February 2012
1 post
5 tags
Submission: Longwater
Day in which Cold bathed,
eyes closed and lips in low hum moaning.
Day not to be lived, but waded through
like dull scissors wade through cotton— Nothing has changed and repeated to myself
the words became too heavy to move
I was still stunned,
however, to see your swimming face
pale amongst the sagebrush students
like some peculiar flower. Bare neck and waterfall
bones, remote and...
January 2012
7 posts
4 tags
Submission: A Number Between 7 and 9
{Open.}
As his wristwatch tolls, dolls out seconds in the silent din of the moment. Ache and uncertainty clash in infinity, spiraling upwards with strained necks, set to sate desire before the eyes of heaven.
I feel there’s an angel in me, whom I am constantly shocking
An angle inside her, perhaps… a path to a scantily clad paragon of virtue, dangling forbidden fruit behind a glass...
2 tags
Percussion: If it's not too much to ask... →
dirtyreggae:
I have a poem I am working on for a poetry competition, and I think I’m almost done (it’s a more edited version of ‘First Draft’). I want to post it on here for you all to read- and this is where my favour comes in: would you be able to tell me if you understand it? Of course, feel free to…
These are some notes I jotted down earlier this morning:
S1: a bit lengthy...
4 tags
Because I suck at going through #the feedback...
The rules:
- Don’t expect a quick response (though I’ll try and be good about it).
- ONE (1) poem at a time, please.
- Don’t stop using #the feedback project!
- It might help to read the article from THEthe posted on my front page, just so you get an idea of where my mind is when I critique.
- This might end up not working as well as I hope, so bear with me while we figure...
4 tags
marcusdelicious asked: Hi, my name is Mark, and I was wondering how I am supposed to submit a poem for you to critique? I wasn't sure if simply putting #The Feedback Project was enough, or whether I needed to write to you personally. If there is some criteria I have to meet to be critiqued, I would really appreciate it if you could either inform me of it or direct me to where I can find it. I'm just a young...
5 tags
hindsightunrequited:
I’ve never seen my eyes so green.
Whoever labelled the colour
with jealousy
seems fairly cruel
but probably correct.
The walls are hollow dividers
and not brick at all
A power tool shrieks blue murder
whilst I smother mine red.
together the room is awash
with aubergine.
My mind blushes an
alternative grey.
The color-scheme idea is holding this together, but...
6 tags
Hours of Wealth: Indian Summer →
brickdaniels:
I can hear the storm outside & the bubbles from a mouthful of cola are making thunderous applause on the inside of my cheek. Sometimes I am worried: am I too serious? Maybe not serious enough I don’t know. Some people expect their poets to be serious or to talk about important things; …
I like some of the lyricism here, and the casual tone. Examples being the...
4 tags
Anxiety
highnotepoet56:
There’s an antsy ache gnawing at my insides, spitting restless poison into my system black bleeds on crimson canvas
Muscles twitch and buzz, I must remember to breathe electric volts spit fire
Jaw clenched and sore, my teeth must be near shattering glass shards splintered red
From the pressure knotting, twisting its roots inside of me, wrapping around my lungs, and tearing...
November 2011
12 posts
10 tags
Your Glass
notamish:
Drink up Your sordid words Of one-way passion. I can’t stand The sharp flavor Of ironic will. Consider time, And how The epic proportions Of infatuation Play your mind. As a simple instrument, Capable of poor melodies With the most miniscule Manipulations. You’re alone With your glass Tonight.
There’s too much reliance on phrases to tell us us what’s going on and not...
4 tags
Power Down
halfhoursonearth:
God
Is drinking bourbon on the rocks
In a run down bar
In the ghetto of heaven
He is alone
Except for the robot waiter
In the corner next to the gents
Drawing a bar chart
Trying to explain to his sole customer
Why some people go this way
And some go that way
The devil walks in
Just before closing time
Orders a virgin bloody Mary
And sits next to God
They sit...
4 tags
E-Day 321: On Six Tender Shots
sonnateers365:
Poetry, if you kill me as I think you might, with a kiss or a sigh, or a God whose sole talent is burning paper, promise you will never use haikus for your fatality, or limericks or sonnets or anything so disgustingly compact. I want to die at the hands of a sestina with unequal stanzas, a murder with six part schizophrenia, German in its manic obsession with rules, the only...
2 tags
Surreal Day
zombki:
Wait, just wait.
Wait until the next day; let this one pass uncertainly,
Let it transition into the next sun versus moon.
Like:
Honey dribbling from a spoon, the embellishments
That have soaked into the ordinary ravines today.
Cloud-suspended:
And feeling of being the silence between two notes.
Feeling time extended as in a train station connection.
Tomorrow the light will gasp...
