People express themselves in different ways. Music. Art. Things like that. Today is going to be focused on poetry. Welcome to Lovely's Letters! Where I try to revive forums with my friendly tips and interactive threads! This threads theme: POETRY Poetry is not a simple 4 line ryhming thing, nor is it something that you can learn overnight. Poetry can actually be very difficult for a lot of people. Word choice, sounds, patterns, subject, these are all important things to think about when writing or reading poetry, but thats not it. Words can impact your poetry a lot. Say you talk about throwing rocks into a lake. Rock is a hard word, you think of a ragged and jagged edged block of mineral. Stone is a softer word, is much smoother. But, this thread is not to teach you about the art of poetry. But to hopefully become a workshop area. Please feel free to post your own poems, or post your favorite poems. Keep in mind: The subject of the poem is NOT always the author. They could be persona poems, or about someone they know, or not anyone they have even heard of. Poetry is not a observation of the person writing. A person who writes about alcoholism is not writing about THEIR alcoholism. A person who writes of abuse is not writing about THEM being abused, or being abusive. Do not judge anyone's actual being off anything said in a poem. To ensure this threads success, please follow these rules: 1. No Trolling/Flaming 2. Do not insult anyones poetry. This thread is not going to turn into a bash. You can state opinions on how to improve, or state which parts of the poem you dislike. But do not say things such as "Omg that poem sucks ass.", etc. 3. Keep all poetry within ToU and RaC. 4. Make sure your poetry is labeled with an author. If you post a favorite poem written by someone else, give their name some credit. If you are posting your own, make sure thats labeled. 5. When showing a favorite poem, please tell us why its your favorite. This also goes for posting your personal poems. Feel free to give us insight on your thinking, and what the poem is about. Ill post a poem of mine, as well as a favorite poem to get things running. My favorite poem: The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. -Carl Sandburg This is my favorite poem because of the first line, and the last. I feel these are the most important parts. It forms a perfect statement. The fog comes, and then moves on. I think he did this in representation of life. Things happen, but you have to move on. Everything that happens in between, while important, is not defining. My personal poem: Losers in Love The best thing in life is being alone. No people to bug you, no children to cry. No one to obey, or to grieve when they die. Alone in the school, some time to think. Alone at the house, some quiet to sleep. No one to eat with, no one to care. No one to protect you, if something scary is there. Antisocial disease, crippling you downward onto your knees. You pray for some help, and help finally comes- In the shape of a someone, who had the same song sung. You like the same things, you like the same sounds. You sleep the same way, and walk the same grounds. Two losers in love, and you can finally see. The world is not as annoying as it once seemed to be. I wrote this in my creative poetry class. The assignment was to pick a title from the list on a handout that she gave us, and I chose "Losers in Love". It's supposed to be about this person who was withdrawn, and who liked to be left alone most of their time. They took comfort in the quiet that was their solitude. But as time goes on, they find themselves missing the social aspect of life, when they meet this person who is exactly like them, and they find so many other things in common, and they get over wanting to be alone, together. Cheesy, yes. I know. But I quite like the thought. Feel free to post any material you want workshopped as well. I'll be watching over this thread and making sure it stays friendly. Good luck and Happy Writing!
I was wondering.. Can I ask questions in this thread?.. I have tried making a poem upon reading this, but when I showed it to someone, they pointed out a grammatically incorrect line. Though at first I knew that some poems can be grammatically incorrect (if the author intentionally used it for creative purposes), but if the line is something like this, "See where the stars used to," like, it really ended with a period, then a new line expresses a new thought, does it sound incomplete? Or should I share the whole poem itself? I was disappointed when I noticed it because it has a rhyming pattern, and for the first time I tried restricting the syllables for that poemš (though, the poem are only made of two stanzas, it's a bit difficult with restricted syllables). Also, (if I'm allowed to ask further), do you think cliches are acceptable in poems? In terms of stories (novels, novellas, short story, etc.) they are usually unaccepted unless you can make something unique out of it. But if I used a commonly used symbol to symbolize something in my poem (sky, rain, birds, night, etc.), would it be fine?.. I never knew how free (or restricted) the poems tend to be around cliches, as it is kinda made fun of in our past poem-making activities (because of how easy and common it is).
