>>23513004
NOCTURNE

Moon behind the trees
Gold among the leaves
To night the maiden sees
A Midautumn night's dream

Searching among the stars
Mercury, Venus, Mars
Shadow of Balthasar
Dances and stretches far

Do not trust your sight
In that Hesperian flight
This dream cast dark and light
And hangs 'twix day and night

She stands amidst the gloom
And walks beside the moon
To night the maiden soothes
My unrelenting doom

Long, have I been watching here
Waiting for the mist to clear
Souls ascend and drawing near
Starlight gleams on shadowed tear

Spirits, in an ancient sense
Inhabiting their descendants
Lost—the shaded one laments
Begging for their repentance

In hallowed ground, the maiden stands
With touch of death upon her hands
Cold, is each unravelling strand
Dead, my sorrow of the damned

Listless here, on morning nigh
In November, sun still rise
Above the graves, the wrens still fly
The maiden fades into the sky

Standing again, the night had passed
Awake—I stumbled and held fast
One more night November cast
One night sooner than the last

Moon behind the trees
Dust among the leaves
To night the maiden dreams
Our loved ones memories

>>23513004
wish I could write,
Just a few short lines alone,
And when I start to think,
My thoughts could be my own.

I wish I could sleep soundly,
In that cool and silky bed,
But you just insist,
To keep running through my head.

Now, no one criticizes,
My cold glass of lager beer,
And no mention of the dishes,
Or complaints burning off my ear.

I just wish when you left,
with your accessories,
You'd have brought an extra box,
To fill with memories.

>>23513004
The day is worn
Sickness of the soul
Has torn through me
No respite from darkness
As the light finds us
Hollow and broken

Shameful persona
That masks the cracked vessel
Unshapen and distorted
A play of the master
Hides all weakness

A moment of revelation
Redemption of spirits
Once cast to the darkness
Revealed to the light
Now uncovered and true
Find salvation in Being

>>23513004
I had a dream where I was challenged to write a poem about how donald trump and joe biden could never study mathematics. I actually came up with these two lines in the dream
Donald Trump could never study math
There isn’t any violence on the path
Also I planned to rhyme “Biden” with “Dryden” somehow

Now the storm begins to lower,
(Haste, the loom of Hell prepare.)
Iron-sleet of arrowy shower
Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Glitt'ring lances are the loom,
Where the dusky warp we strain,
Weaving many a soldier's doom,
Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.

See the grisly texture grow,
('Tis of human entrails made,)
And the weights, that play below,
Each a gasping warrior's head.

Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
Shoot the trembling cords along.
Sword, that once a monarch bore,
Keep the tissue close and strong.

Mista black, terrific maid,
Sangrida, and Hilda see,
Join the wayward work to aid:
Tis the woof of victory.

Ere the ruddy sun be set,
Pikes must shiver, javelins sing,
Blade with clatt'ring buckler meet,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.

(Weave the crimson web of war)
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Where they triumph, where they die.

As the paths of fate we tread,
Wading thro' th' ensanguin'd field:
Gondula, and Geira, spread
O'er the youthful king your shield.

We the reins to slaughter give,
Ours to kill, and ours to spare:
Spite of danger he shall live.
(Weave the crimson web of war.)

They, whom once the desert-beach
Pent within its bleak domain,
Soon their ample sway shall stretch
O'er the plenty of the plain.

Low the dauntless earl is laid
Gor'd with many a gaping wound:
Fate demands a nobler head;
Soon a king shall bite the ground.

Long his loss shall Erin weep,
Ne'er again his likeness see;
Long her strains in sorrow steep,
Strains of immortality.

Horror covers all the heath,
Clouds of carnage blot the sun.
Sisters, weave the web of death;
Sisters, cease, the work is done.

Hail the task, and hail the hands!
Songs of joy and triumph sing!
Joy to the victorious bands;
Triumph to the younger king.

Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale,
Learn the tenor of our song.
Scotland thro' each winding vale
Far and wide the notes prolong.

Sisters, hence with spurs of speed:
Each her thund'ring falchion wield;
Each bestride her sable steed.
Hurry, hurry to the field.

I force the shit,
in a trembling fit.
My battered bowels,
A putrid pit.
My veins they swell with torpid rage,
Bulging eyes give distorted gaze.
Unclenched my jowls,
Pour fourth the howls.
The bowl a lit,
With crimes most foul.

>>23513259
This is a poem by Thomas Gray. You didnt cite the author

>>23513108

This is lovely

More than meets the eye.
Autobots wage their battle
To destroy the evil forces
Of the Deceptions
-Anon 2024

>>23513004
I've been really quite enjoying writing limericks that are somewhat solemn. pretty fun

Benzene, morphine and sorrow
It's on menu each morrow.
Strive to claim accolades,
A degree that is readymade.

Nevermind I think I'll sleep
Wakefulness just makes me weep
For life is nothing but misery
When its sole focus is chemistry

2:AM joyrider,
Melted ice cream
And a fistful of nails.
Empty pockets, dreary sonnets
Fumbling footballs and secret info
It happens, it happens.

Burnt bacon, making
A yelp of despair.
Unfinished paper
And red lights,
Catching every single one
Before you get home to nothing.
It happens, it happens.

Awkward silences
Empty carousels
Stubbing your toe out the door
And leaving a trail
Footsteps sending anxious
Waves of regret and uncertainty
All wrapped up in a bow of chance
It happens, it happens.

Baseballs shot astray
Bombs away over the courtyard
Running like hell to the exit
Men of peace making war
Men of war making peace
Black balls of cold callous
Total nothing replacing the sun
The weight of it all falling on us
It happens, it happens.

Making inroads with divergence
Riding change like a dragon
Reaching the top of the cliff
And Looking her in the eyes
telling her it means more than
This little life you happen to have
The cooing of a fresh newborn
The hearty laugh of a rough man
The smile of friends, of family,
Of a random stranger you never even met
Before
It happens, it happens.

Nikolay Gumilev. The Word.

In days of old, when God would lean His face
Over the young creation still — back then
The sun was halted with the word in place,
The word brought towns to their ruin and end.

The stars were clinging to the moon in ire,
And daren't outspread and flap its wings the kite,
If, as though glaring with the salmon fire,
The word was floating through in azure height.

And like the cattle, yoked and made obey,
Were the numerics there for vulgar life,
Because the clever figure could convey
All meanings and then all their shades alike.

The grizzled patriarch, who subjugated
The good and evil both under his hand,
Still to turn to the sound hesitated,
Drawing the number with his cane on sand.

But we've forgotten, that illuminated
Alone the word is midst the earthly lot,
And in the Gospel of John it's stated
For us sincerely that the word is God.

For it we have the boundaries derived
From meager limits of the nature's cell,
And, as if bees in a deserted hive,
The lifeless words produce a foul smell.

>>23514359
Thanks

>>23513108
I feel like this would be more effective if you mentioned what those good memories one actually holds fondly was of. Other than that not bad but not great
>>23513005
Not really a fan of the imagery personally but I do see a lot of meat here. It’s got good form just not my favorite aesthetically
>>23513130
Meh it’s alright. It’s passionate but too cliche in too many places
>>23513259
It’s good and I appreciate the stylistic choice but along with the others it’s not really moving me at all besides maybe this part

> Low the dauntless earl is laid
>Gor'd with many a gaping wound:
>Fate demands a nobler head;
>Soon a king shall bite the ground.
That was well done.
>>23513292
This should be rapped on a beat
>>23515098
>morrow
Out of place and anachronistic with your poem I get the desire but that shit really does ruin poetry

I’ll rate the other’s in a bit. Here’s mine

Really thought I had bullets
Of words and phrases fatal
But all save me, could clearly see
Toy gun, I held, unstable

At first she was confused then
the teller made a grimace
She fired few words, I deadly heard
To not hold the line with thi-is

So I paused and stood there still
Then I lowered the small plastic
I reholstered the unbolstered
And left the scene undrastic

Thought id steal some fame, glory,
And would earn me all respect
For robbing blind banks of your mind
With my impotent rocket

>>23513004
Looking at self publishing a poetry collection/book of some kind within a year. I mostly write haikus and shorter poems but kinda want to write more of an epic like the Divine Comedy in short poetical style
Some (unconnected) examples:
Running water,
Endless river,
Here forever.

Cold empty night,
Dreams now alight,
Despair I fight.

Flowing water,
Storm clouds above,
Falling rain,
Duck floating, hunting.

>>23517195
I have less graveyard poems but they are all posted on a named account so I wrote that exclusively for /lit/.
I like your dedication to the scheme. i thought maybe the story was an allegory of arguing with a spouse? but maybe just literal

We're told the clouds only take off
their cloak when called upon
like an unpronounceable God

faint light illuminated and dry,
patience held by whatever messages
flash past too gentle to raise

water from puddles and gutter streams
as if the street down there with them
could be held like rain drops pushed

into a screen by a thumb scrolling
to check what is next and what was
that, next, until the bus arrives

>>23514252
I guarentee you had never heard of Thomas Gray before i began posting his poems
Poetrylet pseud

>>23515064
There's no point in feeling such strife
Over a boring little thing like life
Yet I find myself sighing
And wish I was dying
Admiring the blade of a knife

File: retarded nazi nigger.png (239 KB, 1080x529)

239 KB PNG

Are there any books that explain why this OP is a retarded genocidal nazi faggot that doesn't know shit?

A Paleolithic Existential Crisis

Tonight is one of those nights when I too am night.
I'm sitting alone,
Guarding the cave, protecting the sleep of the tribe.
For company I have only the whispering of the crickets,
The spirit of the fire dancing and leaping upon the wood
And the buzz of my own thoughts.

Today, even the star gods are hiding in their precipices,
Covered in thick, greasy clouds like the fur of a black bear...
It's darker than usual,
And the ancestors haven't spoken to me for days.

Tonight is one of those nights when I too am night,
And on those nights that are more than a night
I don't hear that old sadness in the howl of the wolves,
The rutting that they scream to a moon they will never possess;
What I hear is that other ancient howl,
The howl of thirst for my intestines.
There is no beauty in the song of wolves on nights like this,
When even in the bite of lice I feel the sinking of fangs.

On those nights when I too am night
The screech of the owls and the cry of the foxes
Sound like the agony of the children and the brothers
I saw dragged away and eaten alive by the lions.
Today I feel their cries piercing me from all sides:
It seems that the earth is incapable of retaining the terror of their bones,
Like rotting wounds that have to drool out pus.

On nights like this, nights when I too am night,
Even the rustling of the leaves sounds like the cursing of a sorcerer,
And I fear the migration of reindeer, bulls, deer, bison, horses and rhinos
- That vast river of warm blood, fat and marrow -
Grows drier and leaner with each passing season.

Tonight is one of those nights when I know I've been polluted.
It's dark, there shouldn't be anyone here with me,
And yet I realize now that there is someone else.
In the silence, thoughts are unable to hide:
The ancestors are mute, and there are things that are not me speaking in me.
I understand... It happened once again...
I see that the spirit of the gray marshes has taken possession of me.
I feel it oozing inside me, bitter as the sap of the pines.
Like frogs in the marsh, the spirit of the swamp has spawned itselft inside of me,
And now it is like an internal vomit that I cannot spit out.

This is that spirit
That eats the smiles on the faces of men,
That crushes lungs, throats and hearts,
That makes muscles shrivel, that makes penises shrivel,
That dries up the milk in women's breasts,
That sits on the eyes and expels sleep,
That sits in the stomach and expels hunger,
That makes the skin smell like something that pleases the vulture.

