>>23393338
Oblivion
Is my name
Hell is more
Of the same
Here again, and I didn’t know it
Browns, grays, blues and golds
And holes, holes, holes
Falling, without gravity
Falling
Horizontally
And getting tripped all the time
God
I’m out of time

O CHRYSTE, it is a grief for me to tell;
HOW manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte
In fyghtynge for Kynge Harrold noblie fell,
Al sleyne in Hastyngs feeld in bloudie fyghte.
O sea! our teeming donore han thy floude,
Han anie fructuous entendement,
Thou wouldst have rose and sank wyth tydes of bloude,
Before Duke Wyllyam's knyghts han hither went;
Whose cowart arrows manie erles sleyne,
And brued the feeld wyth bloude as season rayne.

And of his knyghtes did eke full manie die,
All passyng hie, of mickle myghte echone,
Whose poygnant arrowes, typp'd with destynie,
Caus'd manie wydowes to make myckle mone.
Lordynges, avaunt, that chycken-harted are,
From out of hearynge quicklie now deparle;
Full well I wote, to synge of bloudie warre
Will greeve your tenderlie and mayden harte.
Go, do the weaklie womman inn mann's geare,
And scond your mansion if grymm war come there.

Soone as the erlie maten belle was tolde,
And sonne was come to byd us all good daie,
Bothe armies on the feeld, both brave and bolde,
Prepar'd for fyghte in champyon arraie.
As when two bulles, destynde for Hocktide fyghte,
Are yoked bie the necke within a sparre,
Theie rend the erthe, and travellyrs affryghte,
Lackynge to gage the sportive bloudie warre;
Soe lacked Harroldes menne to come to blowes,
The Normans lacked for to wielde their bowes.

Mother's carpet matched her drapes
she built up static on them
produced a field for grazing cows
to wander and to low in

polar bears shorn close beseech the farmer for his subsidies
his fallow widow lactates syrup
for their bare necessities

ground control to ursa major,
Tom's a minor inconvenience
divining futures in the pastures
"show the rod and spare no lenience"

said the king of Babylon, his whoring
wife Delilah with him
darning socks of Samsonite
for fetishists to wear and sniff em

poring over manuscripts and marginalia?
stick with dynamite and it'll never fail ya

Tom's cooking up anarchic schemes
and dreaming of a better linen
to drape across the nakedness
of all his father's mother's children

conical her titties, long her dugs,
she never should have given Aldous drugs

so bravely manufactured by
machine-predicted laborers
whose future selves earn salaries
to free indebted embryos

womb suspension sweatshop amniotics
wrung from all of those
who lack the sense to sense the corpse
that's hanging from a garden hose

in deep Edenic thickets on the pubis
of the farmer's wife
who levels barrels at the boy
for monkeying with death and life

and fancying a cosmonaut who barked his shins
and gnashed his teeth on bones then made a crown of them

there's Uncle, he walks on all fours
driven from his habitat
penis long as yarrow stalks
and scarely quite as thick as that

the King now shows his hand in mortal sympathy
he'd never knowed or crowed a cock as limp as thee

I, Ching Chong, the chinaman
beheld the calving bergs unfurling
brackish bricks of soda pop
No-zone left and cameras rolling

filmy substance, oil slick
atop the poor boy's Coca Cola
Tommy asked the Who-man
could he maybe borrow his Corolla

but conversion's still forthcoming
catalytic proselyte
"your ruddy hooded ornament
shall not adorn my sleigh tonight"