As the author, you can write it however you want. Your poem can have that line, it sounds fine to me. cliches are also fine. Itās a narrative. You direct the narrative. Post your poem and I can try to workshop it a bit if you want!
Ok.. Here goes nothing.. Tonight Dim may be the sky, Dark may be the day, Heard may be the cries, Of where life had lay.. Look up, little child, See where stars used to. Their presence are mild, But tonight, look through! - AVentura123 The sky represents the environment, day represents one's experiences, cries represent others' experiences (which we heard from, others), and "where life lay" is basically, the overall conclusion of how bad our lives had been. But the second stanza calls out to the inside of us, the one who still hopes for good things to come, and the one whom others called "the good within us" (thus, called child). However, the second line is vague since, I wrote it without thinking, and my intuition greatly approves it for some reason. Either way, I guess it can be open for other interpretations. As for me, it reminds me of the small good things that we did, which are usually outshined by shinier stuff (like what the sun does to the stars). The third line describes that. But, in the dark times that we have now, it is one of those "small" stars that lit up the night (aka the stuff that still makes the world a better place than what we have expected).. And thus the last line (look through the darkness, and see the small shining stars). (It's a bit awkward explaining each line, since I've never seen a poet who actually explained their poems lol. But such chattiness helped me in writing essays š. Also, a question: does explaining everything breaks the magic in poems? You know, their mysteriousness or something..)
I see what you mean. While Iām used to shortened stanzas, I think part of your own self doubt it in may be solved by enlongating your lines a little bit. explaining your poems at all can be very awkward, let alone line by line. I think you did a fine job though. It doesnāt break the magic, it allows more people to experience it.
Thank you for the adviceš I knew that poems can have different rules (and have seen some wild poems out there), but, this time I tried making a poem out of the classical rules (rhyme pattern, and constant syllable)... But I suppose I constricted the syllables too much for someone inexperienced in it.. Like meš .. Also, would you mind another poem? I made another one, but this time I gave myself freedom (by completely getting rid of the syllable rule, except if it's way too longš ). But, I kinda find the style inconsistent, which bothers me this timeš (either that, or I misjudged it)..
I would love to see it! Counting syllables for a stanza is hard. I prefer righting my poems so it sounds like it matches. A lot of my poems could be songs
I think I am mostly interested in poetry due to my interest in writing songs. The only missing part is actually making the music lol.. Here's the poem and explanation btw.. Crossroads in Planks As I stood in between, The roads ahead forked, The paths in the end, unseen, I'm, in middle of life's sword. Shall I head to danger? Shall I head to pressure? Shall I head, where? I was never truly sure. Yet, the longer I stay here, The deeper the wound. Though future is to fear, The edge is coming soon. So, I blindly walked, Into the way, of what? Is this what I sought? Did I miss my true path? Life can be a plank, Or a buzzing car. Walk, and be blanked, Or rise like a star. But as for me, All these crossroads, they're mere fantasy, Of dreams' gold. I hardly payed attention, For gold, is not what I longed. It's too long to describe per stanza, but some lines were plain and simple metaphors anyway. The first four stanzas described how someone has difficulty in choosing a life-changing decision. However, the longer that person remained undecided, the deeper the consequences of his lack of action (thus the "deeper wound"). Plus, the "edge" symbolizes a factor that ultimately forces him to decide (for example, finally being in front of a long line even though you haven't decided which meal to buy, or your deadline for a project is near, but you still haven't chose a partner for it). And then, when he finally decided, he find himself lost again. The fifth to the last summed up his conclusions, that life can either bring you nowhere, or into success. But he realized that his crossroads were actually a bit ambitious just to reach success, even though, he himself wasn't that interested in having huge success. It's a bit more narrative than usual, but sometimes that's just how I write poemsš (but, I accept criticism, because sometimes I unconsciously lean into stories). And also, I knew some of the rhymes were a bit off but, sometimes I can't help it š...
