pg poetry general - /lit/

Anonymous07/05/26, 23:48No.25386014/pg/ - Poetry General

Talk about poems/poets you like, post your own work, and critique others.

192

Replies

Anon07/06/26, 02:09No.25386215

Love this poem. Shoutout Jack Gilbert

Anon07/06/26, 02:30No.25386256

>work at a summer camp for tweens >they're demons >walking to dining hall w/ a group of the devils, mention to one of them I had The Cremation of Sam McGee memorized >he asks to hear >start reciting >"There are strange things done in the midnight sun..." >the others overhear >they leave their antics (playing Geometry Dash and watching TikToks at full volume, screaming about Diddy and Tung Tung Tung Sahur, sprinting at cars, etc.) to see what's happening >they listen completely silent w/ rapt attention for all fourteen stanzas >"...that night on the marge of Lake LeBarge I cremated Sam McGee" >they instantly return to being awful when the poem's done Gen Alpha yearns for lyric poetry, going to try The Ballad of Reading Jail on them next

Anon07/06/26, 06:50No.25386525

I wish, I wish, I was a fish. Then I could splash, and I could splish.

Anon07/06/26, 07:54No.25386593

Need more KINO like this

Anon07/06/26, 07:58No.25386596

Always these limp dick formalists ruining every poetry thread - and without ever, ever posting their own.

Anon07/06/26, 09:14No.25386634

The rock-pusherWhat a great weekend we had. Once broken in, the kids were lovely— They always take a while to warm up to dad. Lovely walk. Quaint bookshops, milky coffee…And you, my darling, what’s wrong? We have such great times together. Just a few more years, not too long, And we can move to the country, together forever, With a butler and a pond and fish And shooting stars to make our wish. Remember? Smile, darling, smile. London money is worth my while; Just a few more years, not too long. My train’s here, darling, I have to go. Tell the kids that daddy heard their song, And it’s his new favourite. Smile, darling, please. Smile. I love you. Tell the kids. I’ll only be gone a while.Just a few more years. Busy train. I reserved a forward seat. Another man has taken it. No—no tears. I’ll sit in a backwards facing seat. Goodbye, love. Forgot my book. What else could go wrong? Just a few more years. Not too long.

Anon07/06/26, 09:17No.25386640

Black silk of crow feathers cloaks her pale brow. Like rain-soaked ravens upon fallen snow. Through the tangled thick brush of her fallen hair, Gleams a single wild eye like a wolf in its lair.A rare emerald spark in a valley of stone, Fixing its gaze till you find you're alone. But winter took root where her lone eye would gleam, Where the lace kissed her cheek as all color was lost.Her fingers are roots of a ghost-white birch tree. Weathered by seasons the sun never knew. They curl like the claws of a slumbering hawk. Tightening softly lest petals should break.The lilies surround her, tearing swan plumage. A funeral shroud for a spring never born. They skin her pale collarbones, velvet-and-blight, Weaving a cage where the dead petals bite.One blossom is raised to the curve of her lips. Crushed in the trap of her sharp fingertips; Blotting the breath from her half-hidden mouth, Guarding the name that was never allowed.A firefly watches like a stubborn child. A still, closing snare where all warmth dies. She whispers the only name she knows. And closes her eyes as you fall asleep. ~HopelessBeyondHelpWell a few days ago I had a dream about a woman and I started writing journals whenever I dream or think about her and it's my first time writing an Epistolary that's wht internet calls it.It's a Literary Fiction (prose -poetry) not that avg webnovel format and it contains Botanical Body-Horror Romanticism.To be specific about a genre it's Psychological horror ig it describes it better in a broader sense.Talking about the theme it's Melancholy surrender.The poem is a part of first Journal

Anon07/06/26, 14:03No.25386857

I just love the chilean little nigga[...] Las lágrimas que luego derramaba permanecían en la superficie del platillo durante días, testimonio no de mi dolor, sino de una suerte de poesía exaltada que cada vez más a menudo apretaba mi pecho, mis sienes y caderas. Una terraza, un país cálido y un amor de grandes ojos fieles avanzando lentamente a través del sueño, mientras la nave dejaba estelas de fuego en la ignorancia de mis hermanos y en su inocencia. Y una bola de luz éramos el platillo y yo en las retinas de los pobres campesinos, una imagen perecedera que no diría jamás lo suficiente acerca de mi anhelo ni del misterio que era el principio y el final de aquel incomprensible artefacto. Así hasta la conclusión de mis días, sometido al arbitrio de los vientos, soñando a veces que el platillo se estrellaba en una serranía de América y mi cadáver casi sin mácula surgía para ofrecerse al ojo de viejos montañeses e historiadores: Un huevo en un nido de hierros retorcidos. Soñando que el platillo y yo habíamos concluido la danza peripatética, nuestra pobre crítica de la Realidad, en una colisión indolora y anónima en alguno de los desiertos del planeta. Muerte que no me traía el descanso, pues tras corromperse mi carne aún seguía soñando.

