"Make note of what you like, and what you don't like" this is an advice that seems so obvious, and yet it never came to mind. Thanks!!
I. Compose aloud; poetry is a sound 2. Vary rhythm enough to stir the emotion you want but not so as to lose impetus. 3. Use spoken words and syntax. 4. Fear adjectives; they bleed nouns. Hate the passive. 5. Jettison ornament gaily but keep shape Put your writing away till you forget it, then: 6. Cut out every word you dare. 7. Do it again a week later, and again. Never explain ---- your reader is as smart as you
I tried writing a poem, what do you think? It goes like this: “What does it matter?” They always say, Unaware of what I think each day: What if I fall into a downward spiral? Will my final unfortunate failure be fatal? No longer does academic validation bring me enjoyment— I am surrounded and corrupted by my self-induced torment— Why do I even care about my grades? Why do I put up with my endless charades? I hide behind what I appear to be Never showing what is truly me. An anxious girl hidden with a shiny show The culmination of pride and badly protected ego.
Poetry is not about what you say but about HOW you say.
I LOVE writing poetry! I like to use complex diction to help making my poems more poetic
Pride I’ve tried to speak But my voice is drowned Nobody can hear me Underneath, buried in pride. I’ve screamed, The shovel trying to dig But the soil is too hard Buried in pride. 6ft under A once happy person No longer hears variety Their own opinion trapped with them In that coffin Underneath Buried in pride. Maybe their descendants Will help dig them out Try not to face the same fate Of being underneath, Buried in pride. Wrote this with just the idea of being buried in pride. Decided to put it on a piece of paper. It’s not perfect because I’m only in 8th grade, but I’m really proud of it.
Poetry as all art stems from ideas. Whatever you write that you feel is the right thing is good enough. Don't imitate, don't try to force anything onto your style
WALLFLOWER The moments we had, the poetry we tore, Solitude clasping souls on the bleak shore Drowning till the sailor arrives, Dilapidated anchor failing to grab my lies Deprived of knights and lighted lamps. Teary clouds merging into the oceans With irredeemable fate in a loop of agony Train of my dress floats lighter than water Sinking my breath to never be reckoned from afar Fragile hands impoverished as a child of war In the pale moonlight, hoping to be rescued. Tears concealed in the rain cascading down my cheeks Forever, in search of lost childhood and motherland Burning in vicious circles in no man’s land Succumbed before desires of corrupts, Exploited till my voice went erupt. Promises sunk their teeth into my skin, Whisper in melancholy for their sin, Thread of honour teetering to go deride Wallflowers are to be bloomed and pained, To have their cry in vain. I just wrote this poem, what do you think? I would be happy if anybody can tell me the areas to improve..
I find that when I write in Dutch, my mother tongue, it’s really easy to write somewhat poetically. The only condition is that it needs to come from my feelings. I can’t write a story and make it poetic, but ask me to write why I feel sad and I can even make my therapist cry
I was always told that alliteration was bad and not to do it. I've also seen advice to write simply, to avoid metaphor, simile, personificaiton, and so on. Avoid purple prose at all costs. Avoid boring the reader. Avoid slowing down the pacing unless it's supposed to be slow. Focus on character, etc etc. Yet when I think fondly of my writing,t hat was oftne what I most enjoyed.
THANK U, we need more people useful and to the point like you
Well I also tried , and idk 🤷 judge it : Evanescent shadows of my guilt, Life so ubiquitous, without any tilt. A life so beautiful that had eloquence, Silence silenced the falling elegance. Heart had those indispensable shadows, Lurking behind every wall I see. A heart of gold with the loss of innocence, Is all that’s left to the waters of the sea. Open skies and the rising stars, No limit to the curiosity had there been. Yet still, we walk to the parked cars, Talking about the blissful ignorance we see. Obstreperous mind is ineffable, That blurts out everything. My guilt of life is that— Had I ever enjoyed anything? A stepping stone from the hill Like that of thunder from the sky, This pathetic feeling lingers yet still, I wait for the golden sky Was it really my will to follow, Or were it those aligning stars? I don’t know why I feel so hollow. Well, let me rest peacefully in my car!
Number one tip. Write as if you shorting word and trying to confuse someone at the same. 📝💯 E. G It's a hot day O the day has been stricken by thou star that burns the brightest as thou it be true that it burns the most....
Purple, used sparingly and with intention, is a valid style
I’m a sucker for poetic titles: ‘ Something wicked this way comes’, ‘Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind’( where do I sign up?) Even enter the dragon’ does it for me. It may have been B. Lee himself who threatened to pull out of the project if they changed the title to ‘ Hans Island’. Hands down with that.
Do not complain to people about a wound that you caused yourself, because a wound only hurts the one who has it. If you complain to someone who has a good life, your eyes will boil and the one you complain to is an idol. If you complain to someone who your complaint makes happy, you will add a wound to your wound, called regret.
I’m enjoying this series 👏
I love fantasy especially historical fantasy, grimdark but I love to switch it up with a historical romance ! This one looks like it is right up my alley 😁 thanks for the rec!
If i was casting a film, id cast you as The Jackal. Thats a compliment.
@graysontaylornyc