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A knowing of showered damp hair Fingers for fading moist Water happy on hands A sweet and clean smell But who cares Those fingers would be as happy In a week of hot weather past A strong and lived smell And it's your hair And the only reason For the fingers Is the head where it grows And the head it falls from
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Jun 23, 2018 15:29
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Words dulcet or spit. I find something in them that somehow doesn't seem to exist elsewise. Is that what love is? I don't know. I know there is drive though, inexorable propulsion. Never driven, never like this. This loving impossible journey. This dream that muddies my sleep, and is my first concern on waking. Something part epitaph. Something living more than ever. Sides of a coin And theater masks Allied There is no side without the other. Which is which is my eyes on a given day. Give me another day. And the one after.
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Jun 29, 2018 00:39
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will try to crit those if you want how can stories be beautiful if someone doesn't fall down stairs ashes are falling windswept to find steady blades to cut and reveal them and they are chrome repeating satori girls in lotus; vampire heartbeats caffeine fusing to my spine pale stars seek lonesome worlds Callista took my wolf hands shaped to stone cast to water heavy steel spreading your seed touched and braced your garden veins curve lorn i am drowned enough take the moon fucked around with this message at 18:07 on Jul 14, 2018 |
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Jul 11, 2018 04:50
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suggestions in bold, comments in italic generally I suck at critiquing so please don't take this harshly - I'm trying to flag the bits that were jarring for me and tighten it up without rewriting it. the bits i didnt understand i left, provided they scanned well enough PurdWerfect posted:Words dulcet or I guess that probably wasn't so helpful but maybe there's something in there you can take away
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Jul 17, 2018 15:47
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here's one i wrote to test a meter and I don't know what to do with. to my mind the second stanza is the weakest but, as usual, im more frustrated by the lovely flow between stanzas I Chase The Dream To smoke, to drink To screw, to take The chemicals that Let us down And drown the brain that never leaves us. The days escape In countless sum Through wretched haze Fantasies Decree an end to fearful phantoms. Oh, what an un- derhanded gift This Midas touch, this Pitiless Un-sight which rusts the bones within us. I chase the dream: To maim, to kill This cursed thing that Knows so much Yet understands so very little. Sulla Faex fucked around with this message at 17:03 on Jul 17, 2018 |
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Jul 17, 2018 15:58
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Gatekeeper posted:crossposting from the pyf forums quotes thread because these were posted as part of an off topic tangent about slam poetry. i hadn't ever really written poetry before, but whilst pretty inebriated I decided to try out slam poetry at open mic night at my local bar. this was the result: the second one is sincerely good, it's punchy and you have nice flow. if you wanted to, you could work on it a bit and whip it out as your go to spoken word, if any of that sounds like your jam
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Jul 17, 2018 16:01
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I haven't been doing much poetry lately  I did this, though, and I don't know if it's a poem or what. 3am-heat-inspired:Friend mosquito, you needn't wei past my ear. I am sanguine, and more than happy to share.
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Jul 17, 2018 21:33
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I like it. What does wei mean, though? Is it a typo? With something that small you could increase the lyricism a bit, if you wanted. Play with the words to create more rhythm and imagery without muddying the sentiment or blowing out the frame -- I'm looking at "friend" and "more than happy". Sanguine is solid
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Jul 19, 2018 14:07
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Apparently it's a typo, I meant 'wai', a greeting that's also onamatopia. "Friend mosquito" I'd want to keep in place for sentimental reason, but I totally agree on 'more than happy'. Do you have any advice on hearing tone & rhythm, it's something I see a lot, and have no idea how to approach. I keep reading stuff about stressed syllables and I'm just like 'wtf, surely that varies by person?' lofi fucked around with this message at 14:48 on Jul 19, 2018 |
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Jul 19, 2018 14:29
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ive never gotten iambic pentameter either i feel blank when you blank because i need blank rivers above me feel my heart through the ripples neon summers i chase the breath i never keep too late to dream myths miss my first sugar rush and i don't think i've gone between the spaces outside you she never held me like they used to but they beat my contours into place grow old without ageing fractured sleep time without you is like eating smoke
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Jul 19, 2018 23:48
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lofi posted:Apparently it's a typo, I meant 'wai', a greeting that's also onamatopia. In that case I'd look into modifying the last line to have two points of rhyme with the 2nd line - 'wai' and 'ear', in the same position I won't make suggestions because I don't have any right now and also it'd just be me trying to apply my voice to your writing. But if you come up with some I could critique I've still got a lot of study to do myself but do some reading into scansion. There are a bunch of resources out there that will help you get better at it Although stressed syllables shouldn't really vary by person such that meter becomes unintelligible.. for e.g. REcord and reCORD will always denote the noun and verb respectively, because that's a marker inherent to english to avoid ambiguity. RElease reLEASE and so on. more here: https://www.english-at-home.com/pronunciation/noun-and-verb-syllable-stress Sulla Faex fucked around with this message at 11:26 on Jul 20, 2018 |
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Jul 20, 2018 11:24
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Sulla-Marius 88 posted:suggestions in bold, comments in italic Not at all, I found it very helpful! Thank you!
