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Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006


Bowied the thunderdome interprompt about cowboys screaming in the hills


the darkness garments
fasted, 17, priestess purifying
Mountains she wore Stone
White
into the crowds but
she just wanted a yurt and a quiet place to be herself

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at Mar 20, 2018 around 13:19

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Tiresias2
May 31, 2011

A SCREAMING COMES ACROSS THE SKY. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it's all theatre.

Ditto about the Puzzle poem being great, though I have nothing of substance to say, I also liked the one Uglycat posted, but I'm middlebrow enough to be fond of sentimentalism. Also Gave, though I kinda felt like you're jacking up the sentimentalism and that weirded me out.

This place is really starting to get going.

I'm always on the verge of tears,
Though I've never cried.
A heathen on the edge of cleaning,
The high stakes at poker night.

Not one being, but
A pastiche of disparate elements,
A collection of abandoned detritus,
barely cohering.

I am the blind seer
Haunting blank pages
As if Homer himself
Were tied up in his lies.
While an invisible hand pulls a switch,
Causing invisible changes,
And a seductive mouth,
Reciting Heraclitus,
Sheds skin.

Into a sort of limerick, I guess.
The rats in the corner
Of a well-polished floor,
They don't care anymore.

"Your offerings of cheese are cliche",
They say,
"And better squalor's been found in mansions",
They criticize,
"And besides, you nameless heathen,
We have standards,
And don't like the cut of your jive."

This nobody prefers to live alone.
Waiting for the rats that sit
Just out of sight, in some corner
Of this nobody's
Well-polished floor.

Tiresias2 fucked around with this message at Mar 3, 2018 around 05:49

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


Uglycat posted:

What is this thing we've built that nobody owns?

I believe people grow kinder.

Be productive between cigarettes.

Never allow pride to re-double injury.

And if you wish to harvest a healthy crop of genius, spend two years encouraging the mediocre.

I am the center of my own universe - it could not be otherwise - and so too must it be that you are the center of yours.
That does not mean you cannot be - for a time - the captain of my experiences;
nor that I, with your consent, might not serve as the captain of yours.

"Despair Not!" she cried, "there is reason for hope!"
Indeed. Imagine.
What if it isn't already too late?
"Follow me," she continued, "that we might collaborate - and, by so doing, avoid folly."

She is the Lightning and the Thunder
She is the Crackling of a Fire
She is the Rumbling of an Earthquake
and i'm a tumbling spire

Lend your ear to an elder and learn;
the wind and the water will not carry our waste away.
Echoes of humansong and records of dance;
how many great civilizations descend from feral children?

I want again to feel your teeth against mine
our toes entangled, our tongues entwined
wrapped 'round each-other like oak and vine
you can touch my face any time, I'll /never/ mind

We ain't stand t'hear, round 'ere,
the "I ain't et yet" blues.
So part your lips, my dear,
closed mouths won't get fed.

If you are not bringing yourself to tears as you write,
what hope have you of taking your audience there?
How do you expect to moisten their eyes while yours are dry?
Learn to listen to your ducts.
Live, well up, /then/ write.
Stain your pages with more than just Ink.

hmm okay. things i didnt like:

i dont like Being told what to do lol
the entire stanzas of "she is" is pretty cliche (the lightning and the thunder)
the verse about making out is also pretty cliche
songs by default are humansongs you have to specify when theyre not

what i liked:
"how many great civilizations descend from feral children?"
"stain your pages with more than just ink"

overall felt maybe too didactic to take me anywhere

Tyrannosaurus posted:

the darkness garments
fasted, 17, priestess purifying
Mountains she wore Stone
White
into the crowds but
she just wanted a yurt and a quiet place to be herself

please keep bowieing Prompts and writing these little fragmenting things. they're really good. you dont hear the word yurt often

Tiresias2 posted:

I'm always on the verge of tears,
Though I've never cried.
A heathen on the edge of cleaning,
The high stakes at poker night.

Not one being, but
A pastiche of disparate elements,
A collection of abandoned detritus,
barely cohering.

I am the blind seer
Haunting blank pages
As if Homer himself
Were tied up in his lies.
While an invisible hand pulls a switch,
Causing invisible changes,
And a seductive mouth,
Reciting Heraclitus,
Sheds skin.

