Poetry Thread

Can you rate my poetry please?

Levels

Dark and deep are the cracks and crevasses
Frightening is it’s atmosphere, yet somehow inviting
The surroundings are unforgivingly jagged
It has the appearance of fortitude but with mere pressure,
The walls turn to residue
However, up there is a different territory,
It has a sense of regal nature,
The space feels like property,
Yet, bewildering enough for me to make it my own
I think that is where grace lives
Sometimes I hear calls, beckoning me over,
But I just can’t seem to make the travel,
Inside, I know I am too much of a foreigner
Down here is my home, where I am familiar
This place, this most inhospitable place
For my reasons only,
Is my favourite place to stay.

post it you stupid nigger

i did lol

Too many adjectives, not enough objects.

what do you mean by objects user?

Here's another one:

EneMe

Parallel, we walk in twos
One thought of him, anger consumes
Can't anticipate, our tacts in tune
I light, he shadows, like sun and moon
Because of him my thoughts are doomed
How can one so hollow dictate my mood
While I am aware, I’m oblivious too
He understands my every move
Our dispositions, we’re not the same
I choose to run, while he stays lame.
Futile is every attempt to escape
Lack of effort binds our fate.
Should I resign and end this fight
Or should I reflect my fear and show him might

But really, useless is this battle between twins
One side's loss is not the other's win
And in this life, there's no greater sin
Than to deny a friendship from within
So I say this now with a hopeful heart
Shall we mourn or shall we start.

Like in this one you're only talking about how you feel about one object (him) but you don't even describe him in any visual way.

This is the only place I know to ask, so here goes. I'm looking for a poem I read online a while back, I remember the theme being anger against god and then reconciliation with him at the end. It was written by a British poet during the mid 1800s. I remember there was farm imagery in there but I can't remember much else. Thank you for any help lads.

eneMe is about the battle within oneself, the dichotomy within us all. You can't describe that extensively.

do you mind rating my poems friend? im sorry i dont know what poem you are talking about

last one:

A Presence in Pride

Almost the entire time
I was not aware
Moving without inspection
I don’t know how
Or if it was even I who found you
But I know, you know, you found me
All along
You confronted my ego
Massaged my mind
Hummed to my soul
And lived in my heart
Truly I still do not know you
Or what I should call you
You are an essence
So for now,
I will call you what I know you are,
Good.

Okay I misinterpreted it. Do your poems reflect how you really think and feel or are they poetic exercises?

Wide legs apart
I walk my path.
He told us that we are gods,
And that we should go home.

Unleashing the world of dreams,
The mind has struck mine like an eagle,
I cut off the solid body,
Ud spiritual acquired.

Body sugar breaks,
The body gingerbread burns,
On the feather bed, on the straw
Life is special.

Gabriel himself came to us,
Behind him to order,
Oskipilas - how was born,
How he got married, how he received his sight.

The world is bound with chains,
And it stinks and stinks,
And above us, dancers,
The winged wing flies.

They raise the horn for breathing;
Open your mouth for the verb;
Spit years,
White water is growing.

Black soul about the earth-mother give birth-blow;
To speak the word is judged by the seed;
Whether the loops, letters,
Bull yelling flowing -
After midnight, the floor,
There is a crow on the floor.

Year circle by hook
Puddle of swamp with light-swan
Fish mouth name is
Pig's name is:
Being, hogs, horn to butt earth -
Worm in winter white -
The earth is black in autumn -
The eighth autumn as morning in the womb;
Complain, boar, north-south breathin spirit.

how i really feel i guess, i wrote them a while ago, im wondering if it speaks to you, do you feel something from it, because i know empathy levels differ from person to person

I want to die for the idea of the polar kings,
And on a bloody night
I want to lower my fingers ...
For the third day
Neanderthals attack us,
His howling frightening
Exhausted our horses.

