Poetry Thread

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Untitled

 

Usually wear glasses, but today I didn't.

Wore my blind eyes and decided to film it.

Ate a whole lot of the media's bullshit.

 

Ran around town and I blamed the bull pit.

"Obsessed," they said, but they were the culprit.

Eat shit, bitch, for you are the unfit.

 

Watching, waiting, for every word.

Living, seeing, fucking absurd.

Sitting I notice, life incomplete.

Breathing, apparently, dies a dead beat.

 

 

 

 

Along with comments and criticism, I'd like people to guess what I was getting at with this poem. I need to see how good I am at being cryptic/writing shit that makes sense.

Edited March 28, 2011 by Zack_of_Steel

[BwareDWare94 723]

Untitled

 

Usually wear glasses, but today I didn't.

Wore my blind eyes and decided to film it.

Ate a whole lot of the media's bullshit.

 

Ran around town and I blamed the bull pit.

"Obsessed," they said, but they were the culprit.

Eat shit, bitch, for you are the unfit.

 

Watching, waiting, for every word.

Living, seeing, fucking absurd.

Sitting I notice, life incomplete.

Breathing, apparently, dies a dead beat.

 

 

 

 

Along with comments and criticism, I'd like people to guess what I was getting at with this poem. I need to see how good I am at being cryptic/writing shit that makes sense.

 

Sounds a tiny bit like lyrics that Corey Taylor would write. I don't mean that in a bad way. Good rhymes, particularly the slant rhyme with didn't/film it/bullshit.

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Sounds a tiny bit like lyrics that Corey Taylor would write. I don't mean that in a bad way. Good rhymes, particularly the slant rhyme with didn't/film it/bullshit.

 

Yeah, I figured I'd get that from someone. I wrote it with the intent for them to be lyrics to a song. I was going to expand, but I decided to stop because I was kinda' drunk, lol. Maybe I'll add more later.

[Duck Fallas 209]

Here are a couple more recent poems of mine:

 

Healing

 

I found the devil

at the bottom

of a half empty

whiskey glass.

 

A glass once full

of hope and love.

Now drained of all

the goodness it held.

 

"Take another shot"

the evil one cajoles.

"The next one will

replace the hurt"

 

So I sigh and sob.

I take another sip

from the glass. Never

asking myself why.

 

This next one is only half finished, and I could use some help in finishing the rest.

 

Apology

 

When you left today

you took my heart.

I had torn it from my chest

and offered it,

a gift on loan to you.

 

You left me with questions

that never were answered.

You packed your boxes

with 9 years worth of us.

Hauled them away, never looked back.

 

What must I do to bring you back?

What happened to us, what was so bad?

Do I owe you an aplogy?

Maybe that is what I will do,

So here is my apology to you;

 

From here I am stuck on this poem. I need to get some input on what causes relationships to fail. I know that it seems odd to ask, but I have only had one serious relationship that ever truly failed (my marriage).

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Wrote this last night. Not sure if I should bother adding to it or not. I like the story I have so far, but would adding to it ruin it?

 

Untitled/Unfinished

Climb aboard, friend, we're all on this ship

Have a slice of meat; the maggots left it

Sit down here and leaf through a light read

Don't worry about anything, it's all up to me

 

Join the crew, fiend, he's down below deck

Have yourself a knife, perfect to carve neck

Slip down there and make quick of your work

Don't worry for him; he's an obligation to shirk

 

A spatter of life, and then quite a few more

But a matter of seconds before tide turns to floor

Humility in droves froths forth from the wound

But a matter of moments before morals impugned

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

From here I am stuck on this poem. I need to get some input on what causes relationships to fail. I know that it seems odd to ask, but I have only had one serious relationship that ever truly failed (my marriage).

 

First, I'll say that I like the first poem. I really like how you broke it down and gave the reader the sense of unease that the man felt. Very well done.

