|
big business sloth posted:I think whether or not the message comes from the phone or the flash comes FROM the phone is fairly irrelevant in conveying the feeling of this poem. At least, I was perfectly aware of what was going on either way. For me, it was "...realized your job in life." The phrase "job in life" is very stilted. Hey man, what's your job in life? Oh those are infuriating comments, and I know that. I have this idea that it's way more helpful to identify problems and questions with the NEXT poem in mind, rather than trying to suggest a fix of some kind.* I like to think that working forward with comments taken or sidelined leads to more discovery in further writing and, often, better work. I get that some people work one piece at a time and work to solve that piece, as much as it can be anyway, but that isn't my style of feedback and I should be more clear about that. So one of the things I find most exciting to ask myself and poets who ask me for feedback is: what about this feels like it's risking or challenging something (best of all, its own utterance or observation)? That's what I mean by danger and disaster. I believe that there are ways to heighten the dramatic and structural action of a poem that give it a kinetic feel. Popeahuntis's poem felt like it flatlined when it wanted to spike... to me at least. In this way, bbs, I also feel excluded from entering the resolved poem (if I'm understanding you) but not because of lack of clarity, but a bizarre lack of energy. Given the narrative situation, I think that there's opportunity to make some turns, even if they're false ones (maybe the speaker picks up on this, maybe s/he doesn't) and explore some thinking-territory rather than snapping to conclusion so quickly. Yeah the from/on thing is a baby nit. Clarity was never the issue. It did distract my reading, tho, so whether or not that matters is up to the poet I guess  *I will betray this idea again and again however
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2014 08:03
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 16, 2024 20:02 |
|
|
I see what you mean. I work a lot different, I guess, I write do very slowly and tend to make every poem a project as they come along, and artists who instead just say, "poo poo, that one was lacking, I'll make the next one better!" both amaze and infuriate me, because that's just something I can't do easily. Everything has something to be salvaged! I'll try to keep this moving with this-- Every day that I knew my father he wore a beard. I did not know him without it. He still kept his safety razor on a shelf in his bathroom, but it was last used (judging from family albums) around the time I was born. So, when I turned eighteen I was on my own to interpret the Gillette five-blade sent to me in the mail, and my technique has been stunted ever since, and I am reminded of this each morning as the white tissue paper badges I wear on my face turn red.
|
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2014 08:42
|
|
|
There's no way I could leave a poem without fixing it. I told a friend that poetry is reduction to the essence, then building up again if needed with the core direction in mind. Even the stuff I post here has gone through 40-50 revisions minimum.big business sloth posted:I see what you mean. I work a lot different, I guess, I write do very slowly and tend to make every poem a project as they come along, and artists who instead just say, "poo poo, that one was lacking, I'll make the next one better!" both amaze and infuriate me, because that's just something I can't do easily. Everything has something to be salvaged! I like this. It's oddly playful and a glimpse into why a certain common ritual turns out the way it does. Firecube posted:I just wrote this now over about an hour. It's short, but I really like the imagery I evoke in it. I honestly have no idea what you're trying to convey here outside of "pain makes people black holes of hate" or something, which is really florid and kinda boring. There's no surprise here; there's no change in the subjects or how we're led to see them. You do a lot of 'adjective' 'noun' and your word choice could use some examining. Your cadence and line weight, for lack of a better term, is all over the place. Even in free verse, any lack of structure must support the content and must be planned out. I feel as if I could rearrange the lines of this poem and it'd make just as much sense. I want to see what you do with this piece. Even if it's just intended as a word painting, paintings convey a story. Bag of Hamsters fucked around with this message at 22:38 on Jan 8, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2014 22:22
|
|
|
Bag of Hamsters posted:
While I appreciate the criticism, and see what you are getting at, I feel I should point out that I'm far from a professional poet or even an adept one. Hell, I don't even really call my pieces poems, because as you said, poems generally have a more cohesive structure to them. I tend to write without structure in mind because I feel that it allows me more creative freedom. If I ever want to enter this in a poetry competition or something, i will definitely make this a much stronger piece of writing, but for now, it came out the way I wanted it to. I would also like to point out that there is a story here. It may not be as transparent as I was hoping it would be, but it does exist. Think of it in terms of two people who broke up and pretend to hate each other as a result. What they don't realize is that they still care about each other, and the more they try to hide it, the more apparent it becomes. Meanwhile, they allowed these explosive emotions to affect everything but their feelings for each other. I know this is a very generic idea, but I just recently went through a break up myself and can relate to this story in a lot of ways. I actually wrote the last four lines first and, knowing it needed something more, added the first two to tie the "black hole" metaphor together. Firecube fucked around with this message at 00:53 on Jan 9, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2014 00:51
|
|
|
This is the poetry thread. You might not consider them poems, but you can't really blame us for making an assumption. Also "This piece sucks and I'm okay with it" is an attitude that you absolutely have to torch if you hope to improve. No sense in making mistakes if you don't learn from them. Also, come on, don't quibble over critiques. Don't be that guy. This is a spoken word bit I'm having trouble ending. It's written in-character: I OPEN THE DOOR LIKE I OPEN A BEER with a well-aimed kick letting the sullen resentment boil up in me and puddle on the floor I'd say it would stain the carpet but I don't know how you'd tell THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW A MAN LIVES HERE a hard man who drinks hard drinks and has no regards for the velvet contours of polite society my books are used for possum hunting and my television only gets one show: Walker, Texas Ranger. I keep a spare fridge in the bathroom so I can drink when I shower which is never although, should the day ever come, I have at my command a complete battalion of MMA-endorsed bodily gels and scalp tonics. I shall destroy my bodily waste like a train ploughing through a tuberculosis ward. I will smell like sex on fire in a blizzard on a mountain in a four wheeler blowing doughnuts on your pastor's lawn. I WAS A MAN BEFORE IT USED TO NOT MEAN ANYTHING NO MORE. And it still doesn't not today. AND WE KNOW WHO TO BLAME! (I shall refrain from saying the name aloud, lest they wake) BUT THAT IS IRRELEVANT! I do everything the only way I know how: Excellently, and with a surplus of sexy antics and as my roommate, you would be entitled to an equal share in every scheme, ruse, machination and orgy that I raise here in this veritable chateau d'if of passion which I like to call "The Bone Dome" unless you have a better name one that we could write on patches sewn into our matching best-friend vests. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful acquaintanceship as soon as your references write back and your check clears. I just don't really know where to go with it. I'm not super satisfied with the roommate thing, but I want to do something to humble the character, otherwise the act falls apart and it's just me hurling abuse at an audience of confused strangers.
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2014 08:43
|
|
|
PHIZ KALIFA posted:I just don't really know where to go with it. I'm not super satisfied with the roommate thing, but I want to do something to humble the character, otherwise the act falls apart and it's just me hurling abuse at an audience of confused strangers. 'Acquaintanceship' is throwing me off. 'Partnership'/'relationship', perhaps? I really like this, and this bit made me laugh like hell: PHIZ KALIFA posted:I will smell like sex on fire in a blizzard on a mountain 'Velvet contours' doesn't seem apropos for the first half of it, unless you intend it as a crack in the veneer. I'd change 'lest they wake' to 'lest he wake,' as I like the implication of a slumbering liberal overlord. Also, I've never seen someone kick a beer open or kill a possum with a book [maybe a brick, but I'm from Iowa], so I don't know if that's lovely hyperbole or just phrasing muckery. Firecube posted:While I appreciate the criticism, and see what you are getting at, I feel I should point out that I'm far from a professional poet or even an adept one. Hell, I don't even really call my pieces poems, because as you said, poems generally have a more cohesive structure to them. I tend to write without structure in mind because I feel that it allows me more creative freedom. If I ever want to enter this in a poetry competition or something, i will definitely make this a much stronger piece of writing, but for now, it came out the way I wanted it to. Revision is how you become a poet, and if you have to explain a piece to an audience of peers, you need to revise. Revision doesn't mean your idea was poo poo; it means nothing is born perfect. The only successful writer, much less poet, that I've heard to never revise anything is Tom Robbins, but he'll spend all day on one sentence if he has to. Dave Sim, as much as he's a terrible loving human being, said something that has always stuck with me, that you have 2000 bad pages in you and then you can start doing the good stuff. "Why write if all my stuff is going to suck then?" Because every piece you knock off that total gets you closer to being awesome. Keep writing.