(continue)

>>23518700

Spirit of fire, I'm very frightened of nights like this!
I fear those nights when I too am night;
I fear what the swamp says to me when I'm alone,
I fear it because what it says hurts my soul like a cut or a broken bone,
And I fear it, too, because I simply don't understand that which it tells me.
The swamp inside me proclaims
That all the earth, all the grass, all the water, all the wind,
That all the spirits of the tree, the river, the mountain and the thunder,
That all of us who are above the dust, and all the ancestors below the dust,
The moon, the sun, the sky and the stars,
That these gods and even all the other gods:
That everything and everyone is just the dream of one God,
And that this God is an infinite shaman, but blind and deaf,
A shaman who roars prophecies that do not exist even to himself,
Who intones the songs of existence without knowing that he is singing them,
Who decorates the caves of the abysses without knowing that he is painting them;
The universe is like the dream of a stone:
That's what the swamp inside of me proclaims.

O spirit of fire that crackles and snaps before me!
You only illuminate my face, you only warm my flesh,
For inside me I feel so much cold,
That it is as if the soul of the ancient glaciers lives inside my trunk.

It's starting to wind more strongly.
On those nights that are more than a night
The voice of the wind sounds like a visitor coming from a throat
Made of dead branches, dry bones and hawthorns;
On those nights when I am night
I think that whoever could decipher the language of the wind
Would understand the nightmares of all the generations of the frost
And the sadness that has inhabited every drop of rain that has ever existed.

Oh, ancestors! Oh, my ancestors!
My ancestors, you who have always been with me,
Speak to me again, my ancestors!
Echo like warm breath inside of me!
Play your flutes, your rattles, your drums!
Don't abandon me, growl inside me!
Expel this heavy, slimy, gray spirit from inside of my chest!

The birds are starting to sing.
The darkness is melting, morning is approaching.
When the sun rises, I'm going to visit Kargumel, the old healer.
Ancestors, help him make me vomit this evil out of me.
May the gods grant that today, when the sun has dried the dew over the grass,
The swampy mist inside me will also have evaporated into flight.
O night that is now thawing, I hope that when you return,
You will be only night and I will be only man!
That when we see each other again, O night,
You will no longer find me as a man with frost on the bone-marrow
And a ball of slime throbbing where there should be a heart.

File: leo romeo.jpg (124 KB, 640x591)

124 KB JPG

her eyes are flowers blooming like the rising sun
weird sam sat making plans, twiddling his gun
moldy walls decay and scream for fun
leftover empty cans of lurid meat meet me

ghosts haunt the cobblestones
clip clop go the horses bones
a man on the path whose face isn't shone
air rises, wind blows, and thunder strikes

>>23518121
oh its this sperg again. read the rules of the thread. and get new trolling material

>>23519874
Just playing around with imagery and trying to make something benign sound cooler. Any thoughts?

Bulk of a conjuration written for a specially created thangkha depicting Moses, Aaron And the Israelites plagued by serpents and saved by the serpent on the cross, and the promise of the Christ.

Octinomos, Elios, Sabao,

Sardios, topazios, smaragdos,
carbunco, saphiros, yahalome,
Ligurios, sevo, amethystos,
Chrysolithos, Beryllios, hexecontalithos.


I voice a spell with Royal seal,
To sere with pallor the sphere of hours,
For the soil is tilled, and I’ve destroyed the shells,
By Aaron’s Rod, and the spear of power, by tarot card, and Sharon’s flower.

The horrifying formless night is glorified by a single horn of light,
For once the nile reeds by tidal stream are ebb’d and flowed by the western ocean,
the ghost churned, dolorous sea, of gorey strife, restores to life,
Then reflects the gleam and lets the gentle lotus be the bed of Moses.


With dark tempest our God entered far Memphis,
And brought out the lost child,
starved within, their heart’s twisted by wrought images, scoffed at him,
Who speaks, and frost crowned peaks fall down shrink’d.

In fervent hate they mocked the blessed holy one,
And turning praised strange gods of metal benumb,
With furnace flame made arts and invoked demons,
Then serpent fang’d chaos was vengefully brung.
Octinomos, elios, sabao,

Sardios, topazios, smaragdos,
carbunco, saphiros, yahalome,
Ligurios, sevo, amethystos,
Chrysolithos, Beryllios, hexecontalithos.

Despite the rightful pain of prideful shame,
The Genial being who made everything felt pity,
His mind his eye his light described an idol made,
To redeem and relieve the people’s evil deeds still sinning,
To take our cell the vile jail and the terrible iron nails.

“I am a worm and not a man”
Said the lion, said the lamb, heaven’s giant, pentagram,
“I am the word both God and man”
Seven eyes and seven lamps, wed of Zion, Hexagram.

He brings a peace the world cannot know,
Light to the eye, water to tongue,
Through deeper sleep see earth as it once was,
And divine how it shall become.


The sea shall be no more,
To taste the fruit, to gain a name,
And we shall see the Lord,
In stainless truth, regain his face.

Cont

>>23520051
Octinomos, elios, sabao,

Sardios, topazios, smaragdos,
carbunco, saphiros, yahalome,
Ligurios, sevo, amethystos,
Chrysolithos, Beryllios, hexecontalithos.


The lips whereby our lips were made will give to us a spiritual perfection,
As a spherical mirror reflecting in boundless space,
Itself to self the welkin’s height, the hellish fire, the Thrillsome isle, and the killing ice,
Ether, aethyr and Acher reconciled with one name.

The masked one revealed,
Whether fey and fairy flower, frond and fern, phantom and fiend, famine and falchion, fathom and falcon, friend and father,
His hand unconcealed,
To speak face to face.

And in that day the Dove,
Resting on uncreated frost,
The Same he laid upon before the day was born,
Shall descend with the apocalyptic flame of Love.


Then the bridal veil will part,
And the final page be read,
And his light shall fill our hearts,
And all shall say amen.

Octinomos, elios, sabao,

Sardios, topazios, smaragdos,
carbunco, saphiros, yahalome,
Ligurios, sevo, amethystos,
Chrysolithos, Beryllios, hexecontalithos.


Amen, and amen of amen, and amen of amen of amen, and amen of amen of amen of amen.

Tipherethiel: a meditation on beauty.

Espied my mind divine beauty,
Sky isles far drifting downstream a swift river,
coalescing into undulating ripples,
The curling combers of an auburn mane,
A little while I remain,
But then the visions change,
I see the twilight rainbow,
The Gloam bands from dim red and sweet orange,
To bice blue and faint vi’let,
Empty of all, without association save pure color,
Unsure, I see another,
As to oils that are stirred when suspended in water or alcohol,
Mottle and muddle, motley and melange,
But then the great amalgamate of tow’ring flame was placed,
Again, a change,
The waves return, all aureate, spectral as phosphene glistering,
Or perhaps strange as the corse-luminescent which lights casket with its charge,
A limitless boundless markless sphere which seems, with brocken glory, rushing to a common center,
A Comet’s trail, a garment’s train, both,
Of He, of body universal,
Whose head is as the Seth animal for a moment,
And then the next the emerald tree boa yawning,
then delicate gossamer of stretched out copper burnished and beat mirror-like,
Shifting returning, yet the eyes,
The soft amber of precious resins,
incense, the bodily sense of the summer night well wanted,
Then deep cold icy jade green, shivering as feeble leaf,
Ashes on the skin,
Jasmine on the wind,
Heavy, doubtless, substantial,
Against the shifting image I grasped hard,
And for a moment glimpsed a black star,
And saw within a man’s heart,
Engraved there was the mystery IAO,
The name of God written by man’s fantasy.

Account of a dream had during the 21st of June 2024.

A dream of numinous chambers.

in hypnogogic lucidity I begin to see a pathway of stone as if upon a stone bridge high above a forest place and faint river rills, seeing first incense holders, carved-dragons and rock-lions, an outstretched pavilion place continued without break simultaneously changeless and distinct in craftsmanship, the steps themselves pruned, trimmed and cut resembling cluster’d peonies, yet looked brushed with an intentional efflorescence as to imply an august dignity to the stone.


in my common state of split-consciousness I told myself, “this reminds me of the game LSD in a way.” And characteristic of it, I touched one of the idols and the location changed drastic’ly, now there was vast walls, incredible in size, of deep tinges of red lacquer, (the division in the shade hard but not impossible to tell, producing an illusion like depth, where the reds gave an indication of a dimensionality like a vaporous abyss rose up from rose-gold-Mercury amalgam, as a sort of ormolu-mist.) redolent of the noble rooms of antiquity prepared for daughters and brides, but strangely European style gild and leaf-work in ever nymphidic detail in infinitesimal refinement, however still producing gargantuan cyclones of figures geometric, magical and beastly, like glorified variants of the Roman grotesqueries.


I felt as if a cricket standing in a giant’s house, like the ones trapped and placed into the emperor Hsüan Tê’s domain for pleasure, or more, I felt less than this, for a nebulous dignity and subtle spiritual darkness did pervade entirely, it was the dark of mystery, like shadow surround-stars. No less the terror of the night, but full of splendor.

I walk a while in this endless palace, (if that be the word, perhaps a synagogue of secrets, or a true fane of de-personalized divinity holy in abstraction.) and come upon a sharp inclined stair which overlooks a vast series of floors which seem infinite themselves in dark-depth, discerning only gold lanterns and gold-brass railings.


The subtle spirit of the place, the dream, the qualia, the mansion, spoke and said to me, that I should jump, and so I did, descending continuously for a long time, and the dark-dignity and length of walls increased indefinitely until the floor was reached, it was ethereal in nature and vague to the mind’s grasp.

A voice both mine and of the place speaks saying “ I have entered a sanctum of the Christ, and gain a blessing born of love” and upon hearing these words, I awake.

Account of a dream unstylized from June 5th 2024

Strange dream

My mind is split, I am watching it upon a screen while simultaneously in it(as is commonly so.) The world looks to me of an incredible pure black, the floor itself so black it seemed light-eating, for what light that passed it seem to leave trail before fading into deeper darkness, and this black was so intense I could see nothing except the ground as a solid ground, and one object which looked to be a cabin, the sky seemed infused with blackness but it was not black, it was at once stark, lurid, chrome, off white, and infused with the same properties of faint absorptive darkness that as a whole gave it a phosphoric element, in my mind I spoke and said this must be the dwelling of those spirits bertiaux calls and depicts, the black transyuggotian Gods, as I entered towards the cabin and pressed my hand upon what I perceived as a door, while nothing changed of the door, I perceived (in no definite discernible way) rust and decay as to make it reminiscent of silent hill, yet the door was utterly black, and I commented to myself, despite all this extreme darkness, I could not perceive horror or Terror, to which a voice spoke to me, not from within the screen within the dream, but to the me viewing it isolated, saying in the voice of a musician I personally once knew “it’s because the music” to which I paid attention and heard something like a glorious singing which was of melody but no syllable, it was a company of many instruments but seemingly all originating from a singular voice humming and toning all the various sounds at once, its sound I can only describe as glorious, it is the kind of sound I think that things like fantasy depictions of Gregorian chanting desire to imitate in the sensation of mystical depth, then I saw within the cabin something like a horrible demon girl child, but she was unable to do anything, for, I looked and saw the singer who was laid upon their side upon the floor, heavily draped black ropes upon them, their body shape suggested bulbs and muscle growths not natural to the human shape, but the face which seemed almost stitched into the fabric was human, I perceived it first a little girl but i am unsure for the body was more like a man and the face I am ultimately unsure its age and gender, we are taken up, by what appears something like a giant intestine made out of time space, which seemed to be a fold of space which appeared and was textured like a jelly fish all translucent, which taking ourselves in, did seem to spasm as such an organ is designed between strange folds of time and space for travel, and during this the color of the dream was black white yellow tinge,

Cont

>>23520072
reminiscent to the sight through a dog’s eye which lacks the red color but partakes of blue-yellow, the speaking gentleman told me that they are one of a category of people which exists throughout the cosmos, which he referred to as victorious ones, pure, which God has for a mystery unknown and unknownable to man, selected to go to far off worlds to torture the imprisoned spirits in their prisons, by singing their songs to them, which seem to penetrate their depth with a holiness as a punishment.

