>poem has a traditional rhyme scheme

Free form is for gay boys with no talent who want to express their "feelings"

I cadence in Latin, no rhyme scheme.

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>poem is just the ramblings of an ironic faggot

>poem rejects phoenetics

>>7878929
>iPhone autocorrects phonetics to phoenetics

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>poetry

>>7878907
Why are you so gay, OP? Alexander Pope got more girls than you ever will.

>>7878907
would you
prefer
it to be
just ramblings
with intermittent linebreaks
to make
it look
deeper
deeper
deeper?

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>>7878907
op is a faggot
whose dad didn't bag it

>>7880150
i prefer my poems formless and my dichotomies false

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>"poem" is actually just prose

>>7880286
Would eat

>>7880292
dichotomies only being true or false is a false dichotomy

>>7880150
No. It needs some sort of meter, even if it's a loose one. It should still sound pleasant to listen to. Strict rhyme schemes now are almost always cringe-worthy. The Romantics were fantastic at it, yes, but Romanticism ended a long time ago.

>>7880902
It's nice to see poets brave enough to use them, but most of the time if you use a strict rhyming scheme you're either writing formulaic stuff for middle class children or you're going to be taken for one.

>>7880917
It can still work well, but it's exceptionally rare.

>>7878909
Underrated post

>>7880646
what else can they be?

>>7878933
>not iPhonetics

>>7878909
Correct post

>>7881034
the real true dichotomy is between the true and the not-true, and some autismos thing there exist not-true things that aren't false

>>7878909
This

>>7880938
>>7880917
Here's something I wrote a while ago. What do you think?

When Atlas shrugged and gazed at what he’d wrought—
A clod of clay in million shattered shards,—
A keening cry from billion throats was caught.

A thousand wars to quarter clay were fought
By men whose names had died unkissed by bards
When Atlas shrugged and gazed at what he’d wrought.

When all the human wisdom mind can plot
Surrendered to the ignorance it guards,
A keening cry from billion throats was caught.

Made brick and stone from hazy mists of thought,
Collapsed to dust the obelisk of cards
When Atlas shrugged and gazed at what he’d wrought.

When sea spilled out, the russet soil a clot,—
A barren mass of grey that rain bombards,—
A keening cry from billion throats was caught.

And thus the elder race of men was blot
From history, their towers and boulevards,
When Atlas shrugged and gazed at what he’d wrought—
A keening cry from billion throats was caught.

>>7878933
>he uses an iPhone
When will this meme end?

>>7883245
never

>>7882704
Lovely except for the fact you sacrifice grammar and repeat words unnecessarily (and not in a hendiadytic way) - 'the human wisdom mind'

>>7882704
Whoa. That's really good