Into a sort of limerick, I guess.
The rats in the corner
Of a well-polished floor,
They don't care anymore.

"Your offerings of cheese are cliche",
They say,
"And better squalor's been found in mansions",
They criticize,
"And besides, you nameless heathen,
We have standards,
And don't like the cut of your jive."

This nobody prefers to live alone.
Waiting for the rats that sit
Just out of sight, in some corner
Of this nobody's
Well-polished floor.

hmm i'm not really fond of I ams. but i thought each stanza was surprising at the end. you play with themes and phrases in nice ways, especially the last three stanzas. i dont have much else to say about this one, but it wasnt bad, just, i think, a little too ascetic

i remember what Tiresias2 said about working with form so i wrote a poem with six stanzas, six lines in each, and six syllables in each line

try holding on

try holding onto snow
clutch it to your heartbeat
keep your spine straight, follow
your skin to ice, veins lorn
whispering, promising
to lost crystalline flakes

try eating winded leaves
chew them between soft teeth
blossoming forsaken trust
growing fast underneath soles
catching on violet lips
tripping over stone and branch

try fasting from sadness
starving from kinder souls
following the unloved
cutting twined and taut thread
keep themselves close to you
and console through final thoughts

try rooting through slit minds
the gleaming river eros
finds blood in thicker veins
flows through wild and true
until you stand over waves
that dash against crimson shores

try finding solace here
where the people weep and gnash
looking through the window bared
the past is winded long
around these sights and sounds
that flow from brighter days

and God, try gouging time
windswept and never heard
seeking crevice and depth
it follows me to lash
to tear these bones apart
in grace and glory lost

edit: hosed up a couple lines, edited

spectres of autism fucked around with this message at Mar 5, 2018 around 02:00

8 Ball
Nov 27, 2010

My hands are all messed up so you better post, brother.


I've been writing an essay on The Waste Land so I'm seeing a lot of Eliot in xitl and Ugly's poems (also Tiresias, I mean come on), I'm liking it all though

Early Learner

I study you as we stand at the roadside
Your divination of illuminated entrails,
their coalescence into signs
through sounds and symbols

My hand, encased by yours, is
Gripped by a machine more beautiful and complex
than any of those strumming through the world before us
Muscle and bone bound stubbornly together
yet united to produce the miracle of motion
I feel them now beneath your skin;
Their contraction into a reassuring squeeze.

Everything shifts as we start forward
Passing through Newtonian motions
Each measured step into the system
Inches becoming feet before yards.

As we move across millennia of natural history,
through portals forged in the fire of ancient forests,
My mind is overcome by the enormity of our accomplishments-
I am Atlas, bowed under the accumulated knowledge
of everyone who was and ever will be.

Here your fingers uncurl to reveal my hand,
sweaty and red
My other is wrapped around the handle
of a blue plastic lunchbox,
Dora the Explorer appraising the world:
First day at school.

8 Ball fucked around with this message at Mar 14, 2018 around 00:28

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


based on someones advice im gonna try to stay in form. wrote a terrible tera rima today

Held


My eyes bleed stray light
Seeing the body is a curse
When the skin is pale and white

Still i try not to make things worse
Hopeful at the shallow glance
When i talk it’s always terse

Silence has always been my stance
Lie awake dreaming
Watching deer dance

We are bright, kept gleaming
The misery pool is deep
The bridal path trips through meaning

When we take that final leap
We float until we slowly yawn
Ambien drifts you to sleep

Every day another dawn
Another life, another seeing
Then the memories are gone

Through all this I’ve never held my being

anyway, i'll crit the last poem soon!

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


8 Ball posted:

Early Learner

i guess my criticism here is that there are some verses which dont make sense in the context of the poems surprise end theme? like the divination of illuminated entrails. if i think hard i can make it work, but its someone playing with gummy worms or something. it makes me Think but it doesnt quite all end up.

however in context the rest of the verses are very strong. the fourth verse has a touch of what i was talking about but is easier to make sense of and lends the poem some Profundity.

overall very strong and i Enjoyed the lines that werent connected to the overall theme.

here is another bad poem in form, this one a sonnet:

A Flower White

All I want, I need, is a flower white
But I’m still wandering through the garden
My muse is as protective as a warden
Guarded when she steps into blinding light