I then awake from the dream.

>>23520051
I know we are supposed to hate tripfags, and I do, but welcome back, Frater
/lit/ is healing

I don't mind that you should keep treating me like a dog;
I bark and I have sharp teeth –
And sometimes I even bite.
If you should keep treating me as one does an animal,
Perhaps animus meus can learn to claw and scratch as well.

Everybody knows that dogs can't read and cats can't write.

Dogs scoff and scowl at reason;
Gruff and growl stubbornly,
Indignantly; with cynic stares—
as do bulls and bears—
And at night they howl.

Cats shirk logic with deft steps and graceful leaps;
Quiet-footed cowardice in mounds,
And bravery in heaps.
Even bounds they cross effortlessly–
The little paradox that creeps.

Birds—they crow, of course;
except the crows, as everyone knows.
Some say that They are smart like We;
Smarter than Some, I'm sure.
I've only ever heard Them caw.

>>23519874
thanks for maintaining some kind of rythmn. i'd rename it something dramatic cuz the name gives it away.

>>23521378
How about 'Dark Journey?' How's the imagery? Can you describe what 'actually happens' in each stanza?

Walking to mcdonalds with a broken leg,
skin pale like alabaster.
Scraping myself with a back scratcher.
Cum Catcher, Semen Blaster.

In summer’s warm wet breath we walked dry-eyed tearful
Past poppies, peas sweet, beeches royal red and vines.
It was your winter and each step you climbed,
Our trembling hands entwined, I felt your soul fearful.

Now-fruitless mother, withering in the sun
surrounded by spring’s steel shoots spreading wide,
unwelcome weeds shoving old green friends aside,
wearily to a lane of lindens we did come.

Trees of peace, solace found in sombrous grace.
A picture, an embrace, one quiet kiss upon your gray face.
We shared silent sighing hearts for seasons swept aside in haste.
With a holy kiss I will greet you in that unfallen place.

Earthly seasons smashed together in florid dizzy madness,
Our sole hope stems from the Spirit’s steadfast gladness.

>There was a daulphin swimming swiftly
>Then one morning her teeth grew quickly
>I'm no daulphin she discovered
>I'm a shark a real hunter!
>So the shark started eating
>From the sea she started feasting
>But one day nothing was left
>All the fish had been digested
>My oh my! Thought the shark
>I must go deeper or i'll starve!
>So the shark swam down deeper
>In the dark she found some creatures
>Food is food she told herself
>If i don't eat then i'll be dead!
>So the shark ate all she could
>Until again she had no food
>Not to worry the sea is wide
>I'll just go deeper to survive !
>So the shark went down again
>But there the food was in the sand
>I'll just swim close by the floor
>I need the meat i'm carnivore
>So the shark started looking
>For any food she could start chewing
>It was a fight not much was left
>And she got mud all on herself
>The things she ate had spikes and venom
>Her stomach acked and started bloating
>How I miss being a daulphin
>Swimming high, breaching the ocean
>Now i'm far below the deep
>In the abyss no light can reach
>Then she remembered something sad
>Daulphins have teeth they always had
>She was no shark, like she was thinking
>Just the product of bad decisions
>So she tried to swim back up
>But she could not and now was stuck
>She regreted what she had done
>Now to the daulphins she wasn't one

>>23520051
>I voice a spell with Royal seal,
>To sere with pallor the sphere of hours,
>For the soil is tilled, and I’ve destroyed the shells,
>By Aaron’s Rod, and the spear of power, by tarot card, and Sharon’s flower.
These lines to me seem especially excellent in their cadence.
I've been meaning to ask you as to an aspect of your style. What kind of voices do you think best fit this style of poetry that has such high amount of assonance? I made a short list of it recently and this is what I had: fanciful, grotesque, braggadocious, farcical, childish, devotional, frenzy/madness, It seems that forthrightness and sternness, much in the manner of the Puritans, would preclude your favorite devices.

Everette Maddox, Style
[for Lee]

On page 270 of the fourth
volume of Proust ('Cities
of the Plain') one hits
the first and last sh__t,
carefully woven in there
where it belongs, along
with everything else.
How I admire and envy
such style -- such minute
glittering perfection of
texture; like the tiny
threads in my friend Lee
Metzger's Yves Saint Laurent
coat he loaned me on his
honeymoon balcony, I was
so cold and covered with it.

I will rate more but I’m at work right now. Still had some quick inspiration

Drop that box, man
Open your sore ears
I know you want
To meet the golden
Man who lives forever

But you won’t man
No I swear you won’t
Carpe diems
A nice thing to say
But now, what will you do?

You’d better drop that box, man
We die tomorrow

Poem 3:

Bb king taught me everything. His hands are like mine, writing this

I wrote myself a droll ol' poem,
I've written more but none'll know 'em
I writ a little gay poem

I wish I could draw loli doujins,
Where sex with kids is but illusion,
And 'actually a thousand years old' gives pass

Written from most conflicted POV,
I could be the new Nabokov
'Now With Extra Tits And Ass!'

Red russy Red russy
Red russy Red russy
Boy why don't you come oe'r
and cum in my bussy

>>23521396
its not that obvious, which is good. hiding the simile is a way to make the audience wonder if there is another meaning, and making the connection themselves. you can work the title to reference two or more relevant ideas, if you want to be even more cerebral

>>23520051
>>23520056
>>23520059
>>23520064
>>23520072
>>23520076

hardcore schizo poetry

>>23518659
at least you have good pace

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I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good, I would call her
Wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
And a six-four Impala

>>23513005
You’re good but you’re rubbing against your limits, I would recommend writing even more continuous rhymes analogous to doing more weight lifting if you want to do this style more, I would also recommend looking into the poet noyes, here’s some of his work.

https://d.lib.rochester.edu/robin-hood/text/noyes-song-of-sherwood

First four stanza for the thread

“ Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake,
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.

Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves
Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves,
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June:
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon,
Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.

Merry, merry England is waking as of old,
With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold:
For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.”
Now then

> Moon behind the trees
>Gold among the leaves

Delicate and lyrical and simple, you should have kept the trochaic rhythm because,

>To night the maiden sees

Feels like you flipped just to continue the assonance, but it’s still fine but

>A Midautumn night's dream

Feels mangled in meter, and a half developed reference to a midsummers night dream.

“ Searching among the stars
Mercury, Venus, Mars
Shadow of Balthasar
Dances and stretches far”

Is excellent but fails in the last line imo because you do not recognize why the three first lines have lovely interplay, because as you know they’re based on trochaic substitution but if you look closely, I would argue, that even as “Mercury Venus” could be read as still following that pattern, it’s actually two cretic feet, and that’s why the final line lacked a crisp feeling along with the line feeling designed around the rhyme, I would rewrite it thus

Cont

>>23523929
Searching among the stars
Mercury, Venus Mars,
Shadows of Balthasar,
purling here, reeling far.

Or some such.

Next stanza only comment I have is

“ In that Hesperian flight”

Milton can get away with not marking his elision, we cannot, please mark it in that hesper’an or some such because I doubt you mean the whole word.


>She stands amidst the gloom
>And walks beside the moon

These are good though rehashing a lot.

>To night the maiden soothes
>My unrelenting doom


I dislike repeating maiden but it’s fine, what I don’t like is you’re willing to slant into assonance but still chose unrelenting doom when it clearly doesn’t fit. You have more options so why not use them.

“Long, have I been watching here
Waiting for the mist to clear
Souls ascend and drawing near
Starlight gleams on shadowed tear“

The bad is the first line’s “have I” are filler and perversion of sentence, and the third line feels utilitarian, fourth is good and reminds me of certain haiku.

“
In hallowed ground, the maiden stands
With touch of death upon her hands
Cold, is each unravelling strand
Dead, my sorrow of the damned”

Be real, you lost your manners and fell to a petty edgy pop lyric, I am all for using idiom and popular phrasing, but that first line should have been the warning to stop, from there the images and rhymes are just to complete the structure, it’s not a real stanza.

I would continue but I’ve just gotten busy, if I have time I will complete and do more poems.

empty vessels on the sea heading for Rome
heading for home, she forgot about me
dancing around a fire for a muse to please
squat yellow lemons growing on trees

streets at night melted under neon lights
call me, let me know you're alright
ease my mind, tell me where to go
we lost each other quite some time ago

>>23523935
at the risk of sounding like I'm making excuses, I wrote that in an hour cuz all my other longer baked stuff is published elsewhere (and I dont want 4chan associations).
One of the odd things about the old styles that I learn from is the way they would enunciate words differently to fit the rythm of a verse

>A mid/autumn/nights/dream

which of course isnt clear to the reader unless you read the verse again that way. Yes the scheme in the Noyes example sounds infinately better. These days I dont always follow the rules to the letter and am more interested in the story or theme of a poem. Rules are important of course and making things sound good is just as important as the artistic vision. I just dont mind bending the rules in favor of a narrative. but yes its quite sloppy. even changing the proper grammer for one verse to fit the meter and not doing that for others.
Yes those lines were pretty cliche, but they were written sincerely. lazy, but sincerely.

Either way I feel bad for cobbling it so fast, but the poetry general was dead for a while and I wanted to get one up before someone else. I wish I could post some better stuff I have already but the Wayback Machine doesnt like 4chan and the archives dont show up on most search engine results.

>>23524296
>a mid/autumn/nights dream

>>23520886
I used to browse /lit/ a lot before covid hit, and he was kind of up-his-own-asshole back then. Real "holier than thou" type shit. Is he still obnoxious now, or did he get better?

>>23522833
Alright, this one was pretty nice

A bump for the thread
Lest I wake up to it dead

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>>23513004
Shilling my chapbook.

t.co/f9t9Hkr1Cy


An Awkward Encounter at the Grocery Store

The autistic kid
that works at the grocery store near me
told me he is moving to Texas soon
I’ve never really talked to him before
but he must have recognized me
or was desperate for someone to listen

I asked what part, he told me.
I just nodded
He asked if I could guess why he was moving
I could begin to see that he was going to unload on me a bit

“Not sure, man”

He smiled with tension and with awkward pauses
The way people with autism do
while he bagged my seltzer and ground beef

“Why do all men move places?”
I smiled at his question, probably equally as tense

“Well, either a job or a woman”

It was the latter

They’d been dating online for two years and just recently met
He was planning on moving down there
after he asked her out in person
after only meeting her in the flesh one time

You could tell his mind was set

“Yep, I’m thinking of signing up for the marines. Gonna work my way up, maybe become a general”

I told him a close friend of mine was in the marines
That he was glad to be out.

“See if I work my way up, I’ll be giving the orders.”
He proceeded to give me an ethics lesson
on how, like Caesar
if he was going to order his men into battle
he would be right beside them. Even if he was a general

I told him I bet he would be the first American General to do that.
I think I pissed him off.

What weight his dreams must carry.
The awful burden of inherited expectation
and romantic cliches
about love, battle and loss.
The gentle ease of cognitive friendly fire
To see bullets as flying black oblivion of concentrated destiny
meant for everyone else

but to neglect the fact he’ll never wear the uniform
for the aberrant arrangement of his synapses and the dead air in his speech.

I could see pain in his face when he told the story.
It was like he was trying to convince himself that it was going to happen.

What weight his dreams must carry.

Man
I could melt away, and the barn could absorb me
And everyone else dancing could splash me around with their shoe rentals
And I would be happy.

I've never been able to enjoy or write long poems, short ones all the way
Though I thoroughly enjoy epic poems like the Iliad and the Divine Comedy

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Does the last line imply the worm's dark secret love destroys the rose's life, or the rose's life destroys the worm's dark secret love?

>>23527174
I think it can be read either way. However, the sequence tends to the former.

>>23514252
Aw man, I was gonna say that was a great badass poem. The difference between the pros and the amateurs is immediately noticeable (surprised you weren't impressed >>23517195).

>>23513004

Wrote this recently and would love some feedback from other anons.

