I really haven't been on the forum a lot lately. Much more "real life" stuff is happening in a face-to-face manner, and I'm just not spending much free time at home on the computer.


Actually, I'm not sure what I would edit exactly, but it's never been altered from the first draft. Most of my poems are like that, but I recall that I didn't really decide how to write 'Punishment' until about a third of the way through, which is why some of the mirroring is a little messy. The masseuse (Chinese lady I've never met again who works in Thai massage spa) definitely doesn't know about it and never will either. She may feel proud that I remembered her massage particularly, and also that such a little lady was able to make such a (literally) deep impression.


Regardless of the exact motifs, it still feels very much like one of yours. Looks like it too: they have a great similarity how each one appears on the page. I don't know if it's just because we don't share the same context, but your poems mostly remind me of things I've heard about and loosely forgotten, like maybe I know what those "words that cannot be said by those who say them" are and have just forgotten. Like a riddle that I heard when I was young and don't know the answer to anymore. If that's something you might be aiming for, it definitely works.


I noticed that I was getting really anxious lately and feeling under pressure for no particular reason. This is about that, written about a week ago.

Dark Inner Depths

It is your style indeed. The lyrical subject feels religiously challenged, and I'm glad to be out of his/her head. You should conceal the meaning if you like, just try to make a poem a bit more poignant and dynamic. Take us to the Middle East, past or present, paint the scene with some colours here and there, and then engulf it in meditative mystery.


Instant fan of this poem, especially the visceral, striking last line. The allegory is nice and drives me from Iceland to psychological depths. Stay on ice.

This one came to fruition in small hours 12 days ago: https://pesimum.wordpress.com/2020/12/18/titraj-pustosi/. I decided to translate it today as it complements the Gas' icy setting and has a very frantic part that hopefully brings some fresh air (north wind) to my creative endeavours.

If any of you goes through the writers block, try Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande. I haven't been following her directions, but the book encouraged me to try making a habit of writing at least a haiku per day. As it usually happens in life, the moment I delved into the book, science rushed into my life again, so I'm stealing the time from it.

In a light of a New Year's resolution, I would like to say this very Thread encouraged me to loose some chains and let my creations wander a bit. I'm still goth who writes accordingly, but I'll keep trying not to let my roots grow always the same. Also, I wrote a short story in November, which confirmed me how much I hate writing narrative prose. I'm calling myself a poet from now. __〆(￣ー￣ )

You know, maybe Osore is right and you could do with a bit more concrete setting and detail in your poetry. Have a try, perhaps, we'll let you know if it sucks


I'm doing a little better now. A little less work, a little more beer, and I've started an exercise class designed to relieve tension in my neck, shoulders, and back. One of those situations where I'm not sure if the physical or psychological feeling is the primary one.


You call yourself a poet with steals like this?: "Head hunters in an autumn for crippled children." Pretty sure I know where that's from But for sure, one of the best things about writing is that I never really feel constrained, even though I used to think I had a particular format/colour that I had to write in. Set yourself free with words.

There is also a sentence in italic stolen from the bible. It was nice to meet you all, I'm going to hell, just let me know if you want some presents (COVID-20 perhaps?). Mephisto's fiacre is waiting outside, I must go now.

I might be forced to visit you; I don't know any quotes from the bible.

Hey, it's worth a shot-- writers should try and challenge themselves every now and then after all. If it turns out disastrously though I'll be sure to dedicate the poem to you and Osore so folks know who to blame.


I've got you covered, I keep a few on hand in case I need to shoehorn a religious reference into one of my poems.

I've been in more of an inspired mood lately, so hope you don't mind another one so soon. Same old crap about my own past, New Year, uncertainty, and fish in stomachs though.

Brother Parallel

Man, it took me like 3 visits back here to realize that the link was in the face I thought the post itself might be a form of creative writing (and it definitely is, codified like that); seems like you have no release from the daily grind of a special sort of hell. The story you shared was great, also extremely vivid language like how you write, very morbid in certain word choices, and also fitting for the East European folk background too. Feels spiritually similar to the Poppy Z. Brite you sent me before.


I'll share something I wrote last week, thinking about how small scale can sometimes give you the whole picture and large scale just overwhelms. The last stanza contains some reference to the film Synecdoche New York as well, which may explain some of my feelings on the subject.