Can she bring me flowers that are bleached bright?
Water in winter until they harden
Grip tight and tear every black stamen
Until they decompose and rot from sight

Then I think I’m trying to disappear
This is my loss; the rhythm beats slow and lorn
Anarchic, the memories I hold dear

Because I've noticed paintings tend to leer
Every rose petal comes with a thorn
The child of earth strange as the wyrdest seer

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006


Bowied the thunderdome interprompt about poetry


Not Not Really
i’ve got page you me my thing
you go bleeding effulgent and dumb
like some angsty teenage word
and i want to fistfight a mirror
Burn a fire
send a lying notebook straight to hell

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


Oh Snap

i really like your stuff so keep posting

no other criticism

edit: some haikus for world poetry day:

Long past blind children
Now adults living careful
In masks and catsuits

The wind still rushes
Forests do not let me go
Beauty fades with time

Patterns in starlight
Ripples in space, red dwarfs burning
Galaxies dying

Are there arcs in life?
Hunger pangs, sadness strikes, death faces
Newborns are rebirth

Emotionally
Numb, anxious, head pressured
The pain is over

I cannot see time
But I put honey in tea
Just to feel something

If i could rewind
I’d go back to the bronze age
And leave mournful notes

Fake chrysanthemums
Are varnished by machine gods
To keep sight pleasant

spectres of autism fucked around with this message at Mar 21, 2018 around 19:08

Morning Bell
Feb 23, 2006



Yams Fan

Hi poetry thread I am happy you are healthy and happy

quote:

A Flower White

I mean it's a super hard form to write in so I applaud the effort but a few things throw me off:
There's some real purple stuff (wyrdest seer, earth strange, flowers white, I mean the latter is mega baroque and if you could reform it into white flowers it'd be stronger) but also a lot of actions are... coming off limp.
'protective as a warden' would be less limp as 'a protective warden'
'rot from sight' seems forced 'cause there's no looking anywhere in that stanza
'can she bring me flowers that are bleached white' is a bit clumso.
"then" and "because" weaken a bit too.
Last two kind of work a bit more for me. I mean I don't know poo poo about sonnets but that's what hits me.

Also posted some poetry in the brand new Fiction Submission Thread and I'd super appreciate any poetry folk taking a look.

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006


Bowied the thunderdome interprompt about impatient, bad-tempered slaying


your thighs
are my focus
Christ
Right boy just thinks he’s (ranting)
me I well (screaming)
earfuls in rendezvous blocked mid breath
(wishing) your hands dinner stepping together
his almost face clear like a rifle
too, red
(thinking) a date would be nice a new town
too
muttering muttering muttering

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


thanks for the crits. i always feel embarassed about this stuff 0.5 seconds after posting But that's probably the only way to get better.

i attempted a villanelle today

Metro

Rising spires hid by smog
Tbe cityscape over the ocean
The concave fires the bright ruin

These black rivers of curling smoke
Break out, twisting around
Rising spires hid by smog

Synthetic shadows dance under yoke
Anonymous lifetimes are not permitted in struct declarations
The concave fires the bright ruin

They fill the streets with the rotting to choke
These are brave leaves swimming in fission
Rising spires hid by smog

Our subconscious faded into ashes, broke
Into fragments. Hush and listen!
The concave fires the bright ruin

We stayed dreaming even when we woke.
The coils vanishing is our mission
Rising spires hid by smog
The concave fires the bright ruin

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


spectres of autism posted:

thanks for the crits. i always feel embarassed about this stuff 0.5 seconds after posting But that's probably the only way to get better.

i attempted a villanelle today

Metro

Rising spires hid by smog
Tbe cityscape over the ocean
The concave fires the bright ruin
this last line I am having trouble parsing, and it’s making me feel dumb. What do you mean by the word “concave” here? I think I understand you’re implying stuff is on fire, but it’s not entirely clear.

You are also missing a rhyme here.