Person of Interest

Bright evening. Phthitic leaves lay packed tight
between light sleepers, mingled with boot leather
And bright sleeves. The dog whines.Yes I can wait.
Ten miles off fifteen. Two hours out. Thumbprint on screen.

Tread lightly. He’s not moving, but who knows.
Let the dog go first, lick wounds. Feel the
Steel rail like cat-gut, trembling at callused touch
From the depot. Back a mile or so, rubber rolls on asphalt.

Flies buzz. Rusted boxcars across the way
Cry dead names under dark poplar. The call of crows
Seems mawkish in the dog-star’s heat. I see for a moment
the whites of your split eyes; spilt on your cheeks.

Hey there dead man. Where does your skin end?
Tattoo ink and laugh-line inbred with blackened plaid
And petrol. Nothing to do but wait. A tattered scrap
Of jacket hangs westward, quivering at the wind’s breath.

drooling multi-tongued
legions
under the tight command
of bordered & luminous land

I keep it there
in that jar. or a room
locked. like a smooth rock collection
it's so pretty and cool
but not to get too enthusiastic
and spill drool all over this chalky shuttle
I say
'hey! how are you?'
would you swim
in a tar bath
or limp with me along the sea shore
once the door is found
out of the wilderness
we'll ride a swift camel
towards the water
of the long ago
future telescopes
and a telegram
leave it under the rock
if it gets to you.

I miss you
your tongue
is weighty
and the room holds scented
essence of energetic awareness
to be honest never meant to bomb you
but that's just how it works on me
weaving the mouth's spittle
in ropes
to climb to your hinted place.

The drooling tongue
Rivers of spit
Lazily lungs lung
Its eyes lit

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What makes poetry the most demanding form? Wouldn't you think novel writing is harder due to length and precision of concept?

>>23530446
I wouldn't know. Did Mr. Faulkner ever give his reasoning?

>>23528658
no. theres just this guy who constantly posts other poems pretending its his own work (thomas grey being his favorite to plagairise). Im almost positive hes the one who made every /pg/ thread up until this one

>>23530446
Of course all literature has rules, but appealing poetry needs ryhthm and rhyme, which is a whole seperate artform. Of course you can do freeverse if you have no talent but an easy win for the audience is just to be catchy and evocative

A naked limb
Will never shelter me
Ever again

>>23530110
>Lazily lungs lung

Please tell me you didn't write this shit

>>23529362
Makes no sense but I do like it. It has an ephemeral feel

>>23530446
“Prose: words in their best order; poetry: the best words in the best order.”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge

>>23530446
>short works are harder than long works
Tarkovsky said something smiliar about short films vs features

>>23530110
Lung isn't a verb.

>>23530625
How to move a city

one lunged breath of it
held as long as a memory
carried blocks and blocks
in a handful of sand and glass
to a corner and a touch
of a lover, their breath
their passing perfume

>>23530656
How does a breath lunge?

>>23530665
Lungged

Thanks for spotting typo

>>23530656
sounds like one of those reaches of linguistics that sound more poetic in your own head than it really is

>>23530682
Maybe it is a hesitance to read openly on anons behalf. To lung could be a nice verb, especially in the context of a poem. Hell don't poets take in the world and circulate it within themselves before exhaling a poem? Aren't poems a lyrical interwoven dance between sound, beauty, sincerity, and meaning? Are you just going to dismiss me from your aloof position in nowhere? Do I give a fuck?

You do realise I wrote that quickly. It was a fun exersize. The world won't he changed on 4chan, only anons gender

>>23515477
Cut the last stanza altogether and tidy up the capitalization/punctuation (2 AM, for example, without the colon).

>>23515918
What's propinquity?

>>23517310
Good work. You should read Nelson Ball's poetry (In This Thin Rain), perhaps to get a sense of how one does minimalist poetry classically informed.

>>23517960
If William Carlos Williams was waiting for the bus in the year 2016.

>>23518706
I read this as the Adam Driver character sketch from SNL where he plays an oil baron on bring your parents to school day type deal—it's got good elements of imagery and lexical density, but strays too far into repetition and metaphysics when I think it would have been more interesting to leave out the straightforward musing and double down on producing imagery using synonyms instead of repetition to get your point across.

>>23518733
Awesome short narrative poem with good metaphor. Really dig the phrase "lurid meat".

>>23521068
Keep working on your tight five, maybe do one about the difference between men and women next?

>>23522124
Earl Noshirtnoshoesnoservice?

>>23522482
Like if Les Murray and Dezső Tandori were wooing a younger Yeats.

>>23522833
Have a friend edit this, it's a great premise for a narrative/fable poem, but it gets progressively awkward in syntax and prepositions toward the end.

>>23523384
Could you try rewriting this poem if the guy in the dialogue didn't refer to his interlocutor as "man"? It's brief but a little nebulous.

>>23523791
Bars. Collab with the Red Russy guy?

>>23524184
Good elegiac poem. Consider replacing "empty" with something more descriptive, unique, and less contradictory—the double entendre feels incidental because of it, although maybe that's what lends this vignette its charm. How about "loveless", as in Christian Bök's Eunoia: https://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/content/vowels

>>23526300
Feels like a Carl Sandburg bit, nice.

>>23529751
Feels like Richard Brautigan-ish, but more romantic than bizarro.

I have nothing of my own to share, haven't lurked here in years.

>>23530534
>>23530625
Always the same replies from the same predictable illiterate retards, even complaining about well established fucking techniques. There is something seriously wrong with you faggots.

>>23530880
>I have nothing of my own to share
Then fuck off retard.

>>23530867
well language has rules for a reason. sure I can say "oh I get what he's trying to say" but that opens the floodgates to more people using cosmic excuses for the shit they write. I already have to deal with expressionism in art, I dont want to see any more of it in literature, (or anywhere else in fact).
Theres nothing wrong with using established words. Beginner writers always think that are mundane or repetative, and try pushing the bounderies for the sake of being more unique. its not the words that are mundane, its the writers vision or lack of vision. the words themselves arent repetative, its the narrative, or lack of one.

>>23531287
Imagine being fucked in the head enough to write all this shit. You're just a fucking idiot. The "lung" line was written for you. It wouldn't exist without you, you mindless piece of shit.

>>23531264
>His poem was shit

Lmao, filtered

>>23530880
>>23523791 you know thats a Skee-Lo song right?

>>23531295
He doesn't know or understand anything. Everything he says is performative which is incredibly deranged considering the posts are anonymous.

>>23531294
Post a shit poem you absolute retard. The only conceivable fucking use for this thread is posting shit poems but you're too braindead to even do that.

My Bad
By Anon //

Swing low, sweet Camelot
My bad, you're not

Bad, I'm bad
She's pretty hot

To trot
Esio Trot

The fall of Troy
A Trojan horse
Excuse me please
I'm a little hoarse

Walk and chew gum
Open carry my gun

Bowling for Columbine
You'll always be a pal o' mine
Sweet Caroline

>>23531306
Fuck you, which one was yours? Let us know RIGHT NOW. Which one was it? Go on. Let's see Mr. Big Bad poetry guy's post over here. Show us real quick, tough guy.

If you do that, I PROMISE to post one of my own, and we can fucking run it back, bro.

>>23531306
>>23531342
You know what? I change my mind. Post your BEST fucking piece. Literally look through your fucking archives and pick out your BEST poem.

I will match you piece for piece with one of my most average, middle-of-the-road poems, and we'll see what's what.

I'm literally throwing you a fucking life line here if you think you're hot shit.

it's happening
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8YmiVKhXkE

>>23531342
>>23531348
What is wrong with your brain? What made you like this? What is the thought process behind any of your mindless posts? What the fuck do you think you're contributing? Are you trying to prove the point that you're a mindless and illiterate idiot making performative ego posts, anonymously? You can't even untangle any of the context, you don't know anything that's happening in any fucking post.

>>23531348
>I'm literally throwing you a fucking life line here if you think you're hot shit.
You're completely serious. You meant this. You sincerely believe you're "throwing me a life line" somehow. Your mind is cancerous mush. Why can't you recognize that objective fact and stop infecting the world with your cancer?

>>23531367
>>23531369
Okay, so you're a pussy then. I asked you which of your posts was your own, and realizing how unfair that would be to you, I then asked you to produce your BEST work so that I can get a fair representation of your artistic skill. You decided to come at me, so now let's see who's bullshittin who.

I really was hoping you'd show up with a motherfucking arsenal, as shit as I suspect it to be. I really was hoping you wouldn't pussy out, but oh well, what else could I have expected from Mister Hotshot over here?

You wanna know what the real kicker is? I'm not even the original critique fag that you were going off on. I'm just some random unaffiliated poster who made a joke cause I saw you fucking whining, and I knew you didn't have shit. You got ZERO fucking aces up your sleeve, and you're a SHIT poet.

If you wanna prove me wrong, offer's still on the table. Take it or leave it.

>>23531373
Nothing I said even implies I'm a good poet or that any of the poems he critiqued are mine. I noted the objective fact that you and the other retard are completely illiterate and incapable of putting together the simplest thought about any subject.
You're just demonstrating the point over and over.

>>23531373
Do you even read your own posts? How can people get this fucked in the head? Why is this board flooded with you parodies of thinking humans?

>>23531378
Then post your poetry and we'll put that to the test. I'm BEGGING you to ante up. Post your BEST fucking piece, and we'll compare fucking notes.

We can talk shop right now, just you and me.

I'll give you TWENTY fucking minutes, otherwise you're not only a pussy, but you're also a pseudo intellectual hack

>>23531389
Why would I? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why even post?

>>23531389
>We can talk shop
How does shit like this even pop into your mind? I don't respect you. I don't believe you can even think about the simplest subject. Why would I want to "talk shop" with someone like that, especially given the context of your deranged posts?

>>23531399
Shoot, alright, you're a pussy, and also pseudo intellectual hack who doesn't have a leg to stand on. I didn't think you'd outright ADMIT it, yet here we are.

I'm so disappointed in you; the way you were popping off, one would think you had something to show for it

>>23531403
What did I actually say illiterate retard? Can you quote what you're referencing?

>>23531401
Well then, the feeling's mutual, isn't it? The only difference is, I'm willing to play my hand, while you can only hide behind it.

How utterly disappointing

>>23531407
What the fuck are you talking about retard? Why are you dragging this thread into your deranged fantasies? Are you going to post some poems?

>>23531409
I just thought you were a formidable poet, or at the very LEAST a competent one, by the way you were spitting and hissing.

Yet here you are, still spitting and hissing, but all your claws are show, and all your venom is impotent. I'm playing with a garden variety snake, which is why I'm handling you with the utmost disregard at the moment. If you had shown a little more poison, maybe I might be a bit more wary without gloves.

>>23531413
What kind of retard would actually reply to you with a poem? Who would throw away anything he put any work in to satisfy some deranged idiot demanding the hecking best to prove.. something.
Calling people like you idiots or retards is an insult to idiots and retards. Deranged ego-driven mindless golem with nothing to say about any subject. You can't even fucking read but you keep posting, about nothing forever.

Two faggots on /lit/ trying to flex
While the rest of the thread's having some keks
Started with a recoiling
And now they are boiling
If there was any more heat they'd be having gay sex

>>23531260
Illiterate means I can't read your inane drivel. I only wish I was illiterate. Try harder or stfu, faggot

>>23531418
You may be shit at poetry, but at least you've mastered the art of deflection.

You still have seven minutes to post your best piece, and we can all sit back and BASK in the grandeur of your literacy. We can all bow down and WORSHIP at the mecca of intelligence.

We'd just fucking loooove to see it...In about seven minutes.

>>23531422
desu I should've replaced the first instance of 'having' with getting

>>23531422
Hey man, he's the only one here getting fucked. I'm having grand ole time.