Satis

Rude obelisks jut out
of range, escape
the senses in magnitude.

Minuscule microcosm
expands the eye;
minimal satiety.

Not to depict all,
but to draw
close to metaphoric totality.

Painting needlepoint
under the microscope;
absolute enough?

You need to be patient with sorcery and witchcraft, just practise regularly and pay attention to detail embedded in hieroglyphs. XD

I call Magdalena's style poetic naturalism/rural gothic. Poppy is way less serious and puts a smile on my face, making me feel ten years younger, basically a teenager, whereas Magdalena makes serious, shocking and sad stories for dark positive adults. Both are very dramatic, I adore their writings (Swamp Foetus/Svetkovina). You are lucky - I found two more stories translated: Ivana and Lineman's Hut No.13. The entire collection contains 25 stories. She said in an interview that she had been working on it for three years, about a month on each story, came up with 30, eliminated 5. If she had not gotten the call from a publisher who read her story Ivana (Kapa in Croatian) and asked her if she could write a book, she would have been doing a PhD about haunted houses in literature instead.
I am writing this because it showed me that sometimes writers need to be strongly motivated, and I feel like I should mobilise internal forces I am not even aware of in order to make my grand œuvre. My intention is to publish e-book (pdf) on my blog in 2024; it will be a best of compilation, and some of the poems will see the light of the day for the first time in it. The only resource I am spending on it is the time, so it will be completely free and zero trees are going to be wasted. The fact that I'll be 30 by then makes me want to jump out of my skin.

Simple, yet meditative. For me, those rude obelisks stand as skyscrapers that block the view and give the city that ugly modern look. The microscope makes me feel better, as it is the only technique I don't actively hate.

Expect me with stuff From Kunstkabinett in the future. Or not? Tell me if you want to read The Method of Processing Lyrical Subject as Writer's Alter Ego, and I will make it happen in English. Meta/Dada spells all over it.

Haven't written any poetry lately but thought I would share this poem I happened upon yesterday. I was browsing the poetry section of a local bookstore when I came upon a book of poems by Leonard Cohen. I picked it up and opened it to a random poem, which ended up touching me more than maybe any other poem I've read lately.

I like the slightly melancholic feel it gives me. It was surprising to see Serbian name Duško there, supposedly he is the tavern owner.
How do you like the rest of the book? Judging by Goodreads, Cohen is a beloved author.
----------------------------

Random poem from 2020 Nobel Laureate Louise Glück:

words_at_the_window on instagram for some fleeting thoughts presented in a couple or few line poems.
;]

Exposure

Grain by grain –
Sifted, sorted, and stacked –
The drift encased its feet, its legs.
Perhaps more.
If there had been a deeper truth
Marking the pathways through the interstices…
It got distracted by other things.
For the conductive decay of its animated skin,
Fur naked to Boreas’ touch –
In this land known by other names –
Freezing.
This season of extinction builds a new mechanical reality.

I've been thinking about writing poetry, lately. Figured I'd post on Tumblr or something, but I don't know how that would work out--of if you can even post walls of text on that platform anymore.

first attempt at english poetry

A wilted flower deserves no comfort
Nor the wisdom of sages
It wants neither stone
Nor to remain in shade
It ought rather to suffer
Relentless torrents of rain
And must contemplate
the Sun's unblinking gaze
But most of all
It must grow out of the ground

I think the imagery is really cliche (esp. "wilted flower") but I find the way I portrayed them quite interesting. Probably a subconscious influence from the Tao Te Ching now that I look back.

Something suitable for metal lyrics. I wish there were more of his poems in translation as I don't speak Portuguese.

Augusto dos Anjos

I really like these lines. Did you intend for sages to have a double meaning?

Sorry, I kind of gave up on this thread for a spell, but it's nice to see some green shoots poking through the dust.


This one is kind of cool, and it seems important that it doesn't say too much. For instance, is it sand or ice? Not clear, but better that it could be either. Interesting contrasts between living beings (feet, legs, fur) and non-living ("its", conductive, animated, mechanical), as well as obviously there being a larger concept behind everything, as implied by the longer lines in the middle and at the end.