These black rivers of curling smoke
You need a rhyme for smog here.
Break out, twisting around
Rising spires hid by smog

Synthetic shadows dance under yoke
Anonymous lifetimes are not permitted in struct declarations
The concave fires the bright ruin

They fill the streets with the rotting to choke
These are brave leaves swimming in fission
Evocative but I’m missing your meaning. I’m also a little distracted by the lack of connection between these lines. “The rotting to choke” what? The leaves? I think we’re missing a thought.
Rising spires hid by smog

Our subconscious faded into ashes, broke
Into fragments. Hush and listen!
The concave fires the bright ruin

We stayed dreaming even when we woke.
The coils vanishing is our mission
Rising spires hid by smog
The concave fires the bright ruin

Structurally it’s not really a villanelle (though by no means am I an expert) but there’s some interesting language here. I don’t know if you’ve got enough concrete ideas to get your message across, as I don’t quite know what you meant to say.

Here’s one of mine for you to shred
.

areyoucontagious fucked around with this message at Apr 5, 2018 around 01:41

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


okay let me give critting that a shot.

first stanza: cthonic is a good word. gonna assume zeus is chronus's oldest son. i am invited to eat sounds like an obvious line after the immortal banquet one. overall the first two lines are stronger than the last two.

second stanza: ruddy flesh is a good phrase. im not sure how applicable it is but it sounds good so it's worth keeping in. im no expert on persephone but didnt she get to live on earth for six months of the year? some people see their parents less than that nowadays. its sad but maybe not grievous?

third stanza: i don't like this one. too cliche romantic. i think if you invoke a you you should emphazie the theme with something creative. not unromantic necessarily but more non-sequitorilly. straight romance is boring. complicated relationships with unexpected phrasing is the way to go. also i dont think eating fruit has ever ascended anyone to godhood. when yknow adam and eve did it it had the Opposite effect. also who wouldnt want to be undying regardless of whoever's side you were on.

fourth stanza: better. it continues an arc set up in the first stanza. also it implies this one is permanent. overall the strongest stanza in terms of continuity.

fifth stanza: underworld kiss doesnt really impress me as a phrase. i like references i dont understand as long as they sound good. i have no idea who Phleghon is but from the stanza maybe he set the styx on fire? its probably a really cool reference if you get it.

overall a unique effort, thanks for sharing

reworked "Frost" based on criticism from this thread

Ain't your veins hot, lovely
I’m yours, carved into ice
The sick honey of rust and decay
I’m over it, kino
Now just buzz mine, i'm okay

I dove into static
Drowned in noise
Held in the haze
Drifted between cold planets
The starry nights and blazing days

Just pick me up onscreen
Back where we taped it
A midnight raven screams fright
Flies against white atoms
Past each shadow and into the light

spectres of autism fucked around with this message at Mar 29, 2018 around 15:48

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


Thank you for the crit! I had toyed with cutting the third stanza completely as it was the weakest. Your comment solidified that. For the record Persephones mother was really bummed out, which is why we have months of winter -> http://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Persephone.html

spectres of autism posted:


reworked "Frost" based on criticism from this thread

Ain't your veins hot, lovely
I’m yours, carved into ice

The sick honey of rust and decay
I have no idea what this line means

I’m over it, kino what does kino mean in this context?
Now just buzz mine, i'm okay

I dove into static
Drowned in noise
Held in the haze
Drifted between cold planets
The starry nights and blazing days this stanza is cliche, and at this point I don’t think the rhymes are adding much to your poem

Just pick me up onscreen
Back where we taped it
A midnight raven screams fright
Flies against white atoms
Past each shadow and into the light
no idea what any of this means

I think you’ve gone into using too much exotic, “evocative” language. Both of your poems suffer from a lack of concrete meaning. Try writing a poem where there’s no elaborate metaphor or language- go read a bunch of some of the more “traditional” poets like Whitman. Get a sense for writing what you want to say meaning-wise, and then you can go through and replace the plain language with more verisimilitude.

Here is another of mine. I’m not happy with the end, as it feels a bit cliche :/ but that’s what came out, so there it is

Burial

My mother died in the spring,

but father and I didn’t talk about it.

I buried him today,

not in the ground, like my mother,

or in my heart, like my mother,

but in the past,

where no candles will be lit in remembrance.