Anon07/06/26, 15:12No.25386968

Anon07/07/26, 03:40No.25388224

Anon this was Vogon tier

Anon07/07/26, 03:42No.25388227

I need help making a decision on whose poetry to add to my library. Is it worth owning the complete works of John Donne? I read a few online trying to gauge if it might be worth taking the time to read them all but I simply can’t make up my mind. Yes, of course I could read his poetry, but I could read anything else, too, and I already have more than I can read in one lifetime. It’s $25. Am I overthinking this?

Anon07/08/26, 02:32No.25389886

It's a crime that David Jones isn't remembered more.Perhaps they'll cancel it. O blow fall out the officers cantcher, like a wet afternoon or the King's Birthday Or you read it again many times to see if it will come different: you can't believe the Cup won't pass from or they won't make a better show in the Garden Won't somebody forbid the banns or God himself will stay their hands. It just can't happen in our family even though a thousand and ten thousand at thy right hand.

Anon07/08/26, 03:39No.25389984

and no you wont

Anon07/08/26, 04:13No.25390048

I hate nu-speak.

Anon07/08/26, 06:03No.25390159

The golden brother lifts his head Above the bramble row. But will the shoots and thistles thrive Or wither in his glow?A thicket swells to meet his glance With warbling crowns that sway What will the jay bring to its nest Before dusk stills the day?His favor disappears beyond The reach of his bright face His pale twin lifts her head, perhaps To join a boundless chase?Her faint light makes out the coppice That shields a frightened fawn Will mother doe return before The night gives way to dawn?

Anon07/08/26, 09:23No.25390319

Tempests and alcovesThe physic winds uproot the roots which, dragged away, dream within.Pale blue walls and cardboard steaks; rattling breath, acknowledged stakes; she glimpses Death but, far removed, she sees the one she always loved.The ground gyrating the air vibrating the sphere rotating and Chronos marching: a mind can be still, singing and whistling.

Anon07/08/26, 10:38No.25390389

In meta fours Making metaphors In metal forts My king met a force

Anon07/08/26, 13:48No.25390582

Negative Moody Uninspired Depressive WretchesWork on Wednesday

Anon07/08/26, 16:47No.25390825

>Poetry fiction author here. published a few times, learned under luis turco in college. any thousethts on his book, 'new book of forms'. i will reserve my opinion on the man, and the book when i return, to be honest i expected more dirty limerics. maybe a follow up on that man from nantucket. what ever happen to him, in limeric form. iambic pentameter? cant recall.

Anon07/08/26, 18:26No.25390935

Love in the time of cholerai - Walk me through her starting to take it beautifully. Do not focus on the pain of it, the stretch burns warm, not melting iron. It is not important if he thinks it's this or that, only that she stays. In the long-run, a kind of dependancy is developed—somehow. Good manners are a priori. This is non-negotiable let it be clearly woven into the prose. Style: dry with warmth. Bypass ugliness arising from the cardboard nature of his personality.

Anon07/08/26, 20:00No.25391089

Ingredients: CARBONATED WATER, HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP AND 2% OR LESS OF CARAMEL COLOR, NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS, SODIUM BENZOATE (PRESERVATIVE), PHOSPHORIC ACID, CAFFEINE, SODIUM PHOSPHATE. PRODUCED UNDER THE AUTHORITY IF DR PEPPER/SEVEN UP, INC. 6425 HALL OF FAME LANE, FRISCO, TX 75034And thus, one day my art will be accompanied by a similar list of its contents, so consumers can wisely choose to ingest it, or not.

