>>24697242
Could you clarify what kind of “work” you’d like me to post? For example, are you looking for:

Creative writing (like a poem, short story, or scene)

Visual art (a description of an original image I could create)

Technical writing (like a tutorial or article)

Something else

And do you want me to critique your work too, or just show you how to critique others’?

>>24698035
ChatGPT ass reply. Fuck outta here nigga.

/lit/ is a shitty board
i'd rather fall on a sword
than read what fags shill
/lit/cels have shitty taste
and only consume waste
as swines to their swill

dying houseplant/closed curtains

intrepid leaves that sought the sun,
subdued now—wilting, brownish, dead
a monument to things undone
as l, too, waste away in bed.
you craved the light- I gave you none
and starved you of the things that fed.

I walked to the bus stop
Don’t stare at me bitch
I am in the bus stop
Don’t look at me, Bitch
Now I am On the bus. Hey, Stop
And look over there’s. Bitch.
Yeah yeah yeah. Link in park Jerry jackson…eeeeehy

Wrote this last night, idk what to name it

Upon my eyes befell a flower dressed in black,
Striking in beauty, noble in act
She moved in calm and with vigor,
Between lost men, drunk with ichor

Her gorgon stare reduced me to stone
and there I stood, bare as bone
A word I spoke, but no more
As I crumbled into dust, swept on the floor

With her voice, accompanied a choir
Sang by angels with their lyre
Serenading sweet harmonies for men to hear
as she struck my heart with a burning spear

Her smile took the life out of my lungs
My love proclaimed, if not twisted mine tongue
In silence i sat, boiling with wonder
Of how to merge our path asunder

I'm gay
I'm gay
I'm gay
I put AIDS in the pool

>>24699241
Horrible.

>>24699252
Thank you anon

>>24699252
Could you critique mine?

sparks coat my tongue
smoke rises from memories
eyes bleed salt over fire

soot gives way to stale air
my lungs burn in the cinders
blood boils to sanguine steam

charred, stinging air on raw skin
emergent over a burnt husk
an offering, my wicker self

>>24699287
Charred.

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I have a story, written in verse. but I've done it only in order to arrange things, and have better grasp of it when I'm sorting it out.. I'd call it prosaic verse.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/128737/the-wheel-and-the-wing

>>24699233
>Anon reminds me to feed houseplant
Good poem

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unfinished work

i'm stringing words along a paper trail,
hoping you would find me - in my vulnerability.
me, among my countless books that
lay unopened [
] if you ask, i shall lend them to you forever,
and make use of those words that fly in the air when
i'm gone, and make them symbols of that ineffable
thing we were before - that philosophers call ἀπειρον.
[ ]
i stand along the thin borders of sheol,
looking down at the depths of the world.
thinking maybe i myself am a symbol,
or maybe i'll tumble down further,
and return to the front of your mind,
just as the sun runs across the tracks of day and night.

bump

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I got a perfect level-up on one of my units while playing Fire Emblem this morning, and because I'm a normal person, I decided to make a parody of Ozymandias about it. Now, call me crazy, but the overlap between people who enjoy Romantic era poetry and people who play Fire Emblem on this website is probably not huge, so I feel it will, unfortunately, go all-but unappreciated no matter where I post it. Anyway...

I met a player from a Fire Emblem thread
Who said: "Two underwhelming offence stats
On a child unit...Near them, under-fed,
Half shrouded, a goth girl visage lies, whose smirk,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of yandere dread,
Tell that its sculptor just made Tharja again
But with different hair, because her Mother
Is a dancer whose growth rates are insane.
And in a 4chan post these words appear:
'My name is Rhajat!Azura, chief of onis:
Look on my level up, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Average stats remain. Round the hit-rates
Of that abysmal SKL, unreliably low,
Her ‘okay’ defences can tank a hit, or two…”

The moon is full; my wine is red;
Bacchus is whispering in my head.
I'll have a sloppy wank tonight,
And give poor Phoebe quite a fright.

wo das wasser bergan fließt
und der schatten strebt zum licht
wo wälderrauschen kühn beschließt
dass ein lüftlein auf sich richt
wo du siehst mit eignem auge
wie den jäger schießt die taube
wo fort vom strand die woge bricht
dort sahst du eine wahre geschicht
der haken allein, sie stimmt wohl nicht