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


that's fair, and good advice. i'll try it

your poem was nice also

edit: feel ive been oversharing lately so ill try to apply all the criticism and post up when i fel i have something

spectres of autism fucked around with this message at Mar 29, 2018 around 23:50

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


spectres of autism posted:

that's fair, and good advice. i'll try it

your poem was nice also

edit: feel ive been oversharing lately so ill try to apply all the criticism and post up when i fel i have something

Eh gently caress that

The threads mostly dead anyway- keep on rolling and I’ll post right back

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


alright. i had a depressive attack and wrote this in response to your crit

Taking L-Theanine to Marathon Anime

I want to throw myself off floating things
I want to cry again
I’d rather shards of glass scrape the roof of my mouth
Than watch this

I’d coax out the best in me
Use it for the worst
Keep my eyes laced shut
Rip my teeth out and throw them at birds
I want to eat fish and choke on the bones

An article about a happy schizo
Crumpled and torn in my blue bin

When my head is a mattress
And my eyes are blinking slow
I don’t know who I am anymore
But I know I can sleep

Why does everything have to be perfect
For me to care

spectres of autism fucked around with this message at Mar 30, 2018 around 13:58

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


spectres of autism posted:

alright. i had a depressive attack and wrote this in response to your crit

Taking L-Theanine to Marathon Anime

I want to throw myself off floating things
What do you mean by “floating things”? This is a great chance to use really descriptive, concrete language. E.g “I want to throw myself from a high rise roof”


I want to cry again
I’d rather shards of glass scrape the roof of my mouth
Than watch this
Concrete and vivid, good

I’d coax out the best in me
Use it for the worst
Cliche

Keep my eyes laced shut
Rip my teeth out and throw them at birds
weird and concrete, again I dig it
I want to eat fish and choke on the bones


An article about a happy schizo
Crumpled and torn in my blue bin
too vague in meaning- you’ve painted a real picture but what’s the point?

When my head is a mattress
And my eyes are blinking slow
weird but I think I like it

I don’t know who I am anymore
But I know I can sleep
boring

Why does everything have to be perfect
For me to care
whiny, doesn’t add much

Much more concrete language, which I liked. I can get meaning from this poem (you hate anime?) but there’s still too much vagueness. I’ve thinking about posting a thread about a poetry writing guide I’ve been working through that has some good tips. Maybe you can participate if I get off my rear end?

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


yeah for sure. by the way i'm editing all these as i go so don't think this is wasted criticism. its all greatly appreciated

will post more soon

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



I have zero knowledge of poetry but I like words alot. Anyway, this is recent. Critique away.

I know a dear one with a chaos heart

And mindless blind wolf at the door

Presence of teeth is promise of fangs

Life in this bordered and bordering wild

Whistle in graveyards, run dry in deluge

Hot breath on tendon, this fluttered heart

High and low then snapped back to middle

Life in this bordered and bordering wild

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



Well, that was received well, so let's do it again.

It doesn't matter what clothes I might wear
We only see the dress we've made

Apple-knowledged hogs in sorry repair,
Faces float by in foggy parade

I remember that table, that we set before
And ate simple and lovely food

I'll leave out the sweet, and tell tales of war
What now rolls over me is where we once stood

My darling, my darling, a softly held hand.
I'll wear down your mountain and die on this land

You meant it, I mean it, my voice now too rough
Let's melt in the shade, honey, sing in the sun

I'll drive though this desert, beyond far enough
With broken leg stories that tell us to run

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



I love so much about this.

spectres of autism posted:



try holding on

try holding onto snow
clutch it to your heartbeat
keep your spine straight, follow
your skin to ice, veins lorn
whispering, promising
to lost crystalline flakes

try eating winded leaves
chew them between soft teeth
blossoming forsaken trust
growing fast underneath soles
catching on violet lips
tripping over stone and branch

try fasting from sadness
starving from kinder souls
following the unloved
cutting twined and taut thread
keep themselves close to you
and console through final thoughts

try rooting through slit minds
the gleaming river eros
finds blood in thicker veins
flows through wild and true
until you stand over waves
that dash against crimson shores

try finding solace here
where the people weep and gnash
looking through the window bared
the past is winded long
around these sights and sounds
that flow from brighter days

and God, try gouging time
windswept and never heard
seeking crevice and depth
it follows me to lash
to tear these bones apart
in grace and glory lost

edit: hosed up a couple lines, edited

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


PurdWerfect posted:

Well, that was received well, so let's do it again.