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2014 15:33
|
|
|
Popeahuntis posted:I haven't written in ages. Keep it that way. (USER WAS PUT ON PROBATION FOR THIS POST)
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2014 18:10
|
|
|
Sadiecode:
|
|
#
?
Jan 12, 2014 07:37
|
|
|
Uncertainty Sweat beads on my forehead. A nervous chill sweeps over me as I hold my final hand. So much has led to this moment. I ponder all the routes I could have taken would have taken SHOULD have taken. In my mind's eye I see a dozen me's looking upon my cards. Some scorn, some envy some laugh, some regret. It is no matter now. The broken light buzzes, it brings me into focus. I can not see the path if I let the noise of second thoughts obscure me to reality. Finally I can have answers I know the pieces are in place. They must be! So much has led to this moment... I put the cards down. I breathe a sigh of relief. Now that I have beat the game, they lead me down a dark hallway. Many have tried to cheat, to force the odds in their favor. They lie face down. I swore I saw a familiar shape. I shudder violently. Nothing. There is a brightly lit stage. I can hear whispering. Shuffling. A spirit of quiet excitement. The stage is set, each plays a part. Begin. Everything is in perfect rhythm now. What was once hidden to me I now see. I can feel jubilation swelling in my heart. Would I have ever dreamt this? Could I have imagined this? The bad notes the missed cues stepped on feet if they happen they mean little. It's all coming together. I wish I could have told- no, no. It felt like I had danced for years. The final act is over, the curtains close. I fall to the ground, complete. I thought I heard applause. I close my eyes, weary. Now I see something in the darkness. It looks at me with piercing eyes. Everything it needs to know it sees without a word. I ask it, what are you to do to me? I am only a man. A blinding light engulfs me. I, I... Sweat beads on my forehead. A nervous chill sweeps over me as I hold my last hand. America Inc. fucked around with this message at 07:32 on Jan 13, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 13, 2014 06:52
|
|
|
budgieinspector posted:Sadie Ahahahaha, oh god I loved this. Initially, I tripped on 'spherical cobra' - something about the adjective doesn't seem to scan, but the imagery of a fat, bouncy snake makes up for it, I think. I'm curious, how long did this take you?
|
|
#
?
Jan 13, 2014 15:38
|
|
|
Bag of Hamsters posted:I'm curious, how long did this take you? Twenty minutes? Maybe double that, counting revisions.
|
|
#
?
Jan 13, 2014 20:14
|
|
|
Negative Entropy posted:Uncertainty This is... a little too straightforward maybe? I feel the imagery in the poem relies too much on cliches. If I'm reading it correctly, you're working with two conceptual metaphors here: Decisions are like a (Card) Game, and Life is like a Performance. Those two metaphors don't naturally mix and it doesn't seem like you've made enough effort to get them to work together, and there's no line that jumps out as an interesting twist on either of them. I also feel the phrasing could be much more succinct, but perhaps that's a side effect of how well-trod the metaphors are. And a specific comment since this transition bugged me: quote:Finally I can have answers First, "the pieces are in place" is a chess metaphor so it doesn't quite fit here. More importantly though, did you play the cards at this point? Did you fold? Did you win the game, and if so how could you know that immediately upon playing your own cards? Did we just skip completely over what should have been the climax of this section?
|
|
#
?
Jan 13, 2014 21:54
|
|
|
Promethium posted:This is... a little too straightforward maybe? I feel the imagery in the poem relies too much on cliches. If I'm reading it correctly, you're working with two conceptual metaphors here: Decisions are like a (Card) Game, and Life is like a Performance. quote:First, "the pieces are in place" is a chess metaphor so it doesn't quite fit here. More importantly though, did you play the cards at this point? Did you fold? Did you win the game, and if so how could you know that immediately upon playing your own cards? Did we just skip completely over what should have been the climax of this section?
|
|
#
?
Jan 14, 2014 00:57
|
|
|
The fact that you're able to compartmentalize your poem with two sentences using big broad generalizations of theme means your message was pretty uninteresting to begin with. It's obvious you're trying to establish this big metaphor (life as a card game) which is super uninteresting to inhabit when you still lack any characters, point of view, or setting.
|
|
#
?
