POETRY CRITIQUE THREAD

similarities between these two are uncanny

see representation of death

If you were encased
In gold, like a mannequin,
I could be at rest.

If trees did not move
In the coldest winter wind,
My thoughts would run clear.

If, inside us all,
Maggots did not eat our souls,
There would be no lust.

the fog is rolling as if she were hay
a bird flew through and took a straw
and her view fell
a cry of help from the fog from her throat
the mountain broke as if hit with a staff and a river
a most needed river
came down to the sunny side of the fog

no problem!

since no-one wants to critique:

your enjambments could use some work
>missing
is a weak line
>one wave
is a weak line
>and spread
>please spread
this looks like you just don't want to work on the grammar
>no
>I won't
seriously, short lines aren't dramatic

drop the 'and' on the first line of the 2nd stanza

drop the first stanza altogether

consider this revision to the last two stanzas

>it's all a thousand seas
>as I wave this flag
>towards death's hand

the comma after gold is unnecessary

>if maggots did not eat our souls
this image feels like a step too far into silly and out of genuine grim/edgy

gonna show you a drastic cutting of your piece, see if it works for you

>a bird flew through and took a straw
>a cry of help from the fog from her throat
>the river broke as if hit with a staff
>and came down the sunny side of the fog

not necessarily better, but may give you any idea of what feels like filler.
especially
>a most needed river
and
>as if she were hay

My love she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire
People carry roses
And make promises by the hours
My love she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can't buy her
In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love she speaks softly
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all
The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even a pawn must hold a grudge
Statues made of match sticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge
The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers' nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
The wind howls like a hammer
The night blows rainy
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing

Please critique

I foresee a Nobel prize in your future
but I don't think you deserve it

I have been trying for a long time to live
here in this room I pretend to like
with its table, its thoughtless objects,
its window wide to the dawn leaves.
A blackbird throbs in the ivy; light
everywhere polishes off the ancient dark.

I would gladly believe the bad times are done,
that this is my home, that the sun will shine,
were it not for the spider in the dust
at the floor of the bed, strayed in from the garden.
I should have trampled it harder, you would think
it was still weaving a trap for my delicate ghost.

>actually advice on Veeky Forums
>lol

>grammatically critiques poetry

>isn't willing to put the work in to make your grammar work for you and break for you
Not everyone writes poetry, because they're too lazy to write prose

it's fun, and sometimes i actually manage to help someone!

Of the unstable nature and structure of those who live in impoverished neighborhoods outside of the city limits and their struggle for daily existence.

Your mom is a crack whore,
And lets all sorts of men get into her back door,
ah man, 20 bucks is 20 bucks,
And it is reported she dose give the good succ,
Get traumatized by the grunts of your new step dad,
Cheer up, Life in a trailer park isn’t so bad,
There’s the woods where Rusty did meth,
Did as his hobby took him to death,
thankfully the Leroy twins are nice,
as the sibling now breed new life,
as the two make as much noise as your mom in the middle of the night,
I’m wrong my dude! your like suck,
grab some rope your life is a bust,
…
…
…
Still here dude! You fucked up your suicide!
It’s just fucking rope how hard is it to die!
O well, to late now, now for plan B,
It’s time for OPERATION SPILL THE BEANS!
talk about your constant rotation of dads,
only mention the ones who where wealthy young lads,
there will be enough evidence to convict them,
after all, they have stained the innards of lady mayhem,
such a literal pool of evidence the FBI has never seen,
but that’s just the work of your mother in one week,
…
Wonderful the lawsuit went great,
your life now does not need to be full of hate,
a rich young man free of that crack head hooker,
as the cops came and also booked her,
people take child abuse rather seriously,
your red eyes shed thick tears but it’s just spring allergies,
now you are free from that shitty old life,
time to kick back realize, your free from strife,
but drunk dirty crake hoes are all you know,
perhaps, yes buy your own,
a wise investment of one so young indeed,
human rights? Fuck that’s something they don’t need,
…
Well now you’re a real pimp daddy,
Your nick name should be the pimp caddy,
As Selling them ho’s is up your ally,
So, so long good friend you no longer need me,
You’ve got a lot of thicc propriety,
Maybe... yes I have some time to spare,
What can 20 bucks get me hear?

hope ye boyz like it

Look I'm nobody who knows nothing but this here poem is well done. Took me to a place and a feeling and left me somewhat content.

