Non-erotic poetry (that is, Poetry)

[_Land]

What new poetry thread?

I reviewed one of your poems recently

 

[NivKay]

What? did you really? Oh jeez...why on earth did you do thaT??? on that thread...*gulp* I'll have to check it out...do I dare...? ...Disturb the universe...?

Do you have a link...? no never mind...I'll find it myself...I hate this...! God damn you @_Land

 

[NivKay]

To be honest, I'd rather be reviewing poems I've discovered from poets I've read elsewhere rather than on Lit. I mean, there is no point reviewing you or Angeline or any of the better poets here, because you are already known...and the whole point of that thread is to review poems that are new? I'm in a quandary...

 

[_Land]

To be honest, I'd rather be reviewing poems I've discovered from poets I've read elsewhere rather than on Lit. I mean, there is no point reviewing you or Angeline or any of the better poets here, because you are already known...and the whole point of that thread is to review poems that are new? I'm in a quandary...

It's not about the poet, it's about the poem

 

[Tzara]

To be honest, I'd rather be reviewing poems I've discovered from poets I've read elsewhere rather than on Lit. I mean, there is no point reviewing you or Angeline or any of the better poets here, because you are already known...and the whole point of that thread is to review poems that are new? I'm in a quandary...

_Land is referring to the New Poems section of the main Literotica site (https://www.literotica.com/new/poetry), not something here in the forum. The part that is in the forum is the New Poems Recommendations thread, where people post, unsurprisingly, recommendations and mini-reviews of poems recently posted to the main Literotica site (i.e. the New Poems section mentioned above). There used to be, a long time ago, a regular rotation of forum people who would read the new poems and make recommendations of the newly posted poems that they thought merited interest.

Over the years, most of the forum regulars stopped posting to the main Literotica site and just stuck to the forum. Also, in part because there were a lot fewer people posting over time, the general quality of the New Poems on the main site perhaps got a little sketchy, so that there were fewer poems being posted that the recommenders found interesting enough to mention. I think _Land is trying to restart the tradition of recommending poems from the main site New Poems page, which is commendable.

As for reviewing or commenting on poems by non-Lit poets, there have been various threads to do that over time. For example, each April (well, most Aprils) I've tried to talk about different poems I've found interesting for National Poetry Month (here, if you're curious). I'd find a general thread where people can comment on poems they liked of interest, if you want to start one.

 

[_Land]

Blood is Trending

Blood is trending.
It scrolls faster than mercy,
a red hashtag pulsing between
sniper scope and sidewalk chalk.

Feeds drip with sirens—
babies with no names
buried beneath fallen ceilings,
brothers turned rubble,
sisters erased mid-sentence.

Votes are cast in calibers now.
Borders redraw themselves
in shrapnel and shame—
every nation a trigger,
every faith a fuse.

We livestream the crucifixion.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The algorithm favors agony—
it knows
blood gets clicks.

Skies split open like warnings
ignored.
Grounds open their mouths
to swallow headlines whole.

There are wars that look like invasions,
wars that dress like peacekeeping,
wars that happen in homes
where love turns into lawlessness
with a fist.

This is not news.
This is not breaking.
This is not new.

This is history hemorrhaging—
through Gaza, Ukraine,
Chicago, Sudan,
your neighborhood corner store.

Blood is trending.
Truth’s been shadowbanned.
And justice?
Just another voice drowned
beneath the scroll.

But listen—
can you hear it?
The heartbeat behind the horror?

It still wants to live.
It still dares to beat.
Even as blood
keeps
trending.

 

[SpermFactory]

There are wars that look like invasions,
wars that dress like peacekeeping,
wars that happen in homes

Powerful @_Land, when I read these lines I naturally put stress on wars. In doing so it creates a beat that somehow swings through every line my mind. In doing so I return to ponder the message.

 

[_Land]

@Angeline

No Black Veils
(for Laura Nyro)

Death ain't a shadow—it’s a chorus.
It claps offbeat in basements
where soul and gospel
make slow love in the dark.
She didn’t whisper elegies—
she spat them through piano teeth,
each chord a molar cracked
on the jawbone of God.

She wrote death young—
before rent,
before heartbreak had furniture—
and still managed to dress it
in tambourines and afterbirth.
“Take me early,” she said,
“but sing me out loud.”
And the world did,
but too damn late.

