in this thread, "Kill me, Pete" -
six (you)s me entreat:

>Kill me Pete, Kill me Pete, Kill
>me Pete, Kill me Pete, Kill
>me Pete, Kill me Pete

All around me, they're writhing
A mass yearns for respite
Alone then I sleep.

>>14055348
very comfy indeed, anon. if you like this sort of comfy poems, read some of masaoka shiki's haiku. have a comfy nite

>>14081070

Bump

Women march along yearnshallow Eyes
Children's Laughter tradesing pained Blood
Distances nod
Blossoms wave
Come collect wind
Suffocate strangle damp the tear Maw

Olfactory memories
make viscous air

-

Put on your jacket
And hold my hand
Let's share an umbrella

>>14081078
>not basho

commercial restroom
mosaic mind unsheathed return to limpid,
placid
will to continue undecided,
unabashedly the only way forward, unironically the success is given furtively to those who speak only with their mouths shut

So here's one I wrote at hopital when I was a kid (like 14/15 y/o or something). I was learning english at the time (keep learning bcs it's not my native languaje) and I know it'll probably be useless crap, but make me feel nostalgic.

Mother, mother, look at my brothers:
they hurt themselves and hurt each others,
they're gonna kill you like my father

Mother? Mother? Do you hear
my voice, my pain, my blood and fear...
Does that means that single tear?

Mother, mother, does exist
light or dark is all we keep?

hope someone likes the last one
gonna wing one for this thread now

3 drops divvvied between four boys
taking from the well, it seems too easy until one attempts to take the chance already missed as ideas for damage control arise in steady escalation, cascading around you, bouncing off your glass wall, nothing is felt as the signs of doom waver and falter before your carefully crafted, well-forged indifference, ironically, thoroughly reinforced, genuinely intended to repel whatever level of irrelevant contention with the only the smoothest reflections, verifiably set to exact specifications at least as far as friction, resistance, viscosity, and absolute sex appeal go
perfectly defended
leave me alone

Toes die
Breath melts to Lead
Fingers in hot Needles curl up
Spine snails
Ears hum Tea
The Fire
Chunks
And
High in Heaven
Slurps
Your skeletal Heart
Wrinkleding
Cracklesed
Welled
Boil Sleep

***

The Night weighs on your Eyes
Weariness flicks and teas
The Enemy de-nestles
The Pipe chums
Lost
And
Every Space
Shiver
Shrinksome
Small

***

Woe burrows
Await stares in Horror
Birth rattling
Bears span his Limbs
The Hour bleeds
Question raising the Eye
Time giving Birth
Exhaustion
Juvenate
The
Death

yellow is my happy color.
the color of the sun, sweet kaya and honey,
the oil paint that she bought me for my birthday; which was only a year ago today.

bright and bold- just like her; she added life to my dull canvas with just a single stroke.
the image of her mustard dress and golden curls blowing in the wind, plastered in my mind- further fuels my fantasy and the fire of my desire.


the remains of my heart burn there, or atleast a couple shards of it- 9 months of my life that I now reminisce.

The Sky casts Clouds
And chatters to Smoke
Flashing Spikes
Feet rock dusted Gravel
Eyes chuckle into Confusion
And
Deferment

and above all
I know
that I know
that above all
I do not know
anything

>>14082399
I like this one

>>14082632
Thanks anon, here's another one

Heart sunken in sorrow
Eyes weary, hollow
A barren blackened landscape
In every direction I go

Bump

>it's a nobody responds to other peoples poems chapter

>>14075858
Solid

>>14082399
so you don't know? not a big fan of this style desu. >>14082743
I like this one a lot more. It's not as kitchy. The micro poem thing gives me a bit of rupi vibes tho ngl.

>>14084167
critique mine then. I'm the anon above


Sometimes when I walk home I feel lonely, I think.
The rain patters on the grey concrete,
on the black asphalt, on my jacket.
The cars zooming by, too loud, and creating mist with their tires
They place me in a cloud. A cold, wet, encapsulating haze.
To mark the time passing I look back.
The sun inside me shining out, my face radiating in a summer daze

My internal states never present themselves so clearly.
Shock accompanies others boldly proclaiming how they feel,
Jealously too. Everything always feels like too much.
Like the mist response to the car stimulus,
Like the dog bark to pavlov’s bell,
The rocket follows the libido’s trail.

