Poetry thread

Post your poems here. I'll start.


Black Feller on a Racing Bike

Wow
You don't see that
Every day

>haiku
>poem

Just submitted a portfolio of this shit for uni so I'm all pottery-d out. Here's an old haiku I did for a friend.

Friend curses his roots
Wants rebirth in Nippon, lol
He is the weeb-lord

And now, still
wearing the same dress coat
that I had on when killed last night,
with a rake’s predatory twinkle,
toward my Lilith I advanced.
She turned upon me a green eye
over her shoulder, and my clothes
were set on fire and in a trice
dispersed like ashes.
In the room behind
one glimpsed a shaggy Greek divan,
on a small table wine, pomegranates,
and some lewd frescoes covering the wall.
With two cold fingers childishly
she took me by my emberhead:
“now come along with me,” she said.

Without inducement,
without effort,
Just with the slowest of pert glee,
like wings she gradually opened
her pretty knees in front of me.
And how enticing, and how merry,
her upturned face! And with a wild
lunge of my loins I penetrated
into an unforgotten child.
Snake within snake, vessel in vessel,
smooth-fitting part, I moved in her,
through the ascending itch forefeeling
unutterable pleasure stir.
But suddenly she lightly flinched,
retreated, drew her legs together,
and grasped a veil and twisted it
around herself up to the hips,
and full of strength, at half the distance
to rapture, I was left with nothing.
I hurtled forward. A strange wind
caused me to stagger. “Let me in!”
I shouted, noticing with horror
that I stood again outside in the dust
and that obscenely bleating youngsters
were staring at my pommeled lust.
“Let me come in!” And the goat-hoofed,
copper-curled crowd increased. “Oh, let me in,”
I pleaded, “otherwise I shall go mad!”
The door stayed silent, and for all to see
writhing in agony I spilled my seed
and knew abruptly that I was in Hell.

You said you love me for who i am.
But who the fuck am i?
You say i'm a person that you love.
......and i guess i'm satisfied.

Stop wasting this on Veeky Forums and go get it published somewhere you glorious fuck.

Knowing

mostly the same
in the matter of heart
and brain.

That they're
there, any-
way.

-

In the garret
all the boxes
are taped.

to me i think it often seems
the point of university
is to be high and miss my classes
stare at girl with jiggly asses

whine about my future woes
spite the gifts ive been bestowed
fortune would be better found
in someone who wont sit around

i posted mine in a critique thread but no one liked it.
although they didnt exactly tell me what to improve on either. it seems like a hit-or-miss

this is a ballad from ages ago i hope u like it :)

There sits He on His throne of bone
And guts of those who dared
To try authority of crowns
And cloaks of conquers bared
Like stingers sharp as swords of shell
That dance against a land
Where giants stride through skies up high
Against His own command.
Twelve days have passed since He has stood—
Stress pecks Him like a bird
To move His forces forward now,
Yet there He sits unstirred.
What if His move leads to checkmate?
What if He mates Himself?
Doubts plague His brain like pesticides,
So sits He on His shelf
Decorated by those before.
His mouth hatches to hatch
A scheme, but He is far too late:
Polistes dies.

work on the font work

...

Kill
You are
Self

Faggot!

Opening scene of a rock opera I hope to soon write. Very rough draft right now.

>Royal Grace

Bring him in, the dirty traitor,
let me see his wretched face.
Let me see the man who stands
before my king and all his lands.
Guards, quickly bring him to me,
so we may just him properly.
-
There he is, the tiny villain--
Should we tear you head from limb?
Hang you by your dainty feet,
and dress you as an Ogre's Treat?
My king, please, do tell me now,
what you make of this treacherous cow!

Silence reigns before the spy.
The darkness of fear deep in his eye,
held within the king's glare.

Nothing short of death, I swear,
shall bleed your lungs of all their air!
Insult my rule, insult my being!
Die for spineless treachery!

