#poem aside
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wyrmfedgrave · 9 months ago
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Pics: Topographic poetry.
1. Another great bust of the Great Old Writer.
2. Another map of Lovecraft Country - this time, with pertinent remarks.
3. Howard's Mythos mixes together the mundane world with intrusions from the 'outside' - his more cosmic viewpoint.
4 thru 7. Various RPGs that further explore HPL's settings & tales.
Lovecraft thought that a story's back- ground was important in augmenting a weird story's atmosphere.
But, Howard sometimes took this to a further level, where the setting itself overpowered the plot!
Because of this, HPL's characters suffered more than just a horrific end - they were mostly non-existent in their own stories...
But, this might have been a strategic move on Lovecraft's part.
A way of further minimizing humanity before the ugly truths of Howard's cosmic view of existence.
Intro: HPL's topographical poetry occurs thruout his whole writing 'career.'
The 1st, "Quinsnicket Park," appeared in 1913. His last, "An Unspoiled Rural Prospect," is from 1931.
This kind of background info spanned the majority of Lovecraft's years as a poet & writer.
Yet, this kind of poetry is only briefly mentioned in S.T. Joshi's bio of & his encyclopedia on Howard.
Even though some of these poems have proven literary merit, they are usually neglected.
More studies are needed to account for Howard's themes. And, why some of these works failed - or, more rarely, succeeded...
This would help redress the lack of critical attention shown to HPL's poetry in general.
In his poetry, 1 can more easily trace the elements of Lovecraft's writing success, as he matured in the use of diction & technique.
Howard was enamoured of the heroic couplets of the 1700s & used them to excess.
But, HPL didn't seem to understand that poetic form's full abilities nor its true strengths.
Lovecraft's topographic 'poesy' forms only a small part out of his overall poetic works.
Yet, they demonstrate Howard's growth as a versatile writer.
Major among HPL's themes is the contrast of an idealized landscape to a more decadent 'now.'
Another major theme concerns the preservation of the past - opposed by its threatened destruction!
Then, there's the escape from reality - usually to an idealized past. This is related to the survival of the past into the 'present' day.
Another favorite theme of Lovecraft's is the idealization of a rustic present.
Finally, we begin to see Lovecraft add the Colonial past to his repertoire of themes.
All these poetic ideas share common ties that bind them together.
Some of these works fail for the same reason that most of Howard's poetry fails - the heavy mix of lifeless images & heroic couplets.
Most of HPL's early works show that little thought was given to the editing process.
Also, the use of abstract diction kills any freshness or vividness in the work.
Lovecraft's obvious racism occurs enough times that it mars whatever personal feeling he was reaching for.
Worse of all, Howard restricted him- self - for the most part - to using a rigid poetic rhythm & structure.
Just as bad, HPL's wooden diction arrests the flow of thought - breaking up a reader's attention.
Lovecraft's 'handicap' fails, in many cases, to alleviate the reader's growing boredom.
There's no sense of rhythmic progress - just a succession of stilted lines.
In some of Howard's 'poesy,' however, the heroic couplets lend a sense of stately cadence.
But, sadly, they usually form a long collection of dull statements.
Then, there's HPL's use of padding - which dilutes his works's immediacy. And, renders such pieces stale & life- less.
Of course, all is not doom & cosmic gloom.
Lovecraft does encode emotional images in some of his poetic works.
Howard learned how to strengthen our interest in most of his later poetry & stories.
Yet, HPL rarely adds moral or ethical 'lessons' in his works. So, most of his works lack any real justification or purpose, beyond its main point.
As his writing skills improved, Love- craft's use of alliteration & resonance (occuring at infrequent intervals) helped enliven interest in his weird plot lines.
Howard's topographic poems form both, a dream-like narrative & an examination of his feelings upon various subjects.
It was thru his efforts at poetry that HPL kept improving his skills - as he wasn't writing any stories at this time.
So, Lovecraft's diligence at poetic forms would ultimately help him become a true master of language, tone & diction.
And would help Howard with the creation of the literary genre that we all know & love - cosmic horror.
End.
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loregoddess · 2 months ago
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fic writers are insane (compliment) bc that shit's hard
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sagessge · 5 months ago
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A play pretend
Sense of duty demolishs who you were
I've seen it happen
It makes your mind weak
It makes you mad
Losing yourself is painful
Yet the world do not see the demise
If there were to be funerals for how many people had died inside
We wouldn't be able to keep the details
Yet people prefer the facade
For they can't handle the truth
People die knowing they haven't lived
Some wish for death
Its peace and stillness
Its safety
That's how poisonous the world has become
People wish death
I've seen them live,push through life
Not for themselves though,for others
Life has become not an act of living
But an act of acting
So many masks
So many facades
And when they see a real face
The envy enrages them
That's how the life stays
A play pretend
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pinetree-poet · 2 months ago
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2024 NOVEMBER POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE: DY 17 ~ SHORT SLEEVE WEATHER
SHORT SLEEVE WEATHER © 2024 G. Smith (BMI) =================== Cold and gray and rainy, Ice forming in the ole downspout, I’m Jonesin’ in my bones ‘n’ I don’t know if I’ll hold out.
Addicted, afflicted, My will power’s caving, And if you know me like you say you do, You know what I’m craving.
I need to take the coat off, And get into short sleeve weather; Head for sun and fun, As long as we’re together. Winter’s barely started, And I’m already chilled to the bone; So come on with me to the sand and the sea, I don’t wanna go down there alone.
Let’s pack and hit the highway, Before the snow starts falling. Listen closely and I know you’ll hear, The same snowbird a-calling.
I need to take the coat off, And get into short sleeve weather; Head for sun and fun, As long as we’re together. Winter’s barely started, And I’m already chilled to the bone; So come on with me to the sand and the sea, I don’t wanna go down there alone, alone; I don’t wanna go down there alone, (But I will), I don’t wanna go down there alone.
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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 2 months ago
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hmm liu bang being a verified member of the baby-tosser's club is not as cut and dried as i thought, apparently it's only mentioned in xiang yu's biography but is omitted in his. that's a conflict of interest if i've ever seen it. that being said, u gotta admit nothing about han gaozu make this seem at all out of character for him.
#chu han#note to self: don't live ur life in a way that if ur sworn enemy starts a rumour of u pushing ur kids out of a moving vehicle future#societies will go “no that's plausible actually”#i've seen multiple versions of this discussing the moral implications of his actions.#from a confucian standpoint this could actually be framed as a moral and selfless act 1) children are expected to sacrifice themselves#for their fathers. of course leaving two kids to be killed by enemy soldiers would have been unpalatable in any time period.#sacrifice goes down easier when it's “hua mulan does drag” and less “holy shit someone call CPS.”#b) it's similar to an anecdote of a woman being praised for abandoning her own baby to save her brother's baby. because she was#putting aside her personal needs for the “public” good.#which was why luo guanzhong made up that story about liu bei tossing a'dou and how much he praised cao cao for refusing to mourn his dead#son. it's about the personal vs public. you also get similar vibes from bai juyi's poem where the murder of the emperor's#favorite concubine is framed as a noble and selfless act. for HIM. yang guifei is an accessory and her feelings on the matter don't matter#what i don't see discussed is that Confucianism is based on the concept of benevolence; worth and hierarchy#it's top-down. king > duke > husband > wife +children. and it's a theme i keep bringing up. if kings can lose their heavenly mandates#so can dads. the father should be a benevolent individual that is worthy of sacrifice. he should fulfill his role as a protector and mentor#the whole concept taken to it's logical extreme and corrupted by the rigid patriarchal society becomes incredibly self-cannibalizing#...but then again the purpose of the