>>24111853
The needle punctures my eye
The doctors say it's an important procedure
But if it's so important
Why did I only start now
Why have I not been doing this for my entire life
And why can I never go back
My parents start sobbing
Apparently the doctors told them I'd die
Too bad
That
I
Wont

his old house was a large coffin
filled with brown dust, spiders, and malaise
his old house was a grave no one visited
shaking in the wind, forgotten in the rain

they wont find his bloated corpse for months
destroyed by the elements, a blood stain on the floor
free from the prison of language and time
sunrise, sunset, nothing more

I have recovered my true form

No I don't want to disappear

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>>24111969

She likes me, she likes me not
She likes me, restraining order
I'll make her like me
She can't get me out of her head

>>24111973
This will win all the competitions on opposite day.

Nice

>>24111869
"Dear diary:...."

The Reveller

What world did we first find with our eye?
Did we tremble before fire? Did we sing before water?
We found a world that too trembles and sings
Do not speak with me! Sing!
Do not walk with me! I will be dancing!

What world did we first dare dream in our mind?
Did we wield fire and walk water?
We dreamt a world so that we would not tremble
Do not dream deep else you forget the world we found!
Do not sing sound else you forget the world we dreamt!

What word did we first dare flick off our tongue?
"What?" Not this the word
"There!" This the word - and we the echo
Do not ask me a question! Punch me!
Do not ask yourself a question! Punch yourself!

What word did we first dare write with our hand?
"What?" This the word
But its echo we are not; for it never had sound
Do not remain silent! Speak with me!
Do not remain seated! Walk with me!

What wheel did we first dare round with our wedge?
Did beginner's luck make a perfect circle?
We rounded a perfectly round-spinning wheel on a perfectly round-spinning world!
Come! Spin with me! May we become a perfectly round-spinning circle!
And to those who will not spin: May you become perfectly dizzy!

What world will we last find with our eye?
Will we still tremble and sing before it?
We forge a world that trembles before blow of our hammer and sings song of our dream
What will be our echo?
Do not speak with me. I tire of words and worlds.
Do not walk with me. I may lead you astray.

>>24111853
My cock was cut off by Steve Harvey
and I don't even think the type
of strong armed TV man I wish
my body had become was a possible
entrance into a type of course of
thinking.

When I went on national TV to
admit I didn't want to be a white
man anymore I wanted to be a
strong black woman I didn't expect
the savior to be this titan of television.

They are building the inside of your mom
next to spirit Halloween and hopefully
the ghosts of all your aborted siblings
will appreciate the spirit of the season.

good spanish poets that aren't Neruda?

>>24113067
No es bien decir que el tiempo que ha pasado
es el mejor

Lope de Vega

What it means to me
I need to be
Its not easy to be
Risking it all here
Fighting until I'm out of love

I do wonder if love isn't two dogs fighting over some indistinguishable piece of meat, out of which a tibia emerges

Give me a reason to be
What does it means to me
Out here risking it all until I am out of life

I would let you loose
But I don't want to lose

Its not easy to be
What do you mean to me

If I let you in the dark
You'd be left in the dust

Does it mean to be
Free

>>24113767
Or more graphically
nonne vides etiam quos mutua saepe voluptas
vinxit, ut in vinclis communibus excrucientur,
in triviis cum saepe canes discedere aventis
divorsi cupide summis ex viribus tendunt,
quom interea validis Veneris compagibus haerent?

>>24111998
Any advice for how I can improve as a writer?

took 7 minutes with the brain turned off

peeing in bed, seeing red
i wonder what else to be found,
concealed by the cloak of the dead;
i wonder if i should decrease,
the caffeine intake;
the stones in my kidney
are as tough as the obsidian slab
this ore can't be mined
even with your stiffest stab;
every time i take some coffee
ancestors call me from the coffin;

the cloak of the dead have buried the weak
yet i'm still alive, and i'll endure critique.

the call of the perc keeps making the tweak.

Today I searched the clouds
for the birds, that last season
flew away unable to eat
the rocks i threw at them
when they squawked "what
what whaaaat!" we've taken
to mean food, but there's nothing
in the sky today except violence
not enough clouds to take one
each and make of them what
we want, with a few left
for patches of cool shade;
nothing but a few dots burnt
by staring into the sun
for too long, and maybe

a plane
departing
dropping feathers
as it goes
as it goes
as it goes

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I am certain now that this form of literature is completely dead as a human endeavor.

