Poetry

^ I like 'Roadside structures become wireframes'...

Here's another:

'Exaggerated'

Delicate winds were destroyed in the ascension
And suddenly the warmth became an ugly bruise
A steel collision: a promise
Only so many degrees between fire and urgency
We accept the inadequacy with distress and
Vicious eradication; vitality too openly scrutinized
Our part was masked in cordiality
Cannot repair the facade of calculations

The hope for containment is dead
 
I would like some feedback on this poem.

"The Night Breathes Dreams"

The bricks flash frozen in motion
The cold metal shines
Like moments petrified

Just a step makes an explosion
The sound of a breath shatters the ice
I stop my breath
I stop time

I open my eyes and it owns me
The orchestra of nature plays a waltz
Unnamed, and unending
But not forgotten

I reach the depths of the untouchable
The unknowable comes to me
The night cradles me

The song of night dances me into dreams


I wrote this all about 10 minutes ago.
 
Very colorful language, I'm impressed. It seems to get a little more cliche-ish as it goes on, though - especially the stanza beginning with "I reach into the depths of the untouchable". That part sounds like a lot of pretension without much substance.

That's my 2cp. I think I may like it better than any of the other non-derivative works on this page though (other than mine, of course :p).
 
Just for clarification:

"I reach into the depths of the untouchable" is basically a metaphor for going in the face of, and pursuing things inside the mind which can't be found (touched). "The unknowable comes to me" is receiving new stimuli in the mind that can't be figured out and aren't understood at all. This whole poem is basically about a night I snuck out to clear my head and walked down the streets near my house, then came back and went to sleep.
 
How much it can touch my mind and get it going in whatever way. If it awakens emotions within me, or it paints a picture that sends my mind floating and wandering about or is just plain clever to me.

Like these lyrics from 505 by Arctic Monkeys.

Stop and wait a sec
Oh when you look at me like that my darling
What did you expect
I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck
Or I did last time I checked

Not shy of a spark
A knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark
Frightened by the bite though its no harsher than the bark
Middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start


This tells me about a situation with a break up, or a problem in a relationship. Regret of some sort, at getting her angry because she doesn't want to hurt him, and the offering of reassurance yet with the true uncertainty slipping through. He feels it is falling apart, but wants to hold on yet is at this time uncertain. Also, the tension of it and the fear of damaging anything more, but not wanting to do nothing. And lastly, it's a sadly sarcastic line talking about being unprepared, not being in the right mind for this series of new and complicating events that are happening.
 
but what makes it affect you in that way? i assume it's not simply the themes - i could tell you all those things in the dullest words and it wouldn't have anything like the impact. is there not some particular way of expressing which is conducive to good poetry?

should lyrics aspire to be poetry, or do good lyrics have different qualities from good poetry?

then there's the more overarching question, does 'greatness' go beyond personal preference in any way? can never discuss this one too many times. :D
 
It's the way it is expressed, the metaphors, the way things are put, that make it affect me in that way.
 
i'm bored.

what, to you guys, makes 'great' poetry?

I kind of like how Aldous Huxley put it. I don't have a direct quote, but he basically described literature as an attempt to 'express the inexpressible' - to use words to convey thoughts which go beyond words.

His book Literature and Science refers heavily to a dichotomy between "public" and "private" ideas. Public ideas are those which have concrete meaning that is easily conveyed from one person to another - the purest form of this being scientific language, which essentially seeks to eliminate any possible ambiguity in language.

So on the other end of the spectrum, private ideas venture into the inexpressible, and literary language attempts to bring us as close to those ideas as possible through the use of layered or many-meaninged or highly evocative words and phrases. (An interesting question here is whether there is certain knowledge that is inaccessible to language and reason - perhaps the kind of "understanding" that spiritual gurus or hallucinogen users claim to experience.)

I'd say the same general rule applies to any form of art. Art which goes beyond 'stating the obvious' and can evoke profound, inexpressible notions is, I think, "greater" or "purer" art.
 
It's the way it is expressed, the metaphors, the way things are put, that make it affect me in that way.

well sure, but you're not really saying anything here. what is the way it is expressed, what makes a good metaphor, what's the best way to put things? is there any uniformity to such things or is the effectiveness of anything purely context-dependent?

I kind of like how Aldous Huxley put it.

yeah, i think along those lines. some ideas/emotions/whatever are not catered for by linguistic norms and so require an awful lot of twisting and coaxing out in order to enter the public sphere. put more simply the quality of 'originality' is implied here, as poetry is about expressing what is not - or can not - be commonly expressed. the greatest poets, i suggest, communicate wildly new perspectives with such focus and clarity that we can't help but assimilate them and become something more than we were before. this works on an individual level and a cultural level.
 
Yup. So as far as whether 'greatness' goes beyond personal preference, it's kind of an inherently impossible issue to resolve since the whole measure of this 'greatness' is subjective. I do think, though, that certain people are more in-tune to the realm of private experience than others, and thus can give better 'ballpark estimates' when evaluating art (though we all have limits to our perspective, so we can't really fully grasp every subjective message we encounter). I think there are also certain states of consciousness that can make one more in-tune in this way.
 
way i look at it, greatness quite clearly exists as a concept serving a linguistic purpose, irrespective of whether it corresponds with some transcendent and objective Greatness with a capital G. seems to me that all discussions of greatness inevitably end up discussing what qualities cause something to *pass the test of time*, and that certain people can be better at sussing out these qualities than others. this of course doesn't necessarily provide a reason for an individual to prefer whichever qualities are posited - rather, it is merely a process of describing what the majority over time (and perhaps place?) find to be of most worth.