>>23531424
You literally can't. You don't understand anything requiring the slightest bit of effort like being aware of established context.
>Ackshually "stfu" is not a verb.

>>23531431
Man, ACKSHUALLY, stfu. That's not even me LMAO. Looks like this fight suddenly became two against one.

>>23531422
Kek

>>23531425
What are you talking about retard? How do any of your deranged posts even slightly relate to any of the posts you're replying to? You have two minutes to send me a chest of gold coins or I win.

>>23531431
Established context? Lmao do you ever wish you knew what the fuck you are talking about?

>>23531436
One minute.

>>23531433
>That's not even me
Again, you're illiterate and completely insane. What the fuck are you talking about? If you're literate why do you keep replying to posts as if you didn't understand them?
>>23531437
Is the concept of context beyond you?

>>23531436
Welp, time's up. This has been amusing, but I recommend you hit the books, and maybe come back to play some other day.

I gotta say, I'm a HUGE fan of your silent poetry. You know the kind of poem where you shut the fuck up and say absolutely nothing? Very fun, we all had a big laugh. You should do more of that in the future.

>>23531445
What are you talking about? Why can't you engage with anything actually said?
>That's not even me LMAO
This is how braindead you are. It's not a matter of opinion, you can get tests to verify that you're braindead. Based on your posts you don't even have theory of mind.

>>23531448
Woah woah woah woah, I said we want MORE of your silent poetry, not MORE of your insistent faggotry

Get a load of this guy, am I right?

>>23531451
Post your shit poems retard. You're the only faggot declaring what a great poet you are. You keep saying you're going to back up these claims but all you do is reveal you can't read the simplest posts.

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>>23531451

alright anon, hes already dead, you got him

>>23531459
I've never seen a corpse so achy and stiff. He must be in love with himself; rigor mortis.

>>23531458
Oh trust me. I will. The MOMENT you post your own, I will. Believe me. You really think I won't? I have been BEGGING you for the past hour to give me some stiff competition. The only thing you gave, was yourself an erection.

>>23531459
>>23531462
You both know you're braindead. That's why you do this anti-thinking commie terrorism shit.
>>23531464
Why? What are you talking about retard? What does the objective fact that you're an illiterate idiot have to do with my poetry? Assuming it even fucking exists since I never even mentioned it. Are you able to put together something approaching a coherent thought?

Self-masturbatory to a definite fault
He couldn't post a poem, or a stanza at all
When asked if he could, or perhaps backup his stance
He hollered "'STABLISHED CONTEXT!!!!" before shitting his pants

///////////////////
M
O
R
E
P
O
E
M
S
P
L
S

Low Key
By Anon //

I'm basic
AF

You're a bae
You suck

That's a dope idea
I'm DTF

I've got my goals
I've GTG

It hits different
IYKYK

This burrito slaps
No cap
He's a meal
She's a snack

I'm vibing trash
And you just wanna
Smash

>>23531476
If you're this guy >>23531424
The fucking CONTEXT, the thread behind the discussion is different from the discussion with the other guy.
That's a reply to my two minute poem referencing another poem in the thread and making up a verb because I knew it would make you braindead faggots reveal yourselves. You don't recognize anything that's happening, ever. You can't read.

He continued to repeat himself, with words like "coherent thought"
"Established context", and "braindead" a lot
The only thing he hasn't said, cause he's scared to death
Is a poem of his own, at least as of yet

>>23531444
Nope. Your shit is trivial and banal. I can't help you are so bootyblasted about it. Get better or grow thicker skin because based on what you've put out here, one or the other has to happen or you're going to be perpetually crying on 4chan and no one wants to see that. No one gives a fuck

>>23531488
The poem was written by ME, bro. The same one who's been asking you to write a poem yourself for the past hour and a half.

>>23531491
>Your shit is trivial and banal.
Maybe but what are you talking about retard? Why do you not show any hint of being able to read the posts you're replying to?
>>23531492
>The poem was written by ME
Again you're just demonstrating the point that you're fucking illiterate over and over.

>>23531495
Dude, you're getting straight bullied lmfao. Your posts are weak, your stance is weak, you refuse to reveal your poetry to us, but I reckon it's because your poetry is weak too.

Just slink back into anonymity, come back as another poster with a better fucking attitude, and lick your wounds whilst hidden. You can't hold your fucking own AT ALL, you have no business presenting yourself as a writer.

>>23531495
I'm taking about it because I can, you inscrutable faggot. You can take the advice it or continuously seethe about your stupid "poem". I don't give a fuck either way

>>23531499
>your stance is weak
What is my stance? What are you yapping about? You illiterate retards have no clue what's going on or what I think about any subject. Not a single reply you made has anything to do with me. It's all completely in your mind from start to end.
>>23531501
>I'm taking about it
What? What the fuck are you talking about retard? Where's the fucking "advice" retard? You can't even bother to read.

>>23531507
Ohhhhhh, so you plan to win by wearing us down with your inane bullshit. THAT'S your endgame, I see. Welp, if posting inane bullshit is a winning strategy, then by all means, I kneel at the alter of your cunning. Truly no man can best you at what you do best.

>>23531507
Get better or develop thicker skin because your poetry sucks. It sounds like you're the one that can't read lmao

>>23531293
Legend, sincerely. I owe you a drink

If other body parts can be made into verbs I don't see why lung cannot as well

I headed out and lunged the open air
and it was fresh and fair as thee
but far from here our seaside share
is a world more fresh and fair and free

>>23531634
I dick all over your stupid poetry

>>23531639
dick cum or pee?

>>23531486
the thread said post poems not nigger babble

File: 1697691874583269.jpg (20 KB, 640x480)

20 KB JPG

>>23531634
uh, is that what this retarded argument is about? Im guessing youre an ESL mutant, because "lunged" is already a word, meaning to quickly move forward. lol?

>>23531661
I'll take that as a compliment

Inside Out
By Anon //

Inside Out 2
Got ennui, too

Emotions
Not emoticons
Is it a con?

It's not a romcom
That'd be Barbie
A billion dollars can't be
Wrong

>>23531679
Obviously you are retarded because you are mistaking that for lunge. I was making lung into a verb. I'm not even one of the anons who were arguing. I just wrote a poem to prove the point.

Laughing Crying
By Anon //

Sparkles means it's A.I.
Smiley with love heart eyes

I heart Huckabees
Laughing crying
Or just crying

Praying hands
Applauding hands
Hands across the ocean

That's awesome
You look awesome

Thumbs up
Flexed biceps

>>23531634
Last line has "fresh and fair and free", but it messes up the meter. I'd pick either "fresh" or "fair" and leave out the other. It really doesn't matter which, because honestly they both sound pretty good.

>>23531738
It's fine.

is a world is a tripedal substitution. I'm obviously writing in a ballad form which is usually accentual rather than syllabic. I headed out should be read as strong weak weak strong. The hyphens designate pauses and the slashes delineate the feet

I head/ed out/-- and lunged/ the op/en air/
and it/ was fresh/ and fair/ as thee/
but far/ from here/-- our sea/side share/
is a world/ more fresh/ and fair/ and free/

My Bro
By Anon //

He ain't heavy
He's my brother

He's my bro
He's my bruh
Ain't no brouhaha

He's my best bud
He's my buddy
Ain't that right broseph?

You're my man
You're my homie
You're my nigga

Love you like a brother
Like no other

>>23531712
and im saying its already a word, get it? if youre going to make up new words, it shouldnt already be an existing word. you proved nothing

>>23513108
this one is good.

>>23531810
homographs are not the same words. You do realize that words exist before letters, right?

>>23531787
Perhaps so, but from a practical standpoint, it detracts from the flow and is overall awkward and stilted compared to just removing a single syllable from the final line. It's still a good poem, but it lacks finesse or efficiency. It's a bit unwieldy in that regard.

>>23531886
>finesse or efficiency
What do these concepts have anything to do with the bounding quality of a ballad? The ballad is a vulgar form. The liberal use of lung as a verb only amplifies the connotation of the form, much in the way that uneducated people have to resort to slang to express themselves. I don't think it sounds awkward at all. Maybe you are a poor reciter. Also, removing any of those words would take away from the parallel between lines 2 and 4.

>>23530880
Thanks for the feedback on >>23522482
and reading suggestions.

Tbf, why would you hate on a guy taking the time to give others critiques (that I found helpful) unless he said your poem was unimpressive?

>>23532177
This, I’m just starting to write poetry and not sure I’ll keep it up. For me the whole point of this thread is the critiques. I write code for cash but hate doing code reviews so I recognize that they are ultimately different skills, even if there is some overlap.
Ha, I just scrolled up, it’s 4chan, every thread is going to be 90+% shit flinging. Just take a shower when you’re finished reading.

The Proud Dancer

Is it wrong to adore,
Just the night, nothing more?
And to get on the floor,
Only after drinks pour?

Because when he can think,
And he’s lacking a drink,
From the room he does shrink,
And he can’t sleep a wink.

But if the bride doesn’t care,
And the groom unaware,
They will all say they’re glad
The proud dancer was there.

Everyone is stupid
Including you
Faggot

I need actual feedback on one of my poems, but I'm going to have to send it to my contacts in publishing extremely soon and I'm not sure whether it's a good idea to upload it here even as a png
has anyone that we know of had problems with this, ever?

>>23530537
Thank you anon! It's supposed to be about the experience of finding a dead body, but I am glad that the writing had the desired atmospheric and emotional effect.

Trying to get away.
I need to get away.
But what need is there?
Stay where you belong.
But what tree does a bird belong to when he hangs in the sky looking up.
What must a man do when the man only knows that he is lost.
Stand up. Sit down.
Smile into the darkness.
Smile into a void.
Smile in front of death who stands there playing the clarinet.
He isn't hitting a single note but the melody is tranquil.
God help him.
God temper the fire in his eyes.
God help him to see.
Me and him are one and the same but there is hope for him.
Not me.
What hope is there when sorrow stands triumphantly with his foot on tomorrow.
Surrender or fight?
Give in to the tyranny of the soul?
No chance.
Smile into the void.
Smile into the blackened teeth of the enemy.
Raise the sword of higher consciousness
Life is only futile when one opposes his self.
A man who is true to his self is true to all
He is one and everything
and when he raises the sword to defend his soul he defends the soul of all
and should he be vanquished he can never die. He can never die for he lives in all.

That poem might seem shizoesque because it is entirely stream of consiousness with no thought put into it so in a way it is

>>23532995
I never would have pulled that from what you wrote but it is pretty good, nonetheless. Lyrical, haunting

>>23532752
I can't give feedback but can you give advice on where to look to publish one's poetry?

>>23533513
make contacts with people at universities even if you are not enrolled
some of them are editors of local literary magazines, some are writers themselves, some teach lit and will be interested
this is all for European unis, America might be different

A little Diddy about video games
------
Art is my Soul;
It is where I let my emotions flow,
The place where all irrationality can go.

In The World I am quite stoic and stern,
And I do not yearn,
Or regret
(but for one thing,
and I will never tell You what that is hehe).
I save all of that for art,
Where Thou aren't.

Tragedy is just a flavour there;
Conflict something one can savour.
The struggle can be quantified;
And sympathy –
Even pity – cannot kill a man.

>>23531944
Bro, what? Chill the fuck out, I said I liked your poem. But in the actual real world that everyone but you currently lives in (and not this phony made up world of high language and academia that you currently occupy), it sounds awkward, plain and simple.

You can stress syllables, you can unstress syllables, you can create arbitrary pauses in the middle of lines, break apart verbs, nouns, adjectives, and call it a "vulgar ballad"; but you know what you call that in the practical world? A bad idea.

A bad idea is a bad idea, plain and simple

>>23534641
All right. I was being rude. If it is awkward then I am having trouble detecting it. If you or anyone else here can say more on how to ameliorate that then I would appreciate it

Poetry is week
Poetry is strong
Take your meds
And touch grass

>>23534884
Even for a flippant "too cool to try" poem, this one is kinda lame. There's a certain art to posting informal, "don't give a fuck" type of poetry.

