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gasmask_colostomy
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Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Fri Jun 21, 2019 12:51 am 
 

Luvers666 wrote:
I wrote this poem a few years ago, had a little help with it, but it is one I am proud of. It is a little long but hopefully that does not disinterest the prose.

Should I unite the dots?[...]

It's a cool one. Does it have a title? I'm a sucker for all those repeating phrases and even for the simple transitions of "colder" and "warmer" that give some emotional anchor to it. It understand it as a tale of abuse or abduction with an ambiguous conclusion, that may see a recovery or even a kind of vengeance, but some unresolved issues too. It's nicely vague while also having some specific imagery, so works well in that sense, because there are a lot of ways to interpret it.

From my point of view, a small annoyance when reading is that I can't work out if the lines use enjambment or not. A couple seem to flow into the next one and it's kept deliberately unclear because of the lack of punctuation...yet every line begins with a capital letter. Maybe it's just aesthetics in the end, but I kind of dislike that, since it makes them all appear like separate statements. For the content of the poem, it might help to emphasize that these totally different elements of the experience blend together if the reader was encouraged to think that lines could communicate with each other.

In any case, it's well-written and interesting to ponder over. Thanks for keeping the thread going!

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gasmask_colostomy
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Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Tue Jun 25, 2019 11:09 am 
 

Let's see, finally got time to post one. This is the obviously foolish result of musing too much on science.

Blue Shift

The universe turns blue:
a million regurgitations occur.
Planets long to renew old friendships,
meteors return bites from moons.
Here, the dead walk backwards,
no longer starving but producers of food
created by the absorption of faeces.
People leave buildings
and dismantle them brick by brick,
disfigure materials and hide them in the ground.
Writers uncap their pens, erase words,
and think carefully before closing their books.

My mother won’t be happy.

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Tue Jun 25, 2019 7:23 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Let's see, finally got time to post one. This is the obviously foolish result of musing too much on science.
Blue Shift

It's weird and surprising at times. It seems that everything goes backwards (coprophagy, regurgitation, universe shrinkage) and matter takes its primordial form.
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DividerOfShadows
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Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Wed Jun 26, 2019 4:53 pm 
 

Luvers666 wrote:
I wrote this poem a few years ago, had a little help with it, but it is one I am proud of. It is a little long but hopefully that does not disinterest the prose.


I'm not going to go into much detail as gasmask did, but here's my impression. When I read it for the first time, I was a bit puzzled by it, probably because I had a bit of trouble to discern what's going on. The second time, however, I discovered that it was very intense and that that intensity was carried by strong motifs, but some more subdued means as well. I really like it, the balance is there. As gasmask noticed, it's very interesting to ponder over because of the overall vagueness, yet the atmosphere is almost tangible. Good job!

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Let's see, finally got time to post one. This is the obviously foolish result of musing too much on science.

Blue Shift


First of all, is the title a Half-Life reference? :-D

I really like this one, man. It felt like I was watching some morbid documentary. You've put some really interesting ideas in there, like the erasing of words, the returning of bites from moons... And, of course, that last line. For some reason it just fits, but I can't explain why. Good job anyway!

Okay, this time I'll share two. The first one was originally written in English, whereas the second one was written in Croatian first, but I'll (at least try to) translate it. Also, they may seem a bit disjointed; in hindsight, the first half of the former seems more bitter and maybe even crotchety, whereas now I get some lascivious vibes from its second half. When it comes to the latter poem, I was feeling blue while I was writing it and I had Bowie's "Outside" and "A Small Plot of Land" put on repeat. It's more or less marked by frustration and I'm pretty sure Osore will kick the stuffing out of me because of that.

Rainbow of Grey

Spoiler: show
Under the rainbow of grey I build my passage
An eternal temple to seething blood
All of the red rain was buried under dust
Clogging the white giant's veins

The mountain is not guiltier than the leaves
Carried by ravenous ocean's waves
Gilded spirits materialise to the moribound
As they lift their fingers off the wall

You, defiant dweller of this cursed domain
Dare to ask of me to reminisce about the scorned past
Like bloodied splinters carried by this mordant wind
You pierce my spirit with the sharpest thorns

Fields of intoxicating eternal Sun
Call out to cemetery's prudent citizens
Like trees with endless branches
Its digits ensnare my sanity

An empyreal juice falls upon our backs
The sight of horns reminds the eyes
That they are alone within this garden

And they greet us with delight
Dancing the arcane dance of the night
Crimson veils, the killers of purity
Replacing it with their own
Obfuscating clarity, whispering in foreign tongues

Time is here, now and forever
All prayers are futile, for god has turned his back
Blanket of stars, so warm and so poisonous
Will sing thee to thy rest, now and forever


Močvara / The Swamp
Spoiler: show
Croatian version:

Lutam među zvijezdama
Stijena strši u crvenoj magli
Ubodi su sve slabiji

Šećem po oblacima
Moja stopala izazivaju kišu
Koja nikada ne prestaje

Sjećaš li se zrnca soli
Koje sam progutao s krunom od trnja?

Tekuće zelenilo plovi obzorom
A drvene lađe traže svoja Sunca
Tope naš svijet
A duše nam isparavaju

Plači za Mjesecom, ali on pada
Tvoje uspavanke neće ga sačuvati
Umrijet će ti u naručju
Kad ga najviše budeš željela

Beskrajne crne rupe
Plivaju u očima anđela
A njegova besprijekorna krila
Prekrivena su krvlju
I promatra usamljeni planet
S nepokorivom nadom u srcu

Svaki je dan isti
Svako je mjesto isto

Odriješio sam ruke čudovištu
I pustio ga neka tumara livadom
Zatre svaki trag cvjetovima
I izbriše svako sjećanje

Vječno zlato drži me u kavezu
Ubijenih ideja i snova
Teško mi je predvidjeti
Što ću osjećati sutra…


English version:

I'm wandering among the stars
The cliff juts out from the red fog
The stabs become weaker

I'm walking across the clouds
My feet cause the rain
Never to stop falling

Do you remember the grain of salt
I had swallowed with a crown of thorns?

The liquid green flows across the horizon
And the wooden vessels seek their Suns
They're making our world melt
And our souls evaporate

Cry for the Moon, but it's falling down
It won't be saved by your lullabies
It will die in your arms
When you'll need it the most

Infinite black holes
Swim in the angel's eyes
And his immaculate wings
Are covered with blood
He's looking at a lonely planet
With an unyielding hope in his heart

Every day is the same
Every place is the same

I've untied the monster's hands
And let him prowl across the field
To eradicate every flower
And erase every memory

The eternal gold keeps me in a cage
Of murdered ideas and dreams
It's hard for me to foresee
How I'll be feeling tomorrow…
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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Wed Jun 26, 2019 10:23 pm 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Močvara
Spoiler: show
Croatian version:

Lutam među zvijezdama
Stijena strši u crvenoj magli
Ubodi su sve slabiji

Šećem po oblacima
Moja stopala izazivaju kišu
Koja nikada ne prestaje

Sjećaš li se zrnca soli
Koje sam progutao s krunom od trnja?

Tekuće zelenilo plovi obzorom
A drvene lađe traže svoja Sunca
Tope naš svijet
A duše nam isparavaju

Plači za Mjesecom, ali on pada
Tvoje uspavanke neće ga sačuvati
Umrijet će ti u naručju
Kad ga najviše budeš željela

Beskrajne crne rupe
Plivaju u očima anđela
A njegova besprijekorna krila
Prekrivena su krvlju
I promatra usamljeni planet
S nepokorivom nadom u srcu

Svaki je dan isti
Svako je mjesto isto

Odriješio sam ruke čudovištu
I pustio ga neka tumara livadom
Zatre svaki trag cvjetovima
I izbriše svako sjećanje

Vječno zlato drži me u kavezu
Ubijenih ideja i snova
Teško mi je predvidjeti
Što ću osjećati sutra…

I dared to change the format of your poem and it suddenly appears restrained and more natural to me, probably because I now consider it to be (closer to) lyrical prose. If you decide to keep it in original, I advise you to play with the rhythm and musicality. I also see that this poem is suitable for fragmentation into blocks, similar to the ones used in the comics. If I were you, I would have tried to make a collage with the following composition: verses with stars and clouds floating on top of the page, monster down below with increased spacing, cage in a box somewhere in the middle...
Some motifs in Močvara remind me of the emo/gothic piece called Аманет that I wrote 10 years ago led by the anger. It was my master piece at the time, but now I find it very faulty. It is also unfortunately translated to English. In case anybody wants to laugh: https://pesimum.wordpress.com/2014/10/17/throwback/.

Močvara by DividerOfShadows
Spoiler: show
Croatian version:

Lutam među zvijezdama. Stijena strši u crvenoj maglii, a ubodi su sve slabiji.
Šećem po oblacima. Moja stopala izazivaju kišu koja nikada ne prestaje.

Sjećaš li se zrnca soli koje sam progutao s krunom od trnja?
Tekuće zelenilo plovi obzorom, a drvene lađe traže svoja Sunca, tope naš svijet, a duše nam isparavaju.
Plači za Mjesecom, ali on pada. Tvoje uspavanke neće ga sačuvati. Umrijet će ti u naručju kad ga najviše budeš željela.

Beskrajne crne rupe plivaju u očima anđela, a njegova besprijekorna krila prekrivena su krvlju; I promatra usamljeni planet s nepokorivom nadom u srcu.

Svaki je dan isti, svako je mjesto isto.

Odriješio sam ruke čudovištu i pustio ga neka tumara livadom, zatre svaki trag cvjetovima i izbriše svako sjećanje.
Vječno zlato drži me u kavezu ubijenih ideja i snova. Teško mi je predvidjeti što ću osjećati sutra…
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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Wed Jun 26, 2019 11:21 pm 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Rainbow of Grey

Spoiler: show
Under the rainbow of grey I build my passage
An eternal temple to seething blood
All of the red rain was buried under dust
Clogging the white giant's veins

The mountain is not guiltier than the leaves
Carried by ravenous ocean's waves
Gilded spirits materialise to the moribound
As they lift their fingers off the wall

You, defiant dweller of this cursed domain
Dare to ask of me to reminisce about the scorned past
Like bloodied splinters carried by this mordant wind
You pierce my spirit with the sharpest thorns

Fields of intoxicating eternal Sun
Call out to cemetery's prudent citizens
Like trees with endless branches
Its digits ensnare my sanity

An empyreal juice falls upon our backs
The sight of horns reminds the eyes
That they are alone within this garden

And they greet us with delight
Dancing the arcane dance of the night
Crimson veils, the killers of purity
Replacing it with their own
Obfuscating clarity, whispering in foreign tongues

Time is here, now and forever
All prayers are futile, for god has turned his back
Blanket of stars, so warm and so poisonous
Will sing thee to thy rest, now and forever

This one seems more coherent, but I'm glad that it's open to interpretation. I could dive and try to decipher every verse, but I'll just leave it and stay empowered by its pessimism.
Funny thing is that I was curious to find out what the grey rainbow stands for (since there is a flag for everything), and it turns out to be ''the straight pride flag''. I had no idea those memes exist because I don't have social networks.
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gasmask_colostomy
Metalhead

Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Thu Jun 27, 2019 11:18 am 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Blue Shift


First of all, is the title a Half-Life reference? :-D

I really like this one, man. It felt like I was watching some morbid documentary. You've put some really interesting ideas in there, like the erasing of words, the returning of bites from moons... And, of course, that last line. For some reason it just fits, but I can't explain why. Good job anyway!