Her notes weren’t polite.
They kicked down
the cathedral door of pop,
lit candles with menstrual fire,
baptized lovers
in sweat-slick crescendos
and the ache of unfinished prayer.

She taught us—
the afterlife is a bridge
between gospel and horn section,
between soul food and funeral marches,
between a mother’s hush
and a daughter’s scream.

She didn’t go gentle.
She modulated.
She bled out
in a velvet riot of harmony,
wailing:
“I’m not afraid to die—
but don’t you dare
bury me in silence.”

 

[_Land]

I Am New York Tendaberry
(For Laura Nyro)

My name is not Manhattan.
It is moan.
It is marrow in a minor key.

I do not glitter.
I flicker like a match
held too long
between shaking fingers.
I don’t light rooms.
I burn silence
into the walls.

You touched me once
beneath the L-train moan—
your palm trembling
on my thigh of concrete.
You asked if I was safe.
I said nothing.
I just opened.

I am fire-escape lullaby
and third-floor abortion.
I am the cracked soprano
in the church of no pews.
I am every black shoe
that walked away
from a woman crying
on the corner of Avenue D.

You do not live in me.
You haunt me
with your dreams of escape.

My alleys kiss
with broken glass lips.
My pigeons
are prophets
choked on soot.

Laura tried
to play me clean,
but I stained her—
her voice a gauze
on my bleeding brick.
She sang what I couldn’t:
That softness survives
even here.
That love
can rot beautifully.

I am New York Tendaberry—
not tender,
not sweet.
But if you love me
long enough,
I will peel you
like an orange
in winter,
and let your juice
run warm
down my frozen throat.

 

[Angeline]

Oh my _Land, you know what I love.

Fire escape lullaby.

Thank you

Laura
my doo-wop princess
married jazz and poetry
campfire songs in girl
group harmonies, crashing
chords through three-octaves,
her mezzo-soprano soared
over New York's clattering
cacophony, neon proud or whisper
soft that silken range worn close
to the skin, a weaver's lover,
born for the loom's desire*



Quoted end phrase from "Emmie," Eli and the 13th Confession

 

[_Land]

Oh my _Land, you know what I love.

Fire escape lullaby.

Thank you

Laura
my doo-wop princess
married jazz and poetry
campfire songs in girl
group harmonies, crashing
chords through three-octaves,
her mezzo-soprano soared
over New York's clattering
cacophony, neon proud or whisper
soft that silken range worn close
to the skin, a weaver's daughter
born for the loom's desire*



Quoted end phrase from "Emmie," Eli and the 13th Confession

Wow, did you have this filed away for just this moment ? This is beautiful.

"neon proud or whisper
soft that silken range worn close
to the skin,"

Effing amazing line

 

[Angeline]

Wow, did you have this filed away for just this moment ? This is beautiful.

"neon proud or whisper
soft that silken range worn close
to the skin,"

Effing amazing line

Nope, I was just riffing on what you wrote so thank you for inspiring me.

 

[42BelowsBack]

New essay up, this time with works cited and bibliography:

In case, one would like to suffer: https://www.literotica.com/s/the-poetics-of-dreaming-in-borges

In reading your essay I appreciate the work put in and your enjoyment in writing it. I gave you 5 Stars. But I don’t agree. I however am a fan of Foucault, in particular his discourse on Governmentally.

 

[_Land]

In reading your essay I appreciate the work put in and your enjoyment in writing it. I gave you 5 Stars. But I don’t agree. I however am a fan of Foucault, in particular his discourse on Governmentally.

I have read it as well and enjoyed it. The writing was superb regardless of opinions.

I have been working on this since it was first posted


Burrow of Becoming

He dies a little
each time he writes
each letter a coffin nail,
each sentence a resurrection
with someone else’s voice.

Not truth.
Not meaning.
But the quiet ecstasy
of unknowing knowing,
where the world justifies itself
only as
an aesthetic sigh.


A mole tunnels
his palace beneath the skin
cracks
with every heartbeat
of the earth.
He patches.
He frets.
He listens for enemies
that may only be
his own breath
echoing back.

No doorway is safe.
No structure perfect.
Peace is a project
he never finishes.

Somewhere above
another him watches,
concealed behind brambles,
imagining himself
safe inside.
Dreaming
the burrow whole.
Dreaming
the dreamer
who dreams the burrow.

He becomes two:
the builder
and the watcher,
the ghost
and the god.