Jan 14, 2014 01:07
|
|
|
I haven't followed CC threads until very recently so it was really interesting to read the whole discussion on sonnets earlier in the thread while trying to get over my "this is so not worth posting" feelings. This is the first verse I've tried to write in a while, and I definitely didn't start out intending to use the format but it turned into one after initial revisions: * We stroll together on chilly, leaf-strewn nights, My father and I, down streets he used to know. He murmurs at the old familiar glow Of storefronts brightly laced with Christmas lights, And, wincing, sighs that with the world so black They are yet beautiful, and that some day, When he has had enough, he'll walk away; He'll never tell me, and never come back. If I forget, like him, the ways of speech, The time of day, the name of my hometown, May there still shine a beam upon the beach That in dark seas of memory I will not drown; May you still rise as moonfire beyond reach When all the Christmas lights are taken down.
|
|
#
?
Jan 17, 2014 12:29
|
|
|
I'm probably awful because this is the first poem I've written in years, but I had to: A man queried why buy flowers for you from nobody I answered why not they are lovely but why, he asked a bouquet that will wither so fast because nothing truly lasts I've never considered myself a poet, but my brain just said "GET THIS OUT WRITE IT" and I don't really know dick about poetry aside from what I like reading, so I can't really crit worth a drat. I need to do some research.
|
|
#
?
Jan 19, 2014 21:56
|
|
|
Filigree posted:A man queried There's something here but I think it needs to be sharper, more unexpected. You've set up a question in the first eight lines that is (if I read it correctly) answered by the speaker in the final line. The setup works fine though it should be reworked to flow better; I had a hard time understanding line 3 especially. Mainly I'm concerned that the final answer just isn't interesting enough and it could be a much better poem if you can come up with a line that the reader doesn't already see coming.
|
|
#
?
Jan 21, 2014 01:59
|
|
|
Promethium posted:There's something here but I think it needs to be sharper, more unexpected. You've set up a question in the first eight lines that is (if I read it correctly) answered by the speaker in the final line. The setup works fine though it should be reworked to flow better; I had a hard time understanding line 3 especially. Mainly I'm concerned that the final answer just isn't interesting enough and it could be a much better poem if you can come up with a line that the reader doesn't already see coming. Thank you, as I have been looking at it longer I've felt similarly about it. It's too predictable so I'm going to work on it more.
|
|
#
?
Jan 21, 2014 20:13
|
|
|
Twither twixt the telltale tuldering thithing twitter twat till it was unlikely that I had to have not gotten shot I pulled out of the parking lot and drove out from the side texting tweeting typing trying traveling to telluride Simmer smolder sunken shattered stretchers shaking shoulders guess I had to pay attention with the phone back in the holder My family hasn't gotten confirmation from the coroner for fear felching festering folktales F250 fulla foreigners Chafey fucked around with this message at 20:55 on Jan 23, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 23, 2014 20:51
|
|
|
Chafey posted:Twither twixt the telltale tuldering thithing twitter twat This may just be me, but if you're going to rhyme, commit to it. None of this assonance bullshit. What you're going for is unusual enough that no one will probably give a gently caress about proper pluralization. I want to say this piece is done, but there's something not quite right about it. Da Capo we will never share a beat and yet your ghost continues clapping my half-skip steps hard clip the concrete, try through distance, spiteful gagging to spit this rhythm pulsing, peeping laid when your name lights the screen buried in aortal muscle and every note i hear while sleeping, when i sing, my throat is lined with phantom conversations while [the pianist insists and smiles] my vibrato purrs the same i don't know how the woman says to leave what never came Bag of Hamsters fucked around with this message at 22:49 on Jan 23, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 23, 2014 22:41
|
|
|
Bag of Hamsters posted:This may just be me, but if you're going to rhyme, commit to it. None of this assonance bullshit. What you're going for is unusual enough that no one will probably give a gently caress about proper pluralization. Which is the most egregious assonance? I thought you meant coroner / foreigners but to me shoulders is a less important pluralization... edit: oh oh oh are you talking about attention / confirmation? as for my input on De Capo: it seems like knowing the title of your poem is instrumental to understanding the conflict. Why did you choose brackets for a particular line? I've got no formal musician experience so I feel like there are references I'm missing. Chafey fucked around with this message at 23:07 on Jan 23, 2014 |
|
#
?