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Jul 22, 2018 20:58
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This doesn't have a name: longer than a hamster by more than you would expect what manner of beast faster than a mouse by more than you would anticipate what a skitter of feet slyer than a fox by more than you would have guessed it must be a weasel Am I do haiku right?
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Aug 11, 2018 09:37
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So mathmatical A mustelid that can count Well, at least kind of.  I've been working on a poemthing to be illustrated/turned into a comic: Oppressive August evening heat My window gasps for air And soon enough, my sustenance, My neighbours' spitting fights. He can't be arsed to sort his life And she's a drama queen A blazing pyre banked with spite And things they can't unsay. Delicious fire that feeds itself And sees me through the night A schadenfreude ménage à trois They burn themselves for me.
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Aug 11, 2018 15:54
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Kevin is a potato He sits opposite me in group Sprawls, pinned under the globe of his abdomen Swollen to bursting with drink Straining to escape his red checked shirt He leans to lift his mug of tea Shifts glacially, inflexibly Seconds pass as he lists, reaches, lifts A herculean task Kevin is a potato Vacant oilslick blue eyes Pinprick pupils and a labyrinth of crow's feet. Hair removed rather than styled Slack mouth slumping into his neck His voice without inflection Monosyllabic answers that tell you nothing Always a million miles away Trapped in a slower place Kevin is a potato Man become tuber via the bottle And I write not from malice or mockery But to pin him in my memory Because I was sat opposite Kevin in group.
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Aug 18, 2018 10:01
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e: that sucked lol
take the moon fucked around with this message at 20:10 on Sep 3, 2018 |
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Aug 26, 2018 22:45
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magic girl cut up sore throats small coughs chased fingers after a while she peered down lapis lazuli flowers down where I shaped briefly in my heels a face nearly nuclear in all the ways she afforded wrong a Hero's Journey nothing plasma earth Aeternum nothing love was a good word we should break up are four better for her
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Sep 17, 2018 14:58
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^sg for a second i got so loving thirsty claimed, a raiment of moonkissed grass, stars stares are what i got when i explained how meditating works smiles yeah, broke a promise to myself tried to see it again its a shimmering cloth, rippling salt, ash they consecrate flowers with ribbons now so i restored so what resetting is transmuting blood into gold, hopefully if not silk i wore out somewhere between apathy and dislike are eyes of some colour and a word i forgot
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Sep 18, 2018 01:54
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hieroglyphics unclasped lock and boarded i found in the blades of the engine five flashlights cooling a screwdriver interested in (what) the ancient wiring the scrap the rails the rust or perhaps just leaving their names Thomas James Richie Tuck
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Sep 26, 2018 14:57
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im [
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Sep 27, 2018 12:38
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Blasting through my headcase with hell out far shelling shotguns like pistachio shells. It's hosed. I should test my luck. I should proceed with the shivering grooving, and shake off beat to keep my energy moving, keep the fatal tax evasion inverted to invasion, and gaurd the cradle at dusk so I could sway hearts to cinnamon. With banks busting like SWAT and the suits showing cuffs I should get myself ready for the shedding of the heady by Trump X Pol Pot thots. I appraise rot. And I'd love to go fight but I'd love to get shot. A vicious contradiction that spoils the plot: comfort over aspire, sustain all desires a baked in affliction on my human conditions that will wear me down til I have no choice but die or... where is my pen? (dong) im wrong. Telephones fucked around with this message at 03:38 on Oct 11, 2018 |
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Oct 11, 2018 03:29
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Telephones posted:I appraise rot. i dont think anything referencing brumpf is ever art but these lines are rly good
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Oct 12, 2018 01:11
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subbing
take the moon fucked around with this message at 23:23 on Oct 31, 2018 |
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Oct 18, 2018 01:31
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I'm going to post a poem for the first time even though I always feel like what I write is garbage but I got to thinking and the worst that can happen is some people make fun of me on a forum you pay to post on, so job applications the first thing that comes up when you google my name is an article I wrote about body image and how poorly I dealt with mine I can’t help but wonder what a potential employer thinks when they see it Do they think, “I don’t want the pukey trans person working here,” or “someone mentally ill like this is a liability that I’m not willing to take a chance on” I don’t think anyone sees strength there Except the people who saw me tear up at the podium, but finish anyway
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Oct 18, 2018 05:01
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Cheers These are for the too few remedies Scrawling past my injured sight. The golden, discordant melodies Of liquid orchestra. These are for the perceptual tremolos Glassy clinks, again and again, Battering echoes fade fast for each strike and flow To consume of silence. As it stills, the tempo clears And sings to me such savory lullabies As to temper the tinged mirrors Of moments passed. And still, the shallow fading, diminished, Engulfs wrenching symphonies of now To drown the world.