It doesn't matter what clothes I might wear
We only see the dress we've made

Apple-knowledged hogs in sorry repair,
Faces float by in foggy parade

I remember that table, that we set before
And ate simple and lovely food

I'll leave out the sweet, and tell tales of war
What now rolls over me is where we once stood

My darling, my darling, a softly held hand.
I'll wear down your mountain and die on this land

You meant it, I mean it, my voice now too rough
Let's melt in the shade, honey, sing in the sun

I'll drive though this desert, beyond far enough
With broken leg stories that tell us to run


Your forced rhyme is awkward and your poem doesn’t make a lot of sense because of it.

“Food” and “Stood” aren’t proper rhymes.

Your rhyme scheme even breaks down in your “My darling... land” couplet- you have not rhymed like that in the rest of your poem so why do it here?

Your imagery is all over the place and none of it is internally consistent.

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



areyoucontagious posted:

Your forced rhyme is awkward and your poem doesn’t make a lot of sense because of it.

“Food” and “Stood” aren’t proper rhymes.

Your rhyme scheme even breaks down in your “My darling... land” couplet- you have not rhymed like that in the rest of your poem so why do it here?

Your imagery is all over the place and none of it is internally consistent.

Thanks for this. It is a clumsy scheme and needs rewriting. As far as the imagery goes, there's two people who would consistently connect but to a larger audience, you're right. I'll work on it.

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


PurdWerfect posted:

Thanks for this. It is a clumsy scheme and needs rewriting. As far as the imagery goes, there's two people who would consistently connect but to a larger audience, you're right. I'll work on it.

Come to the poetry workshop thread!

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



I do better not rhyming.

"The desert is for me"
Every single star is naked, and cold, and free of self or other

And then she grew sparse. Dried out harsh, wood and bones, the colors they were

Creatures go dormant, after short gaudy moments of reckless beauty

Forsake this thirst drawn on me by not slaking my own

Lips cracked, dried salt cheeks, and rain once, some time ago, remembered

Walk in together and fall out alone, cold beautiful stars

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


PurdWerfect posted:

I do better not rhyming.

"The desert is for me"
Every single star is naked, and cold, and free of self or other

And then she grew sparse. Dried out harsh, wood and bones, the colors they were

Creatures go dormant, after short gaudy moments of reckless beauty

Forsake this thirst drawn on me by not slaking my own

Lips cracked, dried salt cheeks, and rain once, some time ago, remembered

Walk in together and fall out alone, cold beautiful stars

Sorry man but this is gibberish to me. Just read your second line out loud- the hanging “the colors they were” is infuriating. The lack of description of “she” is equally so. My biggest comment with this is that your attempts to be “poetic” - complex structure, overly flowery language - it all gets in the way. Your message is lost and I can’t get any meaning out of any of this. You’ve got some interesting phrases - “dried salt cheeks” stands out - but it needs a lot of work.

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



Good lord, don't be infuriated.

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


PurdWerfect posted:

Good lord, don't be infuriated.

Hyperbole but for real, your imagery is fine if it’s abstract or fanciful, tons of poets do it, and as long as your abstractions are written with distinct language it can ok. Your issue is that your abstractions detract from the poem. Try attempting something a little less metaphorical, a little more specific, and work your way back to the more “poetic” stuff.

PurdWerfect
Aug 29, 2000



areyoucontagious posted:

Hyperbole but for real, your imagery is fine if it’s abstract or fanciful, tons of poets do it, and as long as your abstractions are written with distinct language it can ok. Your issue is that your abstractions detract from the poem. Try attempting something a little less metaphorical, a little more specific, and work your way back to the more “poetic” stuff.

Good advices. Thanks!

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


took a break from the internet. thank you all for posting.

Matte

Wander through the dark
Shine light underground
Link arms for brightness
Introspect by ash

The mice slip past like lust
Against slivers of art
They’re forged together
Bastions of fur

Weave, twine red tracklight
Loud voices smoking, broken
I saw them interlaced
Twisting in wind

They rise up in parts
Stand still for comfort
Stand close, too pretty
Stand apart, too hushed

That’s when I knew
The echo of tryst
I found it in circles
I watched it begin

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011


Tyrannosaurus posted:

the darkness garments
fasted, 17, priestess purifying
Mountains she wore Stone
White
into the crowds but
she just wanted a yurt and a quiet place to be herself

i have had this poem stuck in my head for a while now. Extremely Good

lofi
Apr 2, 2018



I've been trying an experiment: use a random word generator to give me a prompt, 1h, write a poem. So I came up with something silly and dumb that makes me smile:

Hover

My cat has begun to hover.
This raises certain questions:
Should I adjust the catflap?
If she stays in, will I have to put stilts on her tray?