Wait! My king, hold your decree.
Think of the people, your majesty.
Think of our son, your prince.
What should he learn out of this?
Do not let lessons go unsung,
cut out this man's tongue.
Then set him loose--
Let his lack of words become his noose.
-
Kingly eyes, full of envy,
accept these truths reluctantly.
Booming orders masking shame
demand his men to obey her claim;
Before the king should change his mind
in light of being undermined.

But not before he loves his son,
who should know when right is done.

This is superficially borrowed from 'The Wasteland', in the sense that it yields the same impression Eliot's would on someone who does not read poetry.

Perhaps you're a better writer than I'm a reader, but I do not believe it has any actual purpose other than to look like poetry. It's like a weird caricature of creativity that presumes a textual adjustment of modernist presentation somehow constitutes an idea.

But correct me if I'm wrong, by all means. And by the way some slices and lines were extremely nice. This is like, "high novice" work, if I can give it a name. That means you have lots of potential and it's time you get more serious.

/b/

Lol
I troll you
Fag

Head east, and clouds surround the peaks
In soft gray mist, laden and low.
They seem to always die in creeks
Before they breach the rainshadow

Which rules beyond, where sky can speak
The stupid blue of only sky,
And summer, lounging, kicks up its feet
With fading pinks in mid-July.

I'd like to submit this under the title "The Master Troll"

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You must be new to poetry.

it's not that famous or good of a poem desu

I thought this was quite pretty.


Tillary Street

So many bridges walked over,
yet the one we burned was between us.

We searched in Brooklyn Hights and
you cried alone on a bench while I went ahead.

But I put flowers in your hair.

I pulled them off of a tree while
two police officers strolled by and
took no notice of what we were going to lose.

The phone drains drip drop
Somehow Lorde in the background
Leaves me wondering when my time
Will come welcomed at the pearly gates
Flurries of synciphants
A motherless child
Abandonment absolved by shear time
Rotten memories merely mention along a forgotten path of patient
Promenades
Prisons
Pastures
Props
Passion
Sloppy half worn socks

user craves Haiku
Latent disappointment ensues
Never trust Veeky Forums

The sun outside beating
On the windows and blinds cracking
I can feel the earth
Trembling all over
And purring like
A sleeping cat

An unfamiliar buzzing
A fan swirling hot air and dust
I lie in a bed of sweat
Weighing dizzy thoughts with actions
I can’t be bothered to answer
The man at the door will have to suffer
While he pools
Slowly,
Into his shoes

didn't write this, just wanted to share

Upon my stubbled chest he sits
My cheeks upon litters kisses he,
His boxer showarts creased his
ass crack like a book I read
in school, now I will sift through
his pages, with my tongue and all
21 of my years, into his lust I throw
myself, I dreamt of sucking his
heart into mine and blowing his
mind with the steady and firm stroke
of my paint brush upon our heart's canvas
, I have loved a boy (man)

Yellowed awful would-be teeth lets out
full flavor aroma as he
says, "I'lltaykuhpackuh Elinim kings"
and then it reaches my nostrils
and I grab his cigarettes and he fucks off

Later, in my room I massage my pistol and wait for
the signal

thank u user; i always appreciate hearing what someone thinks. i started writing in january and wanted to try some modernism after binging on eliot and pound, and i promise the poem has a message, but i think my delivery is extremely clunky and ugly (but i think i want it to be like that--not sure).
if you dont mind, which lines did u like?

YO WHAT'S EVERYONE READING
>Pound's Selected Poems
THIS SHIT IS HARD, DOG

>Ashbery - The Mooring of Starting Out
he's so good, but I don't get it at all.

Why do I unironically think this is good
I'm not even gay

I wish that we could stay together,
Braving any and all weather.
A crew of pirates that we be,
Lords/ladies of the forever sea.
But our ship, she has been lost,
And to the cardinals we all are tossed:
North and south and east and west;
Each of us begin our quest
Out to the world, its peaks and canyons,
But we never forget our old companions.

This is a thinly-veiled frog post.

Die Judenrasse

Stirb!
Stirb!
Stirb!

>Doesn't rhyme.