5 tags
a tour of evenings lost
lightfallsup:
“That’s where I sat with you and
we talked about forever,” she said.
“I remember everything,” he said,
“We sat beneath the roof and watched the snow fall.”
She knew he didn’t know anything
about forever anymore, and
she wondered if he ever did.
He pointed his finger at the entrance to the park.
“That’s where we walked in the rain,” he said.
and she remembered how much he...
6 tags
Life in Six Boxes: Part One
mindthegaptom:
It is a foolish assumption to think
that friends suspended in washable
ink can hibernate through the
nuclear autumn.
On the contrary, it is far more
plausible to stain their thinning
flesh gold, slit their necks
with kitchen knives made blunt
with experience and name the
prophetic scars as gills.
My initial reaction to this piece is that you’re not utilizing...
5 tags
myverymadexistence:
Tonight’s foreground rakes creamed partings, (s)wallowing pounded mallots as a choking yoke. A pendulum is strapped,
intimidation, intimidation—
challenged eyes mock unsteady twitches.
-spit- shredded paper-origami-daunting-losing
winning! (empty pause ll)
The staircase unravels from the tip of my tongue (tickle fickle these tao-wuts like spitting rice at an oboist),
...
4 tags
chroniclingmontax:
perhaps the only reason
we have our vices
is to know
that we still
exist. Because
who can truly
survive off of the apparition
of certainty, when you stop making a difference
and worry that you are close
to becoming noumenal?
If you don’t speak, you are silent;
If you don’t touch, you are distant;
Falling out of existence is so much
easier than it used to be—
...
4 tags
glaucopis:
two motors or more,
the faint smell of someone cooking,
a tree, sleeping on the sidewalk.
.
all of this, while the not-too-hot,
not-too-cold asphalt
.
stares at me, asking:
“What is the sound
of a traffic jam?”
The ending question is a nice idea, though perhaps not as profound as it positions itself (the more pragmatic reader would say, “a lot of cars”). What...
5 tags
E-Day 303: On an Ode to a Mess
sonnateers365:
One day I hope you’ll find this clutter charming, more charming than a grin or recitation of a love poem, more charming than waiting in the rain with an open umbrella or bringing flowers that aren’t roses but still lovely. I’ve done all that
in my head at least, or if not I’ve just misplaced those actions in the mess of it all. I know were’ both supposed to be working at this but...
2 tags
The Vine
oblogetry:
Forward headed upon the vine,
on a bed of shotgun shells / fragments
of an inflicted surge / upon the vine…
a destitute Negro -
left for days to crackle
like the dirt / upon the...
2 tags
Todays Poetry Workshop
oblogetry:
‘Write a work gazing into the mirrior without using the pronoun ‘I’.’
What is convincing
is the lack of servitude
to the commitment of
John Clare, & a muse for black rain.
The weather is brisk. Solid
nouns remain all the same, as if
there was no forecast for dreamscape,
or the eloquent corrosion of seasons.
All that is reflected is
exhausted narcisism; beside it,
a...
September 2011
19 posts
2 tags
Escapism and Wanderlust: Wear Away Winter →
travestyintechnicolour:
Be careful
Do not rejoice too exuberantly
When you note that the leaves on the trees
Are drifting earth-bound to beneath your feet
Though I know this phenomenon bequeaths
To you a very real illusion, a tangible belief
That you’ve at last managed to scale the canopies
So coat your…
The thing holding this poem back the most is the diction. It feels stilted and...
3 tags
This species of madness.: Lovely →
notamish:
On some road, Lined by flowers. And before, I saw them Crushed where they stood, In my own Desperate rush, To get the hell Away from here. I really thought I’d want to be anywhere else. But I guess Im stuck in the web That is this atmosphere. I’m oddly happy here. And hell, I feel like picking…
One of the bigger issues I find with this poem is the lineation. 2-4 word lines...
6 tags
Untitled
indolenteyes:
I am tired of
writing of seasons of writing
of love and reasons my
soul and fingers ache for words that shouldn’t
be wasted on lowercases and
capitals and capitols of
nations where artists are carving and
children are starving and unaware
of how I could be
complaining
for
anything but
food.
You know, this poem at first didn’t work for me at all. But I gave it a...
4 tags
Dentistry is my weakness
youhavebeenwatching:
I hate the hole in my lip.
Not the one from that blue ring piercing
on a resort party summer.
The one I bit.
With my rough cut canine
over my lower jaw’s felled tooth,
back-set, pushing my tongue.
Will it be permanent?
That’s what I want to know.
Like these brown-flecked molars and their dissidents
now that I can’t get rid of them
where a shark could,
having...
4 tags
Conviction
chroniclingmontax:
There is a place inside of me,
Out of reach of dime-point wisdom,
A place where truth and sophistry,
Face off like a maelstrom.