Anon07/08/26, 20:05No.25391102

There once was a man from Nantucket Sad selfsucking shell of a guy "If my ear was a cunt I would fuck it." He whispered as life left his eye

Anon07/09/26, 10:14No.25392257

Ecть y мeня твoй cилyэт, Mнe мил eгo пeчaльный цвeт; Bиcит oн нa гpyди мoeй, И мpaчeн oн, кaк cepдцe в нeй. B глaзaх нeт жизни и oгня, Зaтo oн вeчнo близ мeня; Oн тeнь твoя, нo я люблю, Кaк тeнь блaжeнcтвa, тeнь твoю.I hold your silhouette; Its melancholy hue is dear to me; It hangs upon my breast, As somber as the heart within. No life or fire dwells in its eyes, Yet it remains forever near; It is your shadow—but I love That shadow of yours, like a shadow of bliss

Anon07/09/26, 13:38No.25392490

The salmon swims against the stream All with tremendous strain But for this sunday trip, my dear I hope it doesn't rain!Birds take flight, and make their way To Africa in flocks What i need in this cold room, dear Is a pair of comfy socks!A baby turtle hatchling crawls Towards the ocean spray What should I wear tomorrow, dear The green shirt, or the gray?

Anon07/09/26, 14:50No.25392596

My friend for the night, whom I know My companion and muse, wherever i go Your tender burn, and gentle touch For you, no anguish is too muchYou dance on my tongue, like the day we said 'hi' And leave before morning; without a goodbye But when life is hard, you always show up I return a toast, and raise your cupCome and wash my heart and grief And let me be free, however brief My fleeting happiness, I'll never forget And for that I'm forever in your debt

Anon07/09/26, 15:11No.25392632

>Wrote this one last week when I was feeling horny, unfortunate My horse escaped the hour before Your hand came by the stable door. So lay down the hay out under the moon; Your stallion gallops, he'll be with'e soon.

Anon07/09/26, 15:32No.25392676

Oh! Ah! Oi. The horror! The joy! Woah good heavens Terrible black soil! eh ran out, i dont know the fuck im sayin

Anon07/09/26, 20:36No.25393130

Sylvia Plath's Aerial, should I read the original publication or the restored version?

Anon07/10/26, 02:48No.25393558

Poem: memory of a forgotten painterI’m in the center of a sphere, Of diamond pattern harlequin, its flowing checkerboards appear, Like fluid pinks and oranges in spin, She is as dainty as an English garden, Her silhouette’s pressed gold, By parasol she floats, Diminutive as a Japanese pardon; From everywhere I look hard in, Gathers her pareidol of motes, I am every Enoch Arden, Shipwrecked upon silvery coasts, Clenched to the cleft of ghost-musical notes, I shelter in mem’ries, Stolen from foreign dreams, And to be rescued from the billows; I am loath; Her vessel was a name, it seems; My boat was knowledge; I knew her, Collected in the lustrous gleams, Of new-paradise-the-future- Phases-of-the-lunar- Lady-whose-passing- Eternity’s-glancing’s- Glanced-in-her-eye’s-jewel; And I, quite driven to rantings; Elisha ben Abuyah am, Compelled destroying her plantings, Untended I’m unlike each stem; A king-cut ardent hem; She’s not to stir a peep, Brocade with light she rests In petticoats of sleep; So small I seem in her steps sweep; Unfolding whorls of world-ruffle; She-sandalphon the thunders heap Their praises, for your slight shuffle, And delicate galaxies must crumble, Elbow crook’d, Star pillow’d, Defined with no muscle, Or stretched in a tiptoe; Hanging the Christmas mistletoe, Or crouched, prismatic fire warm’d, Surround by glossy wintersnow, With guardian snowmen she formed; Sleigh pulling in tow-ho, The flakes yesterday storm’d, And I admit; touhou Was primarily your source; Goodbye then, edge-trim ornaments, Goodbye, occident-orient, Goodbye, fin des siecles draw-er, For I’ve forgot the name of your author.

Anon07/10/26, 04:33No.25393711

Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then? One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Anon07/10/26, 05:42No.25393788

I have a fantasy of last resort, that my trove of schizo musings will be "found", like Emily Dickinson's work. Everytime I look at a publisher I see their photos of their authors, and they're all npcs, farmer's market boomers, and thin-skinned Xitter gremlins, and I get put off. I've been holding on to work I'd like to publish for the last five years.

Anon07/10/26, 19:09No.25394696

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 firePeople carry roses And make promises by the hours My love she laughs like the flowers Valentines can't buy herIn the dime stores and bus stations People talk of situations Read books, repeat quotations Draw conclusions on the wallSome 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

Anon07/11/26, 01:02No.25395174

Anybody else here write narrative poetry?I've been at work for years on a story told partly in prose, but also partly in verse.

