Poetry

>>9707530
Ive written quite a bit of poetry not in english tho so no real point in posting

>>9707601
Oh, shame, what language I wonder?

I am a
published
poet
ess

>>9707645
Publish something then

>>9707645
Go back to bed, Rupi.

>>9707630
gürman

Yes, but I have written it in Trochaean, my new language in which all sentences and words are trochees. I am like the Chaucer of Trochaean.

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I guess happiness is really just a peppermint
Because apparently, it ain't really permanent
It comes on strong, but it don’t last long
And once it's gone, everything feels wrong
Like..
I’m wishing that I could travel back to the past
Times were simpler, and not so damn fast
I mean it's funny, I thought of every day as my last
Now I'm dead inside, knowing that my future’s trashed
Like...

>>9707866
>poem
>sounds like a shitty logic lyrics
wew lad

>>9707871
I mean, pretty much any string of letters can be considered a free verse poem...

>>9707728
So you shifted a syllable?woiow

U write poetry 200+ pieces so far trying to hone the best 20 or so right now.

She drowns in the sea of my memory
Surrounded by the waves of time
And by half forgotten dreams
That blur recollection's shine
The tyrant of time has struck
And the face of my love is gone
A gem in the ocean of chaos

It is a star too far to see
And yet time has not won
For those beautiful green eyes
Are mine alone
Eyes with the mischievous green
of a fertile, talkative parrot
the simple green of grass
the silent green of the forest

She may be gone, but a remnant I do carry
Of the light of her life, reflected in her eyes

>>9708623
Not bad, but it seems like you're retreading very common themes in poetry that aren't carried by your skill as a writer (yet).

Jet wings black with flight, a
grey chassis of redoubtable
bulk, bobs an inch
testing the air, the jet equipment
mercilessly shoos, carnifex

Its appetite is paltry, with no
attempt to disguise unpleasantness, none
of the inward flagellation
that imbues history with surfeit
possible slippery worlds

and I write this within earshot
of a one-coin conversation, of
that mean-spirited superabundance,
preparing dimly for that bird

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What's Lost at Egegik

The water wraps itself around us all lined here. Striated, imbedded in the flat stream of sightglass water shining back the red, blues, and haze of midnights' sun.
Float in your stomach and set out your nets to catch the overboard women and opium. In the light and against the sky, men do chin ups in the rigging.
Four hours more for the hands to knock against the hull. And call "free life, gone and drown' n it" An upspray they shoot from their mouths, diesel
Along the side and gangplanks the bubbles flit and hover as dry sand adhered to the surface. Dropped into green grocer bags underneath a tarp. Lighter
Gasoline and shuffling, immune to the sift of sand below the soft cliffs, along their water. The town Gump and contractor lifts the polyeurethane
In place of grey boxes of tools, rusted and oily, brown faces look up from the bagged four-wheeler fuel sucked, bag to bag between the two.
With difficulty and with hands run through his curly black hair, elbows against the table top and face to the wood grain: "it was too much for me"
The stretch of sand lay interrupted. Nets and line across and child riding atop. Pilots spotting fish and cops, drop to land. To find an extra set of wheels,
Tangled in their landing gear