It is a little bit cliche in some of the phrases, but more in the overall register of the poem, as if these lines are lifted from an old book of proverbs. (Tao Te Ching makes sense in this light.) However, that sets up the final, rather ambiguous line, since we seem to leave the orthodox wisdom behind and be looking at a new idea. It does have an ancient Chinese style to it (reminds me of translations of 'The Art of War' as well) with all the unpunctuated lines, formal grammar, and natural imagery. What would the title be?


That's indeed a very internal gothic, even death metal look on the psyche. I've not written much this past year, but I do have one with a specific "metal" reference that some of you will easily find. Hope it is not too disagreeable.

The Note

Shaking hands, and you never know
what they’re going to do:
throttling, scratching, clutching at the shards,
the porcelain life you’ve broken
and make all the uglier by
dragging back into cracked contemplation.

Shaking hands, trying to scrawl
some meaning back between the pieces
with words like loose cement
that crumble and fail,
impossible to draw us back together
when the mould is shattered.

Shaking heads, picking through the chaos
of the explosion, sensing
desperation in every tremor
already drawn on the seismograph,
as if a straight line etched
from safety to disaster.

Shaking heads, wondering what
could have compelled such words
to add only jagged flint
into the swirl of the storm,
to scribe with shaking hands
and such shaken feeling the note:
“Excuse all the blood.”

I like the poem very much, it's structurally/rhythmically and sonically balanced, with euphonic anaphors standing out the most. The tone is also well suited between being dramatic and anecdotal, with distressed lyrical subject put in intertextual dialogue.
And Gas, I swear you are a Ghost, popping up when nobody's watching.

I'll recommend some poetry I enjoyed relatively recently: Leopoldo María Panero, The Penguin Book of the Prose Poem: From Baudelaire to Anne Carson and Gaspard of the Night — Fantasies in the Manner of Rembrandt and Callot by Aloysius Bertrand. I read the first and the last author in Serbian/Croatian translations, respectively. Here's a poem from The Penguin book:

I like that one, it remind me a lot of the Gormenghast books by Mervyn Peake, where everything is at once completely mad and askew but also endearing and rich with character.

I've found another site that has translations of the whole "Scarbo suite" of poems: http://50watts.com/Scarbo-Suite
It seems to translate that one rather differently, and even names it "Dementia" instead. I find the voice of the speaking character comes across more acutely in this.

Remember That Store?
An impromptu poem (Wrote it on-the-go)

-----------------
Changes are inevitable
It could be unneeded
Yet, it's quite the necessary evil
Looking at the bright side
The next generation would enjoy the new one
While the old folks reminisce about it
From a candy store, to a video rental, to whatever it will be next (who knows?)
These new kids would have that same feeling
Once one is removed and a new comes in its place
But eh, life goes on, I suppose

Things change
Memories remain
But dammit!!! Wish the prices remain the same
Are you fucking telling me that you're charging $10 for a pack of gum?
--------------

^ That's something I would call confessional colloquial poetry. I'm not a fan of that style, although your theme speaks a lot - the inevitable passage of time is so difficult to accept, that it gave birth to religious thinking in a way. Your nostalgy and frustration radiate from the text.

Good to see this thread getting some love again. Simonitro, from what I remember of the stuff you've shared before, this is definitely a marked departure for you-- more colloquial, conversational. I dig the little 'twist' (or rather, the shift in mood and tone) at the end there.

I've been focusing on fiction rather than poetry lately, but conversely have been reading more poetry. Recently bought Robert Bly's 'Loving a Woman in Two Worlds' on a whim after opening it up to this poem, which struck me.

Mountain Grass

Hi, haven’t added anything previously to this thread so here goes:

Parental Influence

My children asked me one smoking watery day,
which are the essential songs by Deep Purple to play.

They asked the hardest of hard rock questions,
and advice on my more difficult sonic suggestions.

Do Tool have anything left to tell us,
did they cover it all on Lateralus?

Outside the twin guitar excesses of Argus,
is there more Wishbone Ash we need to be aware of?

Did King Crimson peak with 21st Century Schizoid Man,
is there much more we need to really understand?

All of this to the total horror of my wife,
who’s left wondering what I’d done to her kids’ lives.