and that's when Tom exhausted pinched the candle light

and so the father and the son
side by side embosom-ed
push up daisies and brassieres
hereafter quite un-cozen-ed

~~~~

the Energizer bunny beats a reveille
and charges Mother then and there with battery

We tell each other
such good stories
Don't we,
you and I?

Sturdy hardwood table stories
-sawdust clogging up our lungs-
We hammer nail and nail and nail,
we sand out every ridge. We

look each other in our sturdy hardwood eyes,
pass the milk and sugar,
cough.
We will ask no questions.

We sneak downstairs with
buckets full of wood glue,
with hammers, clamps, and hope.
We turn our eyes from splinters.

We tell each other
such good stories
Don't we,
you and I?

Dryrot matchbook tinder stories
-thick smoke closing up our throats-
Flames dance on hardwood promises and
we retch out swallowed words.

Pages of a book we never meant to write
eaten word by word by word–
And still,
we vomit stories.

>>23393385
superb rhythm, "vomit" at the end felt like too much of a tone shift

>>23393366
Idk about the Bowie reference dominating it. It's got some really strong bits which makes the lows like that more obvious.
>>23394499
Regurgitate or other alternatives I can think of for anon don't necessarily fit better. I'm not getting the same tonal shift you're getting because the refrain is essentially a chiasm

>>23393342
7/10
good

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For those interested i did some translations from Leopardi.

> https://micz.substack.com/p/the-infinite
> https://micz.substack.com/p/to-the-moon
> https://micz.substack.com/p/to-himself

>>23395435
Nice.
Depressing but nice.

>>23395083
Not that Anon, but "expel" could work instead of vomit

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>>23393338
古井戸のくらきに落る椿哉

>>23395824
>>23395083
>>23394499

Thanks so much to all of you for the feedback. I struggled a lot with that final stanza and changed it around a bunch of times. I'm still not completely satisfied with it.

>>23395435
Thanks anon

can anyone recommend books on french versification/poetry theory (in french)? thanks!

Stinging electric
Burning so hectic,
A fire erupts,
Over the mountain I go.
Energy lost,
but at what cost?
Delay and delay
I knew this day,
Yet another one lost,
Would cum.

>>23393366
good, ignore critque, continue

hate to ask here but does anyone have the screencap of that really long critique of The Tiger that was posted here?

When I look at you looking back at me,
do eyes speak of longing, or wariness?

All is time wasted it feels, but slumber.
In dreams it seems, remains the only place
where fondly you still speak, to love me yet.

A thousand regrets for hurting you, for
coldly leaving you in such disgraced lack.
I wish I could take my selfishness back,
and instead, have chosen to love you more.

There is no punishment severe enough,
save for the loss, of he who cherished me.

The Bitter Sin

Beneath mine flesh, my bones doth rot,
A putrid stench, a loathsome blot,
Mine eyes are wet, my skin doth crawl,
In this bitter sin, I am enthralled.

A spectre fades, prospects bleak,
So numbed by dreams I dare not seek.
I cannot shake the fear that grips,
A terror deep, that never slips.

To be so wicked, to be so weak--
Darkness festers, my soul doth leak.
Consumed am I, by this dread plight,
This pathetic struggle, no end in sight.

If God above would share his grace,
To feel his blessing kiss my face,
Would be a terror I could not abide,
For where does sin from soul divide?

To find absolution or be alone,
With sins for which I cannot atone,
Each disturbs me, so bittersweet
Ever haunting, till death I meet.

Within my mind, worms writhe and feed,
Perhaps a curse, or a promised seed,
Of something that could make me whole,
Or defy my heart and seize control.

Mine flesh turns black, my fingers shake,
Bones curling back to bend and break,
Mine eyes bulge out, my skin is peeled,
But this bitter sin’s more painful still.

>>23393338
bump, reposting one of mine
In this dream do you know me how I knew you?
Lucid woe transmuted, a blindfold of bliss named "we"
Mind lost to gardens, lotus flowers and wine.
Intoxicating pools of the eye, level in reciprocity,
like marbles on glass, dancing exchanges, trembles breath.
For the continuance of these, nothing I wouldn't do

In wake the walk with Thanatos ceasless and true
Clutching soil, dragged behind he "Which shatters first against me?"
"Sword or withered will? To rip you of these the pleasure is mine"
"Surrender" fate of dreams summized, ο θάνατος είναι βεβαιότητα
"Exorcise they, see in me. Within mortals peace is without"
treble so in death
Submission, headlong towards infinity, mind pales in its enormity
You, ceaseless end, adversary of form, gift of God, thankless wonder!
All grows weary, my tired head rests on you.

>>23395435
Say anon how did you grow your Substack? I tried shilling it all over the place but no luck.
Nice poetry BTW.

>>23396369
>failed nofap

Sometimes, I get high enough, see far enough, up over into the sunstream.

Sometimes I get high enough, listen deeply, love fate such, that I pretend I see God; but we're just playing around.

I'm not dead yet.

I never smoked; I rarely drink;
And other drugs? Surely no way!
(
Stretch marks came to be
on my sagging upper arm.
I gnawed them like a trapped fox
until welts started to emerge.

When my thoughts came coldly,
the only thing that felt warm
were platinum-steel aftershocks
from a flowing red surge.

As I started to get so heavy
that my breathing began to alarm,
I started a regular food detox;
every binge begets a purge.

Though they didn't know me,
I was swooned by their charm.
Was I to know love unblocks
A half-inch ceramic gorge?
)
Who'd need those things we know are bad
To just get by the day to day?

>>23395083
>the Bowie reference dominating it
Yeah that's fair. I wrote this in a single manic episode and I guess bowie was on the mind.
>>23396601
Thank you. I have difficulty discerning when my shit stinks. Glad to know this doesn't.

>>23393342
has potential, with a little rhyme and meter symmetry

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>>23393346
this poem was stolen from "Battle of Hastings" by Chatterton Thomas

>>23398730
you posted this on reddit?

There is a french poetry contest in my city. It's local, and open to anyone, so I want to participate. I speak and read French as a second language, but have never written poetry in French.

Are there any 'rules' or things I should know about writing poetry in another language? Or particularly big differences between french and english poetry structure?

bmp

兀然と
湿田の
ぬし
ダ
イ
サ
ギ
よ

a waterlogged field
its owner stands motionless
the great white egret!

AUTOBIOGRAPHY AS A RUN-ON SENTENCE

I've always been an autocannibal;
ouroboring through myself
to find the paper shem—
golem-hearted with a taste
for smoke and phoenix feathers,
coughing up my voice box I'm
perpetually unglued—
open-faced flat affect,
fast and naked on my feet,
wind calls me by my first name;
I pretend I didn't hear it.

>>23401930
surprisingly consistant and coherent for slam poetry

The ascetic way

I led you into the dark wood with a spear.
You slaughtered, destroyed and prospered.
I went to the desert and gazed at the celestial bodies.
I felt alone and melancholy.
If you were to meet me on the god-like mountain.
You would spit at my sermon.
Nietzche was sincere, when he wept.
I wished to have kissed his stress etched head.
Sincerity is a gift that I didn't show.
It would have guided you like a torch illuminating your soul.
The wiccan forest wouldn't have smited you with emptiness.
Who am I to philosophize? Or brood?
I misread Schopenhauer. I laughed with Stirner.
We destroyed Carthage, now we must resurrect her.
You must put to death the flesh and nourish the spiritual flame.
Breathe and watch the azure blue ebb.
I don't want to embark into the gentle garden alone.

>>23398698
damn Im working this around in my head to have stronger meter, its really close. I dont want to post it cuz it has good potential but its worth sprucing up a bit

>>23393338
well since I already published my good stuff on another site, and dont want to be associated with 4chan, I guess I have to come up with one and lose it to anonimity

>>23402577
Can someone critique this? I know I misspelt some words because I just typed it out quickly as it flowed

>>23397525
damn dude. greek too? I mean I learned french and latin cuz my favorite poets would at times include it in their work but jeez. Either way narratively its quite confusing

>>23402720
i appreciate the references but they kinda need to be contextual in (a) narrative. it kinda sounds like a mash up of concepts from various authors, which, by itself isnt bad, many of my favorite poets did the same, but should encompass a central plot. it feels like I'm moving from one set to another. for example who does "leading whoever into the wood/they slaughtered, prospered" tie into the central narrative? Its just kind of a thing that happened. In other words, subjects and ideas need to mesh together with the references used.
l particularly like:
>Sincerity is a gift that I didn't show.
>It would have guided you like a torch illuminating your soul.
mostly because it comes close to a symmetrical meter and rhyme. I like most of it as it is, but if it were me, I would try better connecting the references I use with a central idea or plot. Then the reader can better tie your vision with the references you chose.
text is really bad at adequately conveying what tf Im trying to explain

>>23402577
remove the name drops of philosophers, use poetic imagery to communicate ideas rather than using names as a crutch
>I led you into the dark wood with a spear.
dangling modifier. you are leading him with a spear or he has the spear? obviously it's clarified by the next line but still poor wording
>You must put to death the flesh and nourish the spiritual flame.
too on the nose, too naive and primitive for the 21st century, since you clearly don't have any good ideas at least be more obscure about it so it isn't obvious
obviously there isn't really any poetic form to critique, if you write a poem without any sonic qualities like this then the ideas and imagery behind it have to be even better than if you had written one with meter and rhyme. your imagery and rhetoric is better than your ideas but I still don't think it is enough to justify the almost complete lack of any kind of sonic devices

>>23402803
Thanks man, I appreciate your thoughtful feedback. I want to be good at expressing myself through poetry but it's very difficult

>>23402816
damn I used an unclear modifier in criticizing you for it, time to commit seppuku

>>23402819
I understood you perfectly, its not the time for death yet

>>23402803
>>23402816
You really seem to know what you're talking about. It almost makes me feel inadequate. Any literature you can recommend to learn more about writing and analyzing poetry?

>>23402853
>You really seem to know what you're talking about.
that's a mistake