 

 

On the second poem, I think it would be great if you just stopped there, to be honest. Here's my apology to you;" The end. Anti-climactic and a great way to make a statement about moving on and realizing that it wasn't all on you. You shouldn't have to apologize over and over, because it takes two people to make a relationship work. Just my opinion, though you may not agree.

 

You should give me your expert opinion on my last two writings, if you don't mind.

Edited March 31, 2011 by Zack_of_Steel

[BwareDWare94 723]

Chia:

 

I like the first poem. As far as criticisms go, I'd capitalize Devil. Also, some of the word choice could be played around with, trying to make it more poetic (diction) and increase the fluidity of the poem.

 

The second poem has potential, but I'd play with form. Consider an Italian Sonnet (14 lines, two sections. 8-6). Through this structure, you could use the shorter piece to get to the apology and then end with that final line, as Zack suggested. It would be epic, considering that the writer could come to the conclusion that it isn't completely his fault. That'd certainly catch my attention. Look up sonnets, if you're not familiar with the term. Also, if you aren't familiar with poetic strategy and form, look up terms such as iambic pentameter and enjambment. Very useful tools when writing poetry.

Edited March 31, 2011 by BwareDWare94

[BwareDWare94 723]

I need to start writing poetry again. At the moment, I'm writing short fiction for a class, but who has time to read that?

[BwareDWare94 723]

Wrote this last night. Not sure if I should bother adding to it or not. I like the story I have so far, but would adding to it ruin it?

 

Untitled/Unfinished

Climb aboard, friend, we're all on this ship

Have a slice of meat; the maggots left it

Sit down here and leaf through a light read

Don't worry about anything, it's all up to me

 

Join the crew, fiend, he's down below deck

Have yourself a knife, perfect to carve neck

Slip down there and make quick of your work

Don't worry for him; he's an obligation to shirk

 

A spatter of life, and then quite a few more

But a matter of seconds before tide turns to floor

Humility in droves froths forth from the wound

But a matter of moments before morals impugned

 

I just read The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (long poem set mostly on a ship) for a class. I think it'd be awesome if you extended the poem a bit and could find a way to reference the albatross. I like how it is now, but there's all kinds of ways to work on it. Good diction, Zack, I had to look up a couple words to be positive about their meaning.

Edited March 31, 2011 by BwareDWare94

[Duck Fallas 209]

I actually majored in English in college, Bware. my focus was on creative writing/poetry and creative non fiction. When I write my poetry, I purposely stay away from falling into the rules of form. I dont like feeling like I cannot freely express myself in my own time and my own way. I do occasionaly write formal poems, but it is not as much fun. being forced to keep to a rhyme scheme becomes to strict and makes the poen sound cheesy. At least to me it does.

[BwareDWare94 723]

I actually majored in English in college, Bware. my focus was on creative writing/poetry and creative non fiction. When I write my poetry, I purposely stay away from falling into the rules of form. I dont like feeling like I cannot freely express myself in my own time and my own way. I do occasionaly write formal poems, but it is not as much fun. being forced to keep to a rhyme scheme becomes to strict and makes the poen sound cheesy. At least to me it does.

 

I had no idea of your background, man. I hope I didn't offend you with the comments.

[Duck Fallas 209]

I had no idea of your background, man. I hope I didn't offend you with the comments.

I do not get offended, so please don't worry. I assumed that you didn't know my background. I would be just as welcoming of your comments even if you knew my background beforehand. When it comes to my writing, I take every comment into consideration, it is the only way to become a better writer/poet.

[BwareDWare94 723]

I do not get offended, so please don't worry. I assumed that you didn't know my background. I would be just as welcoming of your comments even if you knew my background beforehand. When it comes to my writing, I take every comment into consideration, it is the only way to become a better writer/poet.

 

Indeed. It's all about humility.

[WindyCitySports 407]

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost

 

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

[BC 331]

I got hoes.

 

In different area....codes.

[BwareDWare94 723]

I got hoes.

 

In different area....codes.

