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/lit/ - Literature / Fanfic / Poetry

M-my hands are w-writing on their own~!
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The Uboachan Dream World MUD is back online, sorry for the downtime.

File: 1376470562797.jpg (6.58 KB, 250x250, 1334693465107.jpg)

 No.383

Poetry Thread

Find Poem,
Like Poem,
Share Poem,
Critique.
Repeat.

Write poem:
Long poem,
Short Poem,
Good Poem,
Bad Poem.
Post poem.
Hate Poem,
Hate self,
Repeat.

 No.385

a thousand greek statues oozing robitussin;
exact feelings dissipate and wash away
like rain water over tinted car windows.
What had it ever meant to find beauty in things?
or to have loved women, when long ago
I chased the fairy of the Rappahannock
and was cursed to never touch one again -
does it mean that even though I have fingers
I touch within the empty space in my throat?
In forests, the blurring green is a love potion
and the feel of wood reminds me I exist
in the short spasm of a dream. So why
does it upset me, the intimacy of others?
Why does rain water trickling down a leaf
upset me? It’s because my eyes are only holes
and my lips are the ending point of my words,
and my hands are only meant to touch stone.
Dionysus himself once in drunken revelry
saw an alien world made up of sand and milk
and he cried. I likewise, born with a mother,
have peaked vacation homes of purple stars -
where the water’s strange; no one goes there
but to exhaust a part of themselves.
To become tired… to become very tired
I have walked the fructose-glazed road into the stars;
I fear I will never again be the same.
I long for the dreamy touch of the sky.

I live in the vast ketamine landscape of color
as a short spurt of love. Forever

 No.389

Another round stone on the pile,
weighing bone down to the mile
we walk around the holy ground
and pray for the gentle sound of relief
from punishment for disbelief.
With legs bent until knees touch dirt
and forehead pressed deep on the earth
our ears slow a soft quickness:
"Bow low, ask forgiveness."


poetry is gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

 No.390

The shadows have foretold,
Her eyes, lost it's luster gold.

She was like everyone, just completely innocent,
But her curiosity led her into something malignant.

She soon felt the draining of her kindness,
And replaced with something frightening: Madness.

She was no longer the kind child of forgiveness,
It was no thanks to the influence of the lord of darkness.

"D̢͘o̕͜n'͏͘ţ͜͞ ͠͝t̴hi̶ńk̕ ͏̵҉th̨҉at̢ ̴͢i̶͜t̶'̡͘s̸͞͝ ̸́o̷v̨̨͘e͏̷r̸̨ ͢y̧͢͝e̸̢t͟,̵̛̕ ̴́͢l͜iţ̷͝t҉lé̀ ҉s̶͜p͞͡a͏w͢n̡.
T͜h͝e̸̶ ̴͞f͏҉u̡ń h͜͏a̕s͜ ҉̶on͜l̷͞y͠ ̡͘͡j҉̧ù̢́s̵t̡͡҉ ͜͠b̛eg̛̀u̧̕͘n͜͠."

 No.392

Creature of the id
mindless as it is

Clarity to it's hungry eyes
Grafted from the mortal mind

into existence she was wrought
if only as a thinking thought

A heart of fire
And claws of iron

Harbinger of all desire!

My master!
My queen!

Dormilia!

 No.394

The birds have vanished in the sky,
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and I
until only the mountain remains.

 No.395

雷や パソコンの前 に寝ていた
thunder!
i was sleeping
before the computer


an open textbook
waves wash away
the lines in the sand

 No.402

File: 1380767837006.gif (495.22 KB, 500x281, 1378197227755.gif)

the special snowflake
that grows big in the winter
dies quickly in the spring
:^)

 No.948

File: 1631222598635.png (5.77 MB, 1920x1200, ClipboardImage.png)

There is some really good stuff in this thread. Shamelessly necrobumping, hopefully some more people will post. Here's one of mine from this year.


Shallow Voice
- - - - - - - - - - - -

Do you remember back before your heart
Was covered with with beautiful snow?
Something warm and priceless died with her.

And marching softly onward since that time,
You’ve been spending your whole life to find
The music fit to complement
The shallow voice down below.
The brightest parts of you went chasing after her.

It’s cold down here, so bring a warm coat.
See how the snow can sparkle like that lost flame,
Brilliantly, under the subtle glow of that remaining light.

 No.949

>>948
Necro bump with pride. Im glad there is a poetry thread, I write them often.

 No.954

File: 1647056126205.png (2.71 KB, 500x250, Oekaki.png)

The best of us, are hard to come by.

They aren't many, they aren't few.

They shut themselves in, but there are glimpses.

With heads down, quietly cutting through a crowd.

Avoiding eye contact.
Nervous glances at the floor, during inquisition.

We laugh at them, ridicule.

They grow resentful.

We shun them.

They lash out.

We demonize them.

They are the most human out of all of us.

Alone, they dance.
Alone, they gaze at the night sky, more stars in their eyes than there are suns above them.

They look down on us.

We are
Self destructive.
Self hating.
Self annihilating.

Leave us to our own devices.

"The meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of
Peace"

 No.956

>>383
The egg whence I came, and eat eggs do I;
O, praise to products animal! to Milk
That quenches thirst, and blankets drench; revive!
To yogurt, cheese; fermented things abound,
rebuilding, building life—thus roots ‘ll ‘round!
the Lord, on fasts, observes and reconciles
Produce from meat; of course, the Grain from chaff.

 No.958

ROT MOTHER RAT CLOT
BILE STONE APE MOSS
FIZZ LEMON BLEED MIST
DRAIN PRIEST GOLD CRUST
FLOOR BOARD CAT PUSS
DUST DUST DUST DUST
WHITE FRUIT PELICAN GRASS
VINE POND CLOUD CLIFF
EYE GLAZE AGE AIR
LAVENDER THROAT SKIN TEAR
SKY RED BONES BARE
SEX ROT SCUM PUSS
GORE PISS FUCK LUST
RABBIT SPREAD CUT RUST
DUST DUST DUST DUST



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