And I’m splashing amongst the waves,
Circulating around a not-so-imaginary-drain,
Foam generating from my mouth-cave,
Perilous depths to submerge my brain,
Here, sounds don’t exist above thunder-claps,
And joy is a chance to gasp for another...
7 tags
writtenbymshairi:
Ending my days with warm bubble baths feels just right
Candle lights
And the sound of planes taking flight
In my head
Dead
Of the night
Dead
Would feel just right
-
Flowing into a new day with luke warm aqua
Champagne within the walls of my neck
Tread carefully
Vulnerable and slight
Am I…
Over you?
Not quite
See, ending my days with warm bubble baths feels just...
4 tags
californiacougar:
I love you most with dawning veins,
when the sleep lies
powdered upon your stilled lashes.
I love you most with dawning veins,
when verses tender and whispered
float from mouth to ear.
I love you most with dawning veins,
when arms cling to
deep breaths and quiet, thumping hearts.
I love you most with dawning veins,
when Resentment rests a
horrid head upon the
bedroom door,...
1 tag
Who else is providing feedback?
How/where do you provide it? I would love to see other critiques, but Tumblr does not make it easy to see
5 tags
highnotepoet56:
I cry for peace- but in crying, peace flies away on wings of a dove, scared of my voice. I long to be shielded by the night but kissed by its stars. Perhaps I search for meaning in the meaningless. Something in the nothing. Or perhaps, it is the opposite.
The middle stanza is a nice little couplet (though you shouldn’t be italicizing it — we don’t need visual...
5 tags
Day 36 - 8/31/11
dappershark:
Dragons
i am no longer a child, and this is
painful; the cessation
of motivation and the lethargy of those
who know where they are (LI) who they are (KB) but not
how to be someone different; pretense
is now fake smiles and the clink of champagne,
when it used to be a crown of ivy leaves and
chain mail of tin foil.
high heels and flashy dresses,
i shake hands, smiling like adults do,...
5 tags
The Lazy Lazarus: A Comment on Ritual →
thelazylazarus:
Arbitrary collections of matter sit in a circle, cross-legged, prepared for a ritualistic sacrifice: In the centre a woman, young & nude, appears. Her beauty is more than one could believe, a gorgeousness blinding: all those who perceive didn’t ever think such a being existed in reality. Her…
The last stanza is good, but needs a poem stronger than this to be as...
1 tag
Writers
true-nature:
Can someone send me a link to the original post for #the feedback project? I want to play.
I’m too lazy to go back through all my liked posts and find it, but it’s pretty much a place for writers to have their work critiqued by other writers and vice versa. Any work tagged with #the feedback project is up to be looked at in with a critical eye (critical not meaning...
5 tags
My Very Mad Existence: Trace, trace,whispered the... →
myverymadexistence:
Trace, trace, whispered the fingertips in synchronized flow. It has been eons since I’ve noticed the beads of slick rain streaks race against each other down the car’s windowpane.
Stress, stress, murmured the bones in their own symphony of creaking. Clashed against marrow, they have matured in…
This has potential, but needs a bit of cleaning up. In the first...
4 tags
Sonnateers 365: E-Day 248: On Fading In →
sonnateers365:
You talk about hiding like a frightened
child until your tongue retreats to dark
and solitary rooms as you have done countless
times. I’m sorry but some things are just inherently
conveyed in shafts of light. They can be done
softly you know, like hard love letters left tenderly
on vacant…
You have some great lines here: “some things are just inherently/...
3 tags
greater things than these.
pilgrimsoulinme:
Mary grew tired against mortar. Sanguine laughter poured from her hands, clinging to tempered comfort in sandstone and grit. Virile censure bore regality from bartered sensuality with cuckolded boulders and prophetic wheezing. She knew she was meant for greater things than these.
Starch shrieks into fall and maples shiver in between.
I’m a bit conflicted on...
3 tags
Ulj-Niee
lostwritings:
She is finite
and infinite
She held my hand
when i was balanced
She whispered in my ear,
asked me to bend over
the universe,
and throw in the world
the remains
of my regrettable lack of life
Found the garden,
saw the light
Thanks
“Asked me to bend over/ the universe” is a good line — nice image that sums up the mood of the poem accordingly....
6 tags
come, let us get lost (like others before us [in a...
thelazylazarus:
come, let us get lost
in each others languid pools;
us, as mother mary, toss’d
into some divine device, we fools —
we have sunk, sunk, sunk
& it is here we find ourselves;
ourselves, reverent monks
ready always to dive
into each others minds, the pearl;
here is us, we watch, as it swirls.
I like this, but feel that some of the diction stands revision to make it...