I continually feel on the brink of coming of age.
One of these days, things will be steady.
But that sounds domestic and monotonous and post-industrial
in the worst way. How can I aspire to want something
that I don’t? Those stoic walks home.
Trains blaring, cars passing, the time is too, mist and foliage all around.

Here’s one from inside the bathroom stall (not mine)

here I sit
all broken hearted
came to shit
but only farted

>>14084757
I don't hate it, but it feels rather self-indulgent and some of the word choices seem forced

>>14085122
can you be more specific anon

I made this sonnet for fun like thirty minutes ago

When the John was but a boy, scared of night,
His mother would sing a song of merry
And wonder that charmed a lord of delight
Who called for his most wild subject, Harry.

He was ordered to cross the sunder
Man forged in order to protect their world
From likes of spirits, and fey, and other
And teach the boy of Diana's splender.

For once in his life harry did as told
And pranced across ancient Avalon's shore
And surfed through an ocean of souls old
And climed high hill to knock merlin's door.

When no answer came from within the tree,
He snuck along bard pass, where manland be.

>>14084757
First stanza: I feel you. Reads like prose, though.
>The sun inside me shining out, my face radiating in a summer daze
I think you cannot just throw such a line out. This is more of a Whitman kind of jubilee's song type of deal. It's also not jubilant enough. If I misread missunderstand the line: is it my fault?

Second stanza: More of the same prosy stuff. Mundane observations.
>Like the mist response to the car stimulus,
>Like the dog bark to pavlov’s bell,
>The rocket follows the libido’s trail.
These I don't get. This is what the other anon meant with "forced". If you say "like ...", your comparison should make my spine tingle, I suppose, which these lines don't. Grasping for ideas, feels like.

Third stanza: More of the same.
>But that sounds domestic and monotonous and post-industrial
Too intellectual for my taste, intellectual in a juvenile kind of way. Big wordy puffs of pipe-flavoured vape steam.
>Trains blaring, cars passing, the time is too, mist and foliage all around.
This is honestly beautiful. I read it like: time is, too, mist and foliage all around; your time is mist and foliage all around. Really very beautiful.

All in all: too unpoetic, too prosy, too limply smart-ass (the rocket follows the libidos trail etc. such lines dont work without some pompous frenchman looking very serious saying them, tricking you into believing they are profound. Maybe they are profound, I don't know, I do know that they make me feel nothing but a slight wince). Maybe condense your stuff into a shorter poem. It gets pretty repetitive.

>>14055287
Violets and daffodils
Are very pretty
If you ask me
But
You are prettier
Than any flower
Because you are
A strong and powerful
Woman

>>14055287
It takes great
Courage
To face your greatest
Fear
It takes great strength
To allow yourself to shed a
Tear
But sometimes courage
and strength
are not enough
Sometimes
The answer is
Tenderness

>>14055287
What good times were to an aging
man, lonlier times were for me.
Once fear and trepidation had
endlessly churned in my being
nothing was left but the reflection
Of still water

Him, I met before I could fret
a fact I'd never forget.

My first breath
crowned in bloody wreath
weak and frail
he was there, and stilled a ghastly wail.

The first years my eyes shone
with the light of his heavenly throne,
and I learnt to mumble to gogo-ga-ga.
I saw my first death, my pale little brotha.

From baby blues to baby grieve,
School was not very kind to me.
I spoke without thought, ill wit
yeah, I was a nasty little git,
to friends and family both,
until one day, my father discipline loath
picked me up and said:
"Be honest and kind to your mother,
As for the rest of the world, I don't give a damn.
But that woman is a saint, the jewel in my eye
I don't know what I'd do if I ever see her cry"

I was thirty before I understood
and met someone who saw in me what nobody else would.
She wasn't a saint nor my mother,
but I still don't know what to do when she cries.

Yeah, it wasn't all easy and there was some bad
but I think I did well with the means that I had.
We had kids, they are both now grown
Then she left me and I was again on my own.
She wasn't a saint, nor was she my mother
but I'll never love another.

It's been a few years now since I saw my wife last
I don't know where she lives, or with whom
I heard she had cancer, but I know she'll stand fast
I don't want to meet my kids at my wife's tomb.

My parents are long since dead
Once in a while I visit them, and reflect on what my father said.
I know I wasn't perfect, but by God I loved her
and my kids too, I never loved any other.
All I hope now is that,
When I get home in wooden dress
he will greet me: Father bless!

