>Be me>Like tea>Drink tea>Happy
>>25590266Go get yourself a Samowar.You'll be even more happy.
>>25590266Poems/songs from the chapter 'Queen Prezmyra' in ER Eddison's novel 'The Worm Ouroboros':>He that cannot choose but love,>And strives against it still,>Never shall my fancy move,>For he loves against his will;>Nor he which is all his own,>And can at pleasure choose;>When I am caught he can be gone,>And when he list refuse.>Nor he that loves none but fair,>For such by all are sought;>Nor he that can for foul ones care,>For his Judgement then is naught;>Nor he that still his Mistress pays,>For she is thralled therefore;>Nor he that pays not, for he says>Within, she's worth no more.>Is there then no kind of men>Whom I may freely prove?>I will vent that humour then>In mine own self-love.Her husband's songs:>What an Ass is he>Waits for a woman's leisure>For a minute's pleasure,>And perhaps may be,>Gulled at last, and lose her;>What an ass is he?>What need I to care>For a woman's favour?>If another have her,>Why should I despair?>When for gold and labour>I can have my share.>If I chance to see>One that's brown, I love her,>Till I see another>Browner is than she;>For I am a lover>Of my liberty.(...)>My Mistress is a shuttlecock>Composed of cork and feather;>Each Battledore sets her on the dock,>And bumps her on the leather.>But cast her off which way you Will,>She will recoil to another still-->Fa, la, la, la, la, la.>Love is all my life,>For it keeps me doing:>Yet my love and wooing>Is not for a Wife-- [he cuts off to go gamble for an hour before meeting his mistress]
Coffee mogs.
>>25591273>Still be me>Like coffee>Drink coffee>Be happy
If I start a tinder profile and put a sonnet about how scared I am of dying alone in my bio will girls think I'm sexy?
I enjoy the poetry I get to write as part of the massive story I'm telling.
>>25591719>If I start a tinder profileImma stop you right there.
>>25591725Could you give me one of your little excerpts, please?
暑き杯涼しき風や茶の淡さ
ink feather stains on my handstied and muted, im breathing through each strokeand question why i should row myself amongst empty naked portraits of guts applause for the composition, im still alone in this.
>>25592222For quads? Absolutely.This is from the second book. The story alternates between sections of prose and sections of poetry, sometimes a single section will have both prose and verse.The section this excerpt is from is all poetry. In fact, it's a pastoral poem; I'm a big fan of the pastoral genre and insert it into the story from time to time. This was a bit of ekphrasis I got to do that I had some fun with.I don't know if you can quite tell, but this story is actually science fiction. One of the shepherds in the singing contest about to take place is a robot. The line about "one can almost still feel the laser's heat" is a direct reference to a similar scene in the Idylls of Theocritus, in which there is ekphrasis describing a scene on a wooden cup "still smelling of the knife"--freshly-carved, in other words.
"Lines Written in Early Spring" by William Wordsworth>I heard a thousand blended notes,>While in a grove I sate reclined,>In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts>Bring sad thoughts to the mind.>To her fair works did Nature link>The human soul that through me ran;>And much it grieved my heart to think>What man has made of man.>Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,>The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;>And ’tis my faith that every flower>Enjoys the air it breathes.>The birds around me hopped and played,>Their thoughts I cannot measure:—>But the least motion which they made>It seemed a thrill of pleasure.>The budding twigs spread out their fan,>To catch the breezy air;>And I must think, do all I can,>That there was pleasure there.>If this belief from heaven be sent,>If such be Nature’s holy plan,>Have I not reason to lament>What man has made of man?
Hello, I transposed the book of Jonah (KJV) into iambic pentameter today. I know it isn't perfect, but yeah... if anyone wants to read:
>>25593756This is pretty good, I liked it.
An invitation undesiredWith many guests already seenSo little time, so little timeFor just a private cup of teaA peaceful storm arrives tonightThe visitor most welcomePattering and not prattlingPouring without ever drinkingThere are those ancients whoWould sing of fests and crowdsBut older still are theyWho hymned to hills and hollowsThe bards of beer and merrimentNo doubt bemoaned the rainy coldBut the skalds of solitudeAll saw the silence in a storm
>>25592905>>25595346needs meter. And rhyme.
Devoid of poetry the blank poetry bookitself, a metaphorThe index is thereit's verses and numbersit's a small bibleThe first edition came with a pen.