Haha, I don't know what Half-Life is, so I guess it wasn't supposed to be a reference. It's about the supposed transition in the universe when the energy from the Big Bang is used up and all the red shift expansion because blue shift contraction. If you get into stuff like Nietzsche, it also involves the eternal return and - apparently - everything reversing, including time. The poem was just my literal interpretation of that. If everything goes backwards, my mother won't be happy because I've got to be unborn...

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Okay, this time I'll share two. The first one was originally written in English, whereas the second one was written in Croatian first, but I'll (at least try to) translate it. Also, they may seem a bit disjointed; in hindsight, the first half of the former seems more bitter and maybe even crotchety, whereas now I get some lascivious vibes from its second half. When it comes to the latter poem, I was feeling blue while I was writing it and I had Bowie's "Outside" and "A Small Plot of Land" put on repeat. It's more or less marked by frustration and I'm pretty sure Osore will kick the stuffing out of me because of that.

Rainbow of Grey

Spoiler: show
Under the rainbow of grey I build my passage
An eternal temple to seething blood
All of the red rain was buried under dust
Clogging the white giant's veins

The mountain is not guiltier than the leaves
Carried by ravenous ocean's waves
Gilded spirits materialise to the moribound
As they lift their fingers off the wall

You, defiant dweller of this cursed domain
Dare to ask of me to reminisce about the scorned past
Like bloodied splinters carried by this mordant wind
You pierce my spirit with the sharpest thorns

Fields of intoxicating eternal Sun
Call out to cemetery's prudent citizens
Like trees with endless branches
Its digits ensnare my sanity

An empyreal juice falls upon our backs
The sight of horns reminds the eyes
That they are alone within this garden

And they greet us with delight
Dancing the arcane dance of the night
Crimson veils, the killers of purity
Replacing it with their own
Obfuscating clarity, whispering in foreign tongues

Time is here, now and forever
All prayers are futile, for god has turned his back
Blanket of stars, so warm and so poisonous
Will sing thee to thy rest, now and forever

You're right that the mood shifts, but I kinda like it nonetheless. I feel that a lot of good poems describe a change and that means that the reader gets carried by the flow of words and feelings. You don't want to end up where you started, right? There are some barbed lines at the end, but something about the rhythm and the imagery gives me a sense that it's slowing down and reaching acceptance. The most vicious verse is probably from "You, defiant dweller of this cursed domain," which is a line I'm not so sure about - a little cliched perhaps, especially in metal circles, where it could be a generic death metal song title.

As usual with your poems, I can't get very close to some particular meaning, but there's a lot happening: religious stuff, betrayal, death, psychosis. The way all your phrases are almost magical images is the most enjoyable part. I still like it despite not getting the bigger picture.

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Močvara / The Swamp
Spoiler: show
Croatian version:

Lutam među zvijezdama
Stijena strši u crvenoj magli
Ubodi su sve slabiji

Šećem po oblacima
Moja stopala izazivaju kišu
Koja nikada ne prestaje

Sjećaš li se zrnca soli
Koje sam progutao s krunom od trnja?

Tekuće zelenilo plovi obzorom
A drvene lađe traže svoja Sunca
Tope naš svijet
A duše nam isparavaju

Plači za Mjesecom, ali on pada
Tvoje uspavanke neće ga sačuvati
Umrijet će ti u naručju
Kad ga najviše budeš željela

Beskrajne crne rupe
Plivaju u očima anđela
A njegova besprijekorna krila
Prekrivena su krvlju
I promatra usamljeni planet
S nepokorivom nadom u srcu

Svaki je dan isti
Svako je mjesto isto

Odriješio sam ruke čudovištu
I pustio ga neka tumara livadom
Zatre svaki trag cvjetovima
I izbriše svako sjećanje

Vječno zlato drži me u kavezu
Ubijenih ideja i snova
Teško mi je predvidjeti
Što ću osjećati sutra…


English version:

I'm wandering among the stars
The cliff juts out from the red fog
The stabs become weaker

I'm walking across the clouds
My feet cause the rain
Never to stop falling

Do you remember the grain of salt
I had swallowed with a crown of thorns?

The liquid green flows across the horizon
And the wooden vessels seek their Suns
They're making our world melt
And our souls evaporate

Cry for the Moon, but it's falling down
It won't be saved by your lullabies
It will die in your arms
When you'll need it the most

Infinite black holes
Swim in the angel's eyes
And his immaculate wings
Are covered with blood
He's looking at a lonely planet
With an unyielding hope in his heart

Every day is the same
Every place is the same

I've untied the monster's hands
And let him prowl across the field
To eradicate every flower
And erase every memory

The eternal gold keeps me in a cage
Of murdered ideas and dreams
It's hard for me to foresee
How I'll be feeling tomorrow…

I gotta say I agree with Osore about the line length and rhythm. From reading the English version, I feel like the line breaks are killing the flow of the imagery and the action too. Your poems tend to move at quite a fast pace and link images together, so I say go for the long lines and make that obvious. I guess that the last line might feel better in Croatian, because it's a little weak in English: I suppose that it should feel like a threat, but it sounds a bit like someone who's not sure if they should call in sick to work. The first two lines of the final verse are so strong that it seems a shame to end like that. Getting rid of the 'be -ing' would help a little, as would changing 'how' for 'what'. Something stronger that ties to the 'murdered ideas and dreams' might be 'It's hard for me to foresee / What else will be dead tomorrow.'

I think there's a very cool story in there, but it might benefit from a little playing with the structure to get it out. I like that you're sharing some slightly different stuff though! :-D Thanks!

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gasmask_colostomy
Metalhead

Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Thu Jun 27, 2019 11:24 am 
 

This is one of my absolute favourites that I've written. The topic is really simple and I think it's pretty clear what it's about as well.

Cogs and wheels

do not make up my mind,
not turning in mechanized harmony,
ticking and tinkling as time goes by,
thoughts chiming like clockwork,
regular inspiration on the hour,
every hour.

Instead, a desert:
barren, lifeless, faceless,
unbearable to tread the ground made lethal by the sun,
staggering miles to quench a burning thirst
in illusory oases,
sliding down inclines into darkest shade,
suddenly blinded

and he ambushes,
foot to the throat,
screaming bloody murder,
crushing the air out of gasping lungs,
face hidden in the bursting light,
long garments slapping the sand
as he tramples,
but a sharp pull brings him down,
whitened fingers throttling,
tumbling down the dune
and out of sight.

Inspiration attacks and we grapple to the death.

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Fri Jun 28, 2019 7:39 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Cogs and wheels

Rhythm is in harmony with the content, I just wish it was set in Antarctic desert. ;-)
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Luvers666
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Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 10:34 pm
Posts: 232
Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed Jul 03, 2019 9:22 pm 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Luvers666 wrote:
I wrote this poem a few years ago, had a little help with it, but it is one I am proud of. It is a little long but hopefully that does not disinterest the prose.
I'm not going to go into much detail as gasmask did, but here's my impression. When I read it for the first time, I was a bit puzzled by it, probably because I had a bit of trouble to discern what's going on. The second time, however, I discovered that it was very intense and that that intensity was carried by strong motifs, but some more subdued means as well. I really like it, the balance is there. As gasmask noticed, it's very interesting to ponder over because of the overall vagueness, yet the atmosphere is almost tangible. Good job!
Muchas gracias
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Luvers666 wrote:
Should I unite the dots?[...]
It's a cool one. Does it have a title?
Gracias! I am not sure what to title it. The work is ... important to me, so..
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
I'm a sucker for all those repeating phrases and even for the simple transitions of "colder" and "warmer" that give some emotional anchor to it. It understand it as a tale of abuse or abduction with an ambiguous conclusion, that may see a recovery or even a kind of vengeance, but some unresolved issues too.
Well.. You write what you know, what you have lived to speak of.
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
It's nicely vague while also having some specific imagery, so works well in that sense, because there are a lot of ways to interpret it.
I deem it important to spell out enough so that the interpretive mind is being led. While I seek to have the conclusion be equivocal I wanted less ambiguity in describing the journey there. May not be the best way to write but was my intent here.
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
From my point of view, a small annoyance when reading is that I can't work out if the lines use enjambment or not. A couple seem to flow into the next one and it's kept deliberately unclear because of the lack of punctuation...yet every line begins with a capital letter. Maybe it's just aesthetics in the end, but I kind of dislike that, since it makes them all appear like separate statements. For the content of the poem, it might help to emphasize that these totally different elements of the experience blend together if the reader was encouraged to think that lines could communicate with each other.

In any case, it's well-written and interesting to ponder over. Thanks for keeping the thread going!
I really considered the enjambment problem, but I am not sure which way to eliminate it. The work has evolved from a very small kernel of truth and originally did not contain the phrases or transitions. In fact I do not recall when and how that entered into the prose but, as I wrote in the post, I am proud of it. Maybe I will edit it in the future. I have so many poems however, of so many topics. I may post more but my insecurities make that difficult.
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gasmask_colostomy
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Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Wed Jul 03, 2019 11:45 pm 
 

Luvers666 wrote:
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
It's nicely vague while also having some specific imagery, so works well in that sense, because there are a lot of ways to interpret it.
I deem it important to spell out enough so that the interpretive mind is being led. While I seek to have the conclusion be equivocal I wanted less ambiguity in describing the journey there. May not be the best way to write but was my intent here.


I think that - within a certain range - you managed to control where the interpretation was going. It's not over-specific, which allows the reader to do some work by themselves, but it also channels understanding in a certain way that reading for the second and third times will lead to a fairly clear idea of the basic situation and action. I like it not to be absolute.

Luvers666 wrote:
I may post more but my insecurities make that difficult.

We all appreciate your posting here, so if you have more that you're willing to share, we'd be happy to read it :-D If it takes a bit of time to build trust, you can also comment on some other stuff in the thread, until you decide to post your own work.

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 3:31 am 
 

Luvers666 wrote:
I may post more but my insecurities make that difficult.
Your poem has a nice pessimistic tone and successfully transfers the feelings of anguish and (somewhat elegiacal) confessions. I don't see why you wouldn't post further. It's completely normal to be insecure, but I see this as a workshop, and the worst thing you will get is not a rude criticism, but a helpful advice. I'm sorry that I cannot comment further about your poem because my English is not perfect, which prevents me from seeing what could be improved, but if you post more, I might be able to spot something more and give you some tips and/or compliments. ;-)
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raspberrysoda
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 5:40 am 
 

A bit late to the party, but the Ariana Grande poem is absolutely hilarious, gasmask!