I disagree with most of what you say so I'm having a pretty hard time taking your seriously. You see attempts at drama where there are none. You don't see the importance of weak lines (especially one consisting only of the word "missing", like are you kidding lol?).

Know the rules to break them you big dummy

Would anyone here be interested in joining a poetry server on discord if one was made? It could be for idea bouncing, critique, or just sharing favorites. It's a very different environment than a Veeky Forums thread when everyone has a profile and a chat history. I'm not sure if everyone here values anonymity that much.

don't post your shit in a critique thread and act like you got an unsolicited opinion, and if you're better at writing than me, then me as i've tried to help you.

>Know the rules to break them you big dummy
I literally agree with that sentiment, but obviously those attempts didn't work for me

don't be so lame and collegiate

not interested

sounds sort cool, i would like it even if there were only a small handful of people

please make one

it is indeed fun and you have offered invaluable help to me and I'm sure many others in the past. Not to mention it is inspiring to see someone with such a command and knowledge of poesy. Don't pay attention to dumbasses like or , I don't get why you'd offer a poem for critique if you are going to throw a fit when someone critiques it.
Now publish your stuff pls. I need to read it.

also in regards to >Bronze Age Iwo Jima
why the Iwo Jima name drop?
these lines don't do the poem any favors and stand out against the rest.
it feels like you just trying to invoke a historical event simply for the sake of doing so. Troy is an adequate symbol in itself. No need to dull by turning it into a 'Bronze Age Iwo Jima'.

I'll take two positive replies as enough.
I'll continue to build the server as the night goes on, right now it's pretty barebones.

I forgot the damn link

discord.gg/4YdSaZ

I never wondered a thing.
I simply did not know
and then I knew.

you're beyond saving

an exquisite corpse channel could be a fun thing!

thanks, I was hoping to use the Iwo Jima photograph to help get the image across of the death (outside of a major character) that stuck with me so hard in the illiad, where the guy gets lifted out of his chariot and slammed on the ground like this, while talking about the inescapability of Homer and the trojan war, blah blah blah.

I can try to find a different way to go about it

Neither matron's keep
nor tinny till
will give me
my fill.

extortionist, contortionist
abdominal swell
contortionist, abortionist
heaven and hell

Sit beside me and sink into the cushion.
Watch the pretty pictures float on by.

His dead name sizzles on my tongue like crepe paper
like a dried daisy's dead petal

do you like coffee
because i like coffee
but im not sure
if i like coffee
because i like coffee
or because there's a coffee place next door
but i'm pretty sure i like coffee
i usually get lattes
but sometimes i'll take it black
that's when you don't put milk or sugar in it
did you know that
i knew that
haha
show me your tatas
and maybe i'll show you my real personality
but it's probably too good for you
like me
im too good for you
you're too good for me you think?
well you might be right
but probably not
you're probably snot
all caught up in bullshit I want nothing to do with
why are you so caught up with thaht
an overweight mind you have, so trim the fat
yoda said to jabba the pizza hut
but he had a butt so there's that
but not much else from what i could tell
and telling is my specialty
earl gray is my special tea
pearl day is to the clam what thanksgiving is to the land that turkeys live on
live on, live on
helicopter flies past the sun and distorts my vision for a second
and i love it
i wish i could hug it without getting diced to pieces
i wonder if pilots are the hugging type
i wonder if typewriters get tired of the left to right
i wonder if spiteful people like sprite and suck and spelling
i wonder if chris farley just got sick of yelling
that's telling
hey, my specialty is back
it's time to close the circle and get back to drinking coffee

... and writers wait in pockets
for some mad thing to break
on the news. Expressions sure

... and thoughtful. Reciting
little things: 'make sure to
remember to write for others

...and

Poetry is fine but can we talk about the Bludgeon Brothers? Like, are they actual brothers? Why do they want to bludgeon things?

they cain and they're able

>here in this room I pretend to like
this line is weak compared to the others in the stanza. It carries a rather juvenile sentiment that should be avoided

>its thoughtless objects
just say 'objects', the rest of the stanza sets the frame. The weight of what you want to say is carried in 'objects' by itself

a few superfluities due to the meter. Remember: "If you are using a symmetrical form, don't put in what you want to say and then fill up the remaining vacuums with slush."

drop the 'dead' before name, it's unnecessary and the repetition carries no impact

this one is good, user.