The pages multiply
a burrow of text,
a soft repetition
of death and return.
In this abyss,
only voices.
No names.
No flesh.

Only the sacred labor
of dying well,
over and over,
until even the dying
becomes
home.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

New essay up, this time with works cited and bibliography:

In case, one would like to suffer: https://www.literotica.com/s/the-poetics-of-dreaming-in-borges

I read it. One word, brevity. Apply it. 5 Stars.

 

[SpermFactory]

New essay up, this time with works cited and bibliography:

In case, one would like to suffer: https://www.literotica.com/s/the-poetics-of-dreaming-in-borges

I read it. I disagree. But who cares? I appreciated the effort and that you are well read on this topic. Intelligent. And cerebrally stimulating.

I recommend every poet read it. In appreciation of Niv’s efforts to next level his poetry. And by extrapolation, ours.

The represented mental gymnastics alone deserve FIVE Horny Stars. If I could I would give another Five Stars for the bibliography.

I also agree with 4Mmmmmms and 42’s feedback.

Thanks for posting.

 

[SpermFactory]

… however am a fan of Foucault, in particular his discourse on Governmentally.

Foucault’s Governmentally fails when applied by a monolingual government to unrelated language populations.

 

[NivKay]

Thanks for the feedback. It was published as a chapter in a collection of essays in “Literature and Sensation” by Cambridge Scholars Publishing in 2008, and of course it was never meant to be the last word on the topic. It’s certainly not The Bill of Rights! It proposes further discussion, so disagreement is part of our DNA, but perhaps, in the spirit of discussion, you could point out what aspect of it you disagreed with and why? Why did the argument fail, or did not quite hit the mark? What did I not consider? @42BelowsBack @SpermFactory

As for applying brevity, how do you think brevity would have have helped, in what way? Did the argument lose its way? What was unnecessary to my argument? @MrMrsMrsMr

Thank you all for reading it!

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

Thank you for contextualizing your essay

Brevity works well when communicating complex ideas. Brevity can extend your audience range. Brevity is a useful mechanism for bridging an intellectual divide. Especially when supported by a well branched research ethic.

Even though poetry is often an individual act. We are all on the same page. Organically creating a Lit Poetry workshop.

 

[SpermFactory]

Thanks for the feedback. It was published as a chapter in a collection of essays in “Literature and Sensation” by Cambridge Scholars Publishing in 2008, and of course it was never meant to be the last word on the topic. It’s certainly not The Bill of Rights! It proposes further discussion, so disagreement is part of our DNA, but perhaps, in the spirit of discussion, you could point out what aspect of it you disagreed with and why? Why did the argument fail, or did not quite hit the mark? What did I not consider? @42BelowsBack @SpermFactory

As for applying brevity, how do you think brevity would have have helped, in what way? Did the argument lose its way? What was unnecessary to my argument? @MrMrsMrsMr

Thank you all for reading it!

It’s not what you did not consider.

To adequately reply would lead us on an arc far from poetics. I would far rather rewrite my Doctoral Thesis than try to quantify what poetry exactly is? Or attempt reasoning out my disagreement.

Succinctly put, poetry lives in difference.

Think on this. I gave you FiVE STARS. I wrote the following poem extrapolated from your essay.

Lit CHAT RP

A pair of thoughts reimagine each/other
in couple dis/appearing exotic orgasm/s.

Niv, I believe we are kindred spirits. True lovers of poetry.

ps I am not sure about the ‘in’ in my poem (maybe it’s a with?). But who cares right? As per 42BelowsBack mantra, ‘the fun part when receiving feedback is throwing it out!’

psps primarily I am here to be an imperfect idiot and

a ‘nutter’ a ‘mental’ wanker,
mmmmm cerebral strokes
Splat splat words
into a poem.
The page is impregnated.

I think I should paste the freshly spunked above in Angelines hot ooh Year poems thread.

 

[NivKay]

I am, as I said, appreciative.. just wanted to see other side, that’s all!!
Thank you again.. will be posting another soon!

 

[SpermFactory]

.. will be posting another soon!