even if I were to recommend something like ABC of reading or the essays of various poets like Poe and Eliot, ultimately what they are doing is basically just bullshitting and spewing their own ideas that they learned not from any proven technique but from their own ideas they literally made up just from writing and reading poetry, for example when I said that you should have stronger imagery and stronger idea if you're going to write a poem with less sonic qualities, I literally just made that up, I've never seen anyone else say that. It's the same for everyone who ever wrote anything about poetry except when they happened to have also written good poems, we think that their theory must be good (even though nobody really actively applies theory when writing poems, it's all just intuition). Poetry is the loosest and most bullshittery artform so basically either what you write is considered "good" or it isn't, and sometimes you might get a correlation between how "good" people think your poems are and how much you practice writing them and reading them. But you will DEFINITELY come up with a bunch of bullshit ideas of what makes poetry "good" on the way and you will probably end up disagreeing with whatever you might have read from other poets on what makes a good poem. l

The ascetic way

I led you into the dark wood, bestowing you a spear.
You slaughtered, destroyed and prospered.
I was then drawn to the desert and gazed at the celestial bodies.
I felt alone and melancholic.
Now if you were to meet me on the god-like mountain.
You would spit at my sermon.
Decrying "heretic" with a war beating spirit.
Nietzche was sincere, when he wept.
So let me attempt genuinty.
I wished to have kissed the philosopher on his woren stress etched head.
Sincerity is a gift that I didn't show you.
It would have guided you like a torch illuminating your soul.
The wiccan forest wouldn't have smited you with emptiness.
Who am I to philosophize? Or brood?
I laughed mocking laughter and burnt strange beauty.
We destroyed Carthage, now we must resurrect her.
Deny the will and let the ethereal flame quiver
Breathe and watch the azure blue ebb.
I don't want to embark into the tranquil garden alone.

Is this any better? I'm starting to feel it

>>23402884
Not the same guy. I wrote "The Bitter Sin" above. I've always felt the same way, that you can't actually learn anything practical with philosophy books, or whatever, not just regarding poetry, or literature in general or... I suppose I mean that no one else's individual experience holds anymore weight than your own.

Well, you said "dangling modifier" and "sonic devices" with such confidence I felt like you knew something that I didn't. That being said, maybe I'll take your whole spiel on "bullshittery" to heart and approach the topic with more conviction. Much respect.

>>23402585
What do you mean by stronger meter? I'd actually appreciate feedback, that was the third poem I've written in my life lmao.

>>23402905
The first four lines are strong. I appreciate the contrast between the dark woods and the desert, if developed further to better highlight this contrast it would be stronger. However, I feel it might benefit from a transitional line between the two, as it feels abrupt. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Concerning lines 5-9. First, I will point out that genuity is not a word, you should use genuineness or "to be genuine". But then again, poets invent new words all the time. Lines 5-7 seem to contribute the most to the theme. They seem to imply a complicated relationship with god, or perhaps a rejection of the themes earlier in the poem? So currently my interpretation is that the speaker was once a strong advocate of a certain philosophy but has since come to reject those ideas, and now feels a deep regret. Overall, the biggest problem for me is the way the lines flow. There is a lot of clutter you could eliminate for a clearer and more concise message. For instance:

"Now if you were to meet me on the god-like mountain."

Could be changed to"

"Were we to meet on that god-like mountain."

You could use this extra space to add more imagery, like:

"Were we to meet on that god-like mountain, whose eyes gaze towards the heavens."

(That's just an example, I'm sure you can come up with something better) It would carry greater weight.

Lines 10-13 are the best lines of the piece overall. All I can say is, woren should be worn. "Wouldn't have smited you" could be changed to "would not have smote you". Nothing wrong with contractions, just the word smited is clunky and archaic and if you change that, the rhythm is better without the contraction. The torch metaphor is effective and can be kept as is. As you get further in the poem, the verses improve significantly, so I feel like you built up steam as you went on. Forgive my disorganization, but you should develop everything prior to these lines more.


Lines 14-end. I feel these contribute to the supposed theme of regret. These are solid. The only changes I would make are to shorten the line, "I laughed mocking laughter and burnt strange beauty" as it feels unnecessarily clunky. Perhaps just to, "I mocked and laughed and burned strange beauty." It's up to you though. I don't think burnt is being used correctly though, pretty sure it should be burned, even if it doesn't sound as whimsical. Lastly, "Deny the will and let the ethereal flame quiver" feels like it jumps between two ideas in a jarring way. It's a great line, but is a little clunky and brings me out of it a bit. You could simply change it too, "Deny the will so the ethereal flame may quiver". This draws a greater connection between these two ideas, and marries them, while previously it seemed to imply they were separate. Sorry, that one may be a bit nitpicky. You want to establish a causal effect, is what I interpret, which isn't clearly demonstrated.

I like it.

>>23402926
It's a short poem, but I like it. It's not longer than it needs to be.

There's not too much to say here. The first line is good, except for the last part, "up over into the sunstream." is very clunky. I will offer suggestions, but since the poem is so short I'll let you figure it out on your own, unless you ask.

The second line is strong, evokes a sense of introspection. The only thing I would change is that semi-colon. I love semicolons too, but it would be better as a comma. If you want me to get nitpicky, "Love fate such," could be slightly reworked. Maybe just remove the comma afterwards so it flows better and is clearer. Or, fuck it, I'll suggest something:

"Love fate so fully"

Feel free to ignore that suggestion.

Third line, could be left as is. For my personal taste, I feel it doesn't transition so well and is a little jarring. This makes it punchy, leaves an impact, but this is at the expense of the overall flow. Consider adding a "But," or "Still," to the start of it to improve the flow and rhythm. However, the abruptness has an appeal of its own, so you could also just let it be.

There's not much you can change here, really, but I tried my best to offer feedback. Not to say it's a masterpiece, or anything, don't get cocky. Can a three line poem really truly display any mastery? I guess this is the age of Instagram poetry, so who am I to speak. Not trying to put you down, but I'm not here to jack you off either.

>>23402926
Not the same guy, btw.

>>23402995
Thanks for your incredible feedback. I'm glad that you liked it overall. I have heard your criticisms and I'm working on using them to shape my poem

>>23402453
Thanks haha. I'd like to write more poems with a structured style/format/meter, but my brain is very smooth

>>23403269
No problem, it was fun. I like that your poem had actual substance, which many modern poets tend to eschew in favor of word salad or a sort of obnoxious sentiment. Not to say sentiment itself is wrong, I suppose poems are mostly sentiment. Anyways, I would like to read your next draft, if you'd care to post it here when you're finished.

>>23400097
I never claimed it was my poem
You're such an ignorant poetrylet that i guarentee you had to google it because you didn't recognise chatterton's poetry immediatly like any person with more than a passing knowledge of poetry would
the poems i post bless these threads, you post no poetry in them

>>23404029
>coping this hard for being found out

just take the L you megalomaniac bitch

>>23402926
it just means working the words into a rhythm like:
7 syllables
4 syllables
5 syllables

7
4
5 etc

it doent need to be exact, but a consistant pattern (meter) makes things sound good

>>23405219
That’s not how rhythm works

>>23404029
You're a pretentious asshole.

>>23405003
This is a poetry sharing thread. He can post whatever the fuck he wants. Why don't you drop it instead?

>>23405249
>This is a poetry sharing thread

you are correct. not a poetry stealing thread. Everywhere else in the world cites the source of works and quotes. its actually the easiest fucking thing to do, but this plagairist NEVER does. there is absolutely zero reason not to. he will come up with every excuse in the world not to. What does that lead me to suspect?

>>23405243
a rhythm is a repeating pattern, like a music beat. if a pattern is asymmetrical, its a polyrhythmic. As long as it repeats, its a rhythm

>>23405003
>>23405329
HE LITERALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHO CHATTERTON WAS BEFORE GOOGLING THE POEM I POSTED
HE COULDN'T RECOGNISE CHATTERTONS MOST FAMOUS POEM IMMEDIATLY
HE IS A COMPLTE POETRYLET

>>23405681
this woman is having an episode

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Je suis bercé par dame pluie
Mais je sais qu'à mon réveil
Ma compagne de cette nuit
Me quittera pour le soleil

>>23405329
What do you think he's trying to accomplish? What devious scheme do you think you're revealing?
>by Chatterton Thomas
By Rowley according to Chatterton.

Taken

You can’t see it happening, but your soul eats these words underneath
A clear experience you can’t see
Happening like photosynthesis.

It takes a while for currents to bloom, and they bloomed an ego
Of vines and thorns and drawn out
Sap from grasping infant hands.

You can’t see it happening, but your roots are monstrous and rotten
Banished under a bed of temples
Pressured into a synapse marriage.

It takes a while to outgrow daisy chains, and the ages break you
Out with blue spark fireworks
From the fork in the wounded wall.

You can’t see it happening, but you’re smitten with a carrion crow
Looking out your loafer chimney
Croaking down your blackout coal.

It takes a while to decode makeup, and the archons keep on cloning
The abject search of a landmine toy
Plants in a fossil’s first breath.

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Beer is good,
beer is nice,
but have you ever thought
about having no vice?

>>23405941
Hello, I’ve read your poem. I’m still working through it so I will save my opinion for the end. If you’re posting this, I assume you want feedback so I will provide it to you, since that is what I want to do. Please remember to trust your own judgment.

There is a lot of imagery and metaphor packed tightly into this poem. It’s a lot to work through, and is rather ambiguous. I’m going to take it piece by piece.
|
“You can’t see it happening, but your soul eats these words underneath
A clear experience you can’t see”