Here's mine for anyone who wants to critique:

OMNIA, all things, meaning all
began in an ‘O’, this question, precise.
Out of a mouth like a letter
‘All things that are are lights.’
Grammatical error,
jetsam upon paper, nothing else.
Error to be found in “OMNIA
all things to be found
in a mouth black open O’.
Lights, castanet clamor to
an iris carved irritated with colour;
all as O are lights;
function of colour.

In Pisan, writing thus,
he came baring it all;
from a cage the truth
(whether light
or not) was seen.
In Pisa where seas dark
as Ethiopian irises clamor.

do you know what a “dead name” is?

this is one of the worst pieces of shit I've ever seen

@

soundcloud.com/dirk-slice/sounds-from-sunday-afternoon

Hey man, I just wanted to thank you. I was struggling for a while but I've finally decided to kill myself.

yeah man please I just started poetry

good imagery. Are you sure you want to use the simile "like" in both cases, for such a short poem?

The disambiguation of the acronym comes off as pompous or "autistic". The rhythm of the second stanza, and overall repetition, is good.

Two poems here.

whether tangled in a skein
or skinned and washed to a newly sheen
the thoughts and throes of wasted prose
thoughts run away like Gogol's nose
oh, the things that I have seen
starry scene on starry scene
fast as fire they interchange
marvelous landscapes, new and strange
fantastic tales, full and teem
but, however real they seem
and, no matter the time on the stage
I've always got an empty page

****

Moondog, that crazy loon
he'd rather sing than bark at the moon!
he is the voice of the waves and the New York street
he is the voice of the Rhine and the old god’s beat
his spear and his beard and his viking busby
hold the voice of the solemn indian's plea
so, when you hear those skin drums ring,
listen to that old loon sing

he's using like twice on purpose you fucking idiot

saying the disambiguation of the acronym comes off as pompous or "autistic". takes one to know one?

first poem is good, second half better than the first. ideas good but you don't have an empty page, you have an over-full page. doesn't match. ur disparate bro

second poem is obnoxiously namedroppy. has the feeling of a guy so dead set on being a poem that his shit comes out as the definition of poetry and sucks because of it. people eventually ignore the town crier. listen to that old loon sing. more like pick up some ear plugs from target.

You sound angry.

you sound repressed

not that user but your poem is pretty bad, repetitive in all the wrong ways, unmusical, and yes, the short lines are stupid

thanks. I was just recycling a line I liked from Canto LXXIV (one of Pound's Pisan cantos, hence the references) pic related is the portion

your poems remind me a great deal of Yeats, especially the second. All very solid for what they are
>thoughts run away like Gogol's nose
such a great line

Ah okay, that's on me then. I like the idea of using a poem to elaborate on untouched elements of existing ones--could make for a fun crit thread challenge.

legitimately some of the most banal rhyming i've ever read. even children do better. notice how you have no enjambment--meaning, almost every line can end in a comma or period, meaning, the reader expects each line to be a discrete unit of meaning, meaning, your shit is boring.

>bad
>wrong
>stupid

jesus

t. Dave van Ronk

Even van Ronk loved Dylan.

t. Donovan

>getting defensive in a critique thread
when will you newfags ever learn

>not critiquing critiques
when will you develop some integrity

u srs nigga? critiquing critiques, take yourself more seriously why dont ya

Do you think Michaelangelo thought of himself as a joke?

You'll never be anything other than the tool of irony used to keep people in their place. Enjoy your role.

"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it."

-Mikey

Congrats. You've reached it.

*Michelangelo

my bad

Bitch ass nigga, yo it's time to pull the trigga
I might be small, but fuck with bein bigga
Niggas wanna throw with that bullshit but step aside
Pull out the four-five, and kill him motherfuckin dead
Pump his ass with lead
Never fakin moves, motherfucker run the jewels
Buckwild, blowin niggas out the frame
Matter fact, don't call me shorty, kid you know my name
So next time, you see me, you better duck me
Cause I don't give a fuck G
Catch wreck with the tec then I'm out like quick sex
Who's next, bitch ass nigga?