There once was a poet who tried,
To match what the AI supplied.
Its meter was tight,
Its imagery bright,
And the human's best efforts just died.

>>24114792
Nah, you just crave lullabys, and someone to call you dear

>>24113878
Just having some fun, dude
But I do prefer lyrical poetry
I don't know if that's something that can be taught

>>24114519
>the cloak of the dead have buried the weak
>yet i'm still alive, and i'll endure critique.
A bit clunky and doesn't make much sense but at least these lines had meter

>>24111853
---- Solaria ----
9703
Pleasure Craft

Nice as its when putting the petal to the metal
To feel response in passing

Silent compared to the soundsytem
Better still is to live

In a kind of park where
In the deadest of winter nights

Interiors are warm and bright as summer afternoons,
Whether or not you know exactly how.

I'm reading whitman. he rules. I need to start copying him instead of bukowski. I flipped.to a page and read a poem called 'when I heard the learned astronomer,' amazing.

>>24111853
---- Solaria ----
9704
Fortune

I can go absolutely anywhere outdoors or in without
Security of the slightest sort--

And know the feeling of being alone in nature,
Completely free to reflect

Or do with myself when it comes to sensuous music of any sort.

>>24114928
mr. solaria, what does that number mean? is this really poem 9704? Ive been following your work for a while and ive always wondered.

See with that simplicity
This nymph begins her golden days!
In the green grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair aspect tames
The wilder flowers, and gives them names
But only with the roses plays;
And them does tell
What colour best becomes them, and what smell.

Who can foretell for what high cause
This Darling of the Gods was born!
Yet this is she whose chaster laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,
See hsi bow borke and ensigns torn.
Happy, who can
Appease this virtuous enemy of man!

O, then let me in time compound,
And parley with those conquering eyes;
Ere they have tried their force to wound,
Ere, with their glancing wheels, they drive
In triumph over hearts that strive,
And them that yield but more despise.
Let me be laid,
Where I may see they glories from some shade.

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing
Itself does at thy beauty charm,
Reform the errors of the spring;
Make that the tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair;
And roses of their thorns disarm:
But most procure
That violets may a longer age endure.

But, O young beauty of the woods,
Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;
Lest Flora angry at thy crime,
To kill her infants in their prime,
Do quickly make the example yours;
And, ere we see,
Nip in the blossom all out hopes and thee.

>>24115156
>See hsi bow borke and ensigns torn.
See his bow broke and ensigns torn.

>>24115158
Might want to clear up
>Where I may see they glories
Too

>>24115156
>See with that simplicity
>This nymph begins her golden days!
>In the green grass she loves to lie,
>And there with her fair aspect tames
>The wilder flowers, and gives them names
>But only with the roses plays;
>And them does tell
>What colour best becomes them, and what smell.

This fits better with the meter you were working with:
And there with fair aspect she tames
The wilder flowers, gives them names
But only with the roses plays


No idea what you are doing with the last two lines of the stanza
Also, don't say roses "smell"
Roses have a fragrance; "smell" strikes one as a bad smell; unless you say a sweet smell
"that smell as sweet"?

Also try avoiding a 4 syllable word like "simplicity"
But if so, try this:
See with what simplicity
The nymph begins her golden days

No idea what "golden days" means

You seem to be able to hear meter
That is good
There is hope for you yet
That's as far as I read

hi anons I have joined an online writing group and there are a lot of poets. I write fiction but I want to be able to give good feedback to my peers. Do you have any suggestions on what good feedback for poetry sounds like? Obviously, I will be taking the time to read more poetry in preparation.

>>24115232
See with what simplicity
Anon tries to elicit me
Into a poet's sympathy
4 every dactyl/spondee

>>24114897
eidolons is one of my favorite poems

>>24116223
yes it's very nice.

If my father had a funeral
I always imagined what I would say
But he didn’t have a funeral
So there was nothing to say
Well some things are better left unsaid
Like when you had to tell me
The very last time I saw you
That I might not
Have been your son
When I got the call
That you were no longer here
It was quite the perfect
and beautiful day
Which made it all
so much worse
And we both know
That I could have been there for you
Much more
than I ever was
But I know what you said wasn’t true
And this is what I guess I have to say
Since I couldn’t even go home
This is just my way of
Somehow dealing with this.