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Oct 19, 2018 18:47
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im on the net me boys posted:I'm going to post a poem for the first time even though I always feel like what I write is garbage but I got to thinking and the worst that can happen is some people make fun of me on a forum you pay to post on, so Welcome. Our inner critics are often unreliable, which is why it's nice to have a place like this for honest feedback. That being said, I liked the ideas behind your poem, and its spoken word quality. A critique that comes to mind is to maybe explore with more depth the notion of biases, of the paper not being a complete reflection of you; about others judging weaknesses, instead of seeing the strength those struggles cultivate. I feel like there's a lot of untapped content there. El Desdichado fucked around with this message at 20:45 on Oct 19, 2018 |
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Oct 19, 2018 19:43
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El Desdichado posted:Welcome. Our inner critics are often unreliable, which is why it's nice to have a place like this for honest feedback. That being said, I liked the ideas behind your poem, and its spoken word quality. A critique that comes to mind is to maybe explore with more depth the notion of biases, of the paper not being a complete reflection of you; about others judging weaknesses, instead of seeing the strength those struggles cultivate. I feel like there's a lot of untapped content there. Thank you for your feedback! I generally prefer to be direct and brief, so you pointing out to explore more is certainly something I think that I could work into my poems. In yours, I see a lot of imagery, which I struggle with. When I write something, I understand to myself what I see, what I feel, but I'm starting to think that maybe I expect more from the reader than I'm giving to them.
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Oct 21, 2018 03:04
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gently caress it I have no plan I'm not a man, I can't stand The life that I manned, and I'm better and better, but never better Than fore I'm unsorted, short form of glory, untorn And sure, there's my mind: A crime found of the third kind Just crying, whining, my life, on high So now that I find, this time It gives a big trophy for what I think that is mine I'm fleeing See it, unseen I can't explain what I mean Cause I can't even see it I'm beaten and broken, spoken the idiocy A prosthesis of thesis: my identity I try to be wise, And I try to be the good guy Yet to the day that I die It feels like nothing but lies I thought my left and my right brain Could just get along But gently caress this I'm wrong Nahrix fucked around with this message at 19:13 on Oct 25, 2018 |
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Oct 25, 2018 19:09
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Nahrix posted:gently caress it I really like this! It's got a great flow and feels really strong when I read it.
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Oct 25, 2018 21:17
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im on the net me boys posted:I really like this! It's got a great flow and feels really strong when I read it. Thank you! That means a lot, because I don't ever recall getting a compliment on anything I've written. Feels good.
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Oct 26, 2018 18:37
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Sorry, I don't know if there's an etiquette here about the appropriate conduct about how many times you can post something. If I'm violating anything, then feel free to avoid looking at this: I know I'm not always right And fighting's helpless, righteous, light of the Selfess, obvious wellness, it helps us, right? Tell, us compelled to trust in the right And if we say, laid to fate, felt less Tell us we're reckless Demons's of our deviousness, ate us I take responsibility for night Demon and devil, we rust, and See malevolent untrust, sent, you're Not now riding crust, when You ask for a dialogue, then Spread hatred 'fore be we begin To make we us The left and the right It isn't quite right We left history and might Have been proud Last out loud, cause of them and me Have doubt of our ancestry Shout as I might, but despite light of the plight Has rose above the German's oven Love gives our wretches selves sight So let's not recourse in our history's night Such a tight grip of blight On our insight we might, so Fight to join the constant delight Of our heights that we fight For a victory Does it actually see, in all sincerity? Or do we claw each other endlessly, fears in me, For the pursuit of a moot point Whose choice is loose, now when we, sincerely, do we take light? Looting obtuse points Soon, in persuit on reality To see, cause you're crying to me Since we're lying, trying to be High on high, though know we Know it's not right, though we see The fight of the light, why might, alright could be blamed on me The point is the life we lead, the decency that you need to see And please, cleave a path ever better than what's made from me Nahrix fucked around with this message at 05:13 on Oct 28, 2018 |
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Oct 28, 2018 04:39
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as Oh Pee i say its fine, also i dont think theres any etiquette to consider is that about culture war? strong feels from it
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Oct 28, 2018 05:41
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take the moon posted:as Oh Pee i say its fine, also i dont think theres any etiquette to consider You're absolutely right; it's about the current culture war in the US, seen from a Canadian's point of view.
