I want to share some of my poetry here. I love getting positive feedback and general analysis/thoughts, so feel free to give that in this thread for any poem I add (or don’t, that’s ok). NOTE: I do consider constructive critique to be separate from that, so please don’t supply any criticism or suggestions on what to do better unless I specifically ask for it per poem.
I encourage others to put their own poems here too! I love reading others’ poetry and giving feedback and thoughts myself!! Please do put the rules of “engagement” on your poetry if you choose to join me–if you simply want to share it without anyone commenting, if you want only positive compliments, or analysis, or critique, or whatever else.
Content notes are appreciated too if you feel like your poem deals with sensitive or triggering topics (many…MANY…of mine do), and you can put them under a Hide Details element if you want too.
For now though I will start with a cute poem (if you don’t have much to say about it that’s ok, it’s short!)
Honey
I pour honey in my tea
And let it steep too long
I have weak taste buds, you see
I need it sweet and strong
Though purists tend to frown at me
For brewing indiscreetly
I don’t much care for subtle tea
I’ll make it stronger, sweetly
Can we make this a prompt/inspiration poetry thread too? The other one I used died and now I’m poetry-deficient
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@SomeOne2
Piearts’ starts a poetry thread
And Max Fog thinks I must be dead.
But I’m still here, though…
A lim’rick? Here you go:
The first one that popped in my head.
First, stop all
the clocks in your mind
with hands that point accusingly
at all the time you’re wasting
doing stupid things like
reading romances, massaged by soap bubbles
or lighting candles to melt in their scent.
Aren’t there more important things,
they shriek in alarm,
than the breeze that dances through your hair,
or cherries kissing your lips?
You must
fend off the tocks and ticks
that jab and prick, stabbing
at every smile and sigh slipping out.
How can you love, when
wound and wounded so?
Second, spit out
the thick sludge spoonfed
into your lungs, roiling with
sticky poison; the dreck and dregs of
hatred; acid-burning the bronchi
until you can only cough out, Unlovable, unlovable;
until all you exhale
is chemical smoke,
doubling over as you drown in
its toxic message.
You must
cut them off, these plastic words
that tighten round your neck like soda rings.
How can you love, when
choking on the very idea?
Third, pry off
the burs and brambles that snag you,
the dry leaves that leave you
caught in sleep, buried beneath sheets
like a cadaver.
The mud and soil that lie heavy on your limbs
lie and tell you there is nothing more
to want or make or do;
let you lie there, sinking into the frozen earth
until you forget what growing means.
You must
shake off the dirt
that grinds in your joints and reminds
you just how hard moving is.
How can you love, when
it only gathers dust?
Last,
once you have healed in silence,
once you have breathed in peace,
once you have awakened in light,
it’s quite easy to fall freely
into the arms of love.
Just remember to catch yourself
when you do.
Speaking of limericks, you probably remember the Limerick trilogy: Limerick Quest from IFComp 2020, Limerick Heist from IFComp 2019 and Limerick Night from Ectocomp 2019.
Don’t tell my colleague Tom about the limericks. He published a book of 100 ‘lewd’ ones about a year ago. He still insists on texting the occasional one every time he makes a sale!
The last thing you’ll want is him turning the forums blue!
Hello!
This is one of the poems I wrote recently. It’s about loss and conflict!
What a brutal night it was, bruised and desolate,
as the bittersweet feeling of you being gone
left us bones and decimate.
Such a burden I feel, it renders my mind deprecate
of realising my absence from your burly eyes,
your burly opinions, your burly character, it
makes me desperate.
You never responded to that last message,
leaving me blighted, forcing me to obliterate
myself from any other baffling destruction that surrounded me.
And the blaring echoes of your voice at night made me isolate
them in my mind
That buzz, that fear of forgetting your voice rendered me abate
in doing everything.
When will time pass?
And like a brumal forest in October,
water floating, whispers gloating
We’ll meet again.
yeah no one seemed super interested in engaging with this topic so I didn’t keep it going lol. interesting poem tho thomas, I like the usage of bromal and other interesting vocab.
I wrote a sestina and formatted it into a brochure a few years back, if people wanna give thoughts or compliments
Specifically, how it works as both “subtle tea” and “subtlety”.