Jan 23, 2014 23:03
|
|
|
Bag of Hamsters posted:This may just be me, but if you're going to rhyme, commit to it. None of this assonance bullshit. What you're going for is unusual enough that no one will probably give a gently caress about proper pluralization. I like this. I think I see what you mean about it being unfinished, "When i sing," feels a little jarring but I can't express why?
|
|
#
?
Jan 24, 2014 21:45
|
|
|
This is something I wrote in the midst of junkie funk. The Last Ballad Of Rico Tubbs The whole town gathered round to watch On the day they heard Rico Tubbs would get got The story goes, the story goes Rico, that man of right Crushed under the maw of order Crushed by that system that takes a man and buries him Deep, deep, deep down under the skin of a pig Rico Tubbs thought he'd left vice behind him Under the heat of the Miami sun Rico Tubbs thought he'd finally left it all That stupid man had even left his gun Fool men--tool men Sent to splatter the brains of a scarecrow Stupid men with sticks of lead where intestines once rested Nobody knows the trouble they've seen The sorrow they've left in their wake Baked under the misty rays of lying sunlight Their hearts, like little pieces of tin, splintered once held too tight These are the men that came for Rico Rico, Rico, Rico The call was put out Rico, Rico, Rico We're thirsty Only blood shall drench this drought Rico heard the call and prepared to run For he was an old man No force behind him--at his side: no gun So he ran and he ran and he ran Like rivers of cold blood And then he met the ocean Rico; stay still Rico; easy kill Rico; life will Rico; bullets drill Rico's dead Those bastards done freed a cop.
|
|
#
?
Feb 21, 2014 23:08
|
|
|
drought song come you gentle blessed rains, come to our weary, broken land, come wake the fossils, damp the smog, come sift a sieve through dirt and sand to find the hearth where humans glow the tender bud of springtime yet that’s hid beneath our barren plains a light so many have not met Haven't written more than a scrap of poetry since I took a class a couple years ago but I found this accumulating in my head, so here it is. I'm vaguely aware of issues in it but it's also pretty fresh to me. Bag of Hamsters posted:I want to say this piece is done, but there's something not quite right about it. I feel like this needs to be either slightly shorter or slightly longer. You've got this chaotic jumble of syllables that refuse to adhere to any kind of sensible meter, which I like (though I wish you'd either cut out connecting words like "to" in "to spit this rhythm" or try to make that section more coherent as a whole) but then you end with this sort of chunky couplet that throws everything off.
|
|
#
?
Feb 27, 2014 08:19
|
|
|
I was told I could post non-original poetry here, so have a video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdfGUM0BTLc Just about the only good thing to come out of my reading of The Thorn Birds, it took me a couple of listens to get used to, but it's really grown on me and worked it's way into my music-rotation now. Enjoy!
|
|
#
?
Feb 27, 2014 14:34
|
|
|
Here's a little something I wrote after rereading The Narrative of Fredrick Douglass. Is it worth revising? Fredrick Douglass (18 lines) Fredrick Douglass did not have the good fortune To be born in an age where the slave trade is still immature. No, instead Douglass was born in an age where slavery was so perfect— So thoroughly complete at the sale and subjugation of Africans— That escape would prove to be nearly impossible. But Douglass overcame that, And instead of simply beating that system on a personal level, Douglass transcended that, and became To those combating society’s greatest shame, Breaking the chains, Dismantling the galleys, Burning the brothels. Douglass became something greater than himself Douglass proved that it was possible In his journey from ignorance to understanding And from understanding to freedom Not only to fight injustice, but to beat it, And not only to beat it, but destroy it.
|
|
#
?
Mar 1, 2014 19:17
|
|
|
I have often strived to be The better man, But in the end I have found That I am only pieces Of the better men That I wish to be.
|
|
#
?
Mar 2, 2014 08:09
|
|
|
Corporal Beefheart posted:Here's a little something I wrote after rereading The Narrative of Fredrick Douglass. Is it worth revising? Tense error in line 2, and some missing punctuation in some of the penultimate lines. Overall it is a struggle to critique something like this. It doesn't read like poetry. More like a speech? Or a preamble to a melodramatic biography. Treating it like prose laid out line a poem, there are a lot of excessively verbose lines, and the tone aims for triumphant but hits deadpan way too often. Example: "And instead of simply beating that system on a personal level" SuitcoatAvenger posted:I To be honest I don't see much wrong with the original, it's pretty cute and self-contained. I changed the tense to simple past instead of present perfect in order to make it slightly more direct/punchy. I think it lends more of a depressing kick to it, but see if you agree. I also believe it could benefit from an additional stanza between the 1st and 2nd.
|
|
#
?