Bitch ass nigga - nah you don't want none (4X)

Kick it when I'm wicked and all smoked out
The little nigga that gets on your nerves so read about
You say yo shorty trauma, what's all the drama?
I shoot em up like their last name was Farmer
Shorty got the death wish, I wish to die
But when I try, it just goes by
You couldn't kill me because I can't kill myself
And if I got beef then I got it for self
And if I catch a body, I catch it for self
To me, murder is good for the health
Little man paranoid, Mr. Schizophrenic
Thirty-five niggas wanna funk, don't panic
Just shoot a head up, or take your beatin like a man
Or pull a burner if you want a longer lifespan
That's how I see it if I gotta die so be it
But maybe one day, my luck'll run out though
Until then, I couldn't give a FUCK yo
Little shorty one time, I'm goin all out for mines
Cause there won't be a next time
So what you wanna do punk, back up a little
Gimme some space, I'm hittin hearts, street sweeper
A little crazed nigga from the streets
Raised in the ghetto, I'm puttin out heads yo
I'm open, time to catch wreck, put em in check
Snap his neck, grab his loot then jet
Who's next to be a victim - easily ripped up
Get ready to run when I ripped em
Drop to the floor, feel the wrath of the drug war
Call me a thug who gets buck when I want more
Maniac react with a tec 9
Hit me up now cause there won't be a next time
Nah you don't want none

Bitch ass nigga - nah you don't want none (6X)

Who's that nigga standin with the jewels?
Throw on my hood, cock back the tool
Just to get a rep, yea you god damn right
Just lick lick shots cause I don't fuck with fights
Back on the ave, and five-oh arrive
Chalk on the ground where the motherfucker died
Niggas know who did it but ain't nobody snitchin
No word of to myself, if they do, I'm flippin the script
Settin it off, yo, put em in a dopefiend
And cut em up like protein
The Lord of criminal juvenile crimes committed
Set it some bitch-ass nigga, I'm widdit
You couldn't fuck with the skills of the five foot
And all it takes is a set to get your crew shook
You're fucked up, kid your rap styles sucks
I'm bustin niggas, like my first nut
Should I pull the trigga
Huh, no question

...

can't help if you're a lower division human, sorry charles

tow truck nonsense
im just here to close the blinds so light
can make some progress
do you see the outlet
on my napkin there's blood because of coughing
don't try and stop me
the juggernaut trips once donald trump stops responding
white walls are my coffee
and over rhyming isn't charming
i'm not trying to be charming
a prince once told me royalty is alarming
so put the code in
you stupid fucking button pusher pushing buttons past created
instead of dancing
your mind's inside a prison inside a speech inside of heaven
like focusing on yeast without tearing into the bread
i'm dead
back to dying
back to embryonic fluid and into crying
would be that im lying
to you it might be
because to you it's cardboard
there's actors then there's the background stage mechanics
then there's an audience
then there's the lack of sequantiality
then there's silence
then there's clapping
now it's over
when the show ends and the smoke becomes invisible
is when to take another drag and keep it going
blow me
these needles in my mind are not for showing
they're for sewing
so get out of my way or i'll force you signs of slowing
20 in a 60
while you're hovering around 60
because the posted notation suggests that's where everyone is going

September tones begin up high
as winters blue begins to die,
and so now thrown to bitter ground
Coats forest floor with green and brown.

The earth is now created new.
Though cold, painted with warmer hues.
And when you walk on through this wood,
crushing colour underfoot.

For that short time the fires spread,
that crimson world on which you tread,
is held aloft it's heat laid bare,
September tones burn in hair.
just fuck me up boyos

I'm cold, and tired of this life
my mind like daggers paints a knife
too frequent in my people's mind

The beauty tried and tried created
by ninety eight percent inflate
the soul to stretch mark stale

The only place where mine commute
is with the one who lone salute
them self, in company of two

She walked in a requiem
in the latest combination
expecting to see all eyes
turn to admire. At least

I thought by her assured
walk and the thump high
heels make with floorboards.
Grunting and slurping only here

nothing else goes. Not allowed
It upsets the regulars. Reminds
them that this is the highlight
and it goes further down homeward.
of their day

Call back the expedition to the desert
also ships need return quick to port
the seasons turn and there is no place
out there when settled wind finally blasts
sand and salt spray from the bowels
of all its violence and hatred.