>>23534914
Thanks for your useless opinion

>>23534914
Based

A spark of flame has grown upon this green,
That whilom flowered stood;
This burning bush with blackened, dying sheen,
That once might match the wood.
In what the finch would nest, both safe and clean,
Now burn'th both bright and rude.
Lo, list to death!---he reaps the perfect part:
If only brands were broken at their start.

>>23531634
I wont get into the "lunged" debate(although I can't see why "breathed" is inadequate) but I think you have a good sense of music in this poem.

>>23513146
kek

She sucks
She fucks
She is a ran through whore
Triple digit body count
Because the men around her are stupid
Die in a fire, bitch

>>23531473
>>23531464

bumping for the schizo retard screaming match

>>23536016
What’s this about?

>>23536193
A stupid bitch

writing in iambic is the most tiring shit of all time
you spend a shit ton of time slaving away before something most people dont even know fucking exists and for nothing
half the people cant even tell you where the stressed syllable of a given word is and it sure as hell doesnt improve the poem's sound but might even be detrimental to it given how twisted it comes out because of the pattern

>>23531348
>>23531373
Are you Asian? I have to ask. Please respond and be honest.

my poems are either too personal or too surreal/alien to post here

>>23513108
I like this anon

>>23536279
Post the surreal one

>>23532348
first stanza feels forced
last two lines of the second stanza are especially unnatural
first line of the third stanza doesn't fit the meter

>>23534621
the "It is" of line 2 felt a little awkward; other than that I like it.

>>23536254
Don’t worry, more you write in rhythm the more easier it gets, continue studying the substitutions the old poets used and then you’ll find it so ridiculously simple writing without meter will be silly, even in plain prose.

don’t WOR/y MORE/ you RITE/ in RHYT/Um the/ MORE EE/see ER/ it GETS, con TIN/you STUD/ee ING/ the SUB/stuh TU/shins the/ OLD PO/ets USED/ and THEN/ you’ll FIND/ it SO/ruh DIK/u LUS/ly SIMP/le WRIT/ing with / OUT MEET/er WILL/ be SILL/y EE/ven IN/ plain PROSE.

the Key is Knowing Consistency’s Not the Same as Musicality but Does produce a smoothness to the movement of the line,

If I just, break out the sound pattern watch how the sound sound’s still quite lovely however imbalanced.

if I/ just BREAK OUT/ the SOUND PATT/ern WATCH HOW/ the SOUND’s SOUND’s/ still QUITE LOVE/ly HOW EV/er im BAL/enced.

Think of the line like flowing fluid or the curvature in woodworks, made into divided portions, straight in part for smoothness and clear strength, while other pieces curved for style, the same way that repetitive beats make a song but artistry is in how you exactly break monotony, it’s not different here, so a consistent sound isn’t be-all end all.

>>23536279
Don’t worry about it! Skill and idiosyncrasy mixed is what good vision even is.

When I have a chance if the threads still up I will try to critique and reply more,
Tried my hand at writing a pop song with female voice/style/manner, writing time took around 20 minutes.

https://vocaroo.com/1lSYt0n0uMmJ

Lyric:

Waiting for it all to end,
Are you waiting for it all to end?
Will you enjoy it while you ken?
Are you waiting for it all to end?


Waiting for it all to end,
Are you waiting for it all to end?
Will you enjoy it while you can?
Are you waiting for it all to end?


I remember when it felt so clear, what I was and who,
Ever since I spilled my tears, day and night for you,
Gotta catch my breath, the air’s so thin and I feel far away,
Steel grey clouds weigh on me now, on me now,
And I don’t feel the same, how can I be worlds away,
From myself, full on a fool, who’re you smiling for?
Callously, callously, same way a Pearl is formed,
Maybe it’ll all just purl away, purl away.

We fucked her
In every hole so hard
She threw up come

sidereal has four syllables instead of only two
this changes the rhythm of a poem I wrote in June
the lesson to be learned here is never try too hard
unless you want to come across as a total retard

>>23536813
Pretty basic but begs the question, based on a true story?

>>23536932
Yes. We also broke 2 of her ribs and punctured her lung

>>23536922
For what it’s worth, you can actually make it two syllables, since the three syllable variant sideral does exist, and thus the unstressed er can be subjugated to elision, meaning if you mark it “sid’ral” you’d get the exact pronunciation, meaning and syllable count you wanted, and a more mystic looking word anyways.

>>23536938
Nice, you can even add those as lines to the poem.

Passing thoughts


A wind on the edge of town
grew from a wayward God

I didn't know how else
to describe the way the laundry

I'd strung up days before
filled with invisible dancing bodies

You were walking on that mistborn night across the street bathed in headlights your raincoat wet not from any precipitation but from mere humidity.
It was a misty night.
Small droplets of gaseous water lay suspended in the cold air as you moved your hand up to thank the driver for stopping hopped up on the island and bent forward to look for oncoming traffic.
There was none to be seen.
Water vapor warm and moist in your body met sudden cooling when exhaled into the winter air.
It reminded you of smoking.
Down you hopped and off you went across the street and shimmied between parked cars to reach that place in your mind.
The health food shop.

Writhing flesh and rising tide
What goes on beneath those eyes?
Something soft and something smiled
Won’t you come and sit a while?
I can’t see what I can’t find
Can’t I be too far behind?
Questions asked and answers mine
Why can’t we just stay in line?

I hope your world burns
I pray your lover spurns
I know your heart yearns
I see your soul turns

My Street
By Anon //

The vacant lot
Across the street
Has a magic tree out front
Almost every week appears
A dining chair, beside the trunk.

At the corner of my street
There must be a magical realm
For our of nowhere there appears
A velour three piece lounge.

What a magical street!

>>23537015
or when to stop when trying
to pronounce the name of the wind

how to remove seeds from my throat
because I didn't listen to my mum

and swallowed whatever fit in my mouth
how the first seed was my content

hand, a little fist pulling at eager vines
of breath and my first shallow words

mama, dada, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Silence grows thick
Folding the trick
Right on its absent self
May it be near
Doors closing in
Grave's deaf to dreadful welps
Being as such
Damaged and much
Gone under a rigid gaze
Tired as hell
Mummified shell
Burrier into the maze
Formless shout must
Incubate trust
That it will all end well
Yet the heart drops
Skips a beat crops
Luminous leaden bell
Where one can hide
From summer's wide
Daunting and burning spell
Why must it be
Shade-robbed 's the tree
Standing there all exposed
Such is the time
The season is wild
No place to feed the ghost
Hiding your eyes
Severing ties
Floating the valley closed.

>>23537055
nice

>>23513004
Why are poetry books published nowadays just sentences split up over multiple lines? And why are they making their lazy authors so much money it's just not fair

Might write a folly
For all men jolly
To chime and jeer the fool

No bindings clutched
So freedoms crutch
Is a rusty spoke or tool

We show our teeth
A cubits reach
And the speed in which
We pump

Our fist in air
To show we’re here
The crowd is loud
The chump

>>23537257
Everyone writes poems. There are more broke poets now than the entire global population of the middle ages

>>23536804
I know you're more of a poet and not a songwriter (and it's not like I'm some sort of bigshot music producer either), but I think I definitely understand what people mean now when they say "AI won't replace artists for a long while at least".

First stanza of the "chorus" is just fine, because it's setting the precedence, right? Like it's setting the tone. In fact, it's quite pleasant.

It's the second stanza of the chorus that lacks energy. There needs to be a pitch change at the end of the second line, so that the last word, "end", elongates and rises an octave, then, at the third or last line, you need to add an echo, so it goes:

>Will you enjoy it while you can? (While you can? You can?)

OR

>Are you waiting for it all to end? (all to end?)

Then the AI totally fucks up the rhythm on the first verse, and also, I feel the slow, melancholic tone of the song actually detracts from the quality of the music, and it would do better if it exploded into energy when the first verse comes on; perhaps even going for a hiphop style instead.

>>23536273
................Yes

How did you know? What gave it away?

>>23536060
It's over, let him lick his wounds to come back another day; possibly with a better attitude, or at least without a massive stick up his butt

>>23536016
>>23536196
>>23536813
>>23536938
>Why did he do it, bros?

>>23537408
Because fuck bitches

>>23537395
I just know. I can't say any more.

>>23537395
You might not know this but most white guys if not all of us think Asian guys are socially retarded. It is a safe assumption that if you're not some retarded white guy incel then you are more likely to be any average Asian male. None of you that I have met have not been annoying. I do not know how your women tolerate you all.

>>23513108
I actually don’t echo the praise, there’s a confusion of voice, you don’t know if you want to make it a modern song or not and I do not believe there’s a good sound quality on the lines born of any consistency, this is basically a petty form of https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV3Y1vIziAc


Now I don’t want to come off as overly negative, it’s just a broader question of, you have to decide what it is you’re trying to sound like because I see back and forth, “my cold glass of lager beer” doesn’t sound very Musical,likewise lines like criticizes, “to keep running through my head” is pure pop music however.

>>23513130
I guess you don’t ontologically believe in commas or periods!

>The day is worn
>Sickness of the soul
>Has torn through me

This doesn’t get into any depth of conception or sensation which rendersthis metal-esque.

>shameful persona
>That masks the cracked vessel
>Unshapen and distorted
>A play of the master

Too disjointed, I don’t see a continuous image developed throughout and no deep conception, again feels like random lyrics meant for Impression’s sake.

>Find salvation in Being

You can do a lot with philosophical contemplation on what being is in itself and its philosophical conceptions, but this doesn’t really give us entrance into any qualia or state of mind.

>>23513292
Best shitting poem I’ve seen on here yet.

>>23517195

>Of words and phrases fatal

That doesn’t sound good, sounds forced for the rhymes sake.

> the teller made a grimace
She fired few words, I deadly heard

Like you can’t tell me “I deadly heard” is something stylistically lovely for you, or you like the image of a teller grimacing? Undrastic plastic? You’re already using enough of modernity,you should either drop rhyme or accept rapper assonance to let you have flexibility.

>>23517310
I would recommend avoiding the rhymes because they can cost too much energy that is better spent on capturing qualia.

Here’s some of my short tanka poems, ( a gentleman and I are going to publish 100 tanka and 100 tonka which is to say, 100 childrens poem in a single book.)


Gnashing of the teeth,
Sat in fire, steaming blood’s red,
Tongue piercing needles,
The little tomato’s flesh,
That the sun dried on the leaf.

Tanka are what haiku derive from, going 5,7,5, 7,7 in syllable, I found an ABXBA assonance scheme works the most satisfying with it.

Some more examples

in ravines of time,
I sit in contemplation,
Hours do and do not pass,
Eternity is changeless,
All that I am leaves, but I.


Cold lonesome country,
Frost to chill this savage tongue,
Frigid caves, hot springs,
All to smell chrysanthemum,
But bulbs grow old, unbudding.

>>23537392
I think for a 40 second ai job it did fine ultimately, my problem with it is more that It didn’t interpret the rhythm of how to say the lines properly, the first two stanza are meant to be said akin to https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Lgs9QUtWc3M

And the longer third stanza is meant to be imitative of the voice and rhythm of dido in”thank you” say some of her lyric then say some of mine with her voice and I think it’s obvious, so yes a sorta rapped rhythm. But fundamentally i think the ai did decent!

how do you get over getting caught up on word choice? "rockets sing out" perfectly fits the tone of my poem but someone can single it out if they wanted too. not that I believe anyone would care, of course. but i care some imagined reader might care. just look at these thread and all the hyper specific criticisms that are dished out.

>>23537392
Has anyone ever told you you were wrong before? Lol?

>>23517076
You're welcome.

Flowers

What if life was a meadow
We picked flowers
Wove them into crowns
And danced for hours
Listening to those autumn showers
Leaves change, and are caught by the wind
We run to catch them
Rain soaks our hair
We should go inside, but we just don't care.

