Poetry - Fancy writing

[VIVIIXI]

Cycles

The wind, it cries
As Winter dies
Upon the Springtime blooms.
The seasons change
And rearrange
The furnishings in these colored rooms.
I see a secret
In your eyes
And all the world is still.
As time moves on,
The Summer sun
Rests on the windowsill.
Autumn sings
Her witch's song
And soon the winds return.
Before the Winter,
Harvest, child,
The lessons you have learned.

 

[Scumhook]

I like poems about Joshy Moon
His eyes always make me swoon
But unfortunately he's a dickhead

 

[Mr. Frank Einstein Ràtheo]

This was inspired by a few candles.

Gāwad and Prætor gathered ‘round the gourd
One melted ‘fore the glory of the deity’s form
While the other was struck in the face
With an utter abatement of grace
For the gourd caught flame
And death’s head changed
Yet the monster denied
That it burned

 

[Ughubughughughughughghlug]

I wrote a poem today about my youth


Every day
I look back and say
Holy shit
I was so gay

 

[Incandenza]

I wish there were modern poets on the level of the great masters like Yeats, Donne etc but have not encountered any, certainly none that capture love on their level. Yeats' great muse was sexual rather than romantic, but his When You Are Old is a lovely instance of enclosed rhyme love poetry, accessible albeit a bit saccharine; poetry for drunk love.


When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

There is at least one contemporary poet like that.

Nicholas Korn.

All he writes are sonnets.

The same one form, always.

And they're fucking exquisite.

Deep, beautiful, fun, poignant, intelligent, true, etc.

I shitteth thee not:

He's about as good as Shakespeare.

He already belongs in the Western canon.

And yet, he appears to only have one huge fan.

Look him up on Instagram.

Thank me for the protip by buying a book of his.