For this life is sheltered and more
by rows off streets and houses
where development is still happening
physically by day and silently by night
constricting in and up the structures
of containers of hearts and city life.

Requiem For a Mouse

this party is the best one yet. Much better than yesterdays.

I can actually feel the music working inside of me.

Like some thing that is oily and sweet. You know fried stuff.

I can smell you there somewhere hiding in the crowd.

Creepy! You don't need to hide there are so many people

They all smell like soap and aftershave and sweat.

So much dancing. I feel like I am going to die right here.

Get me a drink. I need a drink. Where are you?

Still hiding?

Brad Gluckman pls stop

im going to eat your face
you are a disgrace to the human race
you are a terrible trace of wasted airspace
If I misplaced an embrace and I found it again
I would not showcase it to your lower case trophy case
If you were the last smoke in my cigarette case
I would throw myself down a staircase to touch base with an immediate escape
You are commonplace, hiding in your hiding place
a working leg short of a horse race
just in case you weren't aware of the extent of your workplace, or lack of workplace
your mind's a children's sack race
sliding into first base
face to face with a virus in you're userbase
don't know why I started in the first place
you must be worth a little so I'll pack you in my suitcase, wait, briefcase

you're > your

OOPS

...

Posted in the wrong order like a goofus

I'm back at the place where we first met
leashed tightly together in emotional debt

where you fed my demons and I boiled you in sin
exchanging visions of hells long locked within

here stands your tombstone still, tall above the others
and listlessly I stare at your carefully built image

trying again to understand the future I couldn't envisage
free for a moment from the burden of daughters and mothers

forgetting your voice but remembering your words
your warm heart six feet deep, half a world away

regretting the cold night that I invited you to play
and the birthday that I set you amongst the birds

you're gone from the outside world and my inner one is too
wishing you weren't so gladly dead, as now I am to you

you were sick when I found you and my cures made you worse
do you sing now with the skylarks in a different universe?

inb4 'enjambment' - I'll bear that in mind for my next attempt.

Does it look pretentious to write long works in iambic pentameter as a new author?

Not that Noah was particulary benevolent
Not that the deck felt barren (apartments were the quality of a hovel)
Yet he stuffed every beast imaginable there, antique, novel,
Ravenous, gluttoneous, sly, found space for owls and various -saurs
'Ain't doing no pick and choosing, not my problem'.

It quickly went sour.
Middle of the trip some cryptid got evicted,
Made a big splash, was the talk of the town (went on an extramarital prowl!)
And as the folk of the ark simmered down – guess what was found:
The guiltless pal of the beast was taking a foul for the team.
'Can't chuck him off board along for the ride, that cannot be right,
His prospects not bright, of course, but better than Lord's sauna.'

So, terminal stop.
Old guy bids goodbye and good procreating.
The God, in those times a fan of legerdemain and far from reclusive, ponders the ethics.
'Mate, I'm so sorry for bitter ordeal you are in... no offspring, no kin,
And you bear no sin.' Scratches his beard. 'How about a metamorphisis
Into a deer?' 'Magnanimous offer, but I'd feel a third wheel'.
'Still... I have to pay bills. Wise men should bring gifts. It would be obscene otherwise.'
And so the beast received a gift of

Reeks of overdramatic, confessional poetry. Starts of weirdly sterile, with 'emotional debt' sounding straight out of a psychology textbook, and then plummets into 'demons-hell-sin' theme that looks appropriate only for a 13-yo boy writing half-lust/half-angry letters to his 45-yo pedophiliac latin tutor. And after that - rhyming pattern break, chaos, AABBCDDC|ABBACCAA? Bird theme sporadic and doesn't emerge from two mentions, although last line should clearly be an emotional punch. Death ephimisms everywhere in the first half, and suddenly 'dead' just appears bluntly and without much invitation.
to be frank enjoyable only if you imagine a japanese man mispronouncing the stanzas to sad anime trip hop beat

is it pretentious for a new band to compose in 4/4 time?
it's not pretentious but i'm not sure there will be much market for it. If you want a good idea of what higher end (meaning more authoritative than poetry website/magazine#4564) contemporary stuff is being published check out things like Harvard Review or other universities publishing their poet laureates