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  • Showing only topics with the tag "poetry". Back to normal view
    1. Poetry Machine (project)

      The concept It's a box that contains a receipt printer and an interface with several buttons. A user would press a button that reflects their emotional state (happy, sad, anxious, etc.), then the...

      The concept

      It's a box that contains a receipt printer and an interface with several buttons. A user would press a button that reflects their emotional state (happy, sad, anxious, etc.), then the machine prints out a more-or-less appropriate poem on a receipt printer, beautifully formatted and embellished with simple artwork.

      It could be occasionally repurposed for certain themes, like Pride Month to print out queer poems.

      I want to place it someplace public and well-trafficked, like Dolores Park or on Castro Street.

      Feedback

      I like poetry. The idea of a (free) vending machine that gives me a poem to uplift my day excites me. But I wonder if this appeals to others enough to be worth fully realizing. I don't want to spend time and money building something that'll go totally unloved.

      Also curious about anti-vandalism measures or ideas. I'm sure some jerk will try graffiti-ing it or peeing on it.

      Lastly, anyone interested in collaborating?

      7 votes
    2. An Ode to Undies

      T'was picking fruit down under, where I learned the truth of underwear Davenport made the best boxer costed more but last forever At first my junk was hanging loose no more briefs snuggling like a...

      T'was picking fruit down under, where
      I learned the truth of underwear
      Davenport made the best boxer
      costed more but last forever

      At first my junk was hanging loose
      no more briefs snuggling like a noose
      but soon I loved it hanging free
      it's quicker when you have to pee

      Decade later holes not in sight
      Bought some more in case they might
      Thought they'd be with me till the end
      Thirty years they've been my friend

      Now I'm down to last seven pair
      Out of business they went I fear
      Brought down low by cheap knock offs
      Where oh where is my Undie Guru now?

      12 votes
    3. I sang her name in words forgotten

      I sang her name in words forgotten Rough bellows of lost yearning A hurt hound without path A sorrow meaning without an end I heard the rain, heard the ocean Lick the sand without defect The...

      I sang her name in words forgotten
      Rough bellows of lost yearning
      A hurt hound without path
      A sorrow meaning without an end

      I heard the rain, heard the ocean
      Lick the sand without defect
      The water, where it falls
      Is always beautiful all the same

      I saw, my God, that you made her
      Carefully crooked, imperfect
      And inside her deep mournful eyes
      The tears that I could never shed

      9 votes
    4. In My Dressing Gown

      The sky is clear except for some soft grey clouds beyond the hill The early setting sun shines orange on the woods and the houses that sit atop the ridge Not a single bird crosses the pale blue...

      The sky is clear
      except for some
      soft grey clouds
      beyond the hill

      The early setting sun shines orange
      on the woods
      and the houses
      that sit atop the ridge

      Not a single bird crosses
      the pale blue sky
      though I can hear
      their chorus
      and a gentle wind blows
      cold
      on my face

      I can smell the traffic
      from the road behind my house
      mingling with
      the earthy smell of trees
      from the field in front

      Neither my hot black coffee
      nor my dressing gown
      are enough
      to keep the
      cold
      at bay
      on this
      the first truly frosty day
      of the year

      7 votes
    5. Occupation

      Occupied by the primal cries of democracy and its dying eyes. Ain't no reason to keep pushing some days the infighting the outfighting the needless highlighting of differences in ourselves and...

      Occupied by the primal cries of democracy and its dying eyes.
      Ain't no reason to keep pushing some days the infighting the outfighting the needless highlighting of differences in ourselves and others, not some injustice just arbitrary maladjustment.
      These words ain't here to minimize or demoralize but to quantify and qualify the true enemy.
      We are cannibals, our self absorption and self adornment lead to self consumption and our mutually assured destruction.
      As we consume we forget we need to resume what we started, we assume that we’ve done enough and that the movement will carry on without us.
      It’s too late, in the death throws of Democracy we choose a different path, without occupation, preceded by preoccupation, we now find ourselves the subject of this new occupation.

      5 votes
    6. The Prologue to Another Man's Life

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners, Drifting gently upward out of bottomless canyons Over hills and mountains Through snowdrifts and clouds, They make their way Home. Calling the stars (so far...

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners,
      Drifting gently upward out of bottomless canyons
      Over hills and mountains
      Through snowdrifts and clouds,
      They make their way
      Home.