>>14075858
How do you work on rhythm? I find that to be the most difficult part.

>>14082399
pseud

>>14086153
The rhymes legit ruin this one. It's one of the very few I like from this thread, but the rhymes invariably undercut any beauty created in each couple of lines.

>>14086003
ah..

>>14087788
She may be
weary
Them young girls they do get wearied
Wearing
that same old
shaggy dress, yeah, yeah
But when
she gets weary
Try
a little tenderness, yeah, yeah

Man once noble crawls aground
as maggot upon a wound
his wings which glow'd with Eros' light
he clipped with Vulcan's tools
his works aground are grey and stark
yeasty man devoured the world,
now crawls in his fungous tomb

>>14087854
you don't even believe the words you write

>>14087858
I wish I didn't

>>14087854
The very definition of tepid
Apply yourself

Here are the young men,
the weight on their shoulders,
Here are the young men,
well where have they been?
We knocked on the doors
of Hell's darker chamber,
Pushed to the limit,
we dragged ourselves in,
Watched from the wings
as the scenes were replaying,
We saw ourselves now
as we never had seen.
Portrayal of the trauma
and degeneration,
The sorrows we suffered
and never were free.
Weary inside,
now our heart's lost forever,
Can't replace the fear,
or the thrill of the chase,
Each ritual showed up the door
for our wanderings,
Open then shut,
then slammed in our face.

>>14087869
I liked it

>>14087873
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMAB3r6EjcM

bump

>>14086153
I am really looking for some feedback on this

>>14087766
Some of the rhymes are undercooked, I know.

>>14087854
Excessive gloom and perversion for its own sake is just edgy and takes away from the effect you're trying to produce. Cut or dilute some of the disgust imagery and the poem would be a lot more palatable. Feels poorly thought out, like this was written in thirty seconds.

The Watchman steps out,
Onto the moonlit tower.

Through warm sandstone tunnels,
Veins of the palace behind him,
The brown-skinned servant girl brings
Jugs of blood-red wine
To ugly men in beautiful clothes.
Perhaps a stray hand that thinks itself fatherly
Will stray where it shouldn't,
And her throat will fill with silent protests,
Stifled by the sneering, sticky warmth
Of the dense air and the sweaty palms
And agitated words that she understands too well
Although she does not know the language.

The Watchman sighs.

Here he is free.
Here the air is dry and crisp,
And free of distractions.
He breathes deeply,
And his lungs fill with silence,
His eyes with the silver moonlight
That turns the sands to snow.
Here he is free,
And here he is himself.

His lighter cuts the night,
A spark of light in the dark,
Of being in nothing,
And he lights a cigarette.

His wife gave him that lighter,
That perfect glowing metaphor,
Marking his existence in the dark and
Marked with his own name.
His wife, with the gapped buck teeth,
Who snored like rolling thunder.
His wife, with a small pot-belly
And cellulite on her ass
And two chins when she looked too far down.
His wife, who was so distant from
The fat men in the tight suits with the pitstains
In the palace.

The Watchman takes a pull,
And the silence breaks with the gentle hiss of hooves on sand.

A rider in black,
A smudge of ink on the white sand canvas,
Sits atop a pale horse and waves.
The Watchman waves back,
Then the bullet cuts cleanly through his forehead
And his skull explodes behind him into bloody shards.

A world ends in a moment,
With no warning,
Leaving nothing but a pot-bellied widow and a cigarette in the sand.

The Aegean came to the Irish Sea today.

The rugged, coarse rocks and
Tight grasses that seem so grimly Gaelic
When the sky is low and dead
Today come alive with Hellenic hue,
And the salt-white sunlight sparkles on the sea
Like sweet sweat on the soft, brown flesh
Of a Cretan dancer.

Where sharp winds on other days whip forth
The smells of seaweed and slurry,
Today the air is still and round,
Thick with heat and rich with
Olives and summer wines.

The Aegean came to the Irish sea today,
And tonight the Daghda's halls shall ring
With the songs of nymphs
And fair Apollo's gilded lute.

>>14085964
I appreciate the feedback anon.

>First stanza
The idea was supposed to be that it's cloudy, gloomy, I feel down, and when I look back at the past I remember myself being happy and the weather being sunny. But if this doesn't come through, that's my fault.