>>24116640
This is a cry for help :(

is there a /lit/ English poetry chart?

Here is the long quiet hallway in a big house
on the Mountain, overlooking the Scenic City.
And here, where the hallway dead-ends,
my uncle’s childhood bedroom, with its trophies,
diplomas, portraits in the style of old masters,
and a deserted sheet-draped cockatoo’s cage.
This room saw my great-grandmother disintegrate
over ten lurching years of fatigue and fugue.
The hallway yawns, exhales, and here she comes,
keeled over her steel walker, kneading Oxford-blue
carpet as she skirts past other thresholds, closets, dens,
bathrooms, drawing-rooms, the sleek black Steinway...
Behold the 96-year-old woman who would scream
for help, recoiling in a rictus of unrecognition and mortality
when she’d meet the gaze of her eager little grandson.
She sits in the kitchen, in a high rotating leather chair.
See her leering at my grandmother’s muscular old dog.
Hear her laugh at our one joke as I sacrifice the dog
my daily Flintstone vitamins. Watch her break my skin,
unable to distinguish a tickle from a pinch. Observe me
drink the last of her prune juice out of naïve malice.
She’s my only relative who’s died to date, but now I see
the intervening decades of sham deathlessness
entombed on one side by an inexhaustible glass
of thick purgative pulp and on the other side
by my sick granddad in his unwashed underwear,
walking the quiet hallway, waiting. The house is ready.
A visitation, a refill and one great big gulp.

Why don't poets sing about people shitting on the sidewalks?
I walk the streets at night and see horrible things
I don't see the the beautiful things poets sing.
I see people shitting on the sidewalks.
I see rats and trash and
people under tarps that might just be piles of trash.

Your daily reminder that prose is not poetry

>>24111853
O' twisted companion unfettered,
Who I've known since memory bore.
To you, I write this ill born letter-
Of you, I want no more.

You're wrath endured far too long,
There's not much left to wreak.
The harm you've caused, the friends now lost,
Would make even the strongest weak.

I'd cast you away, no more to be spoke,
Your existence left for dead.
But alas, it is God's sick joke,
To make you live inside my head.

>>24116921
this is the only actually decent poem in this entire thread. good job anon.

these lines are not good:
>Behold the 96-year-old woman who would scream
>for help, recoiling in a rictus of unrecognition and mortality
>when she’d meet the gaze of her eager little grandson.
up to this point, the poem has image, music, a sense of itself. these three lines are jarringly clunky and ill-formed. the idea you're trying to communicate is good and belongs in the poem, the image too maybe?, but jettison this execution
>...Observe me
>drink the last of her prune juice out of naïve malice.
same thing. good impulse, matching the tickle and the juice. horrific execution.
>She’s my only relative who’s died to date, but now I see
>the intervening decades of sham deathlessness
>entombed on one side by an inexhaustible glass
>of thick purgative pulp and on the other side
this is the most egregious example of what I'm talking about -- egregious not because of how poorly it's done (that belongs to the first excerpt) but because of where it occurs in the poem and how specifically it fails.
>she's my only relative who's died to date
belongs in a freshman composition class, not a poem. come on. I've read the whole poem, you are capable of better, don't allow yourself this kind of sloppiness.
>intervening decades of sham deathlessness
>entombed on one side by an inexhaustible glass
>of thick purgative pulp
you're fucking killing me anon. you're fucking killing me. this is such a striking image (and it resonates with the rest of the poem!) trapped in clods of graceless phrasing. this is the opening to the metaphor (clever, btw, nicely done) that closes your poem, you can't write like this here. "entombed on one side by an inexhaustible glass" is such a fucking mouthful. come on.

all in all, best in thread. do you have any more poems?

>>24116683
anon, may god strike me down if I lie -- I am a poetry autist. maybe to the point of retardation actually. I'm confident in saying I've read more poetry than virtually anyone who comes to this board. I know how insane that sounds. I stand by it. what do you want to know

>>24114897
one of my favorites. here's an underappreciated Whitman poem:
>TO OLD AGE
>I see in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours in the great sea.
have you read the poet CK Williams? if you like whitman you would like him. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57036/from-my-window

>>24117122
Thank you for your insights anon, this is very helpful feedback. To be honest I haven't written any poetry in years, but it is something I would like to get back in the habit of doing.

>>24117125
I like whitman and bukowski. where do I go from here? I haven't read much.