      Calling the stars (so far out of reach);
      Calling the moon (dispassionate waning gibbous);
      Calling the trees (for the spineless tools they are);
      Calling the ocean,
      The ocean:
      Home.

      Cry to the waves for the songs of land,
      The endless dark crashing and shifting and moving.
      Plead for stability. Remembrance. Peace.
      Beg for an end to this oppressive
      Home.

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners.
      Sigh no longer.
      I sing you now;
      I bring you
      Home.

      8 votes
    7. Poetry analysis/appreciation request - Morning, by Frank O'Hara

      I'm an undoubted pleb when it comes to just about everything artistic (with the exception of music, in which I have impeccable taste). A while back, I suggested I'd be interested in seeing some...

      I'm an undoubted pleb when it comes to just about everything artistic (with the exception of music, in which I have impeccable taste). A while back, I suggested I'd be interested in seeing some critique or general discussion of already-known or published poetry, if only so I could get others' opinions on things that usually go over my head. This is an effort to get the ball rolling, with a poem that is one of my favorites.

      Also, I'm not sure if this belongs here or in ~arts, please classify as appropriate.


      Morning - Frank O'Hara

      I've got to tell you
      how I love you always
      I think of it on grey
      mornings with death

      in my mouth the tea
      is never hot enough
      then and the cigarette
      dry the maroon robe

      chills me I need you
      and look out the window
      at the noiseless snow

      At night on the dock
      the buses glow like
      clouds and I am lonely
      thinking of flutes

      I miss you always
      when I go to the beach
      the sand is wet with
      tears that seem mine

      although I never weep
      and hold you in my
      heart with a very real
      humor you'd be proud of

      the parking lot is
      crowded and I stand
      rattling my keys the car
      is empty as a bicycle

      what are you doing now
      where did you eat your
      lunch and were there
      lots of anchovies it

      is difficult to think
      of you without me in
      the sentence you depress
      me when you are alone

      Last night the stars
      were numerous and today
      snow is their calling
      card I'll not be cordial

      there is nothing that
      distracts me music is
      only a crossword puzzle
      do you know how it is

      when you are the only
      passenger if there is a
      place further from me
      I beg you do not go

      7 votes
    8. "Man, I didn't want to grow up to this."

      So we have all these people, and they all seem to be pissed. So many people and they all seem to have... something amiss. Many of these people, their concerns are just... entirely dismissed: By...

      So we have all these people, and they all seem to be pissed.

      So many people and they all seem to have... something amiss.

      Many of these people, their concerns are just... entirely dismissed:

      By other people with the same problems who somehow look at these perfectly normal people and react: "I have been nixed!"

      These problems are pervasive in our memories and experiences and on a metaphorical wall they are fixed;

      And yet the root causes are consistently misinterpreted, and ultimately missed.

      And the result is we are betting everything for the sake of getting our cathartic and revengeful fix?

      That is being delivered to us by people that if they were to meet us, would utterly reject us and loudly hiss?

      And if that gamble fails I will be the one to pick up the scraps, and mop up the piss?

      Man, I didn't want to grow up to this.

      9 votes
    9. I wrote a poem - Coming Out 2.0

      I'm working on this for a poetry class I'm taking, any criticism is welcome. Edit: Italicized some text I forgot when I copied it out of Word. Edit 2: Fixed some phrasing. Coming Out 2.0 When I...

      I'm working on this for a poetry class I'm taking, any criticism is welcome.

      Edit: Italicized some text I forgot when I copied it out of Word.
      Edit 2: Fixed some phrasing.

      Coming Out 2.0

      When I first came out
      I thought it was over.
      Done.
      I know myself now,
      My life can finally be
      worthwhile and fun.

      But there was always a mess I dared
      not touch. Who do I like? What gaze
      makes me blush? I suspected the feminine
      but held out hope – only taking up one letter
      made it easier to cope.

      And some people do change after starting
      HRT, so patiently I hoped men would appeal
      to me. I had some feelings before, it seemed reasonable
      they would grow. But as time went on I realized I had
      nothing to show. My feelings for men were entirely gone,
      but still hopeful for a straight-passing future, I pressed on.

      I had definite feelings for women before,
      But at times the attraction seemed a bit more –
      Did I want to be them or did I want to be with them?
      The former I assumed, as it helped to distract,
      focus on my work, brush my desires under the mat.