6 tags
My Very Mad Existence: Flocks of admirable... →
myverymadexistence:
Flocks of admirable nature seeks the few tendrils that will release its locks to her soft petals. He probes and cleans his teeth and smile, in hopes to persuade the ingenuous stem to waver with the correct measurable amount of wind. She, Nature, ceases the snarky paradoxes, piling them into …
There’s this strange undercurrent of fable-esque narrative going on...
5 tags
Mind the Gap, Tom.: Gap Project: Subterfuge →
mindthegaptom:
A bottle of off-white milk curdles
in time with the solemn quadrille
of the deplorably fertile, a mere
two inches too idle for the slaughter.
They say you hear the swallows debating
the importance of immorality with the corpses
through six feet of…
I’m not the authority on what makes a good Gap poem, but as far as I’m concerned this is pretty good and...
5 tags
E-Day 243:On Wingspans
sonnateers365:
I suppose I was always a fool when it came to metaphysics. I could never stomach
theories of the ethereal in a bell
jar, spirits just human dragonflies that seduce with a certain kind of
light trapped
in their constantly beating wings. I get nauseous thinking we can only examine our
perpetuation by nailing them to a plane of glass, sketching limbs
of twitching antimatter....
10 tags
August 2011
69 posts
5 tags
UnSpecialArt: Nothing Matters When We're Dancing... →
unspecializeart:
Be with me at least
to caress my remains floating in a tub of warm
water, cloudy, like
the fever dreams of unshaved female
trunk
because when the shower curtain slid open, I expected the person calling
to be standing there.
-
At that moment at least
push my name off your tongue
do not…
For the most part, I like this poem. Well, the first half of this poem....
6 tags
Mind the Gap, Tom.: Fragments of a Lighthouse →
mindthegaptom:
Her curled toes hang
curiously over the
crumbling precipice of
Antagonistic confluence,
daring emotion.
Eyes, green with the
reflection of a lover’s
discrepancies, flash
Silent warnings to
Passing fleets of sloops
while white sails wave
In this poem, I find this tension between its well-done pacing and rhythm and its overabundance of alliteration. For example, there...
3 tags
Paper Shapes & Atmosphere: Places And Movement... →
ivanscutt:
A conscious and elegantly singular point, pirouetting against the completed absence. A point of infinite beauty, similarly unfolding. sliding through only distance, flooding serene and embryonic spheres. A vast pillow of continuous branches, curves upon curves, stars on stars until those lights…
It all reads nicely, but I’m not sure what exactly is being said. Not in a...
7 tags
murdermile: pinpricks →
six-little-milk-teeth:
Ink drips in bruised hues of black and blue she brought this on herself the sick banana slick sin coloration on top of grape-skin concoctions of intoxicated imperfections - it’s her own fault pinpricks of the sick she sneezed, she bleeds incoherency from her pores of disbelief you…
The thing that’s really slowing this poem down is the almost...
4 tags
come/go
ladykushplease:
People seem to want to find my seam
and pick at the threads.
They want to open me down the middle
and climb inside and fashion
themselves comfortable,
pinching the edges closed.
When they’re finished, when they’ve
seen so much that my important
blurs with my trivial,
they discard of me somewhere,
and sometimes, they don’t even try to
sew me back up.
You’re...
3 tags
juncttion:
cocked moonlight show me your face
show me the delicate of gone wind and the subtle wrist of purity
tell me all that you hear through your eyes
oh moon please
oh the time here, time talk to me
convulsing in my own waste, I’m always here
restless in mud and wasted in years
collecting only dust
wind come and move me slow
let me down in a hurricane and break my face
I know I’d...
7 tags
haiku about haikus
writtenbymshairi:
everything I want
to say is in syllables
of five seven, five
But what have you said? If you’re going to try and use a form as precise, economic, and biting as a haiku, why would you waste half of them describing what a haiku is instead of actually saying what you want to say? I don’t intend that to be mean, I mean it as a serious question: why talk about form...
5 tags
Silently Outspoken: Written Aug. 28th, 2011 →
inthemidstofmythoughts:
After the glass falls and breaks,
No matter how much you try to fit the pieces back together,
The cracks are still there„„
The glass is weaker in its form ..
It is no longer the same strong, firm glass….
I can no longer withstand as much pressure as it did the first time around..
It…
What you’ve done here is drawn out your metaphor, broken glass as broken...
3 tags
happymonk:
Towards the ends of the world
such as no mortal ever dreamed
full of miracles and marvelous colors
the end, excited me.
The moon in bloom
Falling like rain
billions of flowers
fell into the void
where consumed by shadows
getting so big, getting so enormous
that one tiny, unbroken heart remained
and it cracked the whole cosmos
until nothing remained.
Intentional or...