I wish I could post some of my stuff here, but they're not translateable from the original language they were written in.


Unrelated to that, but do you guys also experience a change in your style of writing as time progresses? I've been writing in a more minimalist but less abstract way.
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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 6:03 am 
 

raspberrysoda wrote:
Unrelated to that, but do you guys also experience a change in your style of writing as time progresses? I've been writing in a more minimalist but less abstract way.
I don't write often, but I try to control and manipulate my style by deliberately planning a more coherent sentences or keeping everything fragmented and euphonic, but with the cacophony of a multiple grammatical persons. I also intend to rewrite some of my older stuff in order to make it as natural as possible, purifying both the content and the form. I might cut and spill the sentences in a random way on a paper, which will suit my deconstructivism better.
Is there any English, South Slavic or Russian writer that's similar to you?
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raspberrysoda
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 6:50 am 
 

Osore wrote:
Is there any English, South Slavic or Russian writer that's similar to you?


I wish I knew... I don't read poetry that often.
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gasmask_colostomy
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 04, 2019 10:43 am 
 

raspberrysoda wrote:
A bit late to the party, but the Ariana Grande poem is absolutely hilarious, gasmask!

I wish I could post some of my stuff here, but they're not translateable from the original language they were written in.


Unrelated to that, but do you guys also experience a change in your style of writing as time progresses? I've been writing in a more minimalist but less abstract way.

Why thanks, Razz! It was a very sincere effort to capture my feelings :-P I'd be interested to know what language you write in, since I always assumed you were speaking English as a first language. We've had a few other languages in the thread, so maybe there's someone who could do it justice.

To answer your question, I feel that my style has changed a lot over the years. When I started writing poetry seriously (about 8-9 years ago), I was coming from the perspective of writing songs, which had made up all my previous efforts, and I was into rhythm and rhyme much more than I am now. The subjects as well tended to manifest themselves in much more direct ways, and I would usually try to make a point in each poem that I wrote. Some of it was probably too obvious and almost bullied the reader into understanding in a certain way.
More recent stuff is mostly divorced from structure except for a few of my own quirky compulsions (5 word lines and mirrored forms being a couple) and concentrate more on giving a sidelong glance at something to see it from a different angle. Often, that involves blending two things into one subject, so I'm not sure whether I'm writing about something using a metaphor or writing about a metaphor by using something. The most recent poem I posted ('Cogs and wheels') is like that: I wanted to write about the creative process, but I got engrossed in a story about being attacked in a desert.

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Osore
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 21, 2019 7:19 pm 
 

I had a free time and was curious to find out how some of my poems would sound in English, so I tried my best to translate them, but not without losing some original qualities. Feel free to criticise and/or correct me. None of them is perfect even in Serbian.

Obogaljeni vodopad (engl. Crippled Waterfall) < a poem with surrealist vibes
Spoiler: show
Kao kotrljanje neokruglog
Zaglibljeno skakuće
A sapliće se glatko

Smehotresno golicanje
Bodljikave žice
Sečivaste

Rendajmo tkiva

Ograda je živa
Kroz telesa pliva

Poput slatkih klopki
Čupaju jezike
Za užinu
Siti
Ne
Nikada
Da
Uvek
Prazni

Trkači oštrih kruna
Tih presa što pljuju mozak
I kikotav par okica
U pravcu sever-jug
Snevao bi pesmu

Nalik na crnu rupu u štucanju pred
Ogledalom odlučuje da sažvaće odraz
A opet se vraća u gužvu krematorijuma
Graju orgija

I kao da se sada budi
Naštakan na tuđe kosti
Padajući kudi
I odozgo sudi

08.11.2015.

originally posted here

Crippled Waterfall

Like the rolling of the unrounded
Muddy are the hops
But smooth stay the trips

Of hilariously tickling
Barbed wire
Bladed

Let’s grate tissues

The fence is alive
Through the bodies it swims

Like the sweet traps
They rip out the tongues
For a snack
Full
No
Never
Yes
Always
Empty

Runners of sharp crowns
Those presses which spit brains
And a pair of small eyes sniggers
In north-south direction
Would dream of a song

Resembling a black hole hiccuping in front
Of a mirror decides to chew the reflection
But again returns to crematoria’s jam
Tumult of orgies

And now it seems to be awakening
Crutched on a strangers’ bones
Falls scolding
And judging from above


Dvoseklina (engl. Double-edged) < a Marilyn Manson type of a poem :p
Spoiler: show
Ubijte me iznenada
Bezbolno hladnokrvno
Večno
Uspavajte me

Milosrdnim otrovima
Tihim mecima
Giljotinom vrelom

Zapišite presmrtnu mi želju
Samrt neka u posmrtnost srlja
U jurišu sapletena

Samo ne upozoravajte

Ruke operite krvlju
I pojedite me pre no što se ohladim
Ukusniji sam svež
I mlad i zdrav

Dobro znam da nisam zalogaj koji se dugo pamti
I ne treba
Doći ću opet
A niko od nas neće znati gde leži kukavica

25.01.2015.

originally posted here (click for the accompanying content)

Double-edged

Kill me suddenly
Painlessly in cold blood
Put me to sleep
Eternally

With merciful toxins
Silent bullets
Guillotine hot

Write my pre-mortal wish
Let the dying crumble into
post mortem tripped in a rush

Just don’t warn

Wash your hands in blood
And eat me before I get cold
I’m tastier fresh
And young and healthy

I surely know that I’m not the long remembered bite
And it doesn’t have to be
I will come again
But none of us will know where lies the chicken


Prenemaganje jedne žrtve (engl. Whining of a Victim) < sarcastic/grotesque lament
Spoiler: show
Žurim polako
Lišće leti cveće cveta
Još jedan rak dolazi da smeta

Žurim polako
Kunem se da nisam svako
Smetalo sred šume betonske

Svet ovaj nije moj
Vodite me kući
Još jedno derište dolazi da smeta

Molim se borim se volim se
Ostavi me ovde
Polako me položi
I idi kući

Žuri polako
Sarin nam donesi
Kroz naselja pronesi

A kovčežići neka padaju
Kao udari u zvona
Svakog KvaziModa
Što nam uvek isto
Tu po zemlji hoda

Uznesi me uz poslednji bum
U tišinu večnu polako
Dok žurno radi i lenčari svako

Tajac hoćemo
Detlića je dosta
I čekića kiše i svakoga posta

Mi ne znamo gde smo
Šta smo ni ko smo

21.09.2017.

originally posted here

Whining of a Victim

I’m in a slow hurry
Leaves are flying flowers blooming
And another cancer comes to annoy

I’m in a slow hurry
I swear I’m not the every
Bother amidst the forest concrete

This world isn’t mine
Take me home
Another Bratz comes to annoy

I pray myself fight myself love myself
Leave me here
Slowly lay me down
And go home

Hurry slowly
Bring us the sarin
Bring it through
The settlements

And let the little coffins fall
Like ringing the bells
Of every QuasiModa
Whose same walk repels

Ascend me with the last boom
Into the silence eternal slowly
While everybody works and lazes hurriedly

A hush we want
Enough with woodpeckers
And hammers of rain and every fasting

We don’t know where we are
What we are nor who we are


Zaposednut (engl. Possessed) < a hermetic sonnet in Mallarme's honour; broken dodecasyllable verse in original, free verse in translation; motifs of wetlands
Spoiler: show
Dlanovima krvavim glavu pritiska
dok vrbe talasaju senke vrišteći
crni obruč. Skupljaju suze, ništeći,
beli krateri tu sablast bez piska.

Stopalima krvavim izranja iz
granja pomračenje burno, svekolika
nepomičnih i nejasnih stvari slika:
zemljani atlas u zvezdani vinut friz.

Kazivahu sneno spletovima trnci,
natkriljeni injem čempresovih boli,
virovima gorko plaveći u grozi,

gde kapljahu svelo prividi u slozi.
Koračanje slepo ka prljavoj smoli
grimiza nestaloj u trsci.

jesen 2018.

originally posted here

Possessed

With bloody palms the head is being pressed
While the willows are waving the shadows, screaming
The black hoop. By the white craters, negating
This spectre without screech, tears are being collected.

With bloody feet dives out of the branches
Eclipse tempestuous, encompassing
Picture of things unclear and unmoving:
Earthly atlas soared in a starry frieze.

Dreamily, tingles had been telling to the splices,
Covered by the hoarfrost of cypress’ aches,
By the whirlpools bitterly flooding in the dread,

Where phantasms had been dripping, withered.
Pacing blindly towards dirty resin
Of crimson vanished in reeds.


Kad sablasti u sumrak... (engl. When Spectres in Dusk...) < I would call it 'mirror-poem'; krnji 12-erac
Spoiler: show
Opsedaju krišom dok crnica pada,
Kvaseći i hladni uz šapate čempres,
Prikaze u krvi iskidanih lokvi
Opsedaju vetrom dronjke listopada

Lukovice na uzglavlju pokrivene
Gorko; prazni zvonik pod mantijom kužnom
Ječi, dok u lokvi krvlju iscepanoj

Te velike oči visibabe slepe,
Na čempresu hladnom uz šapat što kvasi,

Dva gavrana sniju, nepozvana.

31.01.2019.

originally posted here

When Spectres in Dusk…

Besiege stealthily while chernozem falls,
Drenching the cold along whispers cypress,
Apparitions in blood of riven puddles
Invade with the wind tatters of leaf falls

Bulbs beside the pillow covered
Bitterly; empty belfry under the cassock pestilent
Groans, while in the puddles by the blood ripped

Those big eyes of snowdrops blind,
On the cypress cold along whisper which soaks,

Two ravens dream, uninvited.
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Last edited by Osore on Wed Jul 24, 2019 11:53 am, edited 5 times in total.
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gasmask_colostomy
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 23, 2019 12:44 am 
 

Osore wrote:
I had a free time and was curious to find out how some of my poems would sound in English, so I tried my best to translate them, but not without losing some original qualities. Feel free to criticise and/or correct me. None of them is perfect even in Serbian.

I like the style of them, except for 'Double-Edged' probably. Most of the poetry has vivid imagery that is often violent and dark, but has an ambiguous quality to it. I feel like a couple of them (perhaps 'Double-Edged' and certainly 'Whining of a Victim') contain humour, though I think it may come across a little clearer when you read the poem aloud, rather than while I'm reading it on the computer. It's a kind of ironic, twisted humour that I'm getting from them.