      I’d think “She looks cute”, but “in that outfit”, “with that hairdo” and other qualifiers
      I began to append, convincing myself what I felt was normal and, like a
      Chicagoland road, no bend. When I began to notice some feelings bubbling up I said
      “Female friendships are close, it’s nothing, the end.” But try as I might, they flowered
      and bloomed, and soon I could not help but be all-consumed. Maybe I’m bi, I thought,
      That isn’t so bad. More options for dating, how can I be mad? I told my friend my feelings, and as
      expected, for me she had none. She’s still one of my best friends, so I’d neither lost nor won.

      I dealt with the rejection and moved on. I could still be bi, better not
      jump the gun. You can’t take back coming out, you’ve got one shot – nail it
      and be done. I thought everything would be the same, but the floodgates were open,
      my restraints had been broken. I could finally be honest about my feelings
      for women (endless, confusing and interwoven) and for men, which were at most
      an appreciative token.

      A week after confessing to my crush, it was obvious
      who won. The Sapphic feelings and desires made
      their presence known, their intent to stay,
      and more difficult than coming out
      as trans was admitting
      to being gay.

      15 votes
    10. Behind the Teeth

      always seem happy and dandy and talk of love and romance a riven smile on the face to hide thoughts of pain for her, everything has a verse a waltz at each step a flimsy variety of beauty that...

      always seem happy and dandy
      and talk of love and romance
      a riven smile on the face
      to hide thoughts of pain

      for her, everything has a verse
      a waltz at each step
      a flimsy variety of beauty
      that melts after rehearse

      huge hipster glasses
      coffee without any taste
      a window facing concrete
      is now hummingbirds enlaced

      and when she sings all her love
      I am always in disbelief
      cause when someone shouts too much
      I sense a hooded grief

      2 votes
    11. Infatuation Mishap

      You were smart and pretty and praised every word I said Responded to my commands like a very well-trained basset You gave me food, shelter, affection in bed, you did as I pleased and such strong...

      You were smart and pretty
      and praised every word I said

      Responded to my commands
      like a very well-trained basset

      You gave me food, shelter, affection
      in bed, you did as I pleased
      and such strong devotion
      was hard for me to receive

      Cause how could I trust someone
      who clearly and truly loves me?

      6 votes
    12. Love Mania

      In this grass where we sit, I saw many full moons lit Kissed them shivering in the wind, felt like solution, formed decision, ultimate end But the frenzy always fades, pretty mirage in the haze...

      In this grass where we sit,
      I saw many full moons lit

      Kissed them shivering in the wind,
      felt like solution, formed decision, ultimate end

      But the frenzy always fades,
      pretty mirage in the haze

      Silly me...

      I just met you yesterday
      And once again tremble my veins

      4 votes
    13. Seeking Meaning

      I cannot defend my lack of years my lack of tears my lack of guilt I will always regret the tears and sweat that I've put upon your face For it is a disgrace the things I've done the thoughts I've...
      I cannot defend
      my lack of years
      my lack of tears
      my lack of guilt
      
      I will always regret
      the tears and sweat
      that I've put upon your face
      
      For it is a disgrace
      the things I've done
      the thoughts I've thunk
      the things I've done to you
      
      When I killed that man
      in the cabbage patch
      at half-past 3 am
      
      When I killed that man
      that I knew you loved
      that I, too, loved
      that I knew was marked for greatness
      
      When I killed that man
      with a knife to the heart
      with a mind full of rage
      with a mind ablaze
       with many a myriad thought
      
      I could almost say it was jealousy
      (i know that I cannot)
      
      I could almost say it was hatred or spite
      (but i know that I cannot)
      
      I could even say it was impulse to slay that man who I knew and who knew not what he wrought
      (but still this thing that i want to say--
       i know but one thing: say it, I cannot)
      
      For it was not calculated
      nor can I say that I hated
      that man, though I often berated
      him for things that control them?  He could not.
      
      For the reason that I did all these things that I did
      was simple in the extreme
      was harder to digest
          than powdered ice cream
      
      And even I could give you a ream
      of paper to show the things I did
      of paper to show you these things that I did
      of paper on which to pour out my sin
      of paper, cathartic, explaining my doing
      of paper, incredible, pure white and blank,
                and innocent, available, asking me to taint it
      
      An I could give you a billion words to explain all the pain which I caused
         I could give you only two
      
      NO REASON.
      