Kiss me

I see her work,
Brown hair, brown eyes
Slight smirk
My demise

She touches my skin
Holds me tight
Where to begin
Only a friend tonight

Forbidden dreams
Broken desires
Beauty gleams
My heart conspires

Denial in my mind
Craving in my heart
Logic behind
Love is an art

Lying to myself
Chasing a fantasy
Her kissing me

His feet don’t plod, they float and glide.
What is this glide you see?
A way to ride?
A way to hide?
A humble prophecy?

There’s music in the steps so light—
A feeble breeze that roars
And speaks to grace,
Yet hides its face,
For silence it adores.

But adoration does betray
A different kind of tone,
For underneath
The welcome wreath
The mildew’s overgrown.

So what’s this glide that carries him?
An eagle or a dove?
Well truthfully
It’s both at once,
And born of broken love.

>>23539108
format this a bit more pretentiously and it sings

>>23539108
very romantic...the theme is set.
play with line placement? think of where you want to introduce the ideas that eaach line belies.
>slight smirk
first stanza is rough

>second stanza
works as the last

>>23539680
first stanza ends at first question

>a feeble breeze that roars
awful

>starting lines with "and, yet, for, and especially, but"
use sparingly
never in the same stanza

in the forth you ask if he's a bird. In the second you define him as a zephyr. a swap of these pleases me.

These are my critiques. Don't abandon these if they are in their preliminary stage. They are masterpieces. Treat them with the care they deserve.

>>23537261
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Man_Who_Laughs_(1928).webm

you might appreciate the dearth of silent films provided at full-length on wikipedia

ANXIETY
Is not an orange CGI Muppet
Gibberish
It is dread
Dread that the neighbour will knock on my door
It is fear
Fear of losing my balance on the concrete stairs and hitting my head hard
It is always being on alert
Anticipating the next movement of every driver on the road, every pedestrian, every scooter rider, cyclist.
It is physical.
Less a worry about what I said, wrote in an email, or something I did (that's OCD).
It is pure anticipation of an imminent disaster, humiliation or defeat.
The phantom if these things.
It is not comical.
It is my life.

File: 1711870650850132 (1).png (312 KB, 1081x1080)

312 KB PNG

>>23513004
Suffocated intonations harken hardship forged by most foul
shadowcasters, Saturn-dastards, breaching astral conduct charter.
Workshop wonders waylaid anew; Retrieve my sword and don dark cowl.

Redskin ramparts swelling steady, never trust a devil’s barter.
Luna signals, “turn and behold!” Resplendent grove, boon of grave souls.
Stirring stragglers menace malice, once more saved by Wiseman Martyr

Moving mountains, quizzing cloudscapes, diving deepest, jazzing on coals;
Tenacity tempts youth to truth, ‘til limits scored by cavern’s tale.
Crestfallen foothills sing merry, “abandon ye, all foolish goals!”

Stars scream indignantly, “witness it all past the shimmering veil!”
— briefest ascension, ere notification of stomach’s trite growl.
Mystics of yore adore your awe; ears to heaven for clear regale.

Sol’s gold gleams stir slack dreams, yet heart yearns true for the call of the owl.
Fateblown Djinn, angel of awe, specter’s reproach, a sphinx on the prowl.

“We want a big sandwich, my lord!”
— wish penned by supplicant bowel
Halcyon heart heralds hope as I stow my sword and shed this dark cowl ~
Stretched Sonnet, Terza Rima, Trocháic Octameter

>>23538401
Can you respond to my question, please? I would like to catch you before you disappear another few months.
>>23522978

Poetry is salubrious for the soul. Have my bump.

>>23538401
>your poem sounds forced
>too much modernity
>some other feminine complaint your faggot ass has
Look, just cause you don’t have good taste is no one’s fault but your own
>drop rhyme
Lmao you have no vision whatsoever

Opinion discarded.

>>23540811
Sorry for the delayed reply I’ve been very busy and meant to reply, I would say that. The range of voices and manners useable are higher than the amount I use, because welsh Cynghanedd does make a ton of usage out of a lot of consonance play and Breton poetic meter made heavy usage of multiple internal rhymes which all end rhyming with the penultimate syllable, and this is in addition to a normal rhyme scheme, usually couplets, and there’s examples of both of these being done at once, likewise this and alliterative verse and combinations of all 3 do variously exist an do use stern and even folksy mannerisms, but I agree that fanciful, devotional, frenzied and braggadocio are all done very well in the style, but I think In that you can also do the stately style well, example Heywood does a lot of wordplay with repetition of chunks of a line in the same line or next and despite the skill display it still functions well in elegy for mourning, praise and just a stately feeling.

Something I’ve been studying a lot and want to shill is Nahum tate and the Pindaric (in opposition to the normal Pindar pastiche especially after Congreve returns it to its more original form.)

Tate is exceptional at in a singular poem/ode changing and shifting voices and mannerisms, and the Pindaric due to its variability on length and rhyme scheme makes it highly suitable for such shifts.

There’s an ode of Horace where he imitates Pindar, and Richard Fanshawe‘s translation struck me when reading it, because he did translate it into pindarics of the time, but it lacked something, so I modified the meter of various lines and made all of it basically in that rapper’s rhyme, and I think it is successful and demonstrates dignity.

WHo thinks to equal Pindar tries
With waxen wings to breach the Skies,
And falling crashes to wann wave,
And watry grave,
As a proud stream swollen with rain,
Comes pouring down the hills amain,
So Pindar flows, and fears no drouth,
Speak’s the deep’s mouth;
Worthy the Bayes, whither he powre,
From unexhausted Springs the showre
Of lawless Dytherambs, and thunders,
In bolder numbers:
Or sings of Gods, and Heroes rage,
Whose just swords did the tyrants slay,
and Centaures, and Chimera Gout,
Their flames put out:
Or mourns some youth, who bawls his spouse
Unkindly torn, whose strength and prowes
And golden mind he lifts on high,
And lets not die.
and levins rouse, thy open mouth,
And parts the clouds, then sun is Out,
I like the Bee,
Of Calabrie,
Which sucks belovèd Flowers,
About the Thymie Groves and Skowrs,
Of Tyber’s Fount,
shout a terse,
But humble verse,
My minor sounds,
Thy Anthony in higher strains,

Cont

>>23542896
Chaunt Caesar, when he leads in chains,
Fierce Germains, his victorious brows,
Crown'd with boughs of bays,
Then whom a greater grace, or good,
Heaven hath not lent the earth, nor shou'd,
Though it refin'd the age to th'old,
Saturnian gold.
But break, and Bow!
sing to the publick playes,
To his return, and Holy-dayes,
Coronet Crowns,
we layeth down,
For our prayers yearn, and wrangling pleas,
To boundless peace,
And I (if i be heard)
Happy by thy restoring word,
Will joyn ith' close, and ô! (Ile say)
O Sun-shine day!
And (thou proceeding) we'll all sing,
Io Triumph! And amazed!
Io Triumph! At each turning,
Incense burning.
A Hecatomb's requir'd of thee,
And weaned Calf excuses me,
In high grass fat and frisking now,
To pay my vow.
Resembled in whose shining horns,
The increasing Moon his brow adorns;
Save a white feather in his head,
All sorrel red.

>>23542903
Tbh I’ve actually developed something which is briefly done in rap but never fully done, which should be applicable in all poetry forms that have rhyme, I call the rhyme and game of it “protean “

Which is as a game basically choosing two words and using as many rhyme slidin tricks to make them both rhyme. Example

“How can I rhyme flower with air?”

“Relish with shallow breaths the flow’ry air”

Rel can be slided into shal via the L, “Al” as a sound assonances with the “house/crown/ow” sounds when stressed,meaning flow(er) is rhymed, “breath “ normally can be assonanced with rel despite the l influence, eh sounds already assonance with the air sounds,

Meaning by the end o the line every stressed syllable has assonanced, resulting in “flower” and “air” rhyming.

A friend asked me to do one with syllable difference, his choice “dragon” into “banana”

A dragon balanced its skull’s bulk to hulk talonless a frail table puffed up from stale stuffs,
Of apple, banana an other such.
Such is usually used in rap to transition rhyme schemes to end the scheme when the writing begins to take too much computation to make neat.

Two examples from lil Wayne

I run in Supreme and get something rare
She run to the team, and now she a player
We live on the edge, we die in the air
We sick in the head, but pockets is well
We tiptoe on eggs, we out of our shell
Our vision is red, the eyes are as well
We can't pay attention, we got to pay bills
It doesn't make sense if it's not making mills

Or here
I'm a wizard with this motherfucker like I went to Hogwarts
Cut the hog head and the tail off
I'm the nigga bitches put a spell on
And once it wear off, then, bitch, don't touch me like a airball
Say slime, I done ate slime, money tall like 8'9'

Tail-spell-wear-air-say-eight.

Since every vowel has such methods of sliding them, you can extend any syllable combination effectively indefinitely while still gaining musicality.

>>23542422
I did not critique with the intent of insult, nor did I have any intent other than mutual refinement of our shared interest in the reply. I say this to clarify why I am going to double down, i genuinely don’t believe it’s a stylistic preference to consider “deadly heard” or undrastic plastic to be a good rhyme, I do not understand the beauty of the vision of a teller with a grimaced face or a shaky hand holding a toy gun, could you explain your justification for the breaks of smoothness and clarity in speech to say “phrases fatal” while talking to me about a toy gun? If you mention femininity or modernity, these are your words, I fundamentally think the problem is there should be more unity in how you speak and more clarity, but of course I think musicality and rhyme are key to many good verses, but I just don’t see how it’s helping you in your poem at all. You would do well to (and I say this with no offense in mind) study the poems of Anthony Thwaite because it’s on a similar aesthetic to what you want.

>>23542896
>>23542903
This does seem to work in this poem. It matches the expected extravagance of pagan kings. Perhaps I conflated the stern pagan with the stern Christian. There does seem to be a difference on the psychological and character profile however. If it isn't sternness that separates the two then what is it? I'm thinking of Edwards and Milton. I can't imagine these two men using the techniques you do. Imagine if Samuel Johnson wrote with these devices. It would take away from his politeness, would it not? Perhaps, I smuggled the sense of plainness and austerity in my conception of sternness. What we want is (think wu xing) the grandeur and abundance of summer fire or the Elfish precocity and unrestraint of spring wood. It might be better to pose the question for whom would these devices be inappropriate and why.
>>23542980
>eh sounds already assonance with the air sounds,
I do not see how the vowel in breath can have assonance with the word air. Nor do I see how you can shift the vowel in relish to match shallow. I see how Weezy can do it with spell though. This technique is a perfect demonstration of my previous point and interest. I would feel so awkward doing something like this in a dignified poem. I want to better understand the delineations of style and propriety.

>>23513004
Anyone got an epic poetry chart or guide? Like best ones to read in best order and prerequisites to understand or get the most out of them?

>>23543244
>If it isn't sternness that separates the two then what is it? I'm thinking of Edwards and Milton. I can't imagine these two men using the techniques you do


I think it’s not as one size fits all a question, If I look to Milton for example, paradise lost is working as it does because he’s drawing so heavily from rhetoricians and as johnson says, is making a sort of hybrid of verse and prose, for which Johnson says when people recite Milton it’s effectively impossible to determine where the lines end and begin, rendering it into a very very dignified very controlled but textually prose-like structure.