Noooooooo

 

[42BelowsBack]

Thanks for the feedback. It was published as a chapter in a collection of essays in “Literature and Sensation” by Cambridge Scholars Publishing in 2008, and of course it was never meant to be the last word on the topic. It’s certainly not The Bill of Rights! It proposes further discussion, so disagreement is part of our DNA, but perhaps, in the spirit of discussion, you could point out what aspect of it you disagreed with and why? Why did the argument fail, or did not quite hit the mark? What did I not consider? @42BelowsBack @SpermFactory

As for applying brevity, how do you think brevity would have have helped, in what way? Did the argument lose its way? What was unnecessary to my argument? @MrMrsMrsMr

Thank you all for reading it!

To disagree is an agreement of value.

A brief reply. Coleridge’s arguments are Western Centric. As are the others cited.

Western thinkers access Kublai Khan through the lens of interpretation. Language matters.

For example in Korean, the water holds the cup. This is distinct. For English language speakers the cup holds the water. This is difference. In Bruce Lee’s Art of the Intercepting Fist, water becomes the cup. This is interpretation.

As we know, the world is perceptually and culturally diverse. Western philosophers often discount this. In Western culture we inhabit the same mental space individually as a collective. As do our poems. This does not apply for all cultures. An example is the existence of three gender identities in some pre Western contact languages i.e they have male and female specific gender based words; they linguistically recognize the existent of a third gender through non binary gender pronouns. This is alien to Western thinking.

‘…Coleridge argues, “…imagination is the mind in its highest state of creative insight and alertness…”

Fighting to preserve life is a creative act. I experienced fighting as my mind in its highest state of creative alertness. When unforeseen, fighting for your life is instinctive, not an act of imagination. CQB is bodily poetry in motion.

This is not a commentary on the quality of your essay. I realize you understand that. There are others that don’t.

I apologize, I will be more careful with my comments in the future. NivKay, I am here to explore my own thinking on poetry, to hear others. To appreciate diversity. To write poems. To find my voice. Not to debate poetics.

I’m in the hole NivKay. I want to write a poem.

I appreciate you for sharing.

Best,

 

[Wat_Tyler]

>snip<

Fighting to preserve life is a creative act. I posit fighting is the mind in its highest state of creative alertness. Fighting for your own life is instinctive, not an act of imagination. CQB is bodily poetry in motion. To disagree is an agreement.

>snip<

I had never considered this and yet it makes perfect sense.


It also explains why I like watching predators prey, and also watching prey escape.

 

[_Land]

Western thinkers access Kublai Khan through the lens of interpretation. Language matters.

Like trying to convert a Tanka written in Japanese to English or a Western Tanka to Japanese poetry!

The moment Poetry becomes contained by a theory it no longer becomes mine. It is no longer an art form.

The moment poetry becomes properly theorized from whatever perspective the universe will shatter.

Can you contain the universe in its infinity
from our single view and voice from this rock we live on?

Part of the reason I enjoy reading poems. even the crappy ones that are not well crafted or just jinky rhyme scheme or nonsense to me is because it's someone else's perspective it's a different view of the universe

The poems that I wrote 20 years ago wouldn't align with my view of the universe now.

As roles expand, understanding is widened new perceptions become visible and can be expressed.


Theorizing anything has value in our current knowledge and understanding but every theory is just a notch in the belt of our expanding world of poetry/universe


From This Rock
(a response in perspective)

I write from this rock
small, spinning, loud
with the hum of our own importance.

We name stars
we’ll never touch,
map silence
as if it can be owned,
call it theory
when it merely leans
against our limitations.

Poetry,
they say,
should be structured
but breath isn’t.

Try converting
a tanka into English,
watch the soul
slip out the seams.
No translation holds
what the wind meant
in the original tongue.

I don’t write
to define the universe.
I write
because I can’t contain it.
Because some nights
my view stretches
no further than the edge
of my skin
and still I reach
for the stars
with ink.

The poem is not the point.
The point is
I was here
and this is what I saw.
My version of light.
My angle on truth.
My breath,
cracked and offered.

Even the broken rhyme,
even the janky verse
that limps instead of sings
it matters.
It is a fragment
of someone’s cosmos,
a different window
into the same unknowable dark.

What I wrote
twenty years ago
was true,
then.
Like Saturn from a child’s telescope
crude, but still beautiful.
Still real.

The moment we fix poetry
to a doctrine
is the moment
it stops breathing.

The universe doesn’t speak
in couplets.
It speaks
in collapse, in bloom,
in the wind off a page
that’s still being written
in a voice we haven’t earned yet.

And still
I try.
From this rock.
This flicker.
This unrepeatable vantage.
I try.