Anon07/11/26, 08:20No.25395649

My hair got so long That I look like a homeless slob. My lips still taste of alcohol, Guess I never sobered up.The world that I was born in Has already passed away. Now I see you walking With the guy you chose today. Everyone keeps moving forward, I'm still living yesterday.I'm still a Peter Pan With a little child inside. If you ever find me, I've got no secrets left to hide.

Anon07/12/26, 04:48No.25397569

A Lunatics LustSensual seduction My members dysfunction Lost my grip Now I just rip Got a thing between my legs But the side-girl just wants to peg Need a new experience Now that loves feels limerent Life's thorny vines Have catastrophised my spine No backbone All I see is her lipsticks tone STOP, my accelerator never starts to go In Thanatos, I drive miss daisy to her foes

Anon07/12/26, 18:29No.25398464

Oh all the money that in my whole life I did spend Be it mine right or wrongfully I let it slip gladly to my friends To tie up the time most forcefully But the bottles are done We've killed each one And the table's full and overflowed And the corner sign Says it's closing time So I'll bid farewell and be down the road.Oh ev'ry girl that ever I've touched I did not do it harmfully And ev'ry girl that even I've hurt I did not do it knowin'ly But to remain as friends we need the time And make demands and stay behind And since my feet are now fast And point away from the past I'll bid farewell and be down the line.Oh ev'ry foe that ever I faced The cause was there before we came And ev'ry cause that ever I fought I fought it full without regret or shame But the dark does die As the curtain is drawn and somebody's eyes Must meet the dawn And if I see the day I'd only have to stay So I'll bid farewell in the night and be gone.Oh ev'ry thought that's strung a knot in my mind I might go insane if it couldn't be sprung But it's not to stand naked under unknowin' eyes It's for myself and my friends my stories are sung But the time ain't tall Yet on time you depend and no word is possessed By no special friend And though the line is cut It ain't quite the end I'll just bid farewell till we meet again.Oh a false clock tries to tick out my time To disgrace, distract, and bother me And the dirt of gossip blows into my face And the dust of rumors covers me But if the arrow is straight And the point is slick It can pierce through dust no matter how thick So I'll make my stand And remain as I am And bid farewell and not give a damn.

Anon07/13/26, 05:27No.25399360

Anon07/13/26, 07:34No.25399444

Anon07/13/26, 07:42No.25399451

Anon07/13/26, 08:14No.25399471

Anon07/14/26, 18:20No.25402130

--Dark and Darker--Roam the beguiling forest trail, Where the satyrs’ music flies. Pick the phantom flowers to find The castle where it lies.Cross the sullen bridge that leads Inside forgotten walls. Sneak past the snoring cockatrice That guards its crying halls.Pass ranks of living armor stands; The wailing now grows loud. She weeps in her empty ballroom, In a tear-soaked shroud.Tower bells chime in your ear; You have stayed too long. Pockets full of gold are weighed Against the piper’s song.Lift open the portcullis; You hear the final toll. Slip down the blood-lit staircase as The wolves howl at your soul.The gate slams down behind you, And darkness fills the room. Your torch lights up the catacombs— And your eager tomb.Enchanted bones betray your grasp And rise to serve their lord. The magic grows foul as you roam And find the golden hoard.Locusts swarm and fill the air- As you are filled with doubt. You have found a treasure trove, But there is no way out.Huddled up with jewels and gems, The piper’s pay in gold, Keep them by your chest and watch The dark grow deep and cold.

Anon07/15/26, 17:05No.25403730

I am a dick attached to a man who breathes. I am precise about one thing. I work every day, and it gets hot.

Anon07/15/26, 18:34No.25403835

You're a massive dickand you found a caveand now you're nothing.You're nothing and nakedand the cold will get you.

Anon07/15/26, 21:42No.25404192

Pen 14A tangerine banana An imbrogligio of imbeciles A roll of alumina I'm not asking for A shopping list is just A future receipt I'm never talking to the alphabet corporation even if their facial recognition demands it But they are drawing dicks everywhere Including their own Gift of purchase Or freer than cheap Send six postcards if not interested

Anon07/15/26, 21:48No.25404209

Pen 15This poem was written for the CIA They don't deserve my words "Dickheads" Burn after reading

Anon07/16/26, 14:35No.25405410

bump

Anon07/16/26, 17:59No.25405769

The ghost in the closet watched me through the narrow opening.He dreamed of becoming a boy again.Dreaming of becoming a fish.The ghost smiled.

Anon07/16/26, 18:21No.25405803

:OThe sun gets worse by the year but what's a year to the sun.