>second stanza
The last two lines are a reference to Gravity's rainbow. I think it's obvious enough for people who have read it. The idea is supposed to be that when people say how they feel as if it's obvious to them my response is to be surprised and jealous. And that this response is conditioned in me like slothrop's erection and pavlov's dogs.

>Third Stanza
maybe it is too faux-intellectual but that is really how it strikes me, that things being steady so maybe I just need to rephrase that in a more convincing manner.

All in all, thank you for the feedback, it is very helpful.

I decided to write some sparse poetry, not just the poetry of the plays I work on, which needs to be more understandable. I am allowing myself to be less intelligible, to leave more blanks, resisting the temptation to use a more immediate style.

I finished this poem, but I think it needs a lot of revision. I am thinking of writing poetry just for myself and for training; gives a good feeling of freedom.

The English translation is mine. The original is in Portuguese.

Astronomers do not eat with the mind
More than an almond from the feast of the suns;
What the human pupil palpatates is but a peep
From the opera of countless nightingales.

Their compasses - arrows with sterile sting -
Try to fork certainties in the mists of the spaces;
Their telescopes - dogs that only eat gardens for dinner -
Get lost inside the Amazon of angels and stars.

The fires of the most ferine brains
Are mites gnawing a grain of dust
In the castle of a thousand Babels of the cosmos;
From the face of Eden they see a single pore, and nothing more.

Human reasoning sharpening its keys
It's but the caged tango of a germ inside a drop of water,
A drop from an occult sea, but one that is alive:
A warm-blooded vacuum, a nothing that breathes.

Even if we possessed all galaxies
- Submarine that opened the abysses into nudity
And collected the confession of every single lampfish -
The surface and the heavens - the beyond - would be nothing but muteness.

Our finite knowledge – a semi-swollen mosquito -
Has sucked only a single droplet of the blood of truth,
But the Hercules of the Cosmos his extinction slap
Shall give before the sapiens reaches even his puberty.

Not to-be frightens us, shadowy is its citadel
But that is where we will embrace - that is where we will be - eternity.

>>14089891

This is the original:

Astrônomos não comem com a mente
Mais que uma amêndoa do festim dos sóis;
O que a pupila humana apalpa é um pio
Da ópera de incontáveis rouxinóis.

Suas bússolas – flechas com ferrão estéril –
Tentam garfar certezas na névoa dos espaços;
Seus telescópios – cães que só jantam jardins –
Perdem-se dentro da Amazônia de anjos e astros.

Os incêndios dos mais ferinos cérebros
São ácaros roendo um grão de pó
No castelo de mil Babéis do cosmo;
Do rosto do Éden veem um poro, e é só.

O raciocínio humano a afiar chaves
É só o tango enjaulado de um germe em gota d’água,
Gota de um mar oculto, porém vivo:
Vácuo de sangue quente, um respirante nada.

Mesmo que todas as galáxias possuíssemos
- Submarino que abrisse abismos em nudez
E a confissão colhesse com todo peixe-lâmpada –
A superfície e os céus – o além – seriam só mudez.

Nosso saber finito – mosquito semi-inchado –
Sugou só uma gotícula do sangue da verdade,
Mas o Hércules do Cosmo seu tapa de extinção
Dará antes mesmo que o sapiens chegue à puberdade.

O não ser nos dá medo, sombria é sua cidade,
Mas é lá que abraçaremos – é lá que seremos – a eternidade.

>>14085884
>keep on posting in crit threads
>everyone keeps ignoring me
>can never tell if what i made is bad or just extremely mediocre and unremarkable
Authors for this feel

>>14090481
me, you can read one of my poems right here itt
would be cool if you judged it too *wink wink*

the bet between two japanese soldiers concearning the killing of 150 men by sword (nanking massacre)

regarding the now famous contest
between the two eager swordsmen
we wish to inform you that
whoever wins the bet will be
rewarded a great sum of money
as per degree of his majesty

>>14085884
>>14090481
you're supposed to critique someone before posting your own

In sight of sky and
grasp of ground
the promise of green in sweet air.
I flourish

She

she is an ideal, a construct.
sweet and ferocious
calm and quite witty

a conflict in two tones
to beg is to pray, I become nothing
but a soft solitary moan

>>14055287
Icon

keen in fourkind
sight
a gaze all-knowing
wit
with sweet milk
touch
to feel history
smell
of mother and man

My mind aflame, a night unslept, spent and wept.
May my merry passion alight her fire unseen.
To make fire, a smile may be shorn, quiet in repose.
Her secret fire burns, but who for?
It is secret in virtue.