Afflicting them with liking prog rock and metal,
making them so musically atypical, devotional, emotional
phantasmagorial, philosophical, temperamental
analytical, communal, demoniacal, evangelical
confessional, exceptional, fanatical, guttural
parabolical, radical, unusual, visceral
…choose any of the above as you see applicable.

Or perhaps suggest far better ones.

Blinddieselslim

Comments removed,
ignorance proved.
Thoughts to censor,
give them pleasure.
Weaklings walking westward,
frakking jokes and turds.
Tragedy in fear and loathing,
sorrow drips from their clothing.
Pity.
The iddy biddy titty committee.

This is one of those that I feel finds its voice at the end, either because you had a specific end in mind but weren't that sure about how to get there or because you got more inspired as you went on. If you're going to do that reflective/nostalgic stuff, I think the writing people gravitate towards will give lots of examples that they can relate to. So the $10 gum is a great one because it's very specific, but the first verse is kind of general. I guess it would also help if you used examples to describe the store first and then afterwards did the reflection part. Anyway, it's got a good seed in there, might benefit from a bit of editing.



This is a lot of fun, especially the questions from your kids and the "hardest of hard rock questions" part. To be honest, I'm not sure if making the lines rhyme removed a bit of the appeal, because sometimes it seems you are forcing the words around the rhyme instead of saying whatever feels natural. If the comments are smart enough, it will still have strong hooks without the rhyme scheme. The adjective part at the end I'm also not particularly keen on.



Not gonna pretend I know what it's about (I have a guess that I don't want to write), but this certainly has some personality. Because it's so brief and terse, it gives a lot to think about, while changing the rhythm in the last couple of lines is an excellent choice, especially as the last rhyme is so key. The line "frakking jokes and turds" seems a bit out of place to me, although I can't put my finger on why it feels wrong.


It's not that recent, but this is the last good one that I have on my computer. It combines two different themes that are hopefully fairly clear.

Seeing Things

Ghosts fill gaps,
mulched memories
bear fruit anew.

Vaulted midday descends,
pressing spirits
like burst grapes.

Age ferments stories,
intoxicating power
stronger with years.

Savoured when alone,
seeing things’
truly altered state.

Thanks for the really helpful comments gasmask_colostomy



A redraft:

Parental Influence

My kids asked me one smoking watery day,
which are the essential songs by Deep Purple they should play.

They ask the hardest of hard rock questions, and
advice on my more difficult sonic suggestions.

Do Tool have anything left to tell us,
did they cover everything on Lateralus?

Outside the twin guitar excesses of Argus,
is there anything else Wishbone Ash can tell us?

Is there much more to really understand, or
did King Crimson peak with 21st Century Schizoid Man?

All of this to the total horror of my wife,
who’s now left wondering what I’d done to her kids’ lives.

Afflicting them with liking prog rock and metal,
making them musically obsessed and devotional.

Blinddieselslim

Well thank you for the review. I wasn't expecting anyone to read it or even bother with it. I sincerely appreciate it. Xie xie!

Good to see this thread make a bit of a comeback!


I dig how succinct and cohesive this is-- my immediate sense, although this feels almost too obvious, is that it's about how time can have an almost intoxicating effect when reflecting on old memories, revealing things that went unnoticed in the moment. I'm especially a fan of the last stanza, that apparent contradiction in the idea of seeing something's 'truly altered state'. I'm not sure if that speaks to the two themes you said were combined here, though.


This is a fun one! The only thing I'd say here is you might want to reconsider the repetition of 'tell us' in the 3rd and 4th couplets.

And honestly, I gotta say... Sometimes I do think King Crimson peaked with 21st Century Schizoid Man, although man does Discipline give that contention a run for its money.

A recent thing of mine--

Classic Ezadara topic, haha! Some of the images are really lovely, like the moon rising and falling like a lover's chest, even that part about the fire worshipers has a very particular zing of mystery. The end works well too, and reflects that weariness mentioned just before, as if the last repeated lines are someone gradually drifting off to sleep. The main thing I can think of changing here is to adapt some of the repeated words, since I feel like 'courtyard' and 'well' work better as background details (they won't be forgotten, because they are pretty vivid) and could perhaps be restated with a descriptive word or phrase, like "cool stone" or something. A bit confused by the title as well.