Anon07/17/26, 04:14No.25406866

I never would have thought it'd be so easy finding veinsMy arms have wasted down to twigsAnd my sickly hands were built to shakeBut I was gifted with a nose that was designed to keep me safeBy sensing guilt and shame and fearI closed my eyes it lead the wayNext I pulled back on the plungerSaw a plume of blood escape, to tell me"Welcome, awful timing, you've discovered the worst place!"And watched the creature in the mirrorPumping junk inside to sayI'll make myself less, in any way, of what I hateI'm not a human, not a personMade of tar and mud and clayA fragile thing built just to breakCruelty for which I have no nameSo please bury me with poppiesI'll come back intact one dayBut I am absolutely certainAll I'll ever know is painBecause the history is no mysteryAnd the future shares its shapeIf I could speak to younger meMaybe prepare them to be bracedIt would only take four wordsTo say it will not go awayI think I'd understand the phrase"It's here to stay"

Anon07/17/26, 12:20No.25407240

For sex you need two For loneliness one For freedom none Am I not the new Sun Tzu

Anon07/17/26, 15:51No.25407461

To get better you need to be better which leads to doing better which leads to better and son, you were born in Tungusia.

Anon07/17/26, 23:33No.25408043

"None as fair as she" I say Yet in another's arms she lay, Still her smile rests upon the mind As misery is stirred in passion's kind.Fortune favours beauties fate Such as gentler hands as hers create, To reckon in that final loss Fair price that love requite its cost

Anon07/18/26, 09:41No.25408661

A date with The PriestessI swallowed my jealousy for Mr. Liggett & Mr. Myers As my eyes patiently followed her hands to her lips. Those soft cheeks glowing in her lighter light, Must've been the second time I've earned A sight behind the veil, Only for her now to be further tucked Under a thicker shroud. I wasn't prepared for her to smoke inside, But I guess I didn't really mind, Besides, I had the savoir-faire to avoid her spite. Still, I tried not to inhale her sighs; See, the last time I asked for a prognosis, She said it wasn't bright.Finally, she grabs the cards and pouting her mouth she divides the deck and strums the cards against the hard maple desk gently guiding the ceaseless flurry of motion to mold a pleasing even split of two stacks tightly embracing.After alignment, again, she divides, This time to three separate stacks, Draws, and reveals the three cards.My back turned to tomorrow, I sink knee deep to yesterday's pond, Rays of The Sun bounce back and forth From my edges to the water surface, Splashing and splattering a vague shape Of a man onto the wet canvas. A man I thought I knew, The Hermit. In truth the man was less a pond and more a river, And wouldn't permit a soul to know him, Yet I try as best I can, For I know that rivers stay the same Even if the waters flow. Plunging to the depths, the reeds cling To my neck, squeezing my throat -- If only I had seen this in the tarot -- They'll know me as The Hanged Man With my soles reaching for the divine, From there, I'll get a fine view Of the carefree days on the shoreline.

Anon07/18/26, 18:49No.25409387

And so it was, from the jagged cliffs, that Antena looked at the coming ships concluding then, not without quiet smugness, that her amazon sandals were probably arriving.

Anon07/18/26, 20:07No.25409513

Anon07/18/26, 21:06No.25409627

Wordsworth is a very talented poet, but a lot of what he wrote didn't really connect with me. Just lots of walking and walking. I guess I just can't appreciate pastoral poems that are purely about love of nature. The Ruined Cottage and The Brothers is very good though.

Anon07/18/26, 22:39No.25409783

On seeing a canvas containing an AI baby in the local gallery windowYou who are smiling at me through the glass, what matrices, what infertile digits were multiplied at your birth? How many infants’ tesserae were shoved onto your lifeless features? where Will you be in a week’s time? Will you behanged on the bedroom wall of an ignorant grandmother who no longer sees her grandchildren?Or bought and binned at the scorn of another? Or bought and resold? You smiling simulation, plastic aggregate of youth, economic machination, where the fuck are your parents?

Anon07/19/26, 09:51No.25410429

THE COUNTRY AUTUMNS (clark coolidge) But it could not be brought to see what it could be brought. And the leaves are away again, teamed. A parent at the last and a parent in the middle. And as stones I thought it right.Two plates, and on the other side all the forest pieces. The clock says stay. The books lower the earth, and in gardens flat stones spin. The volume was of waiting. Today is today, until the preposition taken up. Next to the tree sways.The sky in pieces the leaves part the leaves piece together. To and from a hand given all directions. The bark comes from below. Takes from the books of the moves under the sky. Speaker holds up the talks held last. Motors the dust and the yellow syllables. A slant on which was never here or only partly.