>>24702174
Here’s a faithful yet poetic translation of your German poem into English, keeping the rhythm and sense intact:


---

Where the waters climb the height,
and the shadow seeks the light,
where the forest’s daring sound
bids the breeze to turn around,
where your very eyes behold
dove by hunter’s shot laid cold,
where from shore the billow parts—
there you saw a tale of arts.
Only the hook—ah, that rings untrue,
the rest was real, as told to you.

e^(pi(i))+1=0
I have no idea what it means,
Yet it is the most profound thing that I have ever seen in my life.

these threads used to have anons providing constructive criticism…

>>24703758
If you want there to be constructive criticism then fucking provide some instead of uselessly complaining.

>>24702115
for anyone wondering: I couldn't keep it up so I gave up and went to bed at around 1am.

>>24703149
Thank you for this!
Is it on purpose that you translated the last line more as "Der Haken allein, *der* stimmt wohl nicht"? Asking because I am starting to like that variant.
I wrote this when I could not sleep some days ago, and I stole the ending lines from the end of some movie that I had watched that evening. Something along the lines of "This story might be made up. But after all, this is how it was."

>>24704095
Anon, that is clearly just an ai translation.
I liked your poem desu, though the meter is off in the penultimate line; there's no good way around that 'eine wahre' however; might 'Sicht' perhaps work instead, as in a view?

>>24704117
I have been fooled

I had the last two lines in a stricter meter at first, but then decided to break it up so it would seem a bit more like an offhand narrator's commentary

1st version:
dort sahst du eine wahr Geschicht
der Haken bloß: sie stimmt wohl nicht

>>24702071
>Now, call me crazy, but the overlap between people who enjoy Romantic era poetry and people who play Fire Emblem on this website is probably not huge
Im right the fuck here. If anything I feel this is extremely postmodernist with how cheeky and ironic you made it all sound. I would absolutely enjoy some byronic lines and vocabulary followed by terms like SKL, Offence Stats, Tank

>>24699233
nice

>>24698533
They think they're so deep
Their mind is a big shit heap
poetry is gay

>>24699241
Girls are gross
Your poem gave me herpes.

>>24703737
alt+f4
alt+f4
alt+f4
Enter

Everything goes blank

>>24699237
I don't hate it.
I don't know who link in park jerry jackson is.

Not a day wasted
While drinking my beer
I just wanted a taste
Now I know fear

There is no escape
So I'll do my time
A bottle of vodka
One sad drink at a time

If I were a song
It'd probably be disco
Oh, for a drink I long
With sober machismo

With tired eyes
I have to go
Undone are my lies
So I write in prose

>>24704307
Why are you drinking?

>My left testicle itches
>my dick is tight
>and I can't change my pants.

>I take off my shorts
>to avoid chafing
>i touch my left testicle.

>And it's stinging, oh sir
>i pour oil on the testicle
>the pain goes away and my dick is free.

Made with google translator. How do you rate my poem.

>>24704307
Did you seriously rhyme “time” with “time”? Smh

>>24704520
It hits twice as hard.
It's time turned up to 11.

>>24704754
This is why you shouldn’t write drunk.

>>24704520
I did.
>>24704804
This, unfortunately.

My love was like a freshly-baked baguette.
You said: “these days, I’m eating gluten-free.”
I sat there—golden-crusted, warm—and yet
You let me harden and discarded me.
My love was like a melting slice of Brie,
That you, a stalwart vegan, would not taste.
So I congealed, consumed by nobody,
And all my gooey softness went to waste.
My love was like a perfect crème-brûlée.
You raised your spoon, but just before the act
Recalled that processed sugar was passé,
So my crisp caramel surface went uncracked.
Have all Epicurean charms been soured?
Must I go undesired? Undevoured?

>>24704804
I put the vodka a place it shouldn't be
The beer came to also be there
I knew then it was time
time
The voice from somewhere
it told me it's time to vomit.

>>24704899
Stop drinking yourself sick.

>>24704904
Why are you assuming the vodka was drank?

Goat fucking poem

I fuck goats,
Oh yes! I do.
In the cunt,
Or in the poo.