 

You are remarkably untalented.

[Duck Fallas 209]

This one came from today's edition of Garrison Keillor's "Writers Almanac" (great daily e-mail to subscribe to,if you don't already.), I love the imagery that the writer uses.

 

Running on the Shore

by May Swenson

 

The sun is hot, the ocean cool. The waves

throw down their snowy heads. I run

under their hiss and boom, mine their wild

breath. Running the ledge where pipers

prod their awls into sand-crab holes,

my barefoot tracks their little prints cross

on wet slate. Circles of romping water swipe

and drag away our evidence. Running and

gone, running and gone, the casts of our feet.

 

My twin, my sprinting shadow on yellow shag,

wand of summer over my head, it seems

that we could run forever while the strong

waves crash. But sun takes its belly under.

Flashing above magnetic peaks of the ocean's

purple heave, the gannet climbs,

and turning, turns

to a black sword that drops,

hilt-down, to the deep.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

I'm taking another poetry class this semester, so expect to be hearing from me often. Here's the first poem I'll be workshopping, free verse style and inspired by my visit to Colorado two summers ago.

 

Mountain Food

 

Up ahead, down the road,

past the traffic and speed limit signs,

there are tall hills sprinkled with powdered sugar.

They’re nothing much at first,

barely visible between the distance and fog.

Then the distance closes,

and they appear, a heavy haze of black,

like the western wall of Mordor in the distance.

 

When the fog has lifted completely,

their force is revealed.

They tower over the ground with ease,

the broccoli foothills slowly yielding

to the jagged pumpkin rocks

to the chocolate mountain tops

sprinkled with powdered sugar.

 

The road turns through the mountain,

civilization falling down in the reflection of the rearview.

The winding way leads on through forests

and forests of trees that extend over the passage;

as the air turns cool and the mountains grow,

their lush spinach branches

become more and more spotted with flour.

Just enough to sweeten the tongue at first,

then so white that the misty fog

seems to be steaming off the trees themselves.

 

Along the way the road runs by a river.

The water pushes with such a strong crispness,

it stimulates taste buds in the ear.

The river eventually gives way to a deep abyss,

still running with the road;

the tree line across the chasm is reflected

by the donut glaze spread out over the water.

 

Near the summit, the air is so cold

it radiates a thick steam,

warming all that is visible.

There is so much white in all directions

that it could be icing or whipped cream. Or both.

The air is liberating; all else exists below.

Then the snowcaps slowly tint

in favor of a mixture of flavors in the sky—

the cherry red sun on the horizon

refracts the whipped cream clouds above

to produce, high above the mountains,

an orange cream sunset.

[Duck Fallas 209]

I will give you my input stanza by stanza:

 

Up ahead, down the road,

past the traffic and speed limit signs,

there are tall hills sprinkled with powdered sugar.

They’re nothing much at first,

barely visible between the distance and fog.

Then the distance closes,

and they appear, a heavy haze of black,

like the western wall of Mordor in the distance.

Here, I like the tone you are setting, but the words throw me off a bit. You say that they are "tall hills, sprinkled with powdered sugar" but then "they're nothing much at first". It paints an odd picture in my head.

 

I LOVE how you bring the LOTR image into the poem, however it contrasts and kind of negates the image of a hill with powdered sugar too dramatically. I think you should maybe keep the Mordor reference (it is very good) and maybe lose the whole sugary hill thing. But, in doing that, the whole tone of the poem gets very dark. On second thought, lose Mordor and maybe save that imagery for another poem.

 

When the fog has lifted completely,

their force is revealed.

They tower over the ground with ease,

the broccoli foothills slowly yielding

to the jagged pumpkin rocks

to the chocolate mountain tops

sprinkled with powdered sugar.

This stanza makes me kinda hungry. I love the food imagery that you keep using. It is a sometimes tough tool to use something so common to describe (effectively) something else.

 

The road turns through the mountain,

civilization falling down in the reflection of the rearview.