Mar 2, 2014 15:22
|
|
|
This since time i. "If there's another go-around perhaps I'll be closer to Buddhahood." She chews the beef jerky with an insolent contemplation. Smoke squeezes through her teeth. She's not self-ignorant. "I wasn't a bad person, exactly, but --" this lingering, with an almost- ideal roundness. "No no no, enough of that. Enough moralizing." She has swallowed. ii. Then the bird flies south for the winter. This since time immemorial. iii. "Okay I was a painter. Not a very good one. If I had studied physics, I would have ended up the same." Page 99: a diagram of a dog, its musculature. "I read a lot, I read a lot. The westerns were my favorite. They come in, they mess something up, they fix it maybe, then they're gone." Another and another and another burning down and filling up the ashtray. The books loom. Plastic goes in the receptacle. "Your last will and testament he says. I told him go gently caress yourself. "You can imagine how he took that. "Deals with all kinds in his line, I guess." iv. In ten or twenty years, the grain of sand becomes a pearl. A knife then is enough. v. "Behold the masterwork. A real shitkicker. I call it Gone With the Wind. See how the pine tree bends."
|
|
#
?
Mar 9, 2014 17:17
|
|
|
Minimum Wage Yesterday will be a new day The cold will remain despite the forecasts I will keep counting these days Because I get paid on Thursday And once I get paid on Thursday I will have the means to pay almost all my bills this month And I will still have one hundred seventeen dollars left Which I can spend however I want. Please note, this is empowering somehow. Perhaps I shall get groceries, I am almost out of milk and have Only three eggs left in the carton. Then again, I have but A quarter tank of gas left And it is only the beginning of the month So I should make sure to set enough aside That I can afford to go to work in the first place I shall still have twenty seven dollars left Which I can spend however I want Please note, this is empowering somehow. [I suspect this might be called out for excessive wordiness, I am trying to convey a feeling of one affecting maturity and professionalism while actually bitter. My own writing style also suffers from this wordiness and I'm not exactly sure how to break the habit.]
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2014 11:18
|
|
|
Jenner posted:Minimum Wage The stanza split doesn't help this piece, as you're delivering the punchline too early. You can delay the reveal of what the poem is about until the end. "Which I can spend however I want" is almost a good line to end it on (but work a bit on the phrasing), you don't need to tack on the extra "empowering" line. The rest of it, as you've suggested, is too wordy, so cut until you can't cut any more.
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2014 20:39
|
|
|
Jeza posted:To be honest I don't see much wrong with the original, it's pretty cute and self-contained. I changed the tense to simple past instead of present perfect in order to make it slightly more direct/punchy. I think it lends more of a depressing kick to it, but see if you agree. I also believe it could benefit from an additional stanza between the 1st and 2nd. Hey, thanks for the advice! It was just a little thing I wrote for a poetry class, but since I lean more towards narrative writing than poetry, I wasn't sure if it was solid or not. I appreciate your suggestions, and I'm definitely going to put them into rotation for my second draft.
|
|
#
?
Mar 11, 2014 02:20
|
|
|
Humboldt squid is gay Neonnoodle, soundmonkey All gay, namaste
|
|
#
?
Mar 16, 2014 21:49
|
|
|
Lucky Mittens The old river runs red. The widow's tears are spent. They say the day is done, they're packing up the tents. His dinner's at home on the bench, its steam a sign of what was to come, the smoke outside of what came in the end. What now? She meows at her bowl, knowing there are seconds for Mittens. A bad day for man is a victory for kittens. It means there's more in the kitchen, more for old Mittens. snoremac fucked around with this message at 05:48 on Apr 2, 2014 |
|
#
?