I definitely prefer the new version, it seems more focused and a bit smarter too. (The new Deep Purple pun didn't go amiss.) One thing I notice reading it again is that I think the tense changes a few times in the poem; not sure that was fully intended.


Yeah, that's absolutely one of the main things I was trying to express. It's one of a couple of poems I wrote will reading Bao Ninh's The Sorrow of War, I will post another one of those below. I think I was writing about how the narrator spent all his post-war time drunk and living in the past, literally seeing ghosts or hallucinations of people he used to know, stuck between the unbearable pain of those memories being past and the intoxication of them being tangible. That's why I have a lot of alcoholic imagery in there, because both being drunk and living in the past are a kind of drug - a kind of "altered state". The title also tries to slide between the idea that someone is "seeing things" (having delusions) and "seeing things as they are".

Here's another one from the same source. I seem to remember I was writing about the narrator's father, an artist who takes his own life and burns all his work. I was also listening to Netra Sørbyen at the time, and that has some content about suicide as a kind of finalistic, perfect work of art.

Beyond the Palette

The Jesters Dream

Stones in the sky, the world where I was.
Hearts fell and wept and the moonlight's gone.
The sun shone shine, fell from the stars.
The pain I feel goes down to my scars.

Imaginary lines drawn across the floor,
can't step on cracks that have grass and more.
The one's with seeds are the same you sell,
the moon's blown up, look the broken shell.

Stuck on the carpet that bleeds.
Shot alive down on my hands and knees.
The moon and stars align around the earth and we still breathe.
The quality of thread we hang is, always going to fray.
The way the earth is turning we're not going to be able to stay.

The plastic masks we crush, are red and full of hate.
The chalk on the blackboard fades and the colors start to die.
Slouching to low to breathe, I am the jesters dream.
He hunts me as he hunts the trap....he hunts me as he hunts the trap.

This one is quite interesting, although I think I prefer the previous short one more. I wonder whether your first language is English or something else? Just because there are a few odd errors in here, but maybe that's a lack of editing. I have highlighted those things in the spoiler above.

As for the poem content, it feels very melancholy and personal, like the person suffering in the poem is watching these huge things like the sun and moon moving around them. It feels very lonely and empty, but there is also a 'you' that appears once. I think the most interesting part is when the rhyme starts to change in the third verse, there's suddenly an extra long line that rhymes with the previous two, and after that the lines are all a lot longer. On the other hand, it's a little strange that the last verse doesn't use rhyme at all, because I had got used to it by then and taking it away suddenly makes me think something has changed in the subject. But actually the last verse is mainly the same kind of description, so I'm not sure what the change should show.

Btw, if you want others to comment on your writing, it's usually a good idea to comment on theirs too, even if you just say, "Nice ideas (e.g.)" or "Not the style I like". I know that reviewing others' work isn't always that easy, but it helps to encourage them if they think someone is reading it.

...Behind-the-Scenes...

Awww... aren't they adorable?
Sooner than later these beautiful chicks... I meant children
Would soon prosper in this world!!
Coming out of the farm... ehm... "schools"

So, what do you want to be, little man? Little lady?
An athlete? A singer? Whichever you want, dreams sure do come true
All you gotta do is sign... (with your parents consent, but of course)... and the world is yours, baby
Okay... great... let's make us some money!!!
Yes, money, moolla, kaching!
"...psst... is it he adorable becoming a walking billboard... but hey, we can still add more..."
OH YES! KICK THAT BALL, YOU GOT IT, SON!!!
YAAAAY!!! AND THAT'S A GOAL!!!

Now, we have bets, sponsors, cars, glamor, fame, t-shirts... everything that you desire...
What's this?
You're getting older?

Who are you again?

Oh never mind...
"He's not that worth it, to begin with, anyway... we can always get another one..."
"Aww... no worries, we can always sell him to some Saudi guy for some oil money or something"

Aww... look at them again
Well, here we go again, it's time to visit that farm... ehm... "school" once more
Rinse and repeat, baby... and my pockets are filled to the brim
Hahaha, I love my job...

-----------------------------------------------------------

Been meaning to post this, but worried it's a bit long. Mind you, metal is a BIG subject:

Minutes from a multi-disciplinary symposium on ‘what is metal?’