      8 votes
    14. Untitled poem

      Ask not for whom the cradle weeps; it weeps for you. O sly kitten, O accursèd cat, cry, cry for the weft and the warp of the world; cry, cry for the sin and the sorrow and suffering; cry, cry on...
      Ask not for whom the cradle weeps; it weeps for you.
      
      
      O sly kitten, O accursèd cat, cry,
      cry for the weft and the warp of the world; cry,
      cry for the sin and the sorrow and suffering; cry,
      cry on the bloodshed, but more on the tears; cry,
      cry for divisions, and ill-wrought connections; cry,
      cry for the laughter, so far out of reach; cry.
      And in crying find solace; peace——rhythm——be still.
      
                                                     cry 
      and cry——cry for the widows and widowers, woven together forever,
      by weeping and painless heart-let.
         But your pain is not theirs.
         For, though burdened with truth, you will never be cut 
         by the serrated and blunted edge of polite fiction.
         Enough!
      
      
      When the cat's in the cradle, the mice will play,
      And I hope that they fly far——far-far away.
      But the tears of the kitten forever abide,
      and someday they'll catch you.
                     will you take it in stride?
      
      11 votes
    15. Recommend me a song based just on one line (or couplet) in its lyrics

      I'm interested in finding more great songwriters across different genres and I want to defeat my own bias, so don't tell me the artist or genre (or maybe put it in <details> tags). Here are a few...

      I'm interested in finding more great songwriters across different genres and I want to defeat my own bias, so don't tell me the artist or genre (or maybe put it in <details> tags).

      Here are a few of mine -

       

      Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds

      Song infoBob Marley - Redemption Song

      If you're really as tough as your defenses, you'd let them fall

      Song infoJimmy Eat World - Stop

      Tried to deceive me, you only deceived you; what you thought was invisible was only see-through

      Song infoOne Be Lo - Decepticons

      I said, "If you won't save me, please don't waste my time"

      Song infoOasis - Falling Down

      Emotional luggage, nothing of it, I don't check bags; I just carry on, leave that bullshit in the past

      Song infoCurren$y - Airborne Aquarium

      Nothing no scary like a gunman voice when people beg a gunman think twice, and him say no

      Song infoDamian "Junior Gong" Marley - Gunman World (Is It Worth It?)

      To turn your sick soul inside out - so that the world, so that the world can watch you die

      Song infoGil Scott-Heron - Home Is Where the Hatred Is

       

      Coincidentally, not all those songs are necessarily at the top of my recommends, but they are the first memorable one-liners that came to mind. I won't mind if your picks aren't the greatest songs of all time either if the line still hits.

      21 votes
    16. F*** me

      1:45 A M Two divided Lonely bed, lonely couch Emotional drainage leaks Seeps into sub floors Foul and sickly Sticky and putrid Fuck me

      13 votes
    17. Why don't you comment on poetry?

      I post a fair amount of poetry to Tildes, with the hope of getting feedback or starting discussion. Yet, as you can see from looking at the poem tag, there generally isn't any kind of discussion...

      I post a fair amount of poetry to Tildes, with the hope of getting feedback or starting discussion.

      Yet, as you can see from looking at the poem tag, there generally isn't any kind of discussion on poetry posts. Even Bishop's departure post only received six comments.

      So, why is this? What stops you commenting on poems? I would like to have discussions about what I write with the people here. I don't know if there's something I can do to make it easier to engage with me regarding my work, or if there's something else preventing the discussion.

      37 votes
    18. Blue house

      Blue house Foundation exposed Brown threadbare carpet White counters fadded dull Wallpaper curled and yellow Still it's theirs Contentment abounds

      9 votes
    19. Untitled Mental Health I

      I'm not quite like you A few words and that's it The façade fades Crumbles The carefully constructed mood dies Coping mechanisms defeated The castle is compromised A strong exterior only goes so...
      I'm not quite like you
      A few words and that's it
      The façade fades
      Crumbles
      The carefully constructed mood dies
      Coping mechanisms defeated
      The castle is compromised
      
      A strong exterior only goes so far
      Each word pulls stones from the foundation
      Fragile walls, fragile heart
      I retreat to my secret home
      Away from the swords and arrows and fire
      No one can reach me here
      Safe and quiet and in control
      Equally secure, equally secluded
      
      19 votes
    20. Untitled I

      Tapped out on my phone in an Uber on the way to D&D. I write about more than love, I promise! the water laps at the dam seeking egress, seeking progress everyone inside so thirsty life affirming...