>>14091196
Take Rilke's advice to heart: If you are a novice poet, don't write about Love or Woman; write about more specific things, things more unique to you; because it is difficult to write a poem about Love that does not suck hairy ass.

>>14091230
Write about things that are in your room, things that happend in your day, smaller stuff. The big topics are too crowded.

Roast on the pyre
Supper is dire
My mind afire
This kitchen is haywire

>>14055287
cute
>>14055348
makes me horny
>>14055517
I'll never experience youthful love/10
>>14055647
silent and bildungsroman-pilled
>>14055681
autistic and evocative
>>14055804
roman after rome fell vibes
>>14055827
hilariously horrid homosexuality
>>14056046
it's a wormy one... you're invited to be an npc in my dreams
>>14056124
your life is empty... fren
>>14056204
this is not a songwriting thread
>>14056874
my dick is erect
>>14056920
i dislike this in my gut
>>14057922
baby knowledge of arising and passing away
>>14058093
poopoo peepee doodoo
yes I am mentally challenged on a daily basis.
>>14058118
go to the west young man
>>14058267
this confuses me
>>14058277
>>14058311
haha
>>14060133
decay
>>14060164
start emo metal band
>>14060241
sonder me up reddit
>>14060433
everything is a spook except logos
>>14060523
uh oh stinky
>>14060858
go write for a metal band
>>14060864
beginning of a good movie
>>14060973
yes[gay] india sanitation ministry

oh god there's too much fuck poetry

a bone-breaking
jaw-crushing
skull squeegee

creaky
cracking
crash
a man bleeds to death
A GASH!

brown in passing; blue in speech
green is here, but red just eats.

Purple comes quickly with a rat-pack of seven,
eleven and one, yellow hums
around and around again

again the colors bristle and bustle
tussle and mum about

>>14091316
>god there's too much fuck poetry
>site filled by hundreds if not thousands of repressed souls has a lot to say, not all of it good
Not surprising

>>14091348
bro im retard i dont have a future

>>14091368
Anon we all have a future
It may not be good, it may not be bad, but there's always something there

Keep Rolling
Rolling
rolling

The predilection to foresee the mind
at the present time
You will not realize the thing you want to find
quite the paradigm

Keep Rolling
Rolling
rolling

>>14091316
>autistic and evocative
is this a good or a bad thing?

bless you for reading all that stuff and responding, though

I summoned up the living dead
And demons in the skies
I drank from chalice warm and red
And watched the virgin die
Present at ungodly births in holy paradise
I spread eternal dark on earth
And raped the mother of christ

I summoned up the living dead
And demons in the skies
I drank from chalice warm and red
And watched the virgin die
Present at ungodly births in holy paradise
I spread eternal night on earth
And rape the mother of christ

A very noble youth

Rage and action
Thunder and light
Forced abreaction
In a barrow-side fight

Love’s labors bound
In filial piety
When your dear sister’s drowned
What shall thy folly make of thee?

Another and another,
Tragic phenomenon,
Can you call yourself a brother
When your sister’s dead and gone?

To thine own peace be brought,
Though thy vengeance you pursue,
You play at valiant Lancelot
But to thine own self be true.

Thy vengeance ill-begotten
When thine envenomed sword you drew,
Died forgiven but forgotten;
There’s remembrance in rue.

>>14092329
Based poem inspired by one of my favorite shakespeare characters
Reads well and connects the theme of the play with his story
>>14092067
Ow the edge, might want to tone it down
>>14091545
Never really liked the brisk and to the point style poems but I think I like this.
>>14091954
>tfw the guy going out of his way to respond to as many people as possible still didn't respond to me

>>14089626
>>14089631
Amateurish and puerile, it always reaches for the low hanging fruit when it comes to evoke the classic antiquity themes it goes for. Probably watched 300 last saturday and masturbated to the scene of the oracle girl.

>>14092329
A notch above its competition.

>>14069370
I like this one.

>>14091342
Feels sticky

>>14055348
>leafs

Sir, I hate niggers,
They sure smell bad
and each of them triggers
my flashbacks to Leningrad

Sir, I hate blacks,
They steal everything,
and look a bit like poo,
don't you just think?