The most traditional and classicists of heavy metal said it all started (and finished) with Zep, Sabbath, Heep, and Purple.
They found it in the blues but turned it into something very ‘eavy and very ‘umble.

The metal historians retorted and said it went back further to ‘Rumble’ and ‘You Really Got Me’,
to show off that loud guitar thing in all its distorted metal glory.

The Prog Metallists said it’s us who keep metal mutating and alive,
all the way from King Crimson to Opeth, possibly from the album ‘Morningrise’ (this led to some heated discussion).

The Thrash Metallers aggressively asserted that they’re the ones who keep the flame full.
Who else is more popular with the mainstream masses and the so very, very cool.

The Black Metal Trve Kvltists blasted with the claim that they took metal back to its very own darkened soul.
They also reminded everyone that Satan is their mate and someone they really know.

The Death Metallers said we’ve taken over and made black metal more intense than anyone has ever known.
At the same time, who else can play tremolo so fast and growl so gruesomely low.

The Doom Metallurgists intoned that theirs is the only true way,
and they will remain committed to following the gospel according to Sabbath until their dying day.

The NWOBH’ers said they tried, to keep the flame alive, but punk, disco, new wave,
and particularly glam and hair metal made it very difficult for them to survive.

The Glam and Hair Metallists took offence to this and screeched we made metal popular to.
But we’d like to have it minuted that we’re sorry for the lame songs and embarrassing poodle hairdos.

The Post Metallers said in a long and drawn-out way, that the future belonged to them,
and a new concept album on this very topic, was likely to be dropped any day.

Fifty years of debate,
with no chance of consensus,
metal rolls on ad infinitum.

This symposium resumes down the pub,
before, during and after reading
Encyclopaedia Metallum.

Apologies gratefully received from the Power, Symphonic, Viking, and Pirate Metallers.
No comms was received from Nu, Fusion or Grunge Metallers. All are busy deciding whether they need to attend the symposium.

Inspirational thanks (and apologies!) to Brian Bilston and his ‘minutes from a multi-disciplinary symposium on “what is love’’ poem.

Someone said a while ago that you were writing very stream of conscious stuff...this one really is like that, it reminds me of the voiceovers in Pink Floyd songs. I couldn't quite work out who the character was, I suppose like a kind of talent agent for children? But at the start he's thinking of the kids as these cute chicks, I didn't think he would have this fluffy view of their development. Anyway, it's pretty interesting, certainly a unique perspective.


Is Brian Bilston the one who keeps appearing on my Facebook feed recently? He does lots of "themed joke poems", if that makes sense. Lots of them are quite clever.

Yours is obviously tailored for metal fans and particularly readers of this website, but it's a pretty good parody of how the symposium might run. I think you've done better than with the last metal one to keep the tone consistent, although the question seems to change as it goes on, from "What is metal?" to "What did we bring to metal?" Again I reckon you could go a bit further with the puns, for instance by using different words for "said" according to the singing style of the genre. Sometimes you've tried this ("black metallers blasted" was good), just that you don't have any conventional poetic features like rhyme, rhythm, metaphor, allusion, so going all out with the language makes sense.

Yes, he's becoming more and more popular as the bard of twitter and well beyond now. He has some great and comedic ideas.

Thanks for the feedback on the above as well. Good point to change 'said' on each of the genres. I'll play with that idea and go all out with the language as you say.

I have a weird one I'll post later, about how I got taken for ridiculous cocktails while being headhunted for a job by my student's mum, but I haven't typed it out yet.

Thanks for commenting... I've been enjoying this sort of poetry because they feel very spontaneous and has more realism to them. About the subject matter, whenever we see dancers, singers, athletes or whatever, we always tend to see things from the outside and the whole Idol thing in Japan or so... we view them like "Aww... look at these cute girls dancing" and all but we never see how cutthroat the business side behind the scenes. Talent agencies feel like farming them to find the next big thing for profits and stuff and once they're done and can't make money out of one individual, they are thrown to somebody else until they find someone else. To make things bleaker, once these young talents grow up, many have a messed up life afterwards. It's quite the dark side of showbiz and all. Going with the fame and fortune on top of the world and the next time, you're flipping burgers in McDonald's and trying to ends-mean or so on.