read his latest “poem””” and tell me you’re proud of yourself for egging him on

We contain multitudes

aight Bobby Dylan

When I sneaked into a church backyard with someone I was in love with:

“the beginning is by the descent:
the sermon fell on deaf ears
and all odds escaped us
there is not always time, but there is always a trick
does it need to be fast?
to spell to heaven that there's no shame in this heart
our footprints here are unsuspected
but the ground
these weeds
the lamppost
the son of man on the cross
the elderly neighbor rushing her feet to peer through her gate who may be sneaking into the church backyard
maybe we were picking ripe mangoes
maybe we were looking for your lost phone
all of this could give away our story so simple and so brutally human
calm down: few pedestrians on the front street
pitch blackness in your eyes
the wind hugs the pine branches
it's passion friday, 23hrs16min
forget everything
i will invent a new calendar to manage the gap between the days and be sure that i witnessed eternity in this fleeting hour”

do you guys kind of make up the cadence in your head when reading poetry? My inner voice is honestly kind of monotone and a date gave me a tip.. just read it out loud

surprisingly it worked but i'm not quite satisfied

Death kills us Like crack killed Pookie

Like Schwarzenegger killed Tookie

Chewbacca was a Wookiee

Revolution

“and a date gave me a tip.. just read it out loud”

She’s great. That’s how you’re supposed to read poetry

You made this up?

Whitman

i don’t know s*** about all that my man

Me and this person actually met at the local church backyard (when there was a retreat, the church was empty), it wasn't on Passion Friday and there was no neighbor peering through the gate, but it was secret, the person in question was in the closet at the time.

I'm into poetry
but usually I don't like poetry in english

It doesn't hit the same if it isn't native language

“Dead you will lie and never memory of you
will there be nor desire into the aftertime—for you do not
share in the roses
of Pieria, but invisible too in Hades’ house
you will go your way among dim shapes. Having been breathed out.” — Anne Carson’s translation of Sappho’s 55th fragment

A parody of scene music

poetry books yall would reccomend?

Does Rain only Fall to Be Lost Again .

Inferno by Dante Alighieri

the goat

Paul Celan - Todesfuge

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken sie abends
wir trinken sie mittags und morgens wir trinken sie nachts
wir trinken und trinken
wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng
Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt
der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete
er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine Rüden herbei
er pfeift seine Juden hervor läßt schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts
wir trinken dich morgens und mittags wir trinken dich abends
wir trinken und trinken
Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt
der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete
Dein aschenes Haar Sulamith wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng

Er ruft stecht tiefer ins Erdreich ihr einen ihr andern singet und spielt
er greift nach dem Eisen im Gurt er schwingts seine Augen sind blau
stecht tiefer die Spaten ihr einen ihr andern spielt weiter zum Tanz auf

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts
wir trinken dich mittags und morgens wir trinken dich abends
wir trinken und trinken
ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Sulamith er spielt mit den Schlangen

Er ruft spielt süßer den Tod der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland
er ruft streicht dunkler die Geigen dann steigt ihr als Rauch in die Luft
dann habt ihr ein Grab in den Wolken da liegt man nicht eng

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts
wir trinken dich mittags der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland
wir trinken dich abends und morgens wir trinken und trinken
er Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland sein Auge ist blau
er trifft dich mit bleierner Kugel er trifft dich genau
ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete

er hetzt seine Rüden auf uns er schenkt uns ein Grab in der Luft
er spielt mit den Schlangen und träumet der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Sulamith

English translation:

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at dusk
we drink it at noon in mornings we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we dig a grave in the sky there is plenty of room
A man lives in the house he plays with his snakes he writes
he writes when it darkens in Deutschland your golden hair Margarete
he writes it and steps outside of the house and the strike of the stars he whistles his hounds
he whistles his Jews dig a grave in the ground
he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you in mornings and midday we drink you at dusk
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his snakes he writes
he writes when it darkens in Deutschland your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith we dig a grave in the sky there is plenty of room

He shouts you there dig deeper the rest of you sing you others play on
he raises the rod from his belt his eyes are blue
drive the spade deeper the rest of you sing you others play on for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday and mornings we drink you at dusk
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Sulamith he plays with his snakes

He shouts make death sound sweeter death is a Master from Deutschland
he shouts strike the violin darker then rise as smoke in the air
then a grave in the clouds there is so much more room

Black milk of mornings we drink you at night
we drink you at midday death is a Master from Deutschland
we drink you at dusk in mornings we drink and drink
death is a Master from Deutschland his eye is blue
his lead bullets strike you his aim is true
a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete
he whistles his hounds he grants us graves in the sky
he plays with his snakes and he dreams death is a Master aus Deutschland

your golden hair Magarete
your ashen hair Sulamith

Paul Celans reading of this poem is absolutely amazing

@KFA any recs for getting started in reading any famous poem books?

Make sure you’re interested in the poet and the subjects the poetry is about. When you start reading Celan for example it’s good to know that he was a Jew who’s parents were both killed by the nazis and he spent time in a workcamp himself. He had depression all his life and committed suicide. Knowing some background about the poet can make it easier to understand their poems.

What poem collections are you thinking of reading?

@training btw I’m not a poetry expert, I mostly read prose but enjoy some poetry now and then

oh good points. i've never really dived into the poet's bio too much, so maybe i should start considering that in my next search.

i was a fan of ee cummings unorthodox style (though i didn't retain much from his collection). i guess poems/poets that make me contemplate life and one's purpose would serve as an interest for me

Take a look at below authors, you might like them.

Paul Celan
Rainer Maria Rilke
Charles Baudelaire
Robert R Frost(The Road Not Taken & Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening on of my favorites)
Philip Larkin(Aubade, amazing poem about death)

trapped in a time forest
limbs in the wind
like faulty clock hands
moving to and fro

a malfunctioning cog
or poltergeist
keeping things in place
damming up the flow

insects litter the ground
their carapaces
crushed by the pressure
of unearthly silence

an azure planetoid
looms up above
bathing everything
in bright phosphorescence