I disliked 'Double-Edged', because I feel that's the kind of poem everyone has written at some point, poet asking reader to kill them for no particular reason. This criticism will sound harsher than I mean it, but it's a less mature topic than the others - kind of a teenage poem in a way. However, another reason I dislike it is because the last line is way too thoughtful and beautiful for that kind of poem: "I will come again /
But none of us will know like a female and a hatchling" sounds like a meditation on reincarnation, rather than the previous morbid vibe.

From the other poems, I still feel like the narrative is obscured by the technique at times and there are phrases that just make me feel weird about the grammar; however, since you posted the earlier translation in similar style, I know that's your intention and it's just something that I personally have trouble with. I don't think you need to make the ideas more explicit exactly, because there's something nice about feeling they are half-hidden, but I wish that they would fit together a little more comfortably. The connections between things currently feel much too dislocated and ragged, which is especially the case with 'Possessed' and 'When Spectres in Dusk'. The latter title even feels very awkward to me. Images and language are gorgeous though :-P

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 23, 2019 8:47 am 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Spoiler: show
I like the style of them, except for 'Double-Edged' probably. Most of the poetry has vivid imagery that is often violent and dark, but has an ambiguous quality to it. I feel like a couple of them (perhaps 'Double-Edged' and certainly 'Whining of a Victim') contain humour, though I think it may come across a little clearer when you read the poem aloud, rather than while I'm reading it on the computer. It's a kind of ironic, twisted humour that I'm getting from them.

I disliked 'Double-Edged', because I feel that's the kind of poem everyone has written at some point, poet asking reader to kill them for no particular reason. This criticism will sound harsher than I mean it, but it's a less mature topic than the others - kind of a teenage poem in a way. However, another reason I dislike it is because the last line is way too thoughtful and beautiful for that kind of poem: "I will come again /
But none of us will know like a female and a hatchling" sounds like a meditation on reincarnation, rather than the previous morbid vibe.

From the other poems, I still feel like the narrative is obscured by the technique at times and there are phrases that just make me feel weird about the grammar; however, since you posted the earlier translation in similar style, I know that's your intention and it's just something that I personally have trouble with. I don't think you need to make the ideas more explicit exactly, because there's something nice about feeling they are half-hidden, but I wish that they would fit together a little more comfortably. The connections between things currently feel much too dislocated and ragged, which is especially the case with 'Possessed' and 'When Spectres in Dusk'. The latter title even feels very awkward to me. Images and language are gorgeous though :-P

Thanks a lot for your comments! ;-) I'm glad that some of them seem humorous, I had fun writing Whining of a Victim. I consider poems like that and Double-edged easy and (almost) trivial. They are easy to write, read and translate and lack some classical/modern elements that I like, striving for a more contemporary expressions. I was still 20 when I wrote Double-edged and I'm not surprised that it appears like it was written in the toilet, because that's true. The majority of my poems were typed on the phone (this one is no different), so I'm ready whenever inspiration strikes. One time I missed the bus because I moved deeper into the park to write a poem. Anyhow, you're right about the last line, but I would like to add that it was meant to be an association to the brood parasitism of common cuckoo (Cuculus canorus)*, apart from the obvious recycling of dead matter, which comes in a living forms. I wasn't going for anything spiritual and because of that I put 'none of us will know', but I'm aware that reincarnation is the first thing that comes to mind. This poem is important only because I managed to sum up the ambivalent conflict in a neologism by changing one letter (dvoseklica > dvoseklina). [I like ambivalent 'ideas' such as: To be or not to be (~to die/kill or not), yin/yang, above/below, oxymoron...]
*In Serbian common cuckoo is called 'kukavica', which also means 'coward' - a good description of a lyrical subject who lacks the courage to kill himself.

Some grammatical confusions were indeed intentional and reflect the original (i.e. screaming the black hoop - omitted preposition; numerous inversions), but I'm afraid that general flow might be severed owing to my poor English skills. I failed at preserving most of the rhymes and alliteration/assonance, which makes the translations more frankensteined. You see, I like making new adjectives in English, but I have no idea whether it's poetically justified or not (Crutched on a strangers’ bones).
I think it's quite natural to have trouble with these perplexed poems because you have to read them a few times in order to understand everything inverted, and after that you just wonder about the hidden meaning. When the reader is tortured like that, it is expected to be awarded with glorious musicality, which is something I strive for, but I believe I won't be able to reach the skill that symbolists had.
Possessed. I don't know how past perfect continuous feels in English; I used imperfect tense in Serbian, which is archaic and makes it more special, but also messes with the reader's sense of time because it's not clear if the 1st and 2nd strophe are really happening now, or they represent the stories told by tingles /Dreamily, tingles had been telling to the splices,/.

When spectres in Dusk... is supposed to connect with the 1st line: Besiege stealthily while chernozem falls...
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gasmask_colostomy
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 24, 2019 1:47 am 
 

Osore wrote:
Spoiler: show
Thanks a lot for your comments! ;-) I'm glad that some of them seem humorous, I had fun writing Whining of a Victim. I consider poems like that and Double-edged easy and (almost) trivial. They are easy to write, read and translate and lack some classical/modern elements that I like, striving for a more contemporary expressions. I was still 20 when I wrote Double-edged and I'm not surprised that it appears like it was written in the toilet, because that's true. The majority of my poems were typed on the phone (this one is no different), so I'm ready whenever inspiration strikes. One time I missed the bus because I moved deeper into the park to write a poem. Anyhow, you're right about the last line, but I would like to add that it was meant to be an association to the brood parasitism of common cuckoo (Cuculus canorus)*, apart from the obvious recycling of dead matter, which comes in a living forms. I wasn't going for anything spiritual and because of that I put 'none of us will know', but I'm aware that reincarnation is the first thing that comes to mind. This poem is important only because I managed to sum up the ambivalent conflict in a neologism by changing one letter (dvoseklica > dvoseklina). [I like ambivalent 'ideas' such as: To be or not to be (~to die/kill or not), yin/yang, above/below, oxymoron...]
*In Serbian common cuckoo is called 'kukavica', which also means 'coward' - a good description of a lyrical subject who lacks the courage to kill himself.

Some grammatical confusions were indeed intentional and reflect the original (i.e. screaming the black hoop - omitted preposition; numerous inversions), but I'm afraid that general flow might be severed owing to my poor English skills. I failed at preserving most of the rhymes and alliteration/assonance, which makes the translations more frankensteined. You see, I like making new adjectives in English, but I have no idea whether it's poetically justified or not (Crutched on a strangers’ bones).
I think it's quite natural to have trouble with these perplexed poems because you have to read them a few times in order to understand everything inverted, and after that you just wonder about the hidden meaning. When the reader is tortured like that, it is expected to be awarded with glorious musicality, which is something I strive for, but I believe I won't be able to reach the skill that symbolists had.
Possessed. I don't know how past perfect continuous feels in English; I used imperfect tense in Serbian, which is archaic and makes it more special, but also messes with the reader's sense of time because it's not clear if the 1st and 2nd strophe are really happening now, or they represent the stories told by tingles /Dreamily, tingles had been telling to the splices,/.

When spectres in Dusk... is supposed to connect with the 1st line: Besiege stealthily while chernozem falls...

It’s weird to relate, but I think I remember writing a similar poem on the toilet at about the same age :roll: The lives we lead... I don’t mind when writers change their style to a less refined - almost prose - poem, but you’ve got to embrace that totally, which is why I found the last line of ‘Double-Edged’ so strange in the context. That probably could have ended with a more obvious joke rather than something so educated as the reference to the cuckoo. (Although maybe that’s much clearer in the Serbian - perhaps a cultural difference too.) Occasionally, poetic jokes become too knotty and then they are only for the writer, because the reader doesn’t have much chance to find the answer by themselves.

Actually, making new adjectives like ‘crutched’ is enjoyable for me to read, and I especially like them when they express an image more strongly than by using conventional description. For the inversions you’ve used, I don’t have a lot of experience reading those, and it puts too much strain on me to extract a sensible meaning. By all means use abstractions, but don’t place too heavy a burden on the reader.

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Osore
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 24, 2019 12:59 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Spoiler: show
It’s weird to relate, but I think I remember writing a similar poem on the toilet at about the same age :roll: The lives we lead... I don’t mind when writers change their style to a less refined - almost prose - poem, but you’ve got to embrace that totally, which is why I found the last line of ‘Double-Edged’ so strange in the context. That probably could have ended with a more obvious joke rather than something so educated as the reference to the cuckoo. (Although maybe that’s much clearer in the Serbian - perhaps a cultural difference too.) Occasionally, poetic jokes become too knotty and then they are only for the writer, because the reader doesn’t have much chance to find the answer by themselves.

Actually, making new adjectives like ‘crutched’ is enjoyable for me to read, and I especially like them when they express an image more strongly than by using conventional description. For the inversions you’ve used, I don’t have a lot of experience reading those, and it puts too much strain on me to extract a sensible meaning. By all means use abstractions, but don’t place too heavy a burden on the reader.

:-D
I changed the last line, using the word 'kukavica' (cuckoo/coward) in Serbian, and chicken in English. Do you get that double meaning about food/coward? I wish I came with a better solution, but I hope this makes it nicer than the previous because neither in translation nor in Serbian the reference to the coward was transparent. In contrary, it was known only to me, as you've noticed.
Do you by abstractions mean abstract expressions/meanings or abstract words (because I don't have any abstract words like hope, infinity, longevity and so on)?
I like inversions and making everything intertwined and I expect the reader to be frustrated. How do you feel about this?
Spoiler: show
Stéphane Mallarmé - Le Sonnet en X

Her pure nails on high dedicating their onyx,
Anguish, at midnight, supports, a lamp-holder,
Many a twilight dream burnt by the Phoenix
That won’t be gathered in some ashes’ amphora

On a table, in the empty room: here is no ptyx,
Abolished bauble of sonorous uselessness,
(Since the Master’s gone to draw tears from the Styx
With that sole object, vanity of Nothingness).

But near the casement wide to the north,
A gold is dying, in accord with the décor
Perhaps, those unicorns dashing fire at a nixie,

She who, naked and dead in the mirror, yet
In the oblivion enclosed by the frame, is fixed
As soon by scintillations as the septet.

Note: The septet may indicate the constellation of Ursa Major in the north.
I have a Serbian translation and in some parts it differs so much that they seem like two separate poems (he's notoriously difficult to translate). I don't know if that's because I read my poems million times, but Mallarme appears much more complex and 'correct'.
Edit: I replaced it with a better translation.
---------------------------------
My ideology is abysmally deep, and I hope it was clear from the poems. ;-)
Spoiler: show
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gasmask_colostomy
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 26, 2019 1:52 am 
 

Osore wrote:
gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Spoiler: show
It’s weird to relate, but I think I remember writing a similar poem on the toilet at about the same age :roll: The lives we lead... I don’t mind when writers change their style to a less refined - almost prose - poem, but you’ve got to embrace that totally, which is why I found the last line of ‘Double-Edged’ so strange in the context. That probably could have ended with a more obvious joke rather than something so educated as the reference to the cuckoo. (Although maybe that’s much clearer in the Serbian - perhaps a cultural difference too.) Occasionally, poetic jokes become too knotty and then they are only for the writer, because the reader doesn’t have much chance to find the answer by themselves.

