Dumping my poetry

Russian for demon

How it's pronounced works with perfectness very nicely, thus the Russian/foreigness has other layers
-op

Nietzsche didn’t have an eagle either, fuck off

No, douche. I'm going to sell my poetry someday and don't want you fucks stealing my work.

I'm a better poet than you buddy.

Just give up, it's easier to despair and feel the world's blighting you

Nah.
Nah.

test

b-but I am

But anglophones don't speak Russian, you pretentious asshole

might as well say "oh look at me I'm so smart i know some russian and no one else does"

pretentious trash, desu

still going to steal these, thanks user

I like it!

Calling someone pretentious via the same medium that has access to every word in existence is somewhat ironic, no?

what's it about? bet you have no clue

no

already stolen and submitted to my many publishers and agents. sry user, too slow :^)

The marble slates will cease and you'll see spaniels

>weak enjambments and inconsistent line length in an archaic register

poetry dump i'll start, this one is about my wife:

Bleak and black was his cock
My wife, suppliant and exposed.
I told the nigger not to come back
But he always does, smilingly
"I've come to plow your wife"
"Well, alright but don't you come back"
I watch them, my knees buckle
I've seen it many times yet the sickness
Still seizes me
I'm a falling star, I'm a drunken sailor
His cock is black but shoots out white
Gun, gunpowder
Lock, load, bam
My wife's face a willing target
I cry
A tear is shed
I am no man
But yes, I am: the locking and loading was my rifle
My wife's brains spread across the roof
The nigger begs for his life
I told him not to come back
I tell the nigger to suck the tip of my rifle
The nigger refuses as a bad nigger is wont to do
His brain is layered on top of my wife's
"Whitey won't do shit"
Fuck you nigger

thank for reading guys, pls give me advice,I'm not racist, this is just one of my characters

Kafka-esque in the fact that no matter what you'll ever write, your weak, disgusting, sexual insecurity will drip through it.

I submitted it to my college's annual magazine, do you I'll get published?

No, but as someone who has worked on one of those, this isn't primo 'scar-for-life-and-hate-share' material. That one I read about them raping their dog was much more memorable.

sounds nice; I hope you're not OP. If you are, just take the compliment lol

I'm not. It's about our shames of hiding guilt and the demons it forms that match the demons of the guilt
Thank you for liking the work

he's not
woops

have any of you went back to old, old poems and finding yourself wanting to completely retool them? How have your results been?

this is pretty standard nonsense poetry one reads on Veeky Forums. lots of words, but no understanding of how to actually form abstract verse properly. a long time ago i talked a bit about this here: warosu.org/lit/thread/S9481412#p9487654

still more of a problem is that there's not actually that much of interest in the way of sound... you just haven't developed an ear for tasteful sound correspondences. i do like some of the irregular and strange rhymes you have throughout these, it shows you are trying to manipulate sounds in interesting ways... but they just didn't seem to do anything until I went back and looked for them.

i also like that you at least tried something formal by composing poetry syllabically, though the line breaks don't actually seem to amount tomuch.

it's hard to retool anything without just completely starting over from the impulse that inspired the poem rather than the poem.

That's the feeling I was getting. My first 50ish poems were really bad Eliot impressions, and I've just barely gotten away from it now. Still, I think some of the works have fertile ground and lines that deserve salvage. I've already scrapped one I used to love and now I'm looking at all these others confused and hopeful.

i think it's valuable to try to retool them. my advice is basically to 1. read your poem that you want to retool 2. try to drum up the feeling you had when you wrote it 3. forget about it all for a few weeks. 4. write the new version from scratch. if a line was memorable enough from the old one it can be allowed to come into the new one

...

sounds like good advice, thanks

...

>Malum | The BIONICLE Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia

for starters anyone who writes in anachronisms without serious artistic purpose annoys me. poetry, to me, is about expressing YOUR language. not doing something that seems vaguely poetic and is similar to the handful of poets you've encountered. this is not your language. that's not to say a modern poet can never use anachronisms, but you have to take them more seriously than this.

aside from that, this isn't entirely offensive, in that it executes what it intends to. that is to say... it is a sonnet. the meter is there. the rhymes are not excessively forced.

but it's not interesting. in fact, it's boring. the lines all plod along without anything to break up the strict iambic monotony. go reread your shakespeare and see how often substitutions are used to break up this sort of stale rhythm. and look at how many types of grammatical structure shakespeare uses... he might list a few things, then ask a question, provide a response, make a pithy statement, etc. your structures just all feel the same.

finally all this imagery is difficult to visualize and seems to not work. it's hard for me to explain how to do this better... it's something i need to work on myself, but i can tell when it's wrong because i'm just not getting a clear image. i would say as general advice to start with less. think of this passage by james merrill from "the victor dog":

The last chord fades. The night is cold and fine.

the above passage perfectly conveys an atmosphere to me, but has barely any details. for some reason it sets the scene perfectly... i think the trick lies in the word "fine" which for some reasons brings the stars out in a cold clear night. but it's hard to analyze this sort of thing, only by honestly rereading your own work can you improve