Sir, I hate coons,
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's,
let's put them back in the dunes,
where they won't rape our madames

Sir, I hate the spooks,
they only read neoplatonic books,
they only speak in oogas, eeks and ooks
I hate them even more than the gooks.

Fuck niggers

>>14094017
Based
>>14092329
Very nice
>>14092067
Too edgy
>>14091545
I think I’m just too stupid, but I didn’t understand it
>>14091342
Based schizo
>>14091243
I like it, simple
>>14091205
This one I don’t get either but still like
>>14091187
Another simple but good one
>>14090741
Kinda edgy
>>14089891
Beautiful

Here’s the third one (I think I’ve made for this thread)

Churning sea, death is near
Atop the rocks I have no fear
Smooth white granite, in the sun
Battle with the waves is never done
Dark sharp rocks, moss coated casualties
The ocean won’t win with ease

I couldn’t get the meter perfect, but I’m still happy with it

>>14093169
>>14094622
limp bizkit'd

finna dab on them niggas
finna dab on them hoes
yet still I give pause and think
is this truly the life I've chose?

Those words we uttered once and yet no more
A time when youthful spring had made its stand
Love found to have a wound it must endure
A heart once held between two wary hands

Our play was one foretold across the ages,
A passion far too deep to ever last
My fingers for too long explored its pages,
And doubt delivered present unto past

But if she were to whisper unto me
Soft words of satin still upon my ear,
Her beauty for two tired eyes to see
Could rid the woes of love beyond our years

For though I like to think that I've found peace within our pain,
I yearn for her return one day that maybe, we could change

I wait in my car for an hour
a jack in the box parking lot
on I-5
looking at people
getting gas
taking breaks
im not lonely here
but im not with anyone

>>14094654
Very insightful look into the process of self-reflection.

>>14060241
I really like this

>>14094654
A portrait of the shitposter as an old man
Beautiful anon

0 monetary compensation
The janitor sits in frustration
As another thread appears
His face begins to pour with tears
As the janitor sits and seethes
He hits the "BAN" button with much ease
User was banned for this post
But the anon comes back for a toast,
a clinking sound can be heard
as the pepe utters these words:
"FUCK the kikes, FUCK niggers, FUCK spics, FUCK gooks, and most importantly, FUCK the janitors"

>>14095505
GET THIS MAN OUTTA HERE HE'S TOO BASED

a sensation arises from my chest
at once, i knew what i was about to do
quickly, my mouth is covered by my wrest
achoo

>>14095627
Based and talented

>>14094666
Textbook millenial poem

Bump

>>14055287
the white lillies
drenching down the golden pond
of gamer girl pee

I always take the car to work every morning, it has become a habit, even if it would be slower. One day I was driving down the street and I crashed, that happens every now and then and there's nothing really to do about it. There was an old stranger at the site, he was wearing rags and an old hat. He witnessed my last moments and in my last moments I witnessed him. I wonder what he was about thinking then, I wonder what he was thinking after. Maybe he didn't care, maybe the whole ordeal didn't concern him. Maybe he was shocked, maybe his dead hat almost tipped off of his head. I don't know, I couldn't see his eyes. Or could I? I don't remember. Not that that matters now though; I'm dead.

>>14097425
Fuck what is grammar

invisible
with hands outstretched
the world moves through my concious death
between the turns
i take recess
amid the cess, amid it all
scrawled heiroglyphs
adorn the walls
of these library toilet stalls
inevitable
as gurney marks
on double doors in hospitals
just passing through
the passing rats acknowledge me
acknowledge that
im past my best

>>14098187
the idea of gurney marks on double doors in hospitals is good
the rest...eh........

Bump

a shadow
a stare
a miraculous affair
something hidden something rare
boldly comes and boldly dares
no one knows and no one cares
of what I am writing

infinite resignation
looming sensations
boiling blood
yearning heart
freezing cold
feeling dark
bursting red
blooming white
heavy yet
so so light

bu,mp

To the south where the green green leaves and blossoms and
Flowers of the trees give shade for the sun.
And so it will be: the sun to the west will see the
Sky in the western sky, while to the east a white
Blue-crowned, Shining one; a star-shade to the north,
And the moon in the south—this is the place.
At the end, my lord; and we must not forget, my lord,
That the sun-drenched earth is the place of death.