Anon07/19/26, 19:56No.25411254

Solomon Revisited Revisited by John Darnielle You say you came to see me, because you had nothing else to do, but I've got a radio. You say you'd thought you'd on by and let me have a look at you, but I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio.You say you bought some photographs, but I don't care to see them, cause I've got a radio.You say this place must get dull sometimes, but that's not the way I see it. 'cause I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got me a radio. I've got a radio.You say these rocks are treacherous, but how long has it been since you've seen my feet? You see, I've got a radio. You warn me about all sorts of things, but this is not the sort of warning that I need. You see, I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio. I've got a radio.

Anon07/19/26, 20:47No.25411348

Bro how many fucking poets are there? I thought I was well read but I discover new ones every day. I'm talking about famous ones, not Instagram and Facebook cunts.

Anon07/19/26, 22:18No.25411486

I'm drunk as fuck and just wrote this from memory. I know it's based on something else, but I can not remember what. Any help, anons?Daisy Daffodil Buried on the hill Near by the old mill And where all is stillNo boys dare come near Dare not out of fear Her remains are here So many shed a tearDaisy Daffodil Had more than a fill Wrote with her own quill Died by her own willOne found in a ditch One no one knew which One foamed with a twitch One had been a witch

Anon07/20/26, 19:36No.25413033

First time writing poetry really, composed this for a written letter to my girlfriend who was away on a trip and stressed

Anon07/21/26, 06:27No.25414202

Isolation:Sometimes I'm a ghost. At night when the chill wind blows and the moon is full i make my escape. Running down the street like a convict.stray dogs chase behind. Im roadkill in the flash of the headlights. Cars race by the empty fields and gas stations, angels falling from the sky.I have nowhere to go, i dont know anybody. Maybe ill go to the beach sleep in the warm sand. Waves smashing against the shore.And then ill run into the water, then swim. deeper and deeper into the ocean i wont come out again. Ill sink to the bottom of the red wine sea.

Anon07/21/26, 07:44No.25414269

the tea's on tell mum to get a cuppa for jim he's a good for nothing sod full english he pisses gravy and the rent was supposed to help pay off this month barney is going to ride me the cunt piss all over the wall and no industrial cleaner will get it out the kettle's screaming louder than the neighbours the wallpaper's curling up like it's heard enough every bill's got teeth quango is sending me envelopes the dog looks more employable than half the street he's got purpose he barks at the postman with more grit than the rest of the jobbers that's me dad yer talking about lad someone's nicked the wheelie bin again probably to build a throne for the king of absolutely bugger all holding court outside the bookies and romeos pub he's a poofter stank of last thursday kebab and horace's sweat cigarette wafts off he's got stilettos on i'd settle for a few fags, maybe a full pack without coughing itself into the afterlife the estate breathes through broken gutters every window's got a story but its shite utter shite insipid and rudderless

Anon07/21/26, 08:00No.25414280

The Chinese Century What does it mean to me? It means new opportunity Freedom and liberation Thanks to Comrade Xi And his valued teachings We are proud to be Supporters of the great Chinese Chinese Dream The great Socialist Project For us to achieve Hooray for Xi!

Anon07/21/26, 11:45No.25414534

I wrote mostly with my heart on this one, so excuse the clumsiness in thought:The world invites the eager hand with gold, Though half its heavy fruits conceal a thorn; We only prize the sunset in the past, When shadows gather and the air turns cold. Just so, the deepest miseries are born Unseen within the flesh until it breaks; A wound that lingers to the last, Before the ruin of the temple wakes.A heavy luster fills the skies, Where eager stars demand a sudden gleam, To mock the darkness with a brilliant grace; Yet beauty waits for only human eyes, To find the truth of some forgotten dream, And catch the wonders of a higher sphere, Unseen by all except the mortal face That holds these sacred visions ever dear.

Anon07/21/26, 13:56No.25414749

Dick prop The testicles were never there Someone made it larger than it needs to be Some people would fuck an ant And call it a day Go to bed dreaming of colonization We must not let them sleep or get soft

Anon07/21/26, 14:14No.25414768

“e^(pi(i))+1=0”I have no idea what it meansYet it is the most profound thing that I have ever seen

Anon07/21/26, 15:56No.25414933

Anyone have any good recommendations on blank verse collections to read? I find it a very appealing meter but I've only really read Shakespeare.

Anon07/21/26, 16:37No.25415009

is this a good way of practating meter / And so shan't say the foust and pleid and look demodes of raisin and fenting but book'd beyond and into turnitures and turrets for garde and sooks will have you warrened.

