Poetry crit

This poem makes me curious what you're like irl.

desu i spend 90% of my time eating and playing with my cat. i'm not incredibly exciting lol

When you are beaten,
What will remain?
Hunger and quarrel
And the falling of snow.

i really like this poem- it creates a really strong atmosphere in just four lines

In the mist:
Roads
Forrests
Artillery

bland and moronic

the best beginnings are bruises without yellows

blues and reds swallowing one another

staining the skin in reverence

leaving the party before it goes sour,

hand forced to dump it down the drain

or throw it, tied in white linen, into the river

I perfer stuff that ryhmes..keep working at it, okay strucuture... i wrote this for an SJW on the poetry site i post, he always is writing trash about respacting waymen and badmen

Attached: dontobjectifywomenyousay.png (433x388, 17K)

I like the sentiment but the first line made me laugh which I think isn't what you're looking for (or is it?)
last line is repetitive. the rest is cool
i really like it. you into imagist poetry?

hiking on 21/02/19

curse the sky
the canvas of rain
and its celestial dances

curse the rain
miracle of ages
a trail of destruction in its wake

curse the grass
the bosom of trees
as I lay in its embrace, shivering

curse the trees
lungs of our world
***

curse the world
for being too big
to hold on my hand

curse the world
for being too small
as it slips from my grasp

I haven't been able to finish the poem, missing that one line

A modern day pushkin

As they inhale in my exhaled breath

you made my day
wish i could help but if it were me i'd be rewritting it all to have a rhyme structure

It doesn’t rhyme faggot, out In some rhymes and it’s 10/10

>i really like it. you into imagist poetry?
I read that one poem by Pound, the one with the faces in a subway, and didn't get it. Do you have a good example?

the point of imagist poetry is to condense whatever you're trying to express with no filler. i really enjoy that poem. the imagery is fantastic. it might be my favourite style of poetry.

my life is grey
my words became dull
my thoughts became pray of this world
by me,drinking innocent blood
from my own skull.
Why I am awake,
I asked myself and could not remember

Swollen veins on angry faces;
The sweaty drudgery of hate.

Very good

thank you user

Clouds brought stormy rain
and we are now alone.
Then the rain turned to hale.
Never mind, never mind.

Does the beggar have a thing to fear for?
His home is the heavens and wherever he sits.
A saddlebag on his shoulder,
on the road, on the road.

Come! Let's hoist the sails
and sail to our dream and memories.
Life will dry our tears,
The dawn is rising, the dawn is rising.

“
Written feelings are false for the truth lies in what can’t be said.
What can’t be seen.
What can’t be read.
Once processed they must be straighten, placed in the proper boxes if relayed.
But life is never that neatly confined, nor true feelings ever so easily conveyed.

I;m sorry that what I explain isn’t true, for even if it is similar,
They are never as intense or as messy as what is…. Is this familiar?
”

Please shit on this as much as possible. Weird punctuation is intentional and I think the second part sucks.

>Come! Let's hoist the sails
>and sail to our dream and memories.
>sail
Personally, I've never been a fan of repeating the same word like this. (without meaning that is, so if it does have meaning then by all means keep it) I would change it to something like "ride" or the like.