>>24117122
Have dubz fallen so far. That poem is like being fed cobwebs, and you're telling us it is silk

>>24117212
you eat silk?

Are wwoym threds kill

>>24117241
yeah :(

>>24117212
are you shocked on this board?

>>24117212
Are you one of those people who think that poems must rhyme
>>24117159
I recommend CK Williams to another anon here >>24117133 and I'd say the same for you, Williams is a VERY Whitmanic poet. you'd like him, I think. just find a pdf of his selected poems or something.

generally speaking, you'll want to work your way backwards, not forwards. don't "start with the greeks" that's retarded for poetry. (the greek poets are excellent but best appreciated later.) you'd also like Pablo Neruda (start with 20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair, then just dive in w the collected) and maybe... hmm, who's similar to bukowski but actually good. Raymond Carver? I think you'd like his poems. Wrote good stories too.

go on the poetry foundation website and read their poem-a-day every day for a few weeks. don't worry about "getting it" or anything, just read it, in the same way that you just look at a painting. if you like it, read it again. maybe you notice more things this time. if you REALLY like it, find more poems by that poet, if you like their other work, figure out who influenced them and read those people. I recommend you do the poem-a-day thing for a few weeks because contemporary poetry's frightfully vast with tremendous variety in style, tone, material, form, etc. pretty common for me to read the poem-a-day for five days in a row and not find something I like. it's also pretty common for me to read it for 2 weeks straight and love each poem.

>>24117241
this may as well be wwoym given most of the posts
>>24117122
clown

O poetry on 4chat
on 4chad

.............even 4sneed

in basements
we stored at
muttering 'why me'

lift yer face
to the source light
still can't see

it's blindness
corrosive
third degree


vitriolic it eats through old forms
revealing the flesh yet unborn
seeing ash in the mirror -- oh my god --
i'm not even here to know what it's all for.

>>24117468
thanks anon

I bought a book of bird poems yesterday. here is one I like:


Proud Songster

The thrushes sing as the sun is going,
And the finches whistle in ones and pairs,
And as it gets dark loud nightingales
In bushes
Pipe, as they can when April wears,
As if all Time were theirs.

These are brand new birds of twelvemonths' growing,
Which a year ago, or less than twain,
No finches were, nor nightingales,
Nor thrushes,
But only particles of grain,
And earth, and air, and rain.

Come to me inside out from the inside
I'll get a car for you after midnight
I do a street fight, I get my three strikes
Lie down and bleed out just to see you smile

>>24117239
This makes me sad, I feel your pain anon. These people you hate…do you actually know them? Maybe confronting them directly would offer some catharsis or understanding. That has worked for me in the past.

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>>24117159
Transformations by Anne Sexton imho is a good stepping stone into free verse poetry imho.

>>24117239
literally me

>>24118499
hm, ok. Ill check her out, despite the fact she is a pretty woman.
I just read a line from one of her poem in the Savage Detectives... must be fate.
The line was 'love and a cough, cannot be concealed.'
I had no idea it was referencing her, and I read it no more than 15 minutes ago, and then I come her and see you post, and the first poem I see after googling her is that very poem. What are the odds...

There is a poetry competition in my town and I would like to win. The problem is I have never read poetry. Any advice?

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a poem on adventure: out of reach and much desired
'I guess I just wasn't made for these times'

https://egregoreandi.substack.com/p/i-guess-i-just-wasnt-made-for-these

reading through a lot of these posts and a lot of them feel like navel-gazing and more interested in poetry as technical rather than emotional expression. not claiming that poetry doesn't require technical skill but if the poem doesn't have a vital energy - a reason for it to have been written - then no reader is going to latch onto it and feel the desire to read it.

I also believe that a poem must have some sense of forward momentum and rhythm, even (especially!) if it doesn't rhyme. if the words don't flow in a way that is captivating when read aloud then there's no reason for the reader to continue. my two cents

>>24111853
here is some poetry i written
Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Din, din, don. Din, din, don.[1]

>>24118911
>1
"Somebody That I Used To Know"
(feat. Kimbra)

[Gotye:]
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

[Kimbra:]
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know

[Gotye:]
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)

Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)

(I used to know)
(That I used to know)
(I used to know)
Somebody

>>24117125
poetry autist, im coming to seek another recommendation.
I'm reading 120 days of sodom right now and it is blowing my mind.
what poets push limits like de sade did?