these days i'm inclined to fight the straight up "it's all opinion" slant if only because it encourages people not to challenge themselves and look at things in different ways; if i hadn't become fascinated by an idea of greatness running through the metal community then i'd probably never have put the time and effort into, say, black metal and fallen in love with it. you get the kinds of people who don't like 'paradise lost' upon a first read, and because they aren't even the slightest bit intrigued by greatness they'll be perfectly content in never reading it again, preferring the way their initial opinion helps define them be an individual with unique tastes. problem with this is that the books that last the test of time tend to genuinely be universal, meaning that with a couple of re-reads and a bit more experience that person would more than likely have ended up really enjoying 'paradise lost'.

my attitude is that whilst i refuse to accept that something i love is bad or something i hate is great just because it has classic status, i'm also aware that some extra experience and effort will in many cases cause my opinion to change significantly, especially where classics are concerned. it's a matter of not being a dogmatic cunt about your opinions, at least until you've approached the book or poem or album in question from a number of different sides.

some new questions then:
how many chances ought a work of art be given?

if it's labelled 'great' should it be given more chances than one that isn't?

is it reasonable to say that when we pigeonhole ourselves into liking certain qualities in art and not others, we are stubbornly clinging to our identities and unnecessarily denying ourselves an array of pleasures outside our little bubbles? is there a solution to this which doesn't involve becoming totally amorphous, as in, giving things an infinite amount of chances and so never committing to a position about anything?

kind of wish id started a new thread for this now haha. maybe a mod could split it or something.
 
“Hymn to War”

Friggin awesome dude !

some good stuff there by Varis and Deva too

I write what I call nursery rhymes for adults... a bit cliche and rhymy. All surface value, nothing much hidden or left to the imagination. Very infrequently, it just happens, I need to be in severe pain or emotionally overwhelmed. I wrote quite a bit around four years ago, I was in turmoil.

Lived Where ?

I’d lived in there all those years
Safe and secure, I had found a warm spot
Within my mind, I’d replay the memories
Forward to the future, onward with the plot

Now I feel it leaving me
The blanket removed, I shutter
Not from cold, but rather a burning
My chest grows heavy for there are arrows in my heart

Where had I lived and what did I give
A sacrifice of time for a safe place in my mind
For what I had gained would all become loss
And all that I missed I can no longer dismiss

I dreamed of that place where I did not live
A substitute for passion that could not forgive
Fighting the truth of a deep burning need
Within my safe place I would only bleed

Now before me I’m face to the wall
Searching and listening I starve for the call
The once mighty warrior who laid down his sword
Stands abandoned of spirit and dizzied by the horde

Where had I lived and what did I give
A sacrifice of time spent appeasing my mind
For all that was gained has now become loss
And all that was missed hides in the meaning
Of that one … forgotten kiss

This is a song, my best song I think, wrote in '92, some of the more poetic parts (the first half) are decent read, some of the others just lyrics that fit the song topic, it doesnt flow well for me trying to read it, I only hear the melody and it was written by the melodys I heard in my head. Its a somewhat progressive song, many parts and moods, no chorus, no repeating verses, a continous movement till the end which finally comes back around to the beginning. Its about the breakup of our band caused by outside forces I could no longer deal with. Might not be good for here but Im proud of the song as a whole so I'll post it. theres some good thoughts in there I think.

- - - - - - - - - - Time Heals / Time Steals - - - - - - - - -
Thinking back … looking ahead
Past controlling future
Stealing the needles thread

Blind ambition … and no ambition
is such a lethal mix
Someone outside looking in said
“That must be how he gets…….. his…… kicks”

Well he said he’d never sell his soul
but had to watch as it was stole
His time eroded mind exploded
as the dream lay quiverin’ on the ground
So he kicked it and slammed the door
…
crushing the dream
…
A leak in the seam

Striving for excellence
Polishing the steel
Following the chosen road
Hanging tight to the wheel

But there are leaders
And there are followers
And for each a man to bring him down
Christ had Judas… Caesar… Brutus
And the Earth reclaims its own
and the time that heals
is the time that steals…
the vitality … from the aging hand


What becomes of the sane man
Ooooooh…….once he snaps ?
He tried to hold it down
But no one cut him slack

Now he’s just the axe man
Aaaaah……That got axed
He’s tried to lay it down
But just keeps turning back

To tired to fight
His dreams fade from site
To proud to lay down
He’s got to bring it back

Climb back up the mountain
To the land of the ice and snow
Cut through the fog
That’s lyin’ low
To hear the roarin’ wind
And feel the sun that warms the bone

…………solo…………

So when the chips are down
You’ve got to hold your ground
And believe
that when you build a dream
You’ve got to follow through
You cant just lay it down
Cause someone tells you to

No you can’t just lay them down !

Tapin’ resource
Polishin’ wood and steel
Stealin’ back….the stolen soul
 
Yeah, right.

Seriously though; I mean, Sappho is basically only recognized for her homo-erotic themes. Other than that, nothing really special about her.
 
Yeah, right.

Seriously though; I mean, Sappho is basically only recognized for her homo-erotic themes. Other than that, nothing really special about her.

Sappho happens to be most divine and one of the greatest poets. I don't associate Sappho with homo themes, I am not sure she was a homo either.

I haven't found any other poetry which I enjoyed. I will check out some mentioned in this thread.
 
Sappho happens to be most divine and one of the greatest poets. I don't associate Sappho with homo themes, I am not sure she was a homo either.

To each his or her own.

Sappho was from the Greek island of Lesbos. The word 'lesbian' is derived from this, due to Sappho's homo-erotic themes in her poetry.

Of course, back then, this wasn't controversial.