Kings of Betelgeuse
On the pole they build a palace.
I am in the far post.
I fight against brachycephalos.
I'll hold on,
Although we have very little left,
Although the stars and shadows
They prophesy a close end to us.

how the fuck do i go about starting to write poetry?
i already write every day but it's mostly just rambling prose passages (and of course shitposts)

do you like anything in here bud

I-is that Dugin?

...

can you gus rate poetry in here please

nouns homie

write with a beat in the background. Your brain will subconsciously start writing in meter.

What if I write to Tool - Lateralus

RATE the poetry fellas merci

bad
bad
bad
really bad
really really bad

bad

i teach Blake, Pound, and Yates at Cornell
your poetry is shit

i teach Lacan and Zizek
you are shit

be SERIOUS brothers please i love you, give them real ratings out of 10. and be sober and real man, this our hearts on the line

KEK u guys kill me

this feels like it's longing to be prose, as in you seem to be spending time talking about a place poetically with some like breaks rather than writing a poem that explores themes/objects/connotations in a full and fleshed out way

This morning appeared
before me like a dream
of brilliant iridescence
upon waking.
But I was fast asleep.

ok so it should be called prose not poetry? sorry im an autist, can you rate every poem here out of 10

beautiful user

>wake up
>take a shit
>get out of bed
>brush my teeth
>eat breakfast
>head to school

is it good prose?

a-are you being sarcastic? I'm not OP btw.

i like visual prose man, im OP

CAN SOME KIND SOUL COME IN HERE AND RATE THE POETRY OUT OF TEN PLEASE I NEED HELP MENTALLY

first line drew me in, second killed it

>you can't describe that extensively
>writing poetry

Creativity desu

why man?
how much more could i have said about the binary self user?

IS EVERYONE ON THIS BOARD TO RETARDED TO UNDESSTAND ENGISH< RATE From 0-10 PLEASE FOR FUCK SAKES

PLEASE MAN PLEASE MAN PLEASE MAN

PLEASE FUCK

PLEASE

PLEASE

CAN YOU GUYS PLEASE JUST FUCKING RATE THE POEMS

please

by the sweat and blood of my brow, and swollen skull, i beg of you Veeky Forums show me MERCY

i mean i'm not exactly super qualified to say but I guess when did that stop anybody on this godforsaken website before...so it's not that it is prose, or that it should be prose, but that it's doing prose-type shit within a poem structure, and thus that structure feels superfluous and like the content and the medium are mismatched which distracts from your subject matter. Either cut it out with the subject/verb sentence structure and focus more on the objects and connotations and images and the words themselves and pull back from explicitly stating something, or lean into it, cut the line breaks and try prose. Or do both and see which you like better. It'll be a good exercise. Right now it's neither good prose nor good poetry because it's not taking full advantage of either medium's strengths and instead living in an awkward, clunky place. that being said your images are interesting and could definitely go somewhere with more deft execution, although right now it's looking more like you should try your hand at prose. And um...I don't feel comfortable rating people's rough drafts lmao sorry

feel COMFORTABLE bro, i will not take OFFENSE at all, im a slob, thank you for rplying

0/10 because you're a faggot.

its everyday bro, with that fag shit, relax homie

You're all shit my rap is better

Fuck a pistol
Cheer the missile
Gifting indecisive issue
Heed the fifth
Heave the fifth
Hold the phone
Talking tone
Lose alone
Hall of fame of losing prone
Collar brain like Douglas: up and open shrugging
Know he fucking bugging
Niggas in the light
Treated Mr. Mine
White as old as pine?
Fucking kind, but the problem old as light
And the volume gaining might
Africa the swelling size
Wait till they more than the white
Greatest day of man alive
Take my hand, this land surprise
Seek the sand, ascend the prize

Hi Veeky Forums visitor from Veeky Forums here, I don't write poetry but I got kinda inspired after reading a few articles on Attila, especially the lurid little details surrounding his burial, was wondering if you could give some advice on something I wrote in like 5 minutes.

I'll give you my apprentice critique of some of the other stuff that's been written as well.