Analysis of Jubilee as its the second densest there.
>Festivities ambled their way through the
roilling tables of heads filled of eggnog and
glutonic ploys.
The idea of festival (as contrasted to carnival, glutonic ploys) itself is anthropomorphized. This is implicit in organization of the festival with the internal chaos that ensues.
>The cakes stood over
>as equipoise architects, their eyes aglare
>with all the joy and route of twinned
>boys and girls, smiling of faces pushed
>too near, and the smokey roasting of >meats that brought the cravings of wines.
The beginning merges the two themes above in a bystander, we become the architects, the poem being the observer/cakes -sugar being a chaotic medium, poetry itself chaotic. Joy and route again paired with boys and girls, these twinning forces are also behind the back drop of elements we haven't explored, a scent and desire (brought from sex -twinning-, this leads to the sugar being linked with sex and love later).
> Toasts
>sung with a puerile curl, their sable
>words warbled in the passing coaches,
>furs couched and cigarettes plummed
>as the dancers dined their dervish courses.
Singing is the sense of sound in the composition, all forms of curls and other shape images are architectural and form the basis of the festivities, contrasted against unmoving furs (meats born from desire, ie the shedding of clothes for sex) and smoke. Dined dervish courses, food, geometry, and food against geometry again brings these together.
>The men jostled and the women twirled,
>both eyes of these brimming with coy,
>their harping angles still toying the world.
Jostling and twirling forms of movement, note the boys and girls are now men and women. Brimming with coy (links ploy and toy) as well as the image of wine ( fed indirectly by desires). Eyes also links this to the viewer and it ends with harping angles (joke with angels), but the geometric shapes still toy with the world.
Basically, the routines in our world shape us and our most intimate parts are these festivals, jubilee is to contrast that freedom in tradition and just joy/common signs of infantile freedom.

Thank you for the reading, they are not nonsense
Apologies for the solecisms, I'm on mobile

Toa Tahu kept the fire,
Pohatu ran swift on stern rock;
Lewa swang from a vined spire,
while sexy Gali sucked my cock

ENVOI:
Kopaka and Onua both got raped
by Makuta's sons -- o their assholes gaped!

i don't really mean by calling it nonsense poetry that it is absolute nonsense. that'd be impossible for me to determine from the outside looking in. but it has no movement to drive me into the poem, nothing glimmering on the surface to beg understanding, no promises of anything underneath. all the greatest abstract poets: crane, stevens, ashbery, whoever, are masters of a seductively authoritative tone that begs to be comprehended even as it eludes comprehension. this sort of verse you've written merely disguises the mundane in vocabulary, and not particularly well written vocabulary either. these poems don't share the crafted quality that a great poem does.

hey, I'm other 'retool' guy. would you mind giving a quick glance to one of mine. saying no won't bother me or anything. I'm not looking to give someone homework.

yeah sure ill give something a look

Having only read Stevens extensively out of that group, I'd conjecture the divergence is in the ability for them to create a type of poetic plateau that works in peaks and valleys, but gives a minimum ground to work from, where mine is entirely peaks and valleys and extremely unwelcoming.

thanks, a lot of my usual critique-rs saw this only in the context of the other parts, and I worry it influences their reading more than I want.

Not the guy giving feedback but OP. Where does the concept of vines come from? It's not evident in the poem and should be. The entire poem encircles Jordan but doesn't seem to find a definitive stopping point at what Jordan is, it's clearly a salvation, but from vines, and terrestrial pain, what type? Give me some hints
Also be careful weilding the word clay, it invokes haman-ness, which I'm assuming the river is the antonym thereof, and you'd be better served as silt, mud, or some other word for it.
Overall, it is good, I felt it was repititious at times and lacked the clues I look for to draw meaning

things I like:
1. you manage your lines well. the endings of lines still carry meanings which allows the enjambments to function. the basic syntactic structure is well paced.
2. the passage beginning "air as thick" is clever
3. a voice that is probably not your own successfully emerges in this poem. that's shows you can manage tone and you're not afraid to submerge your own voice, both good traits to have.

things i don't like:
1. it feels a little too on the nose in its attempt to be southern. it's spoken by a southern person, but would a southern person necessarily think about how thick their drawl is, regardless of how clever that line is? and regardless of the answer to that, it just feels like stereotyping, the references to religion, heat, drawls, creekwater. there's just no reality in this southerner, at least as far as its portrayed in the poem. maybe that's to some extent the point... but it doesn't make for an interesting read.

2. i like that the voice is not your own but there's just not all that much in the way of interesting language. i get that the voice is not going to start spouting heroic couplets, but you can have a more uneducated voice still use language in interesting ways.

Thanks bud, I live in Georgia and I've recently been caught up in the landscape around me. Southerners (a lot of them) are super self-conscious of their drawl. I see your problems with the relative straightforwardness of the work.

As far as stereotyping, I need to evaluate my narrator in further revisions. Thanks for checking it out.

ps. does the extreme parallelism work for you? Its a style I went through for a while and I'm still partial to it.

The River Jordan was just meant as a biblical allusion, and at the risk of being over-explain-y, an attempt at playing with the strangeness of how poor southern speech is littered with KJV specific idioms.

Holy fuck what an assload of pretentious shit
not just the poems but even more so the feedback
i didn't come here to spew insults
i promise
but what else can i do when this is what i find
when this is all i find
every time i visit this website i wonder
did i break my promise
or did my promise break me

except for this one, this one's pretty cool

this one too actually

pohatu best grill

>my life is memes xd
epik. such poetry.