Apr 2, 2014 03:56
|
|
|
breath clouds a sleek wood floor, subdued but alive the swelling that she has received is right below her eye "you hosed her didn't you" yells that oval office, anger tempered cries the man that has just hit her has shorts tight on his thighs and a yellow checkered flannel (with a novelty bow tie) and sandals adorned with glitter glue and plastic burgers and fries his socks run up past his kneecaps, neatly ending on his thighs his velociraptor t-shirt it says "dinos in disguise" but on the back you can see a sweater-vested guy, it references an anime, the plot's weird don't ask why. the elbow pads he wears, keep his elbows alive the motorcycle helmet is for motorcycle drive. the end
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2014 00:20
|
|
|
I've never written before, nor have I posted in this thread, but I want to share this thing I wrote. Criticize away, gentle goons... Untitled The night winds down. The children go to sleep. We talk all night, engrossed in each other's minds and hearts, words flowing like water over a cliff. So far apart, yet so close in every way, longing for what makes us feel whole - the caress of our fingertips, our minds and bodies meshing so perfectly. We want it to last forever, but we both know it has to end at least until next time. Exchanging loving expressions via words and photographs like we've done so often in person, pretending it's the same but knowing it isn't, at least not right now. Bated breath, waiting for each little message to come in, we stop what we're doing for what seems like an eternity, only to quickly pour our thoughts into the little screen in our laps and hope for quick response. Outside, others don't know what's between us, theories abound but no solid idea. We're too good for them to know for sure. Best friends on the exterior, soulmates inside. Lovers, in every sense of the word.
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2014 09:16
|
|
|
Hypothetical Hose posted:
I think it would help if you split up some of longer lines either by removing some words or cutting them into two. Ex: The night winds down. The children sleep. We talk all night, engrossed in each other's minds and hearts, words flowing like water over a cliff. Anyway, here's a poem: A Little Green tree looking fine and dry. snip, snip there goes a Bit of branch. snip snip, Bye! there goes a Bit of another. snip snip, crunch! pruning fore-Goes until there is just A skeleton. Long green bleached bones they come alive and the Way they hit the ground it's as if the weight 1 million pounds! they turn to me and say THESE NAKED BONES THESE TEN BARE CAPITOLS DID YOU AT LEAST CAPITALIZE ON WHAT I HAD TO SAY?
|
|
#
?
Apr 21, 2014 23:06
|
|
|
I'm just going to go ahead and proclaim myself Supreme Poetic Shade-Emperor of CC and drop this shot across all of your-all's bows: I HAVE FOUND YOUR GOD hiding in the cupboard An urn cast of some uncertain clay Whose gaping mouth cries out in mockery A petty theft light as a handshake Blossoms but no fruit
|
|
#
?
Apr 29, 2014 16:59
|
|
|
RUNNER Got my eye on the clock finger wrapped around the trigger of my Glock I run the streetlife like a magician casting illusion Tricks? I walk on the puppeteer's strings Casting off epiphenominal datums like a snake shed its skin I slither to the next individual and make 'em my penniless victim Bulk transport pays dividends This one is for those who just play Devil
|
|
#
?
Apr 30, 2014 04:40
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 16, 2024 20:02 |
|
|
RichardGamingo posted:RUNNER 1) take your thesaurus and burn it. Bigger words =/= better words. I could say "The gentleman perambulated streetwise to the vendor of milky treats and exchanged his hard-earned monies for salubriant and intoxicant beverages" or I could just say "The man went down to the store to buy a beer," and the latter is 100% objectively better writing. Using overcomplicated words serves only to masturbate your ego. You shouldn't words like "epiphenominal datums" anyway, but you especially shouldn't use them if you can't even spell them correctly: it should be "epiphenomenal datum". 2) you're not as smart as you think you are. I'm not saying you're dumb, but you seem to think you're some paradigm-crashing genius when you're retreading the same boring poo poo that every skinny white dude does straight out of college. Don't be disheartened, but get some perspective. 3) drop the  internet cool guy attitude. If you can't be sincere about your subject matter, why should I give a gently caress? Yeah we get it you're some skinny white dude being all "gangsta" and it's so "ironic": there's a million of you on the internet and they're all terrible. The gimmick was tired about ten seconds after it first appeared. Comedy is really hard to write, and you need a lot more practice getting the basics down before you try to crack it. You want to improve as a writer? You want CC to pay attention to you? Well, I've got something special in store: CLICK HERE FOR MY CHALLENGE TO YOU, RICHARDGAMINGO.
|
|
#
?
Apr 30, 2014 13:20
|
|