I fuck goats,
Yes this is true!
Both nannies,
And buckaroos

Fucked a doe,
It’s billy too.
Came inside
And you should too.

Fucked a buck,
Until it wethered.
Caprine hircine
got me tethered.

>>24703758
Around every 3 years, the criticism is almost never constructive and usually focused on adhering to some rules a kid learned in college that the majority of poetry through history did not adhere to.

If you had any skill, you would be a rapper instead and make millions.
>b-but I’m not black!
Neither is Eminem.

>>24705183
Mashallah

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>>24705223

Rain repeats rain like poems
left unread on the sidewalks,
over mountains and rivers,
without beginning or end,
ghosts watching from the corners.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
We'll find out just as sure as we live,
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
Somethin's gotta give, somethin's gotta give, somethin's gonna give.

A short historical poem.

The land of heros, noble Greece,
Has seen much blood through all her days.
The greatest of antiquity
Have met to fight upon her face.
Where Persians broke their gleaming spears,
And Phillip sent his horsemen forth,
The Despots did, in later years,
Spar over Alexander's shirt.
But larger giant's were to come
And trample mountains with their feet;
Italia's wolves, The Trojan's sons
Would seek in battle golden wreaths.
At Pharsalus did their armies meet,
With pomp and valor lost to old.
Pompey the great felt sure to reap
A victory like all before.
A thousand battles he had won,
A thousand and one he sought to gain;
So called to far flung vassaldoms,
Sent kings and soldiers to the fray.
But fate had spun a different tale,
And brighter stars where set to rise.
In martial matters Pompey failed;
On Caesar’s side Olympus smiled.

I'm on the shitter as I type
Pooping pooping pooping
time to wipe---
---naw' I'm good.
Time to pee in the sink

It's weird to see all of these drunks writing their bullshit and realize that I've been the same some nights ago and will be the same again.
Here's a little thing I wrote

All of those words
I said to you at night, when I laid bare and froze
And opened up and curled my toes and indeed you seemed to listen
To you they were akin to gossip, I suppose

Roses are red,
And violets blue.
You lay on your bed
And I lay on you.

Roses: red.
Violets? Blue.
Your legs they were spread,
And pearl-hued my goo.

Rosie is red,
Violetta is blue.
The nectar you fed
Me's translucent in hue.

Infernally red,
Celestially blue.
Infernally Fred.
My words ever true.

- Fred Sex

>>24705855
Almost reads like Homer as translated by some renowned nineteenth century English poet. Almost but not quite; here and there a pop-song-sounding like, a whiff of Britney Soears banality. But still pretty good.

- Fred Sex

>>24706628
"a pop-song-sounding line", I mean.

- Fred

>>24705806
A facile juxtaposing of the erudite and the banal. Amusing to the young.

- Fred

mr sex you haven't critiqued my writing?

>>24706634
Very observant. The sacred and the propane.

Green veins in the dust,
a stubborn green thing,
a drunk who won’t go,
You cling to the sun,
half-light, half-shadow,
your roots whisper thirst.
You pressed your child’s brow
against the window of a nameless city.

I saw a she-wolf the other night
by the old mesquite, by the moonlight
by the shallow stream that coiled over
tiles of obsidian lamellar

Last night I saw a thing the world lost
that had been from the heart of man crossed
in a place where a million moons shone
on a million leaves, pale and wraithlike

like border guards with empty hands,
Rebellion laughs through shadowed streets,
betrayed my skin in silence.
motels and failed revolutions,
that every eye cannot escape.

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There once was a fag from /lit/
Every poem he wrote was shit
One of them was so bad
It made the other fags mad
This poem is it

>>24709271
I find this excellent. Beautiful language and grim subject matter (I like this contrast). A better mastery of English than I have. Very smooth and melodious without incurring in kitsch. Same for the contrast between hell home and nature imagery: some may roll their eyes but I think it's handled elegantly. The simplistic ABAB rhyming scheme I could quibble with but I tend to use it too.

>>24709292
Thanks a lot friend. I find your assessment similar to my own assessment of it. Overall happy with it, but can't complain if some don't have the stomach for it.

>>24708592
I use words I think will make me look sophisticated
I use words I think will make me look smart
It turns out I'm incapable of recognizing talent or lack thereof
WE DID IT RE DD IT