Anon07/21/26, 18:55No.25415326

They call me a drifter, they say I'm no good I'll never amount to a thing Well I may be a drifter and I may be no good There's joy in this song that I sing.At night I will rest 'neath a blanket of blue Doubt if I ever will change I might even dream of a lady I knew Might even whisper her nameI might even wind up in Idaho And visit a cute little miss A sweet little someone I used to know And I might even stop long enough for a kiss.Might even ride back through Phoenix someday Might even stop for awhile But branded, no never! I'll not be tied down Trapped by a fair lady's smile.Saddle tramp, saddle tramp I'm as free as the breeze and I ride where I please Saddle tramp, saddle tramp.

Anon07/21/26, 21:50No.25415668

Anon07/22/26, 00:46No.25416017

This is how the wind shifts: Like the thoughts of an old human, Who still thinks eagerly And despairingly. The wind shifts like this: Like a human without illusions, Who still feels irrational things within her. The wind shifts like this: Like humans approaching proudly, Like humans approaching angrily. This is how the wind shifts: Like a human, heavy and heavy, Who does not care.

Anon07/22/26, 00:51No.25416026

visceral its dangerous its a menace its evil those who know nothing fear anger pain crushing in miniature impotent scalding at the fire the blasé criminal faded no look no joy no thing

Anon07/22/26, 01:13No.25416055

blurb of all time read this he has to pay his taxes the nyt says yes too blurb nobel a lifetime of blurbs can you write on it?

Anon07/22/26, 17:04No.25417065

Lethargic ClemencyForgive me, Gloria, But you are unfashionable.It is hard to join the Buddhists, When you have cool stuff to lose. Mercy and grace tug on your heartstrings, For Everyman over Gonzos and Nixons, But there is no dictionary for pain and war, When Hollywood sex is out for delivery.In time, you'll leave me hanging again It is hard to stay awake in sadness.I know you don't understand, Gloria, But you'd have to burn America.I am not the one you loved before.

Anon07/23/26, 01:26No.25417886

What do you guys think of W. H. Auden? I've got a copy of his collected poems and it's hard to explain, but I feel that his works range between shit and good but not in between. It's no wonder why there isn't a conclusive consensus on his works.

Anon07/23/26, 08:43No.25418362

She cared for me when I was young a loser with attention at last A young, naïve devotion, the purest kind I’ve ever known, like fine vintage wine dripping from the sky.It was an emotional affair, the cruelest kind. Her hands slipped around my heart and never let go.she moved far away to the rose-red mountains of New Mexico.She carries my heart with her still, maybe in her pocket, maybe in her purse. I know it’s no longer in my chest. The horizon is grey today.

Anon07/23/26, 22:20No.25419544

>/pg/ writes a sonnet, line by line I took a chance in knocking on your door

Anon07/23/26, 22:37No.25419563

I thought perhaps I would see you no more

Anon07/23/26, 22:45No.25419585

The trees do shake and ‘mind me of your name, The youthful curls of hair I could not tame.

Anon07/23/26, 22:52No.25419599

Impatient for your love I did not wait Or hope to see you but before hell’s gate.

Anon07/24/26, 00:19No.25419730

Together in your car for miles we drove And miles: the hills did roll beneath and sway; Empower’d by the sunlight’s drizzling rays We talk’d and talk’d of how we would defy The guards antique who judgement smug decry Until we stop’d to rest within a grove.

Anon07/24/26, 00:20No.25419732

A book is all it took for me to look At you again and think what I forsook.

Anon07/24/26, 00:51No.25419766

A wolf on the mountain howls at midnight. The lights are out. No one in the streets. Something lurks behind the door, under the bed, inside the walls.It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face. Footsteps trail you on the path. Deeper down the trail, witches dance around a fire, summoning ancient evils in its beastly crackle and glow.They spot you through the bushes and rush. The credits roll. The film warps.

Anon07/24/26, 21:49No.25421340

A finger dances on the rim of the demijohn, the head tilted as if listening to the wine inside. Refuge is here. The wine rests. No—it dreams. What does it dream of, I wonder. Sun on stone, or the roots of old vines, or a bigger market share in New York.