Perhaps in reference to something one cannot reconcile. It’s said your mind will subconsciously pick up on things you don’t directly notice. Perhaps something was said to the subject, or it’s in reference to changes in the world around them. I think it implies a sort of corruption, greed, hunger, when spoken of in relation to the soul. I would add a comma to the end of the lines, for clarity as I wanted to read this as a single sentence, which was confusing. Either skip out on punctuation altogether, or keep it consistent, so I at least know when one idea ends.. Also, I think it’s a little too vague. Specifically, you mention “these words”, but I couldn’t find anything later in the poem that provided context for what this meant. You could call it a mystery, I call it a distraction. Maybe just add an adjective, or something. Sorry, for the disorganization, but this is a lot of work. I just want to add that I don’t feel the line “A clear experience you can’t see” adds anything. I wouldn’t say it detracts, but it just says the same thing as the previous line in a more obvious way. Also, “clear experience” itself is a bit of an oxymoron. Consider developing or describing what this experience is meant to be.

“Happening like photosynthesis.”

First of the nature metaphors, which provide a good contrast to the metaphors later in the poem. I will touch on this again later. Photosynthesis is an invisible process, but always happening in the background. This is a plant’s vital essence and the source of all life. This is how new energy is introduced into the ecosystem, but to most of the world, it goes completely unnoticed. So, currently, we have the subject, who is consuming what nature provides while unaware of what they have been given. I like this line, but it could use more imagery and also doesn’t tie in to the previous lines as well as it could. I will provide a suggestion. I would say,

“Materializing silently, like photosynthesis.”

I don’t care if you use it, you are also free to ignore any of my suggestions. There will be more to come. I also might get tired and go to bed halfway through.

>>23405941
>>23406131
“It takes a while for currents to bloom, and they bloomed an ego
Of vines and thorns and drawn out
Sap from grasping infant hands.”

More metaphors that develop the theme. I believe this is in reference to aging. As an infant, there is only the id. The vines are like the superego, which is the authority that reigns in our desires.The thorns are the pains along the way that check our ego. The reference to “sap from infants hands” I believe is meant to imply that as we grow, we are drawing a sort of vital essence, ichor from our id, or that innocence must be consumed so that we can grow. So, in order to form our sense of selves, we must do away with something important to us on a primal level. The use of the word “bloom” implies that, ultimately, this is a positive change.

The metaphor in the first line refers to currents blooming. You should stick to either the water or the plant metaphor, and not mix them in such close proximity to one another. Also, the first line could be trimmed for readability and to not be repetitive and clunky. “It takes a while” can become simply, “Slowly”. Bloom needs to only be referenced once. Currents could stay, but you should make it clear that this refers to a personal change if you are going to keep it. I will try to provide direct suggestions sparingly, but I feel I need to demonstrate what I mean:

“Slowly, a certain ovum blooms, begetting ego,”

I did more than just clarify the metaphor, I also added imagery and alliteration. Notice the way each word flows into the next, passing a baton, so to speak. Each word contains a sound of the next. This isn’t strictly necessary, but I feel can add a lot to a verse. Also, by using the word ovum and begetting, this ties this metaphor to the metaphor of an infant at the end, marrying the stanza into a consistent message. I feel like it may seem like I’m trying to talk down to you, I assure you I am taking your piece seriously and not trying to lecture you.

>>23405941
>>23406260
“You can’t see it happening, but your roots are monstrous and rotten”

So, this line is saying the subject has become corrupted, maybe referring to their perspective or ideology, but they are also unaware of the changes. Probably further developing on the idea that innocence/desire must be curtailed in favor of growth. The part “roots are” is hard to say and breaks the meter. Consider “roots grow” or “roots became”. Otherwise, a great line, it fits the theme really well.

“Banished under a bed of temples”

Implies that this corruption is covered up by a holy or sentimental veneer. Good rhythm, no changes needed. Well, except maybe add a comma but I’ve already said that previously.

“Pressured into a synapse marriage.”

Implies that this was not entirely the subjects fault, but it has become a part of them. I like the reference to synapses because they are just like roots themselves. It’s a great metaphor. You could swap the word synapse to synaptic and remove the “a”. So it would be, “Pressured into synaptic marriage.” Which I feel flows better and is easier to understand.

>>23393338
Hi peoples of /pg/, I'm new to pottery and have read pieces here once or twice that really made me contemplate a scene or emotion, but I can't really tell you what is it about it that made me engage with it.
Is there such a thing as 'entry-level' poetry? Something that will resonate with new readers?

>>23401097

Les mois froids, hivernales, toujours durent trop.
J'attends l’air ouvert et je désire ma rue.
Je désire un vin vert, en dehors des bistros,
Et tes épaules de miel, dorées, toutes nues

Un été sans toi, A quoi servent ces couleurs?
Je veux une tempête, sans fin, un orage.
Je veux de la glace. Congeler ces douleurs.
Parce que ces rayons laissent juste un brulage.

>>23406305
Tryna write in french, as an anglophone.

What do you my francobros think?

>>23406304
I suppose it depends on what you mean by "entry level." Freeverse tends to be less complex in terms of meter and style, so it may be a good place to start. Are you interested in finding more poetry to read? Or would you like to write poetry yourself?

>>23406311
I don't think I'm made for writing it, but I do think about it a lot. Something about describing a small scene or moment so beautifully and efficiently appeals to my sensibilities in a way nothing else does.
I wish I had the vocabulary needed to write haikus, that's the stuff right there.
Maybe that's what I'm really looking for, Haikus, do you know Haikus, anon?

>>23406330
Yes, haikus are a lot of fun! I don't know much about them, but my understanding is that they are very different in Japanese than they are in English. Still, I enjoy reading ones written in English.

>>23406262
>>23405941
“It takes a while to outgrow daisy chains, and the ages break you
Out with blue spark fireworks
From the fork in the wounded wall.”

Just doing it stanza by stanza now, this is taking too long. Daisy chains imply a certain naivety or childlike sentiment, which is broken by age/time/external influences. The next line directly contradicts it, implying this is a rapid, explosive change. The next line reasserts this by speaking of a fork, like a fork in the road, so a critical decision. The damaged wall probably implies a chink in emotional defenses, or a certain vulnerability from past trauma. The only thing I dislike about this stanza, which took me some time to work through but overall I find very compelling is that “the ages break you” is a bit generic in comparison to the rest of the stanza.

“You can’t see it happening, but you’re smitten with a carrion crow
Looking out your loafer chimney
Croaking down your blackout coal.”

The imagery shifts from being natural to more industrial. The first line mentions a carrion crow, perhaps it's saying that what the subject idolizes feeds on the suffering of others? The line about looking up a chimney could maybe be a reference to pollution destroying nature. Nature seems to have symbolized childlike innocence so far, so perhaps just another aging metaphor? I don’t know what a loafer chimney is supposed to be. I just think of a chimney with a pair of shoes on it. The crow sitting up there and watching seems benign, which adds to the idea that this corruption is unnoticed. The croaking line seems to imply that the crow is swallowing the smoke, which I guess means it’s feeding on the subject's corruption. Or maybe, it’s saying the crow is the dark influence. This stanza is a bit vague and abstract and doesn’t seem to have a unifying metaphor.

It takes a while to decode makeup, and the archons keep on cloning
The abject search of a landmine toy
Plants in a fossil’s first breath.


First line mentions makeup, which implies a superficial mask of sorts that we must look past to see the deception. The reference to archons, which are like elder deities, probably implies that some greater power facilitates or perpetuates this deception, probably in reference to government bodies or authority, but could be in reference to the natural order. The next line probably implies the subject wastes their time looking for manufactured threats (landmine) that aren’t real (toy) in order to distract from the true source of their troubles. The final line indicates that this is a long running deceit, and is probably the result of human nature or a reflection of how animals behave. I don’t have any suggestions that haven’t already been stated prior. Your poem got stronger as it went on.

>>23405941
>>23406334
Overall, I think it’s a powerful and thought provoking poem that was a lot of fun to analyze. The average person probably would just come away confused, but also the average person doesn’t read poetry anyways. I could probably say more, but I’m out of time. If you have any specific areas you want to focus on and would like my suggestions or guidance, I’ll probably check back into this thread tomorrow. Of course, my opinions hold no greater weight than your own. It’s really well done, but I’d prefer poetry that doesn’t read so much like prose. Again, very dense imagery and metaphor, extremely rich. Feel like I need to shut my brain off for a bit after this. Probably should have just written this up as a document and sent a pastebin link, but too late now.

>>23405854
getting internet kudos and praise like every other terminally online psychopath. megalomaniacs arent deep

Abdication of Truth

I’m denouncing myself
By drawing shut my curtains
Or else sentiment would intoxicate me
With yearning for things that will never be seen.

Outside my window
There is a dark corona
That my eyes cannot penetrate.
And if no bright shadows alight upon the veil
I'll soon forget what I can no longer see.

Yet, I remember the stagnant water
And its unyielding surface.
I clambered for a blurry glimpse of my reflection
But I drowned myself instead.

Finally, I am relenting.
There is no Christ here,
Only the gentlest distillation.
Though nescience has no scent
It is a sweet perfume to me.

>>23393338
Gay faggot fart fuck
How can it be so
I'm a big gay faggot fuck fart fucker

Fuck this fart that farts and fart to fuck
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Oh I see that fuck
Fart fuck faggot

Plz rate

>>23407745