Reminds me of a Chinese proverb, kind of generic though, need soul.
I didn't get much out of this one,a little postmodern.
I like this one, but an ending just on Good seems a little sudden, maybe that's what you were going for but I feel like you could expand this.

Okay so here's mine, I don't write poetry so I'm okay with someone saying it sucks.

The Burial of Attila:

Come sweet brothers take hold of my hand
And lead me now to the promised land
Place coins of gold upon my eyes
And Kiss my Lips one Last Goodbye

The Tengri steppes where I will go
With iron shield and wooden bow
Where Gods will raise the enemy anew
And cast my sword to run them through

The scourge of God, his eyes agaze
To set the world again ablaze
So let the lambs lay on their fields
In the next life, all shall yield

no period no swagger no trill
whack/10
b2 da hood ma niqqa

Man get outta here with that appropriated horse shit. You ain't enough negro to talk down on shit that stink less than your worst diarrhea.

"--look at this room. These are empty walls around an imaginative mind. They mean nothing outside of what meaning they are given--and so it is for the life you are living. It occupies a vacuum of particles while a momentary snippet of their instantaneous existence is captured by a series of electrical impulses. And as the empty walls are thusly so, so are you just a mirror pinned to them. And in that empty room and hollow pane are you the light and life to ignite and retain. Then other empty walls strung by hollow mirrors will contain the frames and lights of life too looking somewhat similar to you."

I really enjoy it. Feels like some ancient eulogy theyd give for dead soldiers or something. Poignant and ethereal has spiritual touch too.

Yea I ended it with good, has in goodness, like the righteousness. It was meant to imply God.

Guys don't go to the OTHER poetry thread

When I'm writing a poem,
there's less and less of it.

As I approach the mountains,
they vanish behind a gentle hill,
behind the bunny slope.

And once I am standing with them
face to face,
they take away my speech.

The very best poem
finishes half way

Thirty times I called
No answer.
For the thirty first, I decided I would do it by ear.
I found her, sitting crossed leg in the chimney.
Suspended in mid air, and choked by the four walls. She opened her eyes. She was meditating.
It's then when I walked up to her and whispered directly into her ear:
"What..exactly..is it you want from me?"
She closes her eyes and sighs:
"You."

i never understood poetry
like why does breaking up a text like this
make it poetry

most of the time it doesn't even rhyme
i thought poems were supposed to rhyme
but half the shit i read doesn't

also the meaning is obscure
i don't know what the point of them is
wanna tell a story?
just write it

i prefer greentext storie

>green text
One day when we die, Veeky Forums will be without a doubt one of our GREATEST regrets.

This verse is called Dream 1

The first world war was fought with sticks
On school playgrounds in 2004
Until we discovered how to make fire
Which started the second world war

And I fought bravely for my country
And they gave me a medal for my deed
But I still hear grown men cry
and cannons exploding in the streets

Once the enemy stuck me with a sword
A sword he built with bamboo
So I turned around and told him
“That wasn’t very kind of you”

Starving in the trenches at night,
My men and I questioned the notion
That our sharp hunger would disappear
Before the daylight starts approaching.


In Normandy France I met my wife
She was the best girl I could find
With her sweet peppermint sighs
And blonde flowing hair that shined

Once it stormed out of a green sky
So I took her to the basement to hide
The ground shook and the storm howled
And my dear little wife, she cried

We found two shovels in the closet
So we dug deep below the house
Until I realized that I was nowhere
And my wife was nowhere to be found

I see the stars on the darkest night
And stand with my feet on the ocean
Praying that I will sink deep below
Before the daylight starts approaching.

this actually went somewhere
eh
terrible
this takes me nowhere
almost best itt
terrible
no bars
keep getting inspired
brilliant, compared to everything else ITT

A presence in pride is not terrible mate, it's good OP

Copy pasta and it's vapid shit

shill

verify poems in this thread if you wish to live

please

Honestly, I stopped reading at the word "Levels"

why man :( can you atleast read the rest