Actually, making new adjectives like ‘crutched’ is enjoyable for me to read, and I especially like them when they express an image more strongly than by using conventional description. For the inversions you’ve used, I don’t have a lot of experience reading those, and it puts too much strain on me to extract a sensible meaning. By all means use abstractions, but don’t place too heavy a burden on the reader.

:-D
I changed the last line, using the word 'kukavica' (cuckoo/coward) in Serbian, and chicken in English. Do you get that double meaning about food/coward? I wish I came with a better solution, but I hope this makes it nicer than the previous because neither in translation nor in Serbian the reference to the coward was transparent. In contrary, it was known only to me, as you've noticed.
Do you by abstractions mean abstract expressions/meanings or abstract words (because I don't have any abstract words like hope, infinity, longevity and so on)?
I like inversions and making everything intertwined and I expect the reader to be frustrated. How do you feel about this?
Spoiler: show
Stéphane Mallarmé - Le Sonnet en X

Her pure nails on high dedicating their onyx,
Anguish, at midnight, supports, a lamp-holder,
Many a twilight dream burnt by the Phoenix
That won’t be gathered in some ashes’ amphora

On a table, in the empty room: here is no ptyx,
Abolished bauble of sonorous uselessness,
(Since the Master’s gone to draw tears from the Styx
With that sole object, vanity of Nothingness).

But near the casement wide to the north,
A gold is dying, in accord with the décor
Perhaps, those unicorns dashing fire at a nixie,

She who, naked and dead in the mirror, yet
In the oblivion enclosed by the frame, is fixed
As soon by scintillations as the septet.

Note: The septet may indicate the constellation of Ursa Major in the north.
I have a Serbian translation and in some parts it differs so much that they seem like two separate poems (he's notoriously difficult to translate). I don't know if that's because I read my poems million times, but Mallarme appears much more complex and 'correct'.
Edit: I replaced it with a better translation.
---------------------------------
My ideology is abysmally deep, and I hope it was clear from the poems. ;-)
Spoiler: show
Image

Changing it to ‘chicken’ certainly makes the word have the same meaning as Serbian ‘cuckoo’, but perhaps the organization of that last verse could make things clearer. This is just a suggestion for how you could arrange it:

I know for sure that I’ll be no long-remembered bite
And accept my flavour.
Pre-set the oven, prepare the oil -
But no one knows where the chicken hides

Maybe that way build on the joke you’re telling, even if the style is somewhat different. :wink:

I didn’t mean abstract words, but more the opaque quality of the grammar that you’re writing with. It makes the experience very abstract for the reader. On the other hand, I can understand the general direction of Mallarme’s poem much more easily. Even though it wanders between meanings and topics, I can follow the basic flow.

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PostPosted: Fri Jul 26, 2019 5:42 am 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Changing it to ‘chicken’ certainly makes the word have the same meaning as Serbian ‘cuckoo’, but perhaps the organization of that last verse could make things clearer. This is just a suggestion for how you could arrange it:

I know for sure that I’ll be no long-remembered bite
And accept my flavour.
Pre-set the oven, prepare the oil -
But no one knows where the chicken hides

Maybe that way build on the joke you’re telling, even if the style is somewhat different. :wink:

Your solution is so effective that I would like to incorporate it, by crediting you as a co-translator, of course. ;-)
As for the original, I don't know what do do with it because the ending shifts to a very bleak atmosphere and keeps me stuck there.

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
I didn’t mean abstract words, but more the opaque quality of the grammar that you’re writing with. It makes the experience very abstract for the reader. On the other hand, I can understand the general direction of Mallarme’s poem much more easily. Even though it wanders between meanings and topics, I can follow the basic flow.

That's because of the several reasons: 1) I'm indeed more complicated, 2) My English needs to be improved, 3) Inversions in English are more difficult to follow because you cannot make connections between words based on their ending, since it stays the same. Let me see what happens if I remove inversions...
Spoiler: show
Possessed

With bloody palms the head is being pressed
While the willows are waving the shadows, screaming
The black hoop.
Tears are being collected by the white craters, negating
This spectre without screech.

Eclipse tempestuous dives out of the branches
With bloody feet – encompassing
Picture of things unclear and unmoving:
Earthly atlas soared in a starry frieze.

Tingles had been dreamily telling to the splices,
Covered by the hoarfrost of cypress’ aches,
By the whirlpools bitterly flooding in the dread,

Where phantasms had been dripping, withered.
Pacing blindly towards dirty resin
Of crimson vanished in reeds.

When Spectres in Dusk…

Besiege stealthily while chernozem falls,
Drenching the cold cypress along whispers,
Apparitions in blood of riven puddles
Invade with the wind tatters of leaf falls

Bulbs beside the pillow covered
Bitterly; empty belfry under the cassock pestilent
Groans, while in the puddles ripped by the blood

Those big eyes of blind snowdrops,
On the cold cypress which soaks along whisper,

Two ravens dream, uninvited.

I haven't done much. Possessed is made of seemingly fragmented sentences, united by the motifs and overall atmosphere. The last sentence is elliptic.
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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Fri Jul 26, 2019 7:42 pm 
 

Since we had two poems of wetlands, I think it's appropriate to share something from one of my favourite poets. Image
Georg Trakl: By the Moor / Na močvari / Am Moor
Spoiler: show
By the Moor

Wanderer in the black wind; softly dry reeds whisper
In the silence of the moor. Against grey skies
A flight of wild birds follows;
Straight across gloomy waters.

Ferment. In the derelict hut
Foulness flutters up with black wings;
Crippled birches sigh in the wind.

Evening in deserted tavern. The homeward path is shrouded
By gentle melancholy of grazing herds,
Appearance of night: toads surface from silver waters.

Translated by Alexander Stillmark


Na močvari

Putnik na crnom vjetru; suha trska tiho šapuće
U tišini močvare. Na sivom nebu
Jato divljih ptica
Prolijeće ukoso iznad mračnih voda.

Komešanje. U kolibi već dotrajaloj
Krilima crnim zaleprša trulež;
Osakaćene breze na vjetru uzdišu.

Večer u samotnoj krčmi. Vraćanje domu
Ispunjeno blagom tugom stada što pasu,
Pojavljuje se noć: iz voda srebrnastih žabe izrone.

Translated by Vladislav Kušan


Pored močvare

Šetač pod crnim vetrom; tiho šapuće suva
trska
sred mira močvare. Na sivom nebu
prati ga jato divljih ptica;
poprečnica nad mračnim vodama.

Uzbuna. U trošnoj kolibi
crnim krilima uzlepršava trulež;
ubogaljene breze uzdišu pod vetrom.

Veče u napuštenoj krčmi. Povratak okružen
dahom
blage sete stada na ispaši,
pojavom noćnom: izranjaju žabe iz srebrnih
voda.

Translated by Branimir Živojinović


Am Moor

Wanderer im schwarzen Wind; leise flüstert das dürre Rohr
In der Stille des Moors. Am grauen Himmel
Ein Zug von wilden Vögeln folgt;
Quere über finsteren Wassern.

Aufruhr. In verfallener Hütte
Aufflattert mit schwarzen Flügeln die Fäulnis;
Verkrüppelte Birken seufzen im Wind.

Abend in verlassener Schenke. Den Heimweg umwittert
Die sanfte Schwermut grasender Herden,
Erscheinung der Nacht: Kröten tauchen aus silbernen Wassern


Last edited by Osore on Tue Jul 30, 2019 4:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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gasmask_colostomy
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Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Mon Jul 29, 2019 5:45 am 
 

Osore wrote:
Since we had two poems of wetlands, I think it's appropriate to share something from one of my favourite poets. Image
Georg Trakl: By the Moor / Na močvari / Am Moor
Spoiler: show
By the Moor

Wanderer in the black wind; softly dry reeds whisper
In the silence of the moor. Against grey skies
A flight of wild birds follows;
Straight across gloomy waters.

Ferment. In the derelict hut
Foulness flutters up with black wings;
Crippled birches sigh in the wind.

Evening in deserted tavern. The homeward path is shrouded
By gentle melancholy of grazing herds,
Appearance of night: toads surface from silver waters.

Translated by Alexander Stillmark


Na močvari

Putnik na crnom vjetru; suha trska tiho šapuće
U tišini močvare. Na sivom nebu
Jato divljih ptica
Prolijeće ukoso iznad mračnih voda.

Komešanje. U kolibi već dotrajaloj
Krilima crnim zaleprša trulež;
Osakaćene breze na vjetru uzdišu.

Večer u samotnoj krčmi. Vraćanje domu
Ispunjeno blagom tugom stada što pasu,
Pojavljuje se noć: iz voda srebrnastih žabe izrone.

Translated by Vladislav Kušan


Pored močvare

Šetač pod crnim vetrom; tiho šapuće suva
trska
sred mira močvare. Na sivom nebu
prati ga jato divljih ptica;
poprečnica nad mračnim vodama.

Uzbuna. U trošnoj kolibi
crnim krilima uzlepršava trulež;
ubogaljene breze uzdišu pod vetrom.

Veče u napuštenoj krčmi. Povratak okružen
dahom
blage sete stada na ispaši,
pojavom noćnom: izranjaju žabe iz srebrnih
voda.

Translated by Branimir Živojinović


Am Moor

Wanderer im schwarzen Wind; leise flüstert das dürre Rohr
In der Stille des Moors. Am grauen Himmel
Ein Zug von wilden Vögeln folgt;
Quere über finsteren Wassern.

Aufruhr. In verfallener Hütte
Aufflattert mit schwarzen Flügeln die Fäulnis;
Verkrüppelte Birken seufzen im Wind.

Abend in verlassener Schenke. Den Heimweg umwittert
Die sanfte Schwermut grasender Herden,
Erscheinung der Nacht: Kröten tauchen aus silbernen Wassern

When I read this kind of poem, I always think I'm reading lyrics from some pagan/folk black metal band :-P Metal has ruined my sense of literature.

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Mon Jul 29, 2019 4:14 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
When I read this kind of poem, I always think I'm reading lyrics from some pagan/folk black metal band :-P Metal has ruined my sense of literature.
I don't pay attention to lyrics in BM, although I can see Trakl in any atmospheric BM project, or even something slow like (funeral) doom due to his soothing cadence.
I think that lyrics are often unecessary in music. Poetry has its on musicality, which is enough. I'm glad that Mallarme thought the same. :)
Wouldn't it be interesting to have musical patterns of poems recreated by the instruments (something like a background support)? I have no idea how many bands have actually tried that.
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Five_Nails
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Joined: Fri Dec 14, 2007 1:34 pm
Posts: 551
PostPosted: Tue Jul 30, 2019 1:58 am 
 

I don't know if this has been brought up, hell it's probably been discussed in plenty of high school classes but I love this poem:

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

What I love about it is that last line. To me it seems that it's not about the bog itself "admiring" anything but more that it's "ad-" "miring". The bog is reveling in its own waste, it's fermenting in its own wastes, and a frog belching out to a bog that has its own wastes and fecundity, its own ecosystemic filth to deal with, cares not how much a frog cries at it about its own problems because it means nothing to that bog.