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Oct 28, 2018 20:52
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Sulla-Marius 88 posted:here's one i wrote to test a meter and I don't know what to do with. to my mind the second stanza is the weakest but, as usual, im more frustrated by the lovely flow between stanzas This is awesome. My humble suggestion would be to make some very small changes on the third verse: Oh, what an underhanded gift is A Midas touch, this
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Oct 28, 2018 22:01
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This was something I just came up with. Any criticism people can give is welcome. I Wish I Was You You looked like a queen Pitch black lipstick and thin build of porcelain Flowing black dress a smile full of fangs From the moment I saw you, I wished I was you You commanded the room Made everyone feel welcomed Made sure we all had our heart’s desires But all I wished for was to be you Your fangs shone brightly while you laughed Your victim was made to scream and beg While all your guests watched your poor kitten squirm Watching you work just made me wish I was you Everything slowed down for the night We were alone together I just looked at you wide eyed As you told me you wished you were me I’m just some boring ginger No fashion sense, no supermodel looks No fangs of my own to make others scream Why would you wish to be me?
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Oct 29, 2018 02:12
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Here's another one. I think I'm addicted to writing now. Hey, Godfather, need a friend? I'll let you in Forever, and never try to end it Now, don't you worry 'bout her Won't let her know, no doubt, sir Got this lie 'till I die Trying from day, to the night Fighting for answers to cancer Nevermind, I'll be alright Love your taste, let's face it, wasted Disgrace? Hey, now I can just pretend Just walk a few blocks, and shop, then off Home for a stop, and I got The chance to turn the lights off upon demand I'll kill for you, target's me A bargain for largely fantasy Dark is dreaming I start to leave Can't believe the clock's counting zero Hero and foe, I guess so Stop calling for me, you know I can't slow down, there's no hope Just drowning, happily Edit: Another one. Same subject, but another take: Tick, tick, tick Time is through You're chasing gooses Soon dying, you, so Keep trying flying, fool, and Signs are looming End of the line for you Just Lick, lick Your master's boot Cause he owns you All through and through Keep coughing, your coffin's coming soon No clue who's that you're lying to You're Kick, kick, kicked Black and blue You're losing, loving Attack the flu Who's backing you? Abandoned? Boo hoo Just lose the ruse Choosing nothing to do, whose Fault is that? You want a platform? Rise to that Cul de sac Round and round, holding back Lackluster, trust me, you're a folding stack And that is what's happening You can't? gently caress that, don't make a scene Heart attack's the only excuse that you have left Upset? Give a poo poo, or regret Set in motion the notion your emotions are bullshit You know it, I am not being mean, dean Hypocrite has a fit, then you sit on your rear end Take another glass, you alcoholic Bawling when you should just call it Quits, and pull your life together Whether or not it's hard; you're softened Don't ever excuse abuse again, friend We're me and I, but not quite fine enough To blind myself to the bitter end Nahrix fucked around with this message at 06:06 on Oct 29, 2018 |
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Oct 29, 2018 03:26
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im starting to like the aesthetic of constant poetry and short crits. i feel like i dont have a lot to offer in the crit dept tho amazing how fast i scroll to calibri we are together, the waves fast past the greeters it is so dumb to set such barriers so much to live human nature and if it's perfect ruin it that's the way things are i found god he's ironic a relic spitting paint onto fires and my nails are dead, and therapy is everywhere don't aim? just ignite flown past, flowed out into the fight someone to grieve something? im not sure how much i can take know that i give nothing and i wrote this for bodies under sand, long sought never delved for
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Oct 29, 2018 23:52
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take the moon posted:im starting to like the aesthetic of constant poetry and short crits. i feel like i dont have a lot to offer in the crit dept tho This is the poo poo. Sorry if I don't have any better words to describe it.
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Oct 30, 2018 07:11
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Hello again. I just thought of another one after I had a chat with some good friends, and some new ideas popped up in my head. I see war and famine Torn apart nations Evil people leading agents Sinking feeling dealing cadence Like our evil is flawless And I think our situation is That we're really worth all this We're unlimited, But not unlimited such We transcend all that what makes us We pretend purity's nothing But good and not also evil I see glory and sadness Short and far-reaching patience Real hate meeting ancient ages Bringing goodness, contagious And I think our situation is That we're really worth all this Here's what I think: Kindness and honesty Time that brings all of this life to us Or finding camaraderie Or avoiding becoming another man's version of monstrosity Or finding youth From pursuit of the idyllic youth tree I think you'll see The truth is Truth With truth comes sadness, Truth comes gladness, With the truth, you'll oft find madness But have this, let this seeming backwards All-in-buy-in-just-accept-this Life view save you when you've been captured In the strife we all know's panic Despair's repaired when these chain's We bear Fear of seeing evil's glare Which is fear of our fellow brethren Since we're it's heir Is to rise to grin and bear our fair share Of Truth
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Nov 3, 2018 03:55
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I submitted four poems to Poetry Magazine. Now to wait seven months.
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Nov 9, 2018 08:11
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