She hovers in front of my face.
The vet suggested iron supplements
or rewriting fundamental physics.
I think I'll just feed her instead.

im on the net me boys
Feb 19, 2017

I died in 2007

lofi posted:

I've been trying an experiment: use a random word generator to give me a prompt, 1h, write a poem. So I came up with something silly and dumb that makes me smile:

Hover

My cat has begun to hover.
This raises certain questions:
Should I adjust the catflap?
If she stays in, will I have to put stilts on her tray?

She hovers in front of my face.
The vet suggested iron supplements
or rewriting fundamental physics.
I think I'll just feed her instead.



I rather fancy this one

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


lofi posted:

I've been trying an experiment: use a random word generator to give me a prompt, 1h, write a poem. So I came up with something silly and dumb that makes me smile:

Hover

My cat has begun to hover.
This raises certain questions:
Should I adjust the catflap?
If she stays in, will I have to put stilts on her tray?

She hovers in front of my face.
The vet suggested iron supplements
or rewriting fundamental physics.
I think I'll just feed her instead.



I also dig it. The “stilts” line drags it down a bit, misty due to its length. Otherwise light and funny. Good work

lofi
Apr 2, 2018



Thanks! I think you're right about the stilts line, it is a bit clunky.

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


lofi posted:

Thanks! I think you're right about the stilts line, it is a bit clunky.

Otherwise I think it’s very clever. Cat flaps made me laugh.

Sulla-Marius 88
May 14, 2010

No man ever did me so much good, or enemy so much harm, but I repaid him with ENDLESS SHITPOSTING


Plaster Town Cop

lofi posted:

I've been trying an experiment: use a random word generator to give me a prompt, 1h, write a poem. So I came up with something silly and dumb that makes me smile:

Hover

My cat has begun to hover.
This raises certain questions:
Should I adjust the catflap?
If she stays in, will I have to put stilts on her tray?

She hovers in front of my face.
The vet suggested iron supplements
or rewriting fundamental physics.
I think I'll just feed her instead.



The second (bolded) use of 'hovers' here bugs me - I was expecting something subtler or something new, as the repetition of "hover" in a new construct that doesn't add much to the scene feels neutered to me.

Is this thread also for longer works? I have a comedy/joke poem I wrote recently but it's ~120 lines which is a bit of a difference from what's here so far, so I don't want to presume. It's about dumb aussie men

areyoucontagious
Jun 13, 2007

Hell is other people.


Sulla-Marius 88 posted:

The second (bolded) use of 'hovers' here bugs me - I was expecting something subtler or something new, as the repetition of "hover" in a new construct that doesn't add much to the scene feels neutered to me.

Is this thread also for longer works? I have a comedy/joke poem I wrote recently but it's ~120 lines which is a bit of a difference from what's here so far, so I don't want to presume. It's about dumb aussie men

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Sulla-Marius 88
May 14, 2010

No man ever did me so much good, or enemy so much harm, but I repaid him with ENDLESS SHITPOSTING


Plaster Town Cop


True. Alright, this is "The Ballad of Easy John (the shortish tale of an Aussie male)":

Testing, hello – is this thing on?
I’d like to try out a brand new song.
Have you heard the story of Easy John?
Then let’s get started – it won’t take long.

Easy John was just your regular gent:
Ocker, improper, of vagueish intent,
With rarely a punch that wasn’t well meant
(Less malcontent and more non-event).

He drank his four X, he worked as a sparkie,
Didn’t hate blacks but joked about “darkies”.
Triggered by hipsters, hypocritically sarky,
Loudly too proud of his lion-shaped car keys.

An everyday Aussie, plagued by the sheilas,
Called nasty harassment “just puttin’ out feelers”.
Loved nothing more than his uncle’s blue heelers,
Thought jail was too good for potheads and dealers.

Now let’s be honest, John was a fool,
The life he led would embarrass a mule.
You wish you could say: “John, don’t be a tool,
In what messed up world would you be cool?”

John hated his job, so he’s looking for more.
He’s dreaming of heroes all covered in gore,
Still stuck on the battles lost decades before
So he hung up his pliers and walked out the door.