I love Milton but when I imitate him for musicality reasons, I don’t imitate paradise lost, but rather his shorter works and Samson, since to be blunt explicit musicality is the difference. For which Cicero brings up in his own time was a complicated question in composing rhetoric, that if you made it too musical you would ruin the seriousness of it and the conceit of naturalness, and that latter conceit is also why it wouldn’t precisely fit with many quaint English modes of poetry, because if one is speaking to you with the position of they are pouring out their heart to you in a very emotional way, or they are speaking about something delicate and soft, the wordplay could contrast it and read as smarmy or undermine the whole by demonstrating the

Cont

>>23543341
inherent cold artifice of the piece. In tipherethiel posted above I mostly didn’t use rhyme, why? Because I didn’t want the fixation to be the labyrinth of sound or even the voice of the speaker, but the image and the faint ethereal brume of the meditative mind contemplating such. In that way there’s times when being maximally musical can just be distracting, though I would argue even then, there’s tasteful ways to use such momentarily.

> I do not see how the vowel in breath can have assonance with the word air.


I know right? Very hard to believe, but the IPA vowels agree and rappers do use it like that, and if you really stretch it out, you can find it’s really an eh sound influenced by an R and a schwa/uh sound, which is precisely why L modified eh sounds match better because that integrates the uh sound back in basically.

>Nor do I see how you can shift the vowel in relish to match shallow.

Simple, L like a few other parasitic consonants can create a pseudo diphthong when it’s attached, so that, spell is just e as breath, modified with L, and “shal” is just the æ vowel same as “man” but again modified by L, yet if we recite a litany “spill, shall, shell, shoal” we can see the L is making all of these gain a sonic similarity which is great enough to register as assonance to the ear, (similar to how short e sounds influenced by m or n can rhyme with ih sounds when similarly influenced, pen and pin for example.) using these we can effectively chain every vowel together into each other.

>I would feel so awkward doing something like this in a dignified poem.


I feel the biggest restraint is that there are no good English examples of these techniques with dignity, with relation to the broader poetic build up in English, so we inherently have to associate it with the ghetto lowliness of rap or even the smarmy mocking satirical nature of something like hudibras, despite this I can still demonstrate a few elder serous English examples.

From Ambrose phillips for example

Cont

>>23543345
TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY.

Timely blossom, Infant fair,
Fondling of a happy pair,
Every morn and every night
Their solicitous delight,
Sleeping, waking, still at ease,
Pleasing, without skill to please
Little gossip, blithe and hale,
Tattling many a broken tale,
Singing many a tuneless song.
Lavish of a heedless tongue;
Simple maiden, void of art,
Babbling out the very heart,
Yet abandon'd to thy will,
Yet imagining no ill,
Yet too innocent to blush,
Like the linnet in the bush
To the mother-linnet's note
Moduling her slender throat;
Chirping forth thy petty joys,
Wanton in the change of toys,
Like the linnet green, in May
Flitting to each bloomy spray;
Wearied then and glad of rest,
Like the linnet in the nest:—
This thy present happy lot
This, in time will be forgot:
Other pleasures, other cares,
Ever-busy Time prepares;
And thou shalt in thy daughter see,
This picture, once, resembled thee.
Key lines being

Sleeping, waking, still at ease,
Pleasing, without skill to please

For pleasing-sleeping rhyme, skill-still, and ease-please, and “without” and “waking “ alliterate. I think Ambrose loses nothing but using this line.

>>23543349
Perhaps the pauses and the trochees aid it? >>23543345
>gain a sonic similarity which is great enough to register as assonance to the ear, (similar to how short e sounds influenced by m or n can rhyme with ih sounds when similarly influenced, pen and pin for example.)
The e in men and them isn't an affectation when in assonance with lip & did. And I think you are confusing the pleasance of the terminal consonance with assonance.

>>23543416
>And I think you are confusing the pleasance of the terminal consonance with assonance.
This comment is directed at your bit about spill

>>23543416
You have to tangle it thus,

Breath, men, mint, lip.

I argue it’s more than consonance and actually effecting the vowel due to the extreme distance between “sell” and “set “ and have to mark a similarity, but as for the previous, consider the distance between “them” and “shrek” “tin” and “click” they still assonance but something has happened to them by the excessive power of these particular consonants which does make it more close to similarly modified vowels, so that “them” and “tim” share so much, Para rhymes occurs when all consonance is identical, but this specimen needs much less, for such I think we may classify it as para-para rhyme but still classify under rappers rhyme, and more importantly, classify it as potent enough to slide the rhyme scheme.

>>23543445
> and have to mark a similarity,
To other L influenced,

Example,

Spill and melt.

>>23543445
I'm lost. I do not see how breath and mint are in assonance just because you interjected men. Men can't be pronounced as men & min AT ONCE. As far as those other words, I am still unsure of what you mean. them” and “shrek” “tin” and “click” Are two pairs in assonance. perhaps you were noticing the modulation in the vowels because of the voiced and unvoiced dichotomy

>>23543028
Whyre you worried about offending me I acted like a dick in response to you on purpose cause I thought it’d be funny. Anyway look if you don’t like it you don’t. I like the rhyme scheme in it and I just have no desire to get rid of it. As for the musicality and flow of my word choice, I don’t see the issue at all. If you don’t like it you don’t like it. And phrases fatal, and toy gun, it’s a poem about one side being impotent and the other effective. Like I was implying I think you fundamentally don’t even get what I’m trying to do stylistically, or maybe you do and you don’t like it. The only thing that’ll happen from here is I’ll just keep writing and if you end up reading it you’ll decide however you feel about that one on its own. Thanks for the rec

[Liminal Laundry]

Four white walls confine me in a fortress of solitude
Blinding light dispels the shadow of illusion
Washing white one by one
The endless layers of lies
Neatly folded and presented
To wipe away tomorrow's fears
And hide my naked shame
And the truth that when they're gone
There's nothing left but me

>>23543416
>Trochees
I learned something new today. Ty, anon

>>23544151
What did you learn?

who's better spenser or milton

>>23544234
The definition of trochees

Poem anons best anons. Especially the ones writing about laundry

>>23519257
>>23530472
I will continue posting poems that poetrylets like you have not heard of and do not recognise in an instant
you will do nothing about it

>>23543493
Because men is still pronounced men, but the sheer hold the final consonant holds forces it (when actually pronounced) to yield over to being in unity with “mint” from which you can now escalate the ih sounds.

By mentioning shrek and them, I am showing how despite the shared assonance the M is so heavily disrupting the vowel, to the point them and Tin feel closer. >>23543416
But as to the trochee, not necessarily because they are imo inherently more forceful and musical, even when done with expert tier smoothness like drayton, if you ever feel the will, do check out drayton’s elizium, he has portions where he enters a skeltonic free verse and in that he does mix the extreme musicality with a lot of delicate lines and constructions.

>>23544260
Best to read them both to find out.

Cudgel bludgeoning
A cudgel with a bludgeon
Recorded in blood

>>23545236
How does Frater feel about the poetry of Walter Scott?

>>23545827
He’s a benchmark of quality, he’s clearly one of the best you can read, in that cloud of tier 1-2 poets who are gonna have wonderful aesthetics, who you should read the whole of because they’re wholly enjoyable, but are also gonna have utilitarian verse and are not that difficult to find poets matching or overcoming them in quality, but again there’s a lot of Walter Scott and there’s gonna be better and worse. It’s gonna be competitive with like, Robert Burns, Wordsworth, and aesthetics wise he and Robert Jamieson could be one person. I think a better poet is probably Edward Williams/lolo, his poems pastoral and lyrical are great, but that narrative fixation is not in him like in scot.

>>23545918
What about
>Chatterton
>Morris
>"Monk" Lewis

>>23546124
>chatterton

Well, honestly it’s good and good enough to enjoy but let’s not pretend its not just “the dying young poet” fetishism which stoked the flame of memory, without which he’s very comparable to Richard furness of eyam in quality,

Example

Now had rich Ceres led her laughing train
Of sunburnt reapers from her fields of grain ;
Day's golden wheels lagg'd on the sultry hours,
Labour had left his task, and bees their flowers,
And rural damsels, with replenished pails,
Their dappled herds to pasture in the vales ;
While fountain nymphs retired to crystal caves,
As day's bright orb, hung o'er the western waves,
Shed o'er the world a faint, departing ray,

And cast the mountain's shadows o'er my way;

Then placid evening, night's fair sister queen,
Id silence held her solitary reign,
Save o'er the fold and deep embow'ring grove.
Where birds in dreams renewed their songs of love,
Where sounds Eolian moan'd through hollow rocks,
Soft music, soothing to the resting iiocks ;
Or where the cataract answered from the hills.
The gentler murmurs of a thousand rills ;
As rose the moon o'er orient realms afar,
In star-crowned glory, on her silver car.
Threw fiom the mountain tops her modest light,
And bathed her beauties in the dews of night.
I would easily put Thomas burbridge over him, I would easily put Yonge Norman B. above as well.

>Morris
If Charles, I’ve not enough to comment, if William,
The prose I respect, the verse I’ve not read enough of to say because it didn’t catch my eye, whereas his fantasies come shilled, George McDonald and dunsany are obviously my preference but Morris has worlds of kino for those who care.

>Lewis

Eh, it’s okay but look up David park barnitz’s book of jade If you want that edgy gothic decadent trip

I’m in the shilling mood so I’m gonna shill this verse, of which I can only trace to
https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/12505/pg12505-images.html

“The Wild Huntsman.—The interesting contributions of your correspondent "Seleucus," on "Folk Lore," brought to my recollection the "Wild Huntsman" of the German poet, Tieck; of whose verses on that superstitious belief, still current among the imaginative peasantry of Germany, I send you a translation, done into English many years ago. The Welsh dogs of Annwn, or "couriers of the air"—the spirit-hounds who hunt the souls of the dead—are part of that popular belief existing among all nations, which delivers up the noon of night to ungracious influences, that "fade on the crowing of the cock."

"THE WILD HUNTSMAN.

"At the dead of the night the Wild Huntsman awakes,
In the deepest recess of the dark forest's brakes;
He lists to the storm, and arises in scorn.
He summons his hounds with his far-sounding horn;
He mounts his black steed; like the lightning they fly
And sweep the hush'd forest with snort and with cry.
Loud neighs his black courser; hark his horn, how 'tis swelling!
He chases his comrades, his hounds wildly yelling.
Speed along! speed along! for the race is all ours;
Speed along! speed along! while the midnight still lours;
The spirits of darkness will chase him in scorn,
Who dreads our wild howl, and the shriek of our horn,
Thus yelling and belling they sweep on the wind,
The dread of the pious and reverent mind:
But all who roam gladly in forests, by night,
This conflict of spirits will strangely delight."

>>23543838
Thankyou anon I appreciated this one

An Autumn Afternoon

I walk alone beneath the trees
Pine needles orange
Tufts of green grass
Slightly sodden
My feet in Puma sneakers on this spongy ground
My figure absorbed into the ground
Tree trunks all in rows
A windbreak of trees
A fleece windbreaker zipped up
The sky pretending to show patches of blue, really only hazy white and grey
But no rain, not since Sunday morning when on tv choristers sung Songs of Praise.

the sailor song

ursila is taking a vacation
out in the uncharted oceans,
drifting from the weight of my arms
and all the cold air in this earthly dark.
that's how i'll cope, only with a song,
together with all the stories we wrote,
for who knows how long?
but ursila is sailing to be
wherever she flows in the tiding sea,
though abundant with a dozen advents
and a plenty of newly written shanties,
my dreams will sing me to sleep
that stray winds will blow her back to me,
sleeping behind in this foggy shore,
there's always a home for you in my vacancy.
well, who am i kidding?
ursila is fading away,
into the gentle blue sea.

Snow

There are many words for snow
But all I know
Is that the crunchy sound freaks me out
The icy crunching or scratching gives me the creeps
Maybe it's that nausea that Sartre talks about
An awful alien sensation or something I can't describe adequately.
I'm not afraid of the snow or of being buried alive in an avalanche or skinning my knees on an iced over lake
Just that crunchy sound
Freaks me out

Waiting is torturous
I'm lost on this hot day
Looking at the clouds that spite me,
Unconsciously
Hoping for that drought of feeling
The sense of loss
That pervades my being