Good meter on the two lines. Third line is a little off. Try "I'm a big gay faggot fart fucker." instead. It's very evocative, but could use some more imagery and the second line is a little generic.

Second stanza is rather weak and seems to just be saying the exact same thing as the first stanza. Honestly, you could probably just remove it and you wouldn't really lose anything, although it's clear you've worked hard on it.

Third stanza is perfect and doesn't need any changes.

Overall, I'd say it's probably better than most poems shared here, but could still use a lot of work.

Tiger, tiger, you are neat
Seeing you's a real big treat

>>23407862
Very funny, very clever. Why don't you go back to plebbit, little man.

>>23406131
Hi, thanks for giving me the time for your feedback on this poem. I'm glad it's interested you enough to offer such detailed and intimate feedback. I see you've analyzed until the fourth stanza, so I'll obscure my writing process where appropriate until you've finished (if you're interested in finishing, of course). I don't know how much I'll obfuscate though, since you've picked up on much I wished to convey. Though I'll warn you that my process is somewhat obscured from myself anyhow, both because it's quite an old poem of mine; I also tend to write in a sort of trance that makes certain things difficult to recall and have to partially rely on confabulation.

You've picked up on the ambiguity in the first stanza. My idea was that a blind and wanton attitude would indifferently devour any and all words with a ravenous immediacy, including the ones which comprise the rest of the poem. I thought that the rest of the poem describes that experience. I hoped the indistinctness of "these words" would point to the omnipresence and impartiality of an enormous gaping mouth, thus implying the moral degradation that you're accurately picking up on. That aside, I agree with (what seems to be) your take that this stanza's pretty plain. I'm just not sure how I want to colour it yet.
I agree that the punctuation could use some change. A semicolon or dash at the end of the first line might do nicely, but I don't agree that a comma is desirable at the end of the second (for example). I feel that line-breaks are gift that allows the compounding of subtly different accents of meaning. "A clear experience that you can't see, happening like" and "A clear experience that you can't see happening, like" are both implied by a line-break. In the first case the happening refers to the clear experience, and in the second the idea that you can't see it happening is emphasised. The ambiguity induced by unconventional syntax is frequently advocated as a poetic essential by theorists (see Revolution in poetic language by Kristeva, for example - I'll talk more about her soon). I dunno if the fullstops at the end of the stanzas are necessary either in retrospect, since stanza breaks already sufficiently affect a pause

>>23406260
You're point to something v important here, namely the eternality of the id re. primary narcissism and abjection. There is no growth without the recurrence of the self-refutation prompted by the superego, which ejected the infant from its primitive boundlessness. The idea that awareness resides solely in a crystalized ego doesn't reflect reality in my opinion.
Consider how merely refraining "It takes a while", and repeating "bloom" reflects both growth and this recurrence that you've identified. "Currents" is a nice pun on berries and the underlying forces we're speaking of, of which I made plant metaphors. I also think water and plants mix quite well in proximity when speaking of growth, especially in the frame of photosynthesis.
That aside, I think your suggestion is beautifully written and I'd like to write more in the future in this archaic style

>>23407927
Hi, I've finished everything, actually. You must have missed it. See

>>23406334

I was a little tired when I wrote it, though. You can, of course, do whatever you like regarding punctuation. I was just informing you, as a reader, I found this made the reading experience slightly more annoying. Also, I don't really care what some random white lady has to say. There are no real rules in poetry, especially modern poetry which is quickly becoming obsolete anyways. As long as you enjoy what you're writing, that all that really matters.

Oh punish the sinners!
Oh punish them now!

The punishments form, doesnt matter how!
Slit their throats! Cut them up! Let their blood drip into the sea!

You need to punish them now!
You but not me!

>>23406307

Les mois froids et frigides toujours durent trop.
On en a assez du gris. Vivons dans les rues
Je désire un vin vert, en dehors des bistros,
Et tes épaules de miel, dorées, toutes nues.

Un été sans toi? A quoi servent ces couleurs?
Il faut une tempête, sans fin, un orage,
Une pluie battante, pour laver la douleur
Le soleil ne chauffe plus, c’est juste une image.

new version.

>>23406262

(just now noticing that I was wrong in thinking that you hadn't finished analyzing)
I'm finding it really interesting how completely different our senses of rhythm are. It seems to me that your suggestions for the first and last line are syllabically identical to their original counterparts, and that therefore the original doesn't compromise meter. I wanted "roots are monstrous and rotten" to be difficult to read because this difficulty invokes a (rrrrrrr)retching response and disgust which justifies their banishment and invisibility which the poem then details.

>>23408010
The rules here are a lack of rules, she's trying to affirm revolution and this contemporary style of poetry. It's actually archaic poetry that uses highly ingrained form

>>23408045
I don't want to broach this topic right now. At work and people are annoying, so I feel like I'd want to argue. I'm interested in hearing more of your thoughts about your poem.

>>23408010
P.S. I always enjoy learning of people's impressions of my poetry. My attitude to feedback is sparing when it comes to changing the poem it's for though, I only make changes on that poem based on feedback for it specifically when feedback aligns with the intentions and meanings I wanted to convey, and not some mistaken impression - though I alwaus write to induce a plethora of different interpretations. I'm way more widely accepting of suggestions for a certain poem, but to inform other poems I've written/will write which reflect the style which the feedback becomes to. If you're still in the mood though, I'm pretty desperate for more ideas for the first stanza specifically cos I hate it
I'll respond to the rest of your feedback once I've eaten and smoked. Thanks again

>>23408034
i hate the last line.

>>23408040
It's probably because I'm tired and frustrated, but I feel like you're making jabs. I just provided my honest feedback. You have nothing to prove. These are all suggestions. We are both fallible.

That being said, this line follows no set meter, I just meant that I found that part hard to say. It was a nitpick, really, but it did stand out to me, for some reason. I just went through the line. It is an iamb, trochee, anapest, iamb, iamb, pyrrhic foot, iamb. Going back to edit into a set meter would require you to rewrite the entire poem, and also no one really cares about going through that extra effort these days. Carry on.

>>23408097
I've tried rewriting the entire stanza in something more akin to my style, maybe it will spark inspiration:

Unknowable to you, your soul devours those words below
The secret truth you’ve failed to grasp,
Photosynthesizing doubt from errant sunbeams.

I don't know what that last line is supposed to mean, just something that sounded nice. I don't think it really ties into the theme that well.

>>23408022

First, basic mistakes, then we'll move on theming and imagery.

"Oh punish the sinners!
Oh punish them now!"

Should have a comma after each "Oh".

"The punishments form, doesnt matter how!"

Is missing apostrophes in punishment's and doesn't.

"You but not me!"

Should have a comma after "You".

This poem seems to be about hypocrisy humanities inherent lust for violence.

The first couplet is fine, but is lacking in imagery. However, changing that might interfere with the short and catchy meter you have, so this is up to you. I would remove "Oh' from the second line to improve flow and it would read better.

The third line is very clunky and could do with a rewrite. I don't have much else to say, just rewrite it with the same meaning but in a less awkward way. I suppose I'll provide a suggestion:

"The methods don't matter, so figure out how!"

Fourth line is fine, decent imagery.

Fifth and sixth lines are also a little clunky. I won't provide any direct suggestions, just focus on the bounciness of the words. When spoken aloud, it should almost sound like the clopping of horse hooves.

This seems like a first draft, but it has potential.

KEEPING INVENTORY

(1) I keep my nails short and (2) my fists clinched,
(3) I keep my knuckles white and (4) my mouth closed,
(5) I keep my teeth sharp and (6) my jacket on,
'cause I'm not staying here for long.

(6) I keep cutting the sleeves off of my shirts,
(7) I keep forgetting where I set my heart down last,
(8) I keep writing letters that I'll never send,
(9) I keep mistaking my pen for a shovel.

(10) I keep track of things better than you'd think:
(11) I keep digging
deeper
so I can't
sink, and
(12) I keep running laps around my memory.

(13) I keep the lights off.
(14) I keep the door closed.
(15) I keep waiting for a knock.

(16) I keep a promise to myself that I've already forgotten,
(17) I keep looking out the window;
(18) I keep something locked in.

I'm good at losing things, I've found,
but I'm not good at giving them away.
I'm good at (19) keeping safe, but still,
(20) I'll keep my fists clinched.

>>23408255
Lots of amazing work ITT by poets much more talented than myself. I'd greatly appreciate critique on this one that I've been working on.

>>23408255
Hi, no time to analyze this right now, but if you check back later tonight, I'll try my best.

>>23408125
I'm not taking jabs, I'm just explaining how some of the changes you're proposing clash with some of the techniques I've used to convey certain meanings. I'm only according with your own parameters, which were that I can ignore your suggestions and trust my judgement if I want. I've only been engaging with each of your proposals, apologies if I'm come across as abrasive

>>23408164
Your poetic voice is much more beautiful than mine, and it's very generous of you to spend so much time on my poem, so I really have nothing to jab at

>>23408290
Sorry, I'm tired and have an important job interview in 30 minutes so I'm probably overly sensitive right now. Been dealing with people all day. I'm most interested in hearing what you have to say about the last two stanzas, no rush though.

>>23408269
I appreciate it so much, thank you!

>>23408022
nice

>>23408255
>>23408365

Hello, I've finished the first half of the analysis and it can be found here at this link:

https://pastebin.com/vB2bkNXr

This is set to be unlisted and expire after a few days, so don't worry about your poem being stuck on this website. I'm going to take a nap and will probably come back and finish the rest in maybe four hours or so, or tomorrow morning if I'm not feeling like writing more tonight.