I wrote this while in prison. Its called: Life In The Pen I write with the hope of a better tomorrow. I hold tight to this pen thats filled up with sorrow. There's anger, there's love, there's tragedy in its tip. It all comes out while this pens in my grip. The words come out erratic, staining the page. My heart tears open when this pen starts to rage. All these feelings i keep bottled deep inside I put on display when my ink drips and dries. Torn in two by the words that i wield My pen is the sword The paper a shield. Clashing and clashing, the metal strikes wood. The fight never ending, Wouldnt stop if i could. Adamant, i have a passion that burns. Capturing creativity in every moment that turns. Conjuring visions as the tapestry unfolds The ink breathing life into stories untold. The whole of my vitality is contained in this pen. For who i am without is the man i am within.
Scouring the forums up and down, Until I come across this thread that I've found. In it wrapped up so short and sweet, Are words of impression that delight my cheeks. Arranged like an iridescent night sky, Or like a piece of music - a dreamy lullaby. Nothing less is an art so true, And nothing more I would give than to share it with you.
Ok yall the street poet is back. Poetry should come from a feeling. The mysteries of the heart are the greatest in the known universe. This comes from the heart. Ill let it speak for me. These thoughts run deep with seductive malice Down the rabbit hole feeling like Alice Enchanted and Spellbound we are lost in the plot. Is this destiny? Or something we sought? Divine maddness and lust Twin flames that burn. The charms of madness around every turn. Take you in my arms ill never let go Or love is true is all that i know. Tides of passion drown me in bliss No one ever said it would lead to this Two flames become one by the act of a kiss. Your lips and mine, twin flames catalyst. Down the hole deeper, Is the end in sight? I could just quit and give up the fight? Lay down my will and exit the light. These thoughts that i have, I know they are not right. Down we go deeper, Divine maddness in tow. Is this the end? I hope you say no. In the wonderland of love we build our palace, Lets conquer the world you'll be my Alice
To be kissed by moonlight And caressed by stars, Draped in darkened blue, Dancing from Jupiter to Mars To be found by the light of the moon And loved under a blackened sky. Let the sun forget about me It never heard me cry. Because there's something special about moonlight, Like it was made just for me, Because no matter how bad things are, I have the moon as company
Hey yall the Street Poet is back for good. I love poetry and philosophy. I love art in all forms. This one is called.... Dreams, fears, and change. The dream is over Truth take's hold A new reality sets in. I have a day It draws near I can finally see the end. I set my chains aside To never be bound again. Body, soul, and mind I possess the keys. So i unlock the doors of truth To finally be set free. I fear the comfort Of the skin i used to wear. i fear getting lost within myself And having no one there who cares. I fear the streets and i fear The Game, And the blissful sting of a broken vein. I fear how easy it is to forget That even conquered demons still remain. In the sea of absolute worst I choose to look within. Seeling enlightenment and growth Through vigilant introspection. I find all of my demons Each time i see my reflection. They must be chained or destroyed With no mercy employed. Absolutly no exceptions. Some battles ive lost But my war has been won. I bare the proof As scars upon my heart. Like a soldier returning home Ive earmed my brand new start. Let me know what yall think please. Of you like writing and poetry or art hmu and we can chat. Ima explain where this came from.
I love this one. A few lines sound kinda wordy which disrupts the flow a bit but I still enjoy the phrases each time.
This piece clearly took thought and has deeper meanings. It took me a little bit to find the rhythm of it, for a second I thought there wasnāt one, (which is fine, not all poems need rhythm.) One of the things that bugs me is the inconsistency of the proper grammar. Some places have it, some places donāt. Usually in a piece that has imperfect grammar, itās consistent throughout, as it is itās own style/meaning. But itās too inconsistent in this piece. Probably some minor editing would fix it to match but itās your poem, so however you like it. I would love to hear about the deeper explanation!