The bog is sunk low in its own decay, it cares not for the frog nor should the frog care for the bog. But the one that feels special, the one that feels important, the bouncing one with a loud voice, is able to still make noise and become part of the din despite its total disregard for the decay and froth within such a greater ecosystem, in spite of its own irrelevance.

Anyone can riff on how 'society' is the bog or a 'revolutionary' the frog, really any of two major dichotomous points can fit, but it seems that it's simpler than that and that's what makes this piece so much cleaner and more beautiful to me.

Hence the reality, especially in online anonymity:
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I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
-Emily Dickinson

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Tue Jul 30, 2019 4:29 am 
 

Five_Nails wrote:
I don't know if this has been brought up, hell it's probably been discussed in plenty of high school classes but I love this poem:

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

Thanks for sharing the poetry you like. Unfortunately, I'm not fond of this poem's style, but I like the theme - (social) identity, (self-)discovery and (self-)awareness. Bog means god in Serbian, and ''Admiring Bog'' looks... :aww:
After I found out Emily lived in isolation, it is no surprising that she speaks about dreary public exposure.

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Tue Jul 30, 2019 4:37 am 
 

I was planning to encourage people to share the poem(s) they love, written by the writers from their native countries, so that we can discover new faces and possibly dig up something from the library. For that matter, here are some poems I like from Serbian writers (original and translated to English) + one Croatian writer. I have chosen Vojislav Ilić (a founder of Serbian literary modernism often compared with Parnasists), Sima Pandurović, Jovan Dučić, Aleksa Šantić, Vladislav Petković Dis, Dobriša Cesarić (Modernists/Symbolists), Miloš Crnjanski (Modernist/Sumatraist), Ivan Goran Kovačić (war literature), Miodrag Pavlović, Vasko Popa (contemporary/post-WW2 literature).
Be cautious if you want to read more from these or any other Serbian writers because 90% of Serbian literature is stupid and saturated with history, patriotism and love. Neither do I recommend 109 poems by Sima Pandurović; it's basically one bad pessimistic poem replicated hundred times, which leaves you with less than 10% of unique and good content. Instead, trust me and dive in Serbo-Croatian poetry most beautiful. Wish you all good reads and don't forget to share (your) poems!

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DividerOfShadows
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Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Tue Sep 17, 2019 6:21 pm 
 

Hey, guys. Yeah, I know, I suck at responding and keeping the thread alive, but a lot of things have happened to me in the meantime and I'm trying to get my bearings again, so to speak. I'm not going to go into much detail about it, it is a private matter after all and I'm feeling much better than before, so here's a new poem of mine. Freshly written in a stream of consciousness, hope it's not too weird. Enjoy!

Spoiler: show
Stained Bells

Feathers fall to the ground
Stained bells roll across the road
I pass them by
On my way to a nighthaven

Heavens tattoo burning clouds over us
Those memories swallow us whole

Forests hidden under an ocean of black
Faded out along with their fragrance
The insolent mind gazes into the broken mirror
Hoping to complete it with itself

Never stop growing, never believe a lie
A wave of lava washes over me
Am I worthy enough to press on?
Am I destined to dine on those mountains again?

Towers of sounds guide me on my way
And elicit only the deepest wishes
From the well of many souls

Years spent living in a piece of amber
Watching the skies with blinded eyes
I've earned my spring, I've bled upon the stones
Denying me entrance to the holiest of temples

Lost atoms dance around the streetlights
Losing all hope for the revitalization of the past

I've been around for much longer than I remember
These stars never felt so strange before
New horizons still unwitnessed
Wait for my wings to grow

And I'll try, I'll try for a while
Gold for brass, demons for people
This is not an epitaph
This is not a goodbye
Jagged melodies give me a push
Into the valley of eternal red sunlight

And I envision myself
Laid in an unmarked grave
By the hands that I've cherished for so long
And no blood to drown in again
_________________
Earthcubed wrote:
CradleOfBurzum, about the new Summoning album snippet, wrote:
I was hoping for some material that resembles closer to "Lugburz"


And I'm still hoping for Katy Perry to do another Christian album.


My Last.fm

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Osore
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Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Wed Sep 18, 2019 5:22 pm 
 

It feels like ages since we posted here.
DividerOfShadows wrote:
Spoiler: show
Stained Bells

Feathers fall to the ground
Stained bells roll across the road
I pass them by
On my way to a nighthaven

Heavens tattoo burning clouds over us
Those memories swallow us whole

Forests hidden under an ocean of black
Faded out along with their fragrance
The insolent mind gazes into the broken mirror
Hoping to complete it with itself

Never stop growing, never believe a lie
A wave of lava washes over me
Am I worthy enough to press on?
Am I destined to dine on those mountains again?

Towers of sounds guide me on my way
And elicit only the deepest wishes
From the well of many souls

Years spent living in a piece of amber
Watching the skies with blinded eyes
I've earned my spring, I've bled upon the stones
Denying me entrance to the holiest of temples

Lost atoms dance around the streetlights
Losing all hope for the revitalization of the past

I've been around for much longer than I remember
These stars never felt so strange before
New horizons still unwitnessed
Wait for my wings to grow

And I'll try, I'll try for a while
Gold for brass, demons for people
This is not an epitaph
This is not a goodbye
Jagged melodies give me a push
Into the valley of eternal red sunlight

And I envision myself
Laid in an unmarked grave
By the hands that I've cherished for so long
And no blood to drown in again
In this poem, the lyrical subject wanders spiritually, and there's a glint of hope before the grave part, at least this is how I see it. I would play more with images, as always. Tattoo is a bit distracting from this setting ''under the skies''.
I still can not decide if some parts are clichéd. The next time you can first put all those motifs on a paper as they cross your mind, and then focus on writing process in which you can shape your signature style. Automatic writing might be funnier, but brainstorming and thinking beforehand and while you write can be more gratifying at the end (just not overthink it).

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gasmask_colostomy
Metalhead

Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Fri Sep 20, 2019 5:20 am 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Hey, guys.

Spoiler: show
Stained Bells

Feathers fall to the ground
Stained bells roll across the road
I pass them by
On my way to a nighthaven

Heavens tattoo burning clouds over us
Those memories swallow us whole

Forests hidden under an ocean of black
Faded out along with their fragrance
The insolent mind gazes into the broken mirror
Hoping to complete it with itself

Never stop growing, never believe a lie
A wave of lava washes over me
Am I worthy enough to press on?
Am I destined to dine on those mountains again?

Towers of sounds guide me on my way
And elicit only the deepest wishes
From the well of many souls

Years spent living in a piece of amber
Watching the skies with blinded eyes
I've earned my spring, I've bled upon the stones
Denying me entrance to the holiest of temples

Lost atoms dance around the streetlights
Losing all hope for the revitalization of the past

I've been around for much longer than I remember
These stars never felt so strange before
New horizons still unwitnessed
Wait for my wings to grow

And I'll try, I'll try for a while
Gold for brass, demons for people
This is not an epitaph
This is not a goodbye
Jagged melodies give me a push
Into the valley of eternal red sunlight

And I envision myself
Laid in an unmarked grave
By the hands that I've cherished for so long
And no blood to drown in again

In fact, I have no problem with "tattoo" as it's used, but I would feel weird if you talked about it as a noun. My bone to pick is with "streetlights", which are the only man-made object in the poem, and really jerk me out of the dream I'm in. Your poetry tends to be very escapist, so you should only use these modern, urban words if you want to create that effect of contrast or of awaking slightly from the dream.

I feel like this poem has more of a journeying theme than other ones, since the speaker seems to visit several places and end up being buried. There are also several references to music, such as the "towers of sounds" and "jagged melodies [that] give me a push". Were you listening to some specific song while writing? This happens to me sometimes, and the music may influence the writing in some way. Also, loved that phrase about dining on mountains.


I'd like to share a poem that isn't written by me, but by the Irish poet Ciaran Carson. Although he has very strong connections to Irish politics and history of the 20th century (and I don't), I find his work fascinating in how it makes The Troubles in Belfast come to life. I won't explain too much about the context here, but you can read a little more in the link after the poem, as well as a note on the title. The line length is not a mistake: that is how Carson wrote a lot of his poems at this time.

Belfast Confetti*
Suddenly as the riot squad moved in it was raining exclamation
marks,
Nuts, bolts, nails, car keys. A fount of broken type. And
the explosion
Itself - an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst
of rapid fire ...
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head, but it kept
stuttering
All the alleyways and side streets blocked with stops and
colons.

I know this labyrinth so well - Balaklava, Raglan, Inkerman,
Odessa Street -
Why can't I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street.
Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face -shields. Walkie-
talkies. What is
My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going?
A fusillade of question-marks.


*Belfast confetti was the name of the shrapnel from improvised explosive devices used during the Belfast Troubles.
https://genius.com/Ciaran-carson-belfas ... -annotated

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DividerOfShadows
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Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Fri Sep 20, 2019 5:52 pm 
 

Osore wrote:
It feels like ages since we posted here. In this poem, the lyrical subject wanders spiritually, and there's a glint of hope before the grave part, at least this is how I see it. I would play more with images, as always. Tattoo is a bit distracting from this setting ''under the skies''.
I still can not decide if some parts are clichéd. The next time you can first put all those motifs on a paper as they cross your mind, and then focus on writing process in which you can shape your signature style. Automatic writing might be funnier, but brainstorming and thinking beforehand and while you write can be more gratifying at the end (just not overthink it).


It truly does.

You're right, that last stanza is supposed to represent hope for the future, that some things in life will happen before the subject departs to another world. Well, I know "tattoo" is not a word I tend to use while writing, but it felt right here for some reason, I guess I was trying to represent this permanent state of tribulations in the world, and what image would be more suitable for such a use than an action of tattooing? After all, it's permanent and basically what it does is leave scars. (Dark Angel, anyone?)

I'll try to do that, but there's a problem. I do get some interesting lines in my head from time to time and I write them down on my cell phone as soon as possible, but I've come to notice that I seldom implement them into some new poem. It just doesn't feel right, it feels way out of context for me.

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
In fact, I have no problem with "tattoo" as it's used, but I would feel weird if you talked about it as a noun. My bone to pick is with "streetlights", which are the only man-made object in the poem, and really jerk me out of the dream I'm in. Your poetry tends to be very escapist, so you should only use these modern, urban words if you want to create that effect of contrast or of awaking slightly from the dream.

