Title: Flat-Field February Blues

It's a bastard snowfall
The sewer water, heather, clouds became empty of powder
Leaving a spear-tipped breeze hunting for surrogates
Uprooting the curdled sheets of dead, sleeping, snow
Like disgruntled farmers towards annoying weeds or varmint filled tall-grass
The far, lonesome, razorblade treeline
Wheezes subtle whispers that whimper an ambient tune
While exposed ribs of fallen doe rattle a percussive squeal
The withered air shoots shotgun shell punches
To numb ears of silent pass-byers
Slabs of cartilage, might as well be
To whom try to sing
Only frigid wind passes through
For, it's impossible to feel with the Flat-Field February Blues

>>24474715 (OP)
nice bro, more like Flat Field February Kino

>>24474715 (OP)
There's containment general for this

>>24474718
idk what Kino is :( lol

I like it

>>24474715 (OP)
>It's a bastard snowfall
couldn't read further, reeks of reddit. spending a few years on this website will help it though so keep writing

>>24474715 (OP)

You need help writing poetry. I give it a 1/5, the worst score because clearly you had a few ideas yet the execution flopped. Rewrite it and post it again. I rewrite my poems many times. You want a drive of passion in your will to make the poem great but if you want to write dogshit stuff power to you. It will be uninspiring and cringey. Just keep working on it retard.

>>24474739
Sounds like reddit is more your style because you have to be 18+ to post here retard. Sadly you're too stupid to stop either I bet. Seriously go do something mindless and leave the thinking to others.

>>24474715 (OP)
meh

I was kinder enjoying it up until the farmers bit. Some good feels maybe. It does, actually allow me to picture a flat northern cold day out of a window, across the way. However, things like wind have a broad, all encompassing force to them. Wind is not spear-tipped. The Coldness therein can be spear tipped. Seems u are mixing a cold drab meaningless day with sharp judgments, observation. I am not sure that mix is working for you. I really like “ Uprooting the curdled sheets of dead, sleeping, snow”.

Again though, mixed metaphors. Snow does not curtle. So this would suggest something below the snow or alt universe where snow curltles? Still…i like how it sounds.

When u then mention weeds and farmers and tall grass, i am bot in winter anymore, with that vibe.

Razorblade treeline. I like it phonetically, but again you are bringing sharpness into a drab, downcast scenario,. To me, a line of modern metal giant windmills across the field, is a razorblade treeline. The birds know this. Indiana comes to mind.

I dunno. Overall i do like it, and do not fully get it. Poetry is sometimes like this. I did read it 3x or so. Surprised that each read became more likeable.

I wonder if the sharpness on a cold northern day has anything to do with ghosts. Civil war comes to mind. Just wondering, the imagery suggests a forgotten hideous clarity, now dull, but still haunting.

That is what i have. Nice job. Maybe come up with better title. Or dont. Also, it sounds like you are feeling something, but u dont know what it is. Give us a little mystery a little hint as to what goal your own mind is trying at…Impossible is not much poetic.

Also, decide what the wind is doing. Maybe give us an idea of the sound and the speed. For me, a lot of wind, is annoying, chaotic, and meaningless. High Wind does not suggest deadness or sharpness to me. And it does not cut through things, it bellows through the open belly of space, anywhere it can, obnoxiously. Wind, one of the great mysteries of science and who who actually cares where it came from.

But maybe u are trying to get an oxy moron of sorts. Bonne chonce!

At least it’s not the rhyming cringe we typically get.
The usual newbie mistakes like too much alliteration and redundancy. But at least it’s actually something with a subject and a bit of structure. Tighten it up and you could have a poem

I am reading again, for a fourth take, lol, hours later. I think i was reading heather as heathered, as a descriptor of the clouds, not a girl.

Is it a girl.


As though you just had your last “situation” w/your gal, again no kids…shoooo, but now you will be sewing ur seeds elsewhere?

Also its hunting season with the deer in the north. And there are ribs and shit and razorblade trees. Nice!

Anyways not sure if this is just an emo off the cuff, feel to print, situation or if u have already written three times.

Or if u are ai.

I am wondering at it and there is no clear answer; thus far, so yeah, poetry.

U do not have to learn how to write poetry. Only, as u have done of course…put words together, not necessarily sentences.

Thanks for sharing.

Are u just bot or do u have more work?

But it kinda sounds like a girlfriend breakup, dead baby, deer season, cold winter bullshit. Oh, and stingy gas huffing farmers.

Did i add the gas huffing bit? Hey, it yours, if u like it.

My new score; 4.5/5. React! People telling you what a poem is. Me rating it. So effing stupid.

Cool tree by the way.

Why do i want a dead baby joke punchline i wonder? Ha ha.

Kidding. Was good to read. Thanks :)

>>24474870
I liked that part

What does /lit/ think of my poem

>>24474715 (OP)
it's pretty great
line 5 is a bit tedious, I think you should cut "annoying weeds" entirely.
>Like farmers and varmint filled tall-grass
And I think the last 4 lines need some editing; I'm not completely sure what you're trying to say there.
Really love the imagery, though.

>>24474715 (OP)
>it’s a bastard snowfall
What does that even mean?
> The sewer water, heather, clouds became empty of powder
What does that even mean?
> Leaving a spear-tipped breeze hunting for surrogates
What does that even mean?
> razorblade treeline
What does that even mean?
> ribs of fallen doe rattle a percussive squeal
Squeals are not produced by percussion
> To whom try to sing
What


TLD;DR you tried too bard

>>24475678
OP this was my post and I gave you a bad score. I enjoy writing poetry and decided to come back to help.
>>24477565
You had me until you said the score and you doubt your own ability which makes me sad. We are all dumbasses and no need to demean yourself senselessly. I looked up Heather and it's a type of purple shrubbery.
>OP
Remove February from the title. Remove it's a from the first line. Spear-topped breeze is is better to describe trees so rework that sentence such as combining it with the razorblade treeline sentence. The disgruntled farmers part is better as a second sentence. Shotgun shell sentence should be closer to the farmer part. Numb ears could be the first sentence. To whom could be the first sentence near pass-byers. Slab of cartilage is useless. Restating the title at the end is cringe. So do another whip and consider my notes. Maybe I could double your score to a 3/5 if you took my advice. Keep writing. There is something here but you need to just flat out remove some parts to make it flow. Your poem reminds me of going to the dentist at its current state. I feel better after finishing it and did not enjoy the process. Keep trying. :)

>>24474715 (OP)
>commas only at the end of lines (you get 2 exceptions)
>reduce the word count by 30%
>Slabs of cartilage (you only get one OF these metaphors)
>"like disgruntled farmers" -- Simile is extremely gay and has to be earned. We know it's the wind and snow-- dispense with it and proceed directly to the Image: grumbling farmers treating weeds and grass like they were driving game

It's not terrible-terrible. See what you get with the above constraints. The imagery is good.