And Easy John, Easy John, he said to himself:

“The old ways aren’t working, you’ve backed the wrong horses,
You’re too smart for tradework and too dumb for courses.
Girls love a young soldier, I’ve reliable sources –
It’s clear your future is in the armed forces.

They’ll give you a gun, they’ll make you get fit,
You’ll kill commies and pommies and make them submit
To your every which whim, you’ll look like King poo poo,
The Devil’s own Hell is your new army kit.”

He enrolled the next day, all jibe and no anchor,
To escape from a world that lauded the banker.
He’d rather have lived on a lonely oil tanker
Than suffer the shame of working for wankers.

But the army was tough, they made him work hard,
They gave him an apron, his bloodbath was lard,
No war came with China, his dinner was charred,
He didn’t storm beaches so much as stand guard.

And Easy John, Easy John, he said to himself:

“I’ve had it up to my absolute tits
With this whole drat outfit of chicken-arse shits
Instead of a gun they gave me these mitts
I tell you what: I’m calling it quits.”

Next chance he had, with no flair for tact,
He stopped doing the work and was readily sacked.
So John got his re-do, and in matter of fact,
Still just as dumb as the very first act.

So he’s bumming around, the weather is beaut,
He’s got a few hundred bucks and a second-hand ute.
But he knows that he’s lost, the whole point seems moot,
The driver feels blameless so he’s blaming the route.

And Easy John, Easy John, he said to himself:

“Forget the career then, I’ll just settle down,
I’ll find a cheap queen to polish my crown.
She naturally can’t but I’ll still sleep around,
As the only real man in a country-turned-clown.”

But nothing worked out, no gambit, no trick,
He called them all doll and that made the dolls sick,
And of old Lady Luck – not a spit, not one lick,
No-one succumbed when he laid it on thick.

He felt like a weakling, total and utter,
His friends took the piss, then back came his stutter,
The c-word, b-word, mouth like a gutter,
Couldn’t get girls with a face full of butter.

Easy John, you gotta change your tone
Or you’ll earn no soul to call your own.
With mates like these you’re better alone
From the spicks and the specks, the blown-off foam.

John studied like mad, he inhaled the newspaper,
Though mostly the sport (the rest boiled off like vapour),
He started to feel like a shaker and shaper,
And formed the idea for a brilliant caper.

So Easy John, Easy John, he said to himself:

“I should travel the world before I grow old,
I find the girls here are just much too cold.
I’m told the Aussie accent’s green and gold
And Fortune favours a bloke who’s bold.”

So John set sail for foreign shores
For parties and sights he’d not seen before
Surely far from home they’d all adore
This rough-cut gem with a diamond core.

The plan’s a success – John’s more than just smug,
He’s got women in lines and he’s deep in the drug.
He couldn’t care less ‘bout the kiss or the hug,
He’s obsessed with that number: love gets a shrug.

Night after night, he’s dressed to impress,
He buys the girls drinks and won’t accept less
Than total conquest, though tonight there’s some stress
Til he spies the cute blonde in the skin-tight black dress.

And she says to Easy John:

“Hey there handsome, you look a bit tense.
I could help you for a fair recompense.
And if you want to try the lover’s pretense
That’s just two hundred euros and zero more cents.”

He’s tired, it’s late, this dive bar is dead,
He takes out his wallet and takes her to bed.
When she clears out he can’t clear from his head
The unspoken fears in what she had said.

And Easy John thought to himself:

“I must’ve tamed enough prey to put the famous to shame,
But do all other guys lay claim to the same?
Or those tricky questions, like if they actually came?
And how many of them still remember my name?

I must have slept with a thousand or more,
I would swear that’s enough to fill a Corps,
But how can I go on keeping score,
If nobody remembers me past that door?”

Glazed eyes project a thousand-yard stare, self-reflection
Evident in new-found despair: uncertain defection
From a toxic direction; the long-awaited hard correction.
But save the objection, John – growth feeds affection.

Don’t you worry, John, unburden your mind
In the end we’re of the same kind
Arms outstretched, wandering blind,
Clinging in fear to whatever we find.

She’ll be right John, you’ll get through this fine,
There’s riches within, just dig that mine.
This seed of self-doubt is a positive sign:
Your cancer of culture might turn out benign.

not an autobiography

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