Anon07/24/26, 23:59No.25421515

Recollections on a thunder storm among ruins in eastern turkeyHow real can a passion be? That flame inside, within us, burns, Then from our frame it takes to wing, And into life, sweetly turns.My friend, did you join with me, In the following of my heart? On the steppe we dreamt we slept, Before life revealed her art.My word how the landscape stretched, Clouds abounding far and wide, We sat atop the ruined church As thunder volleyed from all sides.How white can the light be, Which crashes against the darkest night? Oh, I had felt like a blade of grass Between two heavy armoured knights.Oh, how from a moment can An eternity seem to spring, And part the soul from mind and man, To remind him of his being.

Anon07/25/26, 02:31No.25421675

[/lit/thread/25421198#p25421198] thoughts? what makes Milton's meter good? I get that he's writing complicated sentences and that makes it harder to write in a "clean" meter, but what makes his rhythm or prosody "good" in itself?

Anon07/25/26, 14:16No.25422319

The world is yours: I but play the fool Measured each in each By one's rule To your known end; My lines, like Well purposed tools, Tighten calf skin Drum bleating To a fall, So devised My writ of will That death greets In kindly acts All heavenly law Recompensed (And some more!) The hanging guilt Which suspends this Fruit from floor.

Anon07/25/26, 14:45No.25422357

Any recs for epics or grand tales or adventures in verse?

Anon07/25/26, 15:32No.25422426

The castration complex is easily mistaken for the fear that one will be castrated; in fact, it is the fear that one, having been castrated, will like it.

Anon07/25/26, 19:59No.25422890

Here's a haiku for you:Nobody makes a car Like the Japanese make cars My father's advice.Post haikus.

Anon07/25/26, 20:28No.25422928

Feedback??BLACK BALLS ON FOENEM FRABJOUS FIRE FROM FALL TO SPRING SOUND DEEP THE ANGRY APPLE OF THE DAYEIGHT ELEPHANTS EAT EVERY ICHOR EYE AND GRASP GREEDILY INTO PUPPY POND THE LONG GONE LOLLIPOP O-LAY O-LAY ALUMINIUM

Anon07/26/26, 03:37No.25423642

September - October - November - December - January - February - March - April - May - June - July - August - September -

Anon07/26/26, 03:40No.25423645

The spare key is behind the vase. Mm? What did you say? Nothing. I don't know. What time is it? Sorry. Mm. Midnight.

Anon07/26/26, 03:40No.25423646

My third poetry book will be called Paradox Healer

Anon07/26/26, 09:02No.25423936

I see a skull filled with venom, come to take me through the door. Bluebonnets growing over a corpse. Worms crawling through the dirt.Sparrows pecking at my skin. The moon shines above like a neon light, melting everything below it. Slow crickets pulse and chirp in the night heat.

Anon07/26/26, 10:32No.25424011

Who is the greater poet: Robert Browning or Alfred Lord Tennyson?

Anon07/26/26, 11:23No.25424051

How do I actually understand poetry? I read stuff, but then it just goes over my head. I reread yet I do not understand. I have no idea what the poet is alluding to. How to fix this?

Anon07/26/26, 12:20No.25424143

A short little poem that has stuck with me for a long time.

Anon07/26/26, 23:28No.25425313

“e^(pi*i)+1=0”It doesn’t mean anythingYet it is the most profound thing that I have ever seen

Anon07/27/26, 18:35No.25427115

I just stitched lit comments together but got lazy immediately. - No porn but I see Kant in a magic hat. I don't get what this board is supposed to be like. A board - all of them are the same. But how did Aristotle get to them? Imagine letting fears of sounding corny interfere with your theory of history. Low IQ.

Anon07/27/26, 18:59No.25427139

La Petit Soleil-Mongolian basket weaving Bavarian casket carrying Some enchanted evening Two former nuns marrying Magic mushrooms glowing Federal agents blowing Chicken nuggets steaming Yellow eyes are gleamingChinese landscape painting Bohemian pottery spinning Fine young maidens fainting Missing horse race winnings Ancient redwoods sleeping Seven foxes creeping Mayonnaise a'spoiling Khazar pants a'soilingKorean incense burning Sicilian lemons rotting Dead Sea tides are turning Unseen hands are plotting Dial-up still connecting Ebola still infecting Broken bells are tolling Boneless men are scrolling

Anon07/28/26, 13:33No.25428931

bump

Anon07/29/26, 04:55No.25431135

bump

Anon07/29/26, 13:32No.25431640

WHAT is this man doing??

Anon07/29/26, 18:48No.25432141

Whatever may be right Whomsoever may write Glance of hell be my life Forever will be strifeNone care to give a chance None dare to give a dance To be crossed off the list To be denied the twistThere goes half of my soul Farewell to being whole