I feel like this poem has more of a journeying theme than other ones, since the speaker seems to visit several places and end up being buried. There are also several references to music, such as the "towers of sounds" and "jagged melodies [that] give me a push". Were you listening to some specific song while writing? This happens to me sometimes, and the music may influence the writing in some way. Also, loved that phrase about dining on mountains.


Well, that's what happens when you zone out during writing and find yourself staring at lights in your room :-D But I'll bear your advice in mind.

Both you and Osore are right, it is indeed about journeying, but less so in a literal sense and more in a spiritual sense - how a person's life develops. I did, actually, I think I was listening to some Aphex Twin tracks (ambient/electronica, for those who don't know him), probably off his second album with all of those dark ambient instrumentals. I needed something menacing and dark because I realized long time ago that music is basically an amplifier for my thoughts. If it's twisted, I'm able to write down some really weird and confusing lines - and I like that, I love when my poetry appears to be enigmatic.

Well, yeah, that line... As I've said above, the images in the poem are not really literal, they are mostly metaphors, and so is this one - and, believe it or not, it has some quasi-erotic connotations. But I'm glad you liked it, man!

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
I'd like to share a poem that isn't written by me, but by the Irish poet Ciaran Carson. Although he has very strong connections to Irish politics and history of the 20th century (and I don't), I find his work fascinating in how it makes The Troubles in Belfast come to life. I won't explain too much about the context here, but you can read a little more in the link after the poem, as well as a note on the title. The line length is not a mistake: that is how Carson wrote a lot of his poems at this time.

Spoiler: show
Belfast Confetti*
Suddenly as the riot squad moved in it was raining exclamation
marks,
Nuts, bolts, nails, car keys. A fount of broken type. And
the explosion
Itself - an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst
of rapid fire ...
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head, but it kept
stuttering
All the alleyways and side streets blocked with stops and
colons.

I know this labyrinth so well - Balaklava, Raglan, Inkerman,
Odessa Street -
Why can't I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street.
Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face -shields. Walkie-
talkies. What is
My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going?
A fusillade of question-marks.


*Belfast confetti was the name of the shrapnel from improvised explosive devices used during the Belfast Troubles.
https://genius.com/Ciaran-carson-belfas ... -annotated


It's an interesting one, really. I don't think I've ever seen a poem wherein interpunction is used as an image, I was pleasantly surprised while reading it. And you're right, the stress is all over this one, the lyrical subject is out of his mind because all those nasty things happening have scared him.

If you guys don't mind, I'd like to share yet another poem, but I'm not sure whether you'll like it. It's not really dreamy or escapist, it's a bit dystopian and based on some real life problems, so I believe that notions of my frustration are apparent, hopefully to the poem's benefit.

Spoiler: show
Adamant

Bridges bury the waters deep
And the doors, once sealed, open wide
When have I understood you?
The broken kings now bow before me

A belly with stretch marks
Pleads ignorance, painted white
Return the rivers back to their source!
Bleed me yet another triumphant symphony!

Venomous flowers choke the tree
Yet with a grip not firm enough
Those four legs of yours
Won't help you run away from me

Mangled lips keeping white gold inside
Adamant in their childlike belief
Oh, will you cry for me?

Sing to the lepers of the world
Play with pawns disguised as knights
Let them try to fill your crevices
And make you a new carrier of bruises

Oh, will you cry for me?
Disappearing with no action abhorred
Oh, you will cry for me
When pale walls start to close in
_________________
Earthcubed wrote:
CradleOfBurzum, about the new Summoning album snippet, wrote:
I was hoping for some material that resembles closer to "Lugburz"


And I'm still hoping for Katy Perry to do another Christian album.


My Last.fm

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gasmask_colostomy
Metalhead

Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Mon Sep 23, 2019 11:21 am 
 

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Well, yeah, that line... As I've said above, the images in the poem are not really literal, they are mostly metaphors, and so is this one - and, believe it or not, it has some quasi-erotic connotations. But I'm glad you liked it, man!

Haha, those kind of mountains!

DividerOfShadows wrote:
If you guys don't mind, I'd like to share yet another poem, but I'm not sure whether you'll like it. It's not really dreamy or escapist, it's a bit dystopian and based on some real life problems, so I believe that notions of my frustration are apparent, hopefully to the poem's benefit.

Spoiler: show
Adamant

Bridges bury the waters deep
And the doors, once sealed, open wide
When have I understood you?
The broken kings now bow before me

A belly with stretch marks
Pleads ignorance, painted white
Return the rivers back to their source!
Bleed me yet another triumphant symphony!

Venomous flowers choke the tree
Yet with a grip not firm enough
Those four legs of yours
Won't help you run away from me

Mangled lips keeping white gold inside
Adamant in their childlike belief
Oh, will you cry for me?

Sing to the lepers of the world
Play with pawns disguised as knights
Let them try to fill your crevices
And make you a new carrier of bruises

Oh, will you cry for me?
Disappearing with no action abhorred
Oh, you will cry for me
When pale walls start to close in

Indeed I do like this one, although I don't feel I can interpret it very much. A lot of the images are much less dreamy and more starkly real, lots of human and animal imagery overlapping which is pretty nasty and upfront. The threats come across really strongly as well, and I get much more of the speaker's personality than in most of your poems, which rely on the images.

This one is very simple.

Perfume
Spoiler: show
The wind across your skin,
Scarves you trail in arboreal alleyways,
Summer sun through the eye of a needle,
A segment of the forgotten fruit
We sucked as toothless children,
Silky whispers over mirror waters,
A butterfly passing in the night,
Dreams of a paradise –
A sky of sea on a hill of stone,
Jutting edges serenely into the depths above
As hours run down into the valley
Through caves of umbilical beauty,
Grass cradling your orange toes – erased
By your hallucinatory essence.

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Osore
Metal newbie

Joined: Thu Apr 10, 2014 9:55 am
Posts: 192
Location: Serbia
PostPosted: Mon Sep 23, 2019 7:41 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Ciaran Carson Belfast Confetti

Spoiler: show
Suddenly as the riot squad moved in it was raining exclamation
marks,
Nuts, bolts, nails, car keys. A fount of broken type. And
the explosion
Itself - an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst
of rapid fire ...
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head, but it kept
stuttering
All the alleyways and side streets blocked with stops and
colons.

I know this labyrinth so well - Balaklava, Raglan, Inkerman,
Odessa Street -
Why can't I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street.
Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face -shields. Walkie-
talkies. What is
My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going?
A fusillade of question-marks.
Unique poem. I particularly like that unity of form and content. It's a shame he's not translated into my language.

DividerOfShadows wrote:
If you guys don't mind, I'd like to share yet another poem, but I'm not sure whether you'll like it. It's not really dreamy or escapist, it's a bit dystopian and based on some real life problems, so I believe that notions of my frustration are apparent, hopefully to the poem's benefit.

Spoiler: show
Adamant

Bridges bury the waters deep
And the doors, once sealed, open wide
When have I understood you?
The broken kings now bow before me

A belly with stretch marks
Pleads ignorance, painted white
Return the rivers back to their source!
Bleed me yet another triumphant symphony!

Venomous flowers choke the tree
Yet with a grip not firm enough
Those four legs of yours
Won't help you run away from me

Mangled lips keeping white gold inside
Adamant in their childlike belief
Oh, will you cry for me?

Sing to the lepers of the world
Play with pawns disguised as knights
Let them try to fill your crevices
And make you a new carrier of bruises

Oh, will you cry for me?
Disappearing with no action abhorred
Oh, you will cry for me
When pale walls start to close in
Heavy (metal) fury!

Also...
Youtube: show


gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Perfume
Spoiler: show
The wind across your skin,
Scarves you trail in arboreal alleyways,
Summer sun through the eye of a needle,
A segment of the forgotten fruit
We sucked as toothless children,
Silky whispers over mirror waters,
A butterfly passing in the night,
Dreams of a paradise –
A sky of sea on a hill of stone,
Jutting edges serenely into the depths above
As hours run down into the valley
Through caves of umbilical beauty,
Grass cradling your orange toes – erased
By your hallucinatory essence.
I was thinking about sweet perfumes I don't like while reading this and I swear I felt dizzy and had to pause for a few moments.
This poem must be haunted by our evolutionary past in arboreal paradise, and I'm now certainly possessed by an extinct hominid. Should I send an SOS before it's too late? :scratch:

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DividerOfShadows
Metal newbie

Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Thu Sep 26, 2019 6:23 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
DividerOfShadows wrote:
Well, yeah, that line... As I've said above, the images in the poem are not really literal, they are mostly metaphors, and so is this one - and, believe it or not, it has some quasi-erotic connotations. But I'm glad you liked it, man!

Haha, those kind of mountains!


:-D

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Indeed I do like this one, although I don't feel I can interpret it very much. A lot of the images are much less dreamy and more starkly real, lots of human and animal imagery overlapping which is pretty nasty and upfront. The threats come across really strongly as well, and I get much more of the speaker's personality than in most of your poems, which rely on the images.


As I've said, it was written at a time when I was feeling really low and I just had to express it through writing. Given that fact, it wouldn't have made sense to include some of my usual motifs - the inspiration for it was rooted in a different place from the one my inspiration usually comes from. I'm glad you like it!

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Perfume
Spoiler: show
The wind across your skin,
Scarves you trail in arboreal alleyways,
Summer sun through the eye of a needle,
A segment of the forgotten fruit
We sucked as toothless children,
Silky whispers over mirror waters,
A butterfly passing in the night,
Dreams of a paradise –
A sky of sea on a hill of stone,
Jutting edges serenely into the depths above
As hours run down into the valley
Through caves of umbilical beauty,
Grass cradling your orange toes – erased
By your hallucinatory essence.


You may call it simple, but I think it's reallybeautiful. All those motifs mentioned resonate with me. I especially love the lines "As hours run down into the valley" and "Silky whispers over mirror waters,/A butterfly passing in the night,/Dreams of a paradise -", for some reason I was really absorbed by them. I love how all those images change smoothly while I'm reading the poem, nothing feels disjointed or awkward, like I'm watching a movie. Great job!

Osore wrote:
Heavy (metal) fury!


:-D

Unfortunately, I don't have a new poem ready for now, but I managed to dig up one that was written about half a year ago. I don't think I've posted it before, so I'll post it separately.
_________________
Earthcubed wrote:
CradleOfBurzum, about the new Summoning album snippet, wrote:
I was hoping for some material that resembles closer to "Lugburz"


And I'm still hoping for Katy Perry to do another Christian album.