>>23406305
>>23406307
>>23408034

>Les mois froids et frigides toujours durent trop.
I don't like the "frigides", but I like the "oi" "oi" in mois and froids
>On en a assez du gris. Vivons dans les rues
I preferred the original verse. The poem opens with a personal thought and suddenly in this version there's a general thought and a call to the masses with "Vivons". It's distracting, and trite, in a way(?)
>Je désire un vin vert, en dehors des bistros,
Ok,
>Et tes épaules de miel, dorées, toutes nues.
Bodily appetites, nice. Though I'd say that "désirer" feels weak to express that idea. Also miel and dorées, too redundant to me.

>Un été sans toi? A quoi servent ces couleurs?
From winter to spring (vin vert) to summer, I get it. awesome touch. I feel like there's something missing between the two questions. I understand how they relate to each other but it looks like they've been forcefully put together.
>Il faut une tempête, sans fin, un orage,
Escalation to violence, I like it.
>Une pluie battante, pour laver la douleur
Rain rather than ice in this version. Congeler was nice, but I have to admit the rain feels more natural next to the storm.
>Le soleil ne chauffe plus, c’est juste une image.
Sour ending, not in a good way. brulage and rayons was better for the whole wounded poet theme I felt was present in the first version.

>>23408956
Just a couple ideas:

Les hivers pâles aux doigts froids durent toujours trop.
J’ai soif de plein air, envie de prendre la rue,
Me repaître d’un vin vert devant les bistros,
Et de tes épaules d’hydromel toutes nues.

Te savoir absente, l’été perd ses couleurs.
Je veux une tempête sans fin, un orage!
Une pluie battante, pour laver la douleur.
Pour que ces affreux élans cessent leurs ravages.

>hivers pâles / hivernales, doigts froids / mois froids
>open air —> plein air is more idiomatic
repaître = feast on, paître = to graze on, because green wine
>hydromel
Mead, drinking it turns you into a poet according to the Norse (is it your muse's shoulders you’re craving?)

>pour que ces affreux élans cessent leurs ravages.
pronounced with the liaison "zaffreux zélans"(de douleur)
closing the poem with "cessent"
ravages for the wounded bit

>>23408920
>>23408920
Thank you so much for taking the time to provide your critique anon. This is hugely helpful for me, and I really like your suggestions so far. I will probably implement most of them. I need to do more research on meter and rhythm as you've got me thinking about it now. I tend to just write whatever "feels right" when I read it in my head, but I'd like to work on being more intentional with things. Again, thanks a ton for sharing some of your expertise with me.

>>23402926
An extremely basic example, you can go from writing like this:

>Tonight a friend of mine has died
>I am looking into the light
>And now I'm missing and out of time

into something like:

A friend of mine
Has died tonight
Gone alone
Into the night
Lost, now
And out of time
I feel the dark
And see the light

Its not necessarily totally strict, but it follows a pattern and it has a "flow" to it. Not everyone likes doing it, but I do because it challenges me to write better

>>23408956
>>23408965


First of all, I cant really explain how much I appreciate real feedback. I wrote a new version, see below:

Les mois froids et frigides toujours durent trop.
Je rêve d’un ciel rose, couronnant la rue.
Je désire un vin vert, en dehors des bistros,
Et tes épaules de miel, dorées, toutes nues

Un été sans toi? A quoi servent ces couleurs?
Vaut mieux une tempête, sans fin, un orage,
Une pluie violente, qui noie ces douleurs.
La glace, je l'échappe mais reste en otage.

>>23408956
>>23408965
>The rain feels more natural next to the storm.
Yea, the concept is coming out of winter depression, but it makes no sense to talk about a summer storm that has ice.

>Ok,
I don't know why but the vin vert line is my favourite, but it's just me that thinks this way

>Escalation to violence, I like it.
I changed il faut, to vaut mieux, but that might not be grammatically correct. I just thought it was weird to use Il faut, but im not sure.

>Sour ending, not in a good way. brulage and rayons was better for the whole wounded poet theme I felt was present in the first version.
Yea that line sucked I rewrote it. I like the orage line, so trying to make it fit limited m options.

>>23408965
So much of this I want to steal, but I wont, because i would never be happy to send some of it in as my own work.

I particularly like:
>Les hivers pâles aux doigts froids durent toujours trop.
I like how this contrasts with the shoulder line

>Me repaître d’un vin vert devant les bistros,
just sounds nice.

>Te savoir absente, l’été perd ses couleurs.
>Je veux une tempête sans fin, un orage!
>Une pluie battante, pour laver la douleur.
>Pour que ces affreux élans cessent leurs ravages

The whole last part is way better than what I wrote.
I love the way affreux elans sounds, but I always thought of elan as "momentum" so I dont see the nature theme present at all. In that sense, it seems out of place. Maybe im just too inlove with the idea of playing with nature and colours.

Everyday is just a distraction
Of your will for me to forget you, but only a temporary redaction.
As every night I lay in my bed attempting to fall asleep
there’s nothing but silence and the evocation of your heartbeat
Here is the dying hope that I may chance to see you smile
As we leave on our own to part for awhile
I pray for the chance you hear my cry
Because when dusk paints yellow clouds in the sky
there’s nothing left in the day to fill my head to filter you
Just me and the memory of kihew iskwew

File: IMG_0528.jpg (104 KB, 827x587)

104 KB JPG

ᒋᐢᑌᒫᐤ

Fluttering rivers in the air
Having our breath ensnared
Calming the mind’s worries
Of terrible never ending stories

While the ember burns hot
And melt away tobacco’s knot
It leaves a husk of its shadow
Sacrificing what’s to be forgot

While Speaking through the vice
Of our ancestor’s echoed life
It leaves us to wonder
If they had comparable strife

We recollect these stories across time
And imagine that their lessons rhyme
While letting the sentiments mellow
recalling their sins and deeds past

What were their obligations?
What were their damnations?
Praying to the grandfathers
To redeem the karma amassed

>>23393346
how familiar

>>23395435
7/10
8/10
9/10
respectively.

>>23397171
credit for meter less for content

>>23402905
ehhh kinda all over the place.
very on-again-off-again.

>>23409955
Am I meant to know what "kihew iskwew" is?

File: grillon-domestique.jpg (13 KB, 350x256)

13 KB JPG

タバコ捨てメトロ虫への神饌ぞ
cigarette litter
offerings to the crickets
of the Paris métro

A glass of cold beer
Just underwear and sandals
Yea, we are so back.

In a field of broken daisies,
I found one bowed, but unbroken still,
And this strong but frail and tenacious daisy
Embraced me as she staved off winter's chill.

White trash barbie
Brought up in the sticks
Daddy scouts the bushes
Mama checks for ticks

Niggerized convertibles
Roll up in the dark
Country boys with long cocks
Prowl the trailer park

Tank tops, flip flops, cutoff denim jeans
Smoky-eyed child, she's the woman of my dreams
Dirty church roof, bleary stars up above
My hand between her knees, she taught me how to love

Mama said we're crazy
Just another Okie fable
Used to go to church
Now she's dancing on the table

White trash barbie
Living in the sticks
Only say you love me
That's my only wish.

if i enjoy writing poetry and want to make it a hobby, would you just post it online on a blog site (i.e. medium or substack), or actually try to get it published in journals? people say not to post it online because publishers want first rights. but on the other hand, i feel like pretty much nobody is going to read it anyway and there's no money in journals, so might as well just put it online and a few people might read it. but managing to get into a journal would be really cool too. if i have a really good poem its tough to know what i should do with it

>>23413559
I post mine on Threads mainly. I'm able to get critique from people there. I may submit to journals at some point, but I think I need a lot more practice first.

Bump

A dream of another existence
You wish to die
A dream of another world
You pray for death

To release the soul
One must die
To find peace inside
You must get eternal

"I am a mortal, but am I human?
How beautiful life is now when my time has come.
A human destiny but nothing human inside.
What will be left of me when I'm dead?
There was nothing when I lived..."

What you found was eternal death
No one will ever miss you

Maybe it's not so simple, this poetry.
Meter, pen and paper? No thanks, none for me.
I prefer numbers, commercial efficiency,
Science, accounting, and nine-to-five consistency.

Now, friendship is nice, but a handshake will do,
And I've been in love, felt very blue.
But never once did I think,
I could add quill and ink,
and you'd feel the same way too!

as someone who has primarily wrote their poetry about personal weakness, struggles, sadness, and shame; i cant help but feel disgusted by treating the artform in such a way. the execution of such ideas should exceed personal quibbling, and should go as far as to speak upon the human condition. i see too many people talk about death or hopelessness or depression in their poems, which does not inspire any sort of awe within me. perhaps they are just mostly poorly executed, and impressive ones exist. i wish people would stop writing about hurt and pain, and instead write about something which lifts the spirit and refreshes the mind. please, for my sake.

>>23417123
All of mine is about trying to make a nonhuman perspective digestible from a human one

It sees us every day
From a seat above the clouds
The eye of Deus Pater
We found it but didn't blink

>>23417123
I try to write uplifting things when I can, but for me poetry is a way to express my negative emotions so that I can process them and get them off my chest. I don't post most of what I write though. I only share ones that I feel have some sort of useful message

two poems for the thread written by me as of late

Clutter

Capture the clutter, illustrate each of the
Items which make up the mass of the mess.
Belongings which, scattered about, form a
Topography; mapping the battles, tests,
Exuberant journeys, happenings, rest;
Ask yourself: What does it all represent?
Portray reality as it appears
Nakedly upon the eye of the seer
Looking at oneself direct through the mirror.
I beckon you: render it here, made clear.

Memory

Within my earliest memories are
The vivid colors, tones, and hues of the
World which I happened to find myself in.
The warmth of the sun ignited vision
Into the forefront of my existence.
The light cast beaming on whatsoever
Before me, through the high windows of my
Home, the place in which myself, my brother,
And my mother dwelt, underground, hidden
From many people’s realms of awareness,
Submerged in our own qualities of life,
Where we together spoke, ate, played, and loved,
Where birthdays were celebrated in the
Dim, mystical glow of burning candles