The winding way leads on through forests

and forests of trees that extend over the passage;

as the air turns cool and the mountains grow,

their lush spinach branches

become more and more spotted with flour.

Just enough to sweeten the tongue at first,

then so white that the misty fog

seems to be steaming off the trees themselves.

This stanza is kind of wordy. The different line lengths are a little jarring. You need to be careful with enjambment, it must have a purpose other than to make the poem look longer than it is. I think that the last line should use a food type image, the "steaming" works well, but you should include another vegetable like asparagus or celery. Something like that.

 

Along the way the road runs by a river.

The water pushes with such a strong crispness,

it stimulates taste buds in the ear.

The river eventually gives way to a deep abyss,

still running with the road;

the tree line across the chasm is reflected

by the donut glaze spread out over the water.

I was kind of disappointed with this stanza. There is nothing really wrong with the form, but there is only ONE food image. By this point in the poem and following the other great imagery, as a reader I feel cheated that there are no other food images.

 

Near the summit, the air is so cold

it radiates a thick steam,

warming all that is visible.

There is so much white in all directions

that it could be icing or whipped cream. Or both.

The air is liberating; all else exists below.

Then the snowcaps slowly tint

in favor of a mixture of flavors in the sky—

the cherry red sun on the horizon

refracts the whipped cream clouds above

to produce, high above the mountains,

an orange cream sunset.

In line 4, don't tell me that it 'could' be icing or whipped cream. Tell me that that is what it is looking through your eyes. Also, using whipped cream to refer to the snowy mountain tops AND the clouds is a no-no in my book. Refer to the clouds as cotton candy or something like that instead. Otherwise, this is a good solid close to the poem.

 

Overall, watch the varying lengths of the lines and the stanzas themselves. It can be very hard to read a poem that changes with each stanza or line. Try to make each stanza punch hard enough to keep me reading. But also try to make me feel like it is OK for me to stop there and just soak in what you showed me through your words. I feel the poem is a good start, but could use some polish.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

Wow, thanks for the detailed breakdown, Chia. Some really good and very helpful comments you made. This poem gets workshopped next Wednesday, and I'm really looking forward to revising it. Thank you for the comments!

Edited September 8, 2011 by SteVo

[Duck Fallas 209]

Unsaid

Silence is golden, the saying goes.

Boy sees girl from across the room.

Her hair falls in her face as she laughs.

She flips it back without a thought.

He walks past in the hall, never says a word.

 

Girl sees boy from across the room.

She is standing with friends, but alone.

She laughs at a joke that was poorly told.

Her hair falls in her face as she laughs.

She flips it back, hoping he sees the love again.

He walks past in the hall, never says a word.

 

There is a canyon stretching between them.

One that may never been crossed.

Carved by words unsaid.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

William Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, which I will be reciting in class today for extra credit. (Yay, easy extra credit assignments.)

 

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed,

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wandr'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.

So long as men have eyes or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

Former high school classmate and co-worker died last weekend, so I was inspired to make it the topic of a Shakespearean sonnet (what I usually work with in terms of poetry).

 

The Funeral Sonnet

 

Some days the sky is swirling with clouds,

The world below left in a shade of gray;

We’re numb to color, deaf to every sound,

Left standing in the rain, no words to say.

 

All living things must one day come to rest—

Seems truth enough on days obscured by sun;

Today we call the reaper into question,

Beg to exchange the past or all else run.

 

One day the clouds will fade away in wake

And leave us with the tear-soaked, blackened strife;

The task will be our own to undertake,

To seek and find the color of our life.

 

In search of words remembered most, unsaid,

Forever mourn our friends, the faithful dead.

Edited November 18, 2011 by SteVo

[Sarge+ 3,436]

 

Probably my favorite poem ever. Walt Whitman FTW!

[SteVo+ 3,702]

That's a great one, Sarge. Whitman was the man.

 

I feel like watching Dead Poet's Society now...