My Last.fm

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DividerOfShadows
Metal newbie

Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Thu Sep 26, 2019 6:47 pm 
 

Deliverance
Spoiler: show
What is life to you?
A canvas to portray winds of change on
To sing songs not rooted in any melody

I am the place between welkin and soil
I am a bleak horizon bereft of a footing
As my mind grows
My Sun disappears
As the multitude of stars appears
Condemned am I not to follow any

Bled succulently onto the paper
Where I signed my indecisions
Black horses lead me to every edge
And I poise between oblivion and passion

The Sun's burning mane, embrace me
The Moon's enticing surface, scourge me
I'll be vigilant until the sand suffocates me
I'll be a prey for every intruder
Gnawing at my weakened heart
Razing my vagabond soul

If this is to by my end, so be it
I shall drink from this cup of denial
As I have a hundred times before
To shed the pain one needs to succumb to it

And every wind will carry dust
And every eye will glance in its way
And every flame will burn this lust
And every name will create a new day


One thing, though. I've had trouble concluding whether the phrase "a multitude of stars" should be followed by a singular or a plural form of the verb, so I'd appreciate it if somebody could tell me which way is the right one.

Also, I'm very interested in your interpretations of the poem! :-P
_________________
Earthcubed wrote:
CradleOfBurzum, about the new Summoning album snippet, wrote:
I was hoping for some material that resembles closer to "Lugburz"


And I'm still hoping for Katy Perry to do another Christian album.


My Last.fm

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 Profile  
Rottir
Mallcore Kid

Joined: Sat Aug 01, 2015 6:48 pm
Posts: 28
PostPosted: Sat Sep 28, 2019 7:22 pm 
 

Archean
(Blank verse, iambic tetrameter)

This land is like a rotting corpse
With bones bursting through riven flesh
Of Labrador tea, balsam fir,
And lichen, in ceaseless decay.

Terranes of trondhjemite laid bare,
Frail roots of mountains long since gone,
Weathered into an ancient sea,
Three billion years in the making.

For those who tread this wasted land
Devoid of hope and sense of man
Across grey swathes of rock immense
A spectre looms of grave intent.

The slow grind of tectonic force
Writ scarred across the face of time
Hints of a sempiternal scream
That echoes now within my mind.

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gasmask_colostomy
Metalhead

Joined: Thu May 27, 2010 5:38 am
Posts: 677
Location: Behind the wall of fire
PostPosted: Tue Oct 01, 2019 6:14 am 
 

Rottir wrote:
Archean
(Blank verse, iambic tetrameter)

Spoiler: show
This land is like a rotting corpse
With bones bursting through riven flesh
Of Labrador tea, balsam fir,
And lichen, in ceaseless decay.

Terranes of trondhjemite laid bare,
Frail roots of mountains long since gone,
Weathered into an ancient sea,
Three billion years in the making.

For those who tread this wasted land
Devoid of hope and sense of man
Across grey swathes of rock immense
A spectre looms of grave intent.

The slow grind of tectonic force
Writ scarred across the face of time
Hints of a sempiternal scream
That echoes now within my mind.

Hi Rottir, nice to see someone else taking interest in the thread. I'm pretty keen on physical geography myself, and the way you've described tectonic changes and earthly processes is pretty cool. You've made all the imagery very dark (and kind of metal, I guess), which seems reflective of the Earth's power, although there are a lot of references to people, including the speaker. Personally, I would have preferred either leaving the description discrete from the personal references, since it trivialises the subject to say that the "ancient sea [was] three billion years in the making" and to end "within [the speaker's] mind". It makes me wonder what the important point of the poem is.

Another place where there's a disharmony in this poem is in the rhyme scheme. From your very brief description of the poem as blank verse, I'm not sure that you meant the rhymes of 'land'/'man' and 'time'/'mind' to come up near the end, but I'm not a fan of how they seem predictable compared to the complex imagery you explore in the first two verses. That third verse especially slows down to a very regular rhythm and takes some of the impact out of the shock imagery.

Despite some criticism above, I enjoyed this one a lot and hope you'll post something again!

DividerOfShadows wrote:
Deliverance
Spoiler: show
What is life to you?
A canvas to portray winds of change on
To sing songs not rooted in any melody

I am the place between welkin and soil
I am a bleak horizon bereft of a footing
As my mind grows
My Sun disappears
As the multitude of stars appears
Condemned am I not to follow any

Bled succulently onto the paper
Where I signed my indecisions
Black horses lead me to every edge
And I poise between oblivion and passion

The Sun's burning mane, embrace me
The Moon's enticing surface, scourge me
I'll be vigilant until the sand suffocates me
I'll be a prey for every intruder
Gnawing at my weakened heart
Razing my vagabond soul

If this is to by my end, so be it
I shall drink from this cup of denial
As I have a hundred times before
To shed the pain one needs to succumb to it

And every wind will carry dust
And every eye will glance in its way
And every flame will burn this lust
And every name will create a new day


One thing, though. I've had trouble concluding whether the phrase "a multitude of stars" should be followed by a singular or a plural form of the verb, so I'd appreciate it if somebody could tell me which way is the right one.

Also, I'm very interested in your interpretations of the poem! :-P

It's an interesting poem, and actually reads a bit like a riddle. I was trying to figure out what's between the sky and the earth and between the sun and the moon. Sounds a bit like you're describing dusk, but there is also that personal conflict that you have in most of your poems. As such, it's a little mystical and Middle Eastern in a way, like an old spiritual poem. Really felt the strength of atmosphere in that line "until the sand suffocates me". Wouldn't like to suppose more than that.

"Multitude of stars" is one multitude and many stars, so it's collectively singular. You made the right choice using 'appears'.


Here's one of the few that I've written quite recently. It was a real experience at work, but just seemed to have a certain poignancy.

Lesson on Efficiency
Spoiler: show
In a classroom without a table,
we talk about efficiency.
Face to face, his chair to my bench,
the only words on the board
‘bureaucracy’, ‘House of Commons’, and ‘House of Lords’.

He believes, or he says he believes,
that most meetings are unnecessary
for most of the participants,
that they could accomplish more
by staying away.
However, if they failed to attend,
their leaders would consider them
to be shirking responsibility.
On this point, we concur.

The tables have been taken for use
as a dessert bar in a birthday party,
this quarter’s celebrants crowned
and fussed over with gifts.
He leaves at quarter to;
late enough to miss the games,
but just in time to appear in the photos.

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DividerOfShadows
Metal newbie

Joined: Tue Sep 13, 2016 1:58 pm
Posts: 388
Location: Croatia
PostPosted: Thu Oct 03, 2019 5:24 pm 
 

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
It's an interesting poem, and actually reads a bit like a riddle. I was trying to figure out what's between the sky and the earth and between the sun and the moon. Sounds a bit like you're describing dusk, but there is also that personal conflict that you have in most of your poems. As such, it's a little mystical and Middle Eastern in a way, like an old spiritual poem. Really felt the strength of atmosphere in that line "until the sand suffocates me". Wouldn't like to suppose more than that.

"Multitude of stars" is one multitude and many stars, so it's collectively singular. You made the right choice using 'appears'.


Interesting way of interpreting it, I didn't expect that it would be a bit puzzling! I won't give too many details away, but let's just say that it's about choices in one's life that end up making that certain someone lost, confused and unfocused. Maybe they're aware of that, maybe not, who knows.

Also, thank you for telling me that, that was bugging me a lot. I didn't want to have any grammatical mistakes in my poem and appear as if I didn't know what I was writing about.

gasmask_colostomy wrote:
Here's one of the few that I've written quite recently. It was a real experience at work, but just seemed to have a certain poignancy.

Lesson on Efficiency
Spoiler: show
In a classroom without a table,
we talk about efficiency.
Face to face, his chair to my bench,
the only words on the board
‘bureaucracy’, ‘House of Commons’, and ‘House of Lords’.

He believes, or he says he believes,
that most meetings are unnecessary
for most of the participants,
that they could accomplish more
by staying away.
However, if they failed to attend,
their leaders would consider them
to be shirking responsibility.
On this point, we concur.

The tables have been taken for use
as a dessert bar in a birthday party,
this quarter’s celebrants crowned
and fussed over with gifts.
He leaves at quarter to;
late enough to miss the games,
but just in time to appear in the photos.


For some reason this one is rather strange, or at least seems that way to me. I have no recollection of you using such a theme in poetry before. I don't see any metaphors, but it seems like you were having fun describing a story using verses. Maybe it's just me, but it might be a tiny bit too literal for my taste. However, despite that, I like the structure of your poem, how you used three stanzas to convey different ideas - the first as the description of place, the second as the description of a conundrum bugging your interlocutor, and the last one as some sort of a solution to the said problem.

Rottir wrote:
Spoiler: show
Archean
(Blank verse, iambic tetrameter)

This land is like a rotting corpse
With bones bursting through riven flesh
Of Labrador tea, balsam fir,
And lichen, in ceaseless decay.

Terranes of trondhjemite laid bare,
Frail roots of mountains long since gone,
Weathered into an ancient sea,
Three billion years in the making.

For those who tread this wasted land
Devoid of hope and sense of man
Across grey swathes of rock immense
A spectre looms of grave intent.

The slow grind of tectonic force
Writ scarred across the face of time
Hints of a sempiternal scream
That echoes now within my mind.


To be honest, I'm getting some black metal vibes from your poem. And I'll have to partly agree with gasmask, your way of putting the speaker at the end after all those verses describing nature seems a bit weird to me. It would make sense to end the poem with something striking, but it seems like those bleak images of nature appear to be more impactful than the finale - it seems like you added the speaker at the end to magnify the experience, but it would've made more sense if you had used this motif from the very beginning, combining images of both external and internal. Other than that, some of your verses are quite interesting and I like the vocabulary you're using here.

Here's my most recent one. I was working out and listening to Young Gods' "Moon Revolutions" and some verses just begged me to write them down. Soon enough I had a theme in my mind that I wanted to describe in various ways.

Water of God
Spoiler: show
Spit at the mirror to clean your image
May salt lakes flood and devour my wounds
Finger points towards where heart dared not venture
Electric fuel infused in red emotion

I survived this green pestilence
So I will face the orange skies
Deserts will bloom under my feet
My grasp seizing what's eternal

A shapeshifting memory
A black eye of inability
Snuffing out the suns of yore

Golden rays, expanding rust
Judas walking towards the canyon
A worm becoming one with dust

Labyrinths aglow with red symbols
Doors hidden behind that onedimensional being
I have chosen not to be afraid
But to be a moving sea
Rife with those cognizant of life

Flame will not sear me
But make me a light in the darkness
Confessions to the great beyond
Prayers to oneself

To my left, the demons giving me wings
The dunes bend and sway
The wind is broken
The time stands still

Existence interpolates me
Between the points of horizon
A toxic star redeeming itself

The most real hallucination
Graves communicating with trees
Once you close your eyes and give in
Walk down the aisle between astral stairs
Witnessing unadulterated white
Reality will be yet another dream
Dreamt by those who gave up their divinity
_________________
Earthcubed wrote:
CradleOfBurzum, about the new Summoning album snippet, wrote:
I was hoping for some material that resembles closer to "Lugburz"


And I'm still hoping for Katy Perry to do another Christian album.


My Last.fm

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