Which were to be extinguished in a hush
Of eager dreams, untold, one day being
Unknowingly fulfilled, prospering in
Life’s greatest quality: uncertainty.

Now in this silence I wish for hope. I
Dream I will overcome my fears, emerge
From my battles victorious. Now I
Face the trials and tribulations ahead,
Praying for strength descending below.
Might might be past passed? Lend me your strength, friend,
And let us find out.

>>23417123
I do that. Its a great feeling.

>>23416952
I wouldve expected a more strict syllable scheme, considering the message. but still really good

>>23417123
as someone that has really only started writing because of "tramautic" events, I think there are too things to mention.

1. I think it's a testament to the importance, and beauty, of suffering, that for many people, our lowest moments are what push us to attempt to create art. When life squeezes us relentlessly, the juice that seeps out is something beautiful.

2. The only people that write, do so because they aren't satisfied with the world they live in. Dissatisfaction can be represented in writing in many ways. Describing an image of something we aspire to, using satire to critique what already exists etc. etc. It's no surprise, that people who are suffering are unsatisfied with life and thus want to write, and it's equally as unsurprising that the first and most simple thought is to describe this suffering. Weakness, struggle and saddness , for many people, is the most realistic entry point into any type of art.

Layers on layers of mud
Our robot girlfriends dream about doors
Glowing Africans knocking

>>23393338
What is World.
An endless war.
It's so designed.
On purpose flawed.

>>23418006
honestly there are too many faggots who write because they are sad. Its all I ever see and Im getting really sick of seeing it. They used to call that self indulgence, because they do nothing to challenge themselves. I admire anyone who breaks away from that shit and makes something positive because there are too many people perpetuating misery

>>23417123
Negative emotions are part of the human condition, retard

>>23419826
it is more considerable to provide reason to continue experiencing the human condition, rather than provide reason why it is not good. anyone can complain and bitch and moan, but if one can one be grateful for the miracle of life? there is something much more likeable

>>23419854
> _miracle_ of life
I'd prefer to commiserate through the eloquently shared misery rather then delude myself with sentimentalities and naiveties everyone knows are cope

>>23419875
doomer nigga

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>>23419875
people write about what they know. If a society propogates misery, it will feed into itself with no recourse to change. Misery is laziness. Apathy is laziness. You refuse to change your perspective and see the beauty of the world as so many have because it requires effort. You will then convince yourself that that which you cannot understand is simple delusion, because you percieve them who view the world as one dimensional optimists, when in reality they see the world at many angles, they have still witnessed natural beauty.
You need to have at some point genuinely experienced that if you are to understand their perspective. But if you insist on living in a feedback loop of self pity you never will

3 poems I wrote today

1.
Dream dreamless
Dream
Dreamless

Carneades, carved Cleanthes, cooling cinders, carbonate -
Solar calyx,
Firm roots

2.
No reason
None at all
Snow season
Let it fall

Let it fall
I will rise
Past it all
Close my eyes

Close my eyes
Fall back down
I will rise
To touch the ground

3.
Simple practice
Avoid the cactus
Cut it open
Drink its juice

>>23417186
Weirdly relatable poems, certainly better than most in these threads. The enjambment is not my style, I don’t know what the unit of the line means to you
>>23417171
Last line doesn’t make sense, also would sound better if it was something like “we found it without blinking”
If you’re genuinely neopagan then I’m sure it’s a good poem but otherwise I have no clues within the poem to get an idea of what Deus Pater means so the poem is too idiosyncratic
>>23416368
The quotation stanza, and the eighth and last lines really hold this back, it could’ve been good
>>23413472
>>23413472
>bowed but unbroken
I thought this a direct steal from invictus at first.
Tbh this poem doesn’t make sense because the image is just too incongruous. Daisies are too small to embrace. Even though it’s not meant to be taken literally you still don’t want the image to not make sense

>>23420076
>Deus Pater
Someone talked about non-human perspectives and I thought of the eye of Jupiter which is a complex non-human emergent entity similar to life in some ways.

>>23420107
https://www.sheldrake.org/files/pdfs/papers/Is_the_Sun_Conscious.pdf

What is it about Clark Ashton Smith’s poetry that fills it with its cosmic and fantastical power.

>>23420111
>>23420107
Gas giant planets big enough to form a metallic hydrogen core generate self-replicating computational cells at the core boundary layer, and those rapidly spread across the entire surface of the core. No panpsychism necessary.

>>23420491
>No panpsychism necessary.
It's not necessary for anything except qualia and we don't observe that in anything but ourselves.
If Jovians living as emergent processes in a naturally occurring computer have qualia then the effect is completely independent from everything material. We can never know either way. Nobody even knows if women are conscious.

>>23402577
>>23402816
the other anon is an asshole, i liked your poem :)

Anyone ever read Jisei the japanese death poem book? I believe it's called Jisei. Was that any good?

>>23420076
Thanks for the criticism. I agree after rereading it. Also, that was unintentional but I do love Invictus

>>23421000
>qualia
The universe doesn't even have an inherent mechanism capable of accounting for the passage of time. This is not a closed system.

>>23421350
https://archive.org/details/japanesedeathpoe00hoff
This the one?
Just started reading it, thanks for the rec

bump

Arcade Fire plays on my laptop
and i'm thinking of you
you part the red seas of hair
when you see me

I wonder if you think of me
I wonder if you are waiting
I wonder if you are waiting for me to ask you out or ask for your number
I wonder if you'd reject me

There is nothing i worship more than you
much less stupid rules of stupid poetry
you are my poetry
you are my belle dame sans merci
except you are not


lexi you are affectionate
and thats why i still hold out hope

its not your beauty
though i love that so
its not anything truly
but the garden of love
you plant inside my soul

can anyone here recommend me a poetry collection that's actually good?

Bump

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Do stresses of words change with metrics foot? Or, does the rhythm/flow of a foot change the what's considered the stressed syllable?
For example, the word "six" could be seen or read with stress typically, yes?
>pic related
Yet, in this more known work, 'six' is used as an unstressed syllable.

>>23425582
>should arbitrary rules and ideal patterns override my ear?
No, unless your ear is shit.

thoughts on this imagery?

moon like butter melting through the oven glass
a hawk over like a balloon on a fieldmouses twitching tail
Highrises with freckled hair and buttoned up vents
A bus carved out like a halloween turkey
Washed up scales of a cornhusked lake beast
boats cut bald like boys going out to war

My brain is like a giant balloon filled with my farts.
I like when Juliet is the sun, not like it
And my brain is a fart balloon.

I'm a research student at an Ivy League school, and we travel a lot to document historical world literature. I have recently discovered what I can only assume to be the national epic of the Hyperborean people -- or, as they call themselves, the Aryans. The language is strikingly Germanic, but not actually any known one, so translation has been progressing slowly. But I've just reached the end of a stanza which seems to conclude the invocation, and I thought I'd show you all what I've found. Sharing it anywhere else would ruin the surprise, I think. I plan to release the complete translation to the wider world almost without warning, but I think I'll work better with a community relying in me for updates on this amazing discovery.

------

Sing, Songbird, sing in my ear of the hero of the Aryan race.
Whisper to me of the life and the times of that man
With the limbs and the heart of the roughest of beasts,
And the cunning and wits of of the slyest of snakes,
Who made the world safe for his children.

Oh how did his world come to times such as those?
When men lied like merchants through day and through night?
When maids gave their hearts up to each passing lad?
Oh, Songbird! Oh, Songbird! enlighten my song!
And help each passing ear hear the griefs stored therein.

>>23425937
no seriusly what the fuck are you talking about

>>23426491
Friend's houses hack wood
Feed dragon's hunger
Sail with horses and steel
Foreign shores thunder

"Foreign" is the only latin word.

>>23425937
Good. Makes just enough sense to be evocative.

What makes Pablo Neruda's work so pleasing?

The Spears Rise
The Spears fall
Arrows fly
People fly
Gods Weep
Gods Sleep
Gods fade
Love is made along with pain
The Elders scorn and criminals scheme
Girls play & Boys Dream
Shine Shine Sunshine
The Savannah is calm for yet another day

In Arcadian hills
Where ambrosial air hangs thick, sweet,
And ever-blue sky vaults the land.

Emerald slopes lie still
And quiet—but for distant pipes—
Aigókerōs makes sacred dance.

Untouched by that creature,
Ill-fated man; a paradise,
Eden, where Gods still grace the earth.

>>23393338
Born out of suffering
This little plague
Holy river come
Flowing down in me

Toiling in the depths
Stricken with dismay
I am the unrest
Burn bright in the day

So when the heart is swollen
And all the tokens given
My lord, apart we’re broken
To what end are we driven?

And all of Those that you called weak
Boils in my blood, great ceaseless peace
Befall my enemy in his own lair
And as I do, turn my cheek
To a thousand suns dripping with
Ecstasy and gold! All ripe and bare…
And as it falls down to the meek
All of man shall have their share.

Shame

Spina bifida is heavy.
It's history rich.
And we have Frida Khalo.
So our culture is also.

I hate spina bifidian poetry.
It should be like street poetry.
It should shout and provoke.
It should desercrate sacred windows,
Topple fattened governments
And hijack police vans.

I hate the positivity of the
Post-spina bifidian.
"It's something we live with not
Our idenity"
I don't hate those who adopt it.

But I see swastikas and murder.
I see the bleakness of the spastic
And I want to see it.
It reflects back on me and says
"Broken"

If pleasing,
I'd shave my head.
So my contingent shunt is seen.
Contingency is evil.
But I don't want a miracle
I want the handicapped voyeur
To feel unfettered peace.

A fox with burning fur circled by mad rampant dogs.
It's cries are a miracle.


Broadcast it in on illegal airwaves.
Howl it to the naked moon if you have to.
Scratch it down on poorly scribed manifestos.