      Tapped out on my phone in an Uber on the way to D&D. I write about more than love, I promise!

      the water laps at the dam
      seeking egress, seeking progress
      everyone inside so thirsty
      life affirming liquid
      but the dam
      the wall we built to keep ourselves safe
      our salvation
      our condemnation
      seemed a good idea at the time
      but all our other crimes against ourselves did too
      how are we so smart yet so stupid
      it hurts
      it fucking hurts
      life without love may as well be an empty gift on Christmas morning
      but we all do it to ourselves every day
      so many boundaries and rules and norms
      all because we’re too afraid to get hurt
      too afraid to be ourselves
      too afraid to realize ourselves
      too afraid to give one another the best gift we can
      
      12 votes
    21. Untitled Mental Health II, or, but

      I’m sorry but I can’t today I want to but I can’t It’s not my fault but I’m guilty anyway I’m not understood but I’m pressured anyway I yearn to create, to do but I just stay in bed I want to live...
      I’m sorry
      but
      I can’t today
      I want to
      but
      I can’t
      It’s not my fault
      but 
      I’m guilty anyway
      I’m not understood
      but
      I’m pressured anyway
      I yearn to create, to do
      but
      I just stay in bed
      I want to live
      but
      I’m too hurt
      
      13 votes
    22. Cotton Candy

      Put your head over here and cry all the yearning away cause thinking will bring you nothing just thoughts and yet more pain Sleep, sleep my child breath slowly that way cause here there is no more...

      Put your head over here
      and cry all the yearning away
      cause thinking will bring you nothing
      just thoughts and yet more pain

      Sleep, sleep my child
      breath slowly that way
      cause here there is no more strain
      under my loving gaze

      In your cotton candy dreams
      you embrace with such strength
      a cloud above in the sky
      sleep, honey, yes, sleep
      cause here you're free from time

      And there I am on this dream
      imagining, imagined
      the mark of a want, of a wish
      a trace drawn in the sky
      don't know if I'm the one dreaming
      or if I am been dreamed about

      Portuguese original

      encosta a cabeça aqui
      e chora a saudade toda
      que pensar não leva nada
      só mais pensar e dor ainda

      dorme seu sono infante
      respira assim devagar
      que aqui não vai sofrer
      debaixo de meu olhar

      em teu sonho de algodão doce
      não sei do quê dá risada
      e abraça com tanta força
      uma nuvem no céu alçada
      dorme, meu bem, dorme sim
      que aqui o tempo não passa

      E nesse sonho estou lá
      Imaginando, imaginado
      A marca de uma vontade
      Um traço no céu projetado
      Não sei se sou eu que sonho
      Ou se eu é quem sou sonhado

      7 votes
    23. 5 o'clock nostalgia

      So many wants that never were But that were mine nevertheless In the joy of many maybes Slow evening Time is cursed, it goes The body is alive and weary And stuck in hour a soul — immense...

      So many wants that never were
      But that were mine nevertheless
      In the joy of many maybes
      Slow evening

      Time is cursed, it goes
      The body is alive and weary
      And stuck in hour a soul — immense

      Portuguese original

      Nostalgia das 5 Horas

      Tanto querer que nunca foi
      Mas era meu ainda assim
      Na alegria do talvez
      A tarde lenta

      O tempo é maldito e passa
      Ainda vivo o corpo cansa
      E presa na hora a alma - imensa

      7 votes
    24. Gesture

      Saw in you a trace, a gesture without any end a phrase with no reticences a shadow lost in the gaze A question you have not made a plot not yet heard a night with no resolution be calm, the sun is...

      Saw in you a trace, a gesture without any end
      a phrase with no reticences
      a shadow lost in the gaze

      A question you have not made
      a plot not yet heard
      a night with no resolution
      be calm, the sun is not late

      Portuguese original

      Gesto

      vi em você um traço
      um gesto sem fim colocado
      vi frase vi reticência
      suspiro pela metade
      e olhar desencontrado

      da pergunta ainda não dita
      sequer pinçada talvez
      da trama'inda inaudita
      que a noite não tarda ou finda
      mas calma que o sol já vem

      6 votes