The abyss will disperse and our future
Will be independent, fertile and abundant.

bump

Ranting, raving, driven
mad while I have bashed my
head against the stone wall.
Panting, paining, driven
mad as I have failed to
change my ways before God.
Vapid pleasure, stuck in
sin that rots the soul and
drives a man to Hell's void.
Where is the hope to see?
When did it pass me by?
Shall it be seen once more?
If only I won't die?

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I'm giving something I've put off a go after writing an outline for a few pages and putting all my notes together.

Song of the Dwarflings

A frigid northern wind
Plunged onto the folk,
A garish eastern sun
From slumber clans awoke,
The hissing gales to them
From above their heads,
Of hatred spake and of their ruin
And how it wished them dead.

Begone, ye dreadful dwarfs!
Begone from my domain!
Retyre from hither peaks
To never here remain!
From yonder ye arryved,
My stones to build ye homes,
Begone, ye dreadful, dirtie dwarfs
In destitute to roam!

And gone the dwarfs had not
For gone they could not be,
Their arduous, lengthie march
A warful lyfe to flee,
To spyteful northern clymes
An anguished people led.
Away from woe, away from war,
Yet into death they fled.

Begone, ye dreadful dwarfs!
To them the mountains howled.
No yields do I permit
To grow from hither ground!
What plundered man from ye
Is not of my concern,
What plunder ye from my steep hills
Must swiftlie ye return.

(wip)

The oily blacks of my iris expand you'd only be remissed
You missed all the warning signs I stare into the abyss
And it stares back at me
Cigarettes and a lovers kiss eternity in bliss

are there any places online that are really serious about writing poetry
discord is full of kids
maybe, like here but more active?

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

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>>23393338
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_qoW-bZX6E

I made a poetry video idk talk shit to me

Mighty is the man
who walks alone at night
For he knows that his soul
will soon see the light

For his troubles are many
and his spirit is crushed
Tears roll down his face
while his memories are brushed

Shall he see the end
where victory is might
Or shall he see the end
of the promised light?

This is my first time writing poetry, can you please rate and give feedback? Thank you. Also english is my second language.

Prose bros, I'm interested in picking up the verse. I went to the wiki and started reading a book on the basics of poetry and very quickly realized I'm a bookcel retard and don't know how to pronounce words good, so I have difficulty when it comes to identifying stressed and unstressed syllables. I think the solution is just practice, but I don't know where to go. Are there any resources with poems marked up as reference for scansion practice?

>>23432310
fair play

>>23432591
You only need like one or two examples to get it. Just search scansion on google images. You CAN hear stress as a native english speaker or else you wouldn’t be able to understand anyone

it's about remaining a poet past the age twenty five
even if senile wheelchair drift
*sniff*
memories more substantive than present
brainwaves embrace you harder. lesser
and lesser and the time frames
distance between thins out

eternity is closer your humour more manic
and grinning
is thy skull
though an empty pocket rolling
a hand

it's fine
chant a silent prayer
while thee still can.

>>23432310
You started talking and I tried to cringe through the wall behind me. Skipped around to a few different parts and got the same reaction. Usually when I feel like this it's because there's a disconnect between the speaker and subject matter—you're saying it but it doesn't sound like you feel it.
I like the funky little 2D guys.

>>23432571
I liked it. I would delete the 'while' in line 8

>>23432310
I sit in the sky inside my eye
I am its apple and it's all mine
Let me tell you a story about me
Starring me with nothing else to see
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIoI0yE0aIo

>>23430536
Anyone's thoughts? Does the change from trochaic foot to dactyls effect a clear change of tone?

>>23434898
It reads more like an exercise than anything poetic. You should experiment with free verse, if most of what you write is metrical. It reads as overly-bound to convention to the point of being analytical.

>>23393338
Dark Matter(s)

Nothing compares to the chaos,
The negative space between positivity, and the obverse,
The blade’s edge of order and serenity,
Nothing compares to that feeling of atoms blasting apart,
Forced oxidation, of the cerebral railway.
Peace and comfort are not my fold, nor are portals
To calmer pastures. Disorder is where my being
Meets with purpose, and where it collapses.
Nothing compares to the chaos, of Victorian slum complexes,
Formerly Roman villas, now coaled out.
Where parlours held the dainty and the demure.
If anything could compare to the chaos, I would shun it,
A million particles bursting through.

>>23434906
>>23434906
I'll admit I was recently influenced by reading a higgeldy piggeldy.
My intention was to try out dactyls. I can't manage to brainstorm a whole dactylic piece, so part of one seemed nice.
I don't mind free verse, but I do enjoy metrical works. They seem more like interesting puzzles to piece together

when the world was in my hands
i thought everything would always linger
but now that i've lost everything i can
i found it has all slipped through my fingers

munching on a bratwurst
listening to kraftwerk
fahvergnugen gestalt
reichsadler somersault

pleasuring a blonde beneath the stars
to the far off hum of well engineered cars

>>23393338
Selective Affective Empathy/Do the Disco Dance of Death

I mold and morph my own concerns
I break your mold, watch butter churn
Comfort, kin, pets and pests
I choose a few, God saves the rest
I love you, I need you, I try to buy and I baste you
I hate you, I tease you, I scandalize and deface you
We call it love, we pawn it off, we trade it in and we extract
We choose our markets carefully, we never give without a tax
I am not the Fool, I see through charlatans
I understand the lurking prey that preys upon the skin
What we call human being is not being in any cents
A void of our own making that we never even meant
We are all for sale, buy me and I'll buy you
Buy a fucking fancy car
Buy a sense of youth
Buy another set of scars
Can't buy back the truth
So dance without a thinking mind like Salem witch's brew
Do the Disco Dance of Death until we all bid life adieu

>>23436273
the last two lines literally say the same thing

>>23438044
I think there's a discernable distinction if taken in context of the first two lines.
"The world" vs "everything" referring to two different things/ideas.

>>23431839
Based Larkin enjoyer <3

Tried to Forget Again

Guilty, the penitent lies with his
Hands on his face to cover his eyes.
A blind fool, a worthless wretch,
A hateful bastard who’s better off dead.
Bind his hands, uncover his eyes
Show him a mirror, show him his lies.
Remind him, again, of the shame of life.
The inescapable shame of life.

>>23435214
An evocative poem with vivid imagery and strong metaphors. I see it as a kind of meditation on chaos, and perhaps a rejection or condemnation of order. A lamentation, even.

It could be argued the lack of a rigid form contributes to the theme, although I prefer verse with a musical quality. Nonetheless, I think it is a strong piece.

>>23436776
Excellent work. A withering criticism of the transactional nature of relationships, which, upon reading, left me unsettled. It flows pretty well, too, despite the free verse.

Hard to offer any criticism on these types of poems, I'm sure it could be reigned in to be more focused, though.

>>23410296
I'll take the compliment and ignore the criticism, since it's completely useless.

>>23428765
Any feedback? I was mainly trying to evoke imagery with this one

>>23428765
I think it's well-written but a little generic. A good start. It does not linger long enough on any one area to be evocative. It lacks specificity, is too vague, which makes it feel superficial. The reference to capricorn feels out of place. Maybe a reference to a god like Pan would be more fitting.

I would like to see some more novel comparisons and more specificity.

Compare:

"Where ambrosial air hangs thick, sweet"

to

"Where wild thyme mingles with crisp morning mist"

The revised line provides a sort of foothold, with concrete comparisons to latch onto, something familiar and less abstract.

I'm not hoping to discourage you, your piece displays a degree of skill, it's just unfocused and could do with more concrete imagery. I hope this feedback can be of some use.

>>23438732
Any feedback on these 3 pieces?

>>23438786
First one is good, second one is meh, last one sucks

>>23438803
Thank you for your feedback my man. I know last one needs revising or something
What you like to see in your poetry?

>>23438765
Thank you very much for your feedback and for making it constructive.

Aigokeros was an epithet of Pan, and it was Pan that I intended to reference here - so I’m glad you saw that as appropriate even if it was not clear from the text.

>>23438812
>know last one needs revising or something
No the entire medium is flawed, rants like that are something you might feel like writing but no one else is going to enjoy reading them
>What you like to see in your poetry?
The first one is better because it uses unusual language and image to talk about something everyone understands and has meaning, the second is boring because it’s less unique and about something that’s uninteresting. Nature is universal but church is just some thing that exists.

>>23438935
Yeah it's fun to write shit like that but I get it's flawed

the fire of one thousand dimly lit motel ceilings
one thousand creaky cum stained beds
home is anywhere
i lay my head

she made my rocket scream
cigarette smoke memories fill my dreams
inky empty streets and medieval moving cars
she holds me under the long dead stars

3 meaningless poems

1.

The pareidolia of breath
Anesthetize my neck
Aver with Eleleth
Not a thought is left

Bonobo phalanges
Unsaintly sanity
Too late to groom my fleas
Some painted malady

Sighing purple daytime
All the fountain cords lie
Discalcéd thistle thyme
Existence comes to time

Blue basilica
Serpents fill the walls
All devours it all
All reveals the all

2.

Coldbrother scintillate
Socrartesian calculate
Mirrors of devout prelates
Nobody touches mountain lakes
Or crystal snakes
The void inflates
Your mother's late.

3.

Define it
Cardboard solenoid and copper planks
Thanks,
The devious grasshopper and squamous mass
The past
Stoogeweather guide long, ambulance
Water droplet, light size, limits
Prague
Basset the basilisk song

>>23439821

original, at least

>>23430556
sorry, duhhh... me no underget story... have coherent story and rhyme uhhh I dont get i.lt. needs make less sense less sometjing more nothing plz

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Any feedback on this?

>>23442248
>word they saying
>down the side of the bar
Can you clear up the bar line?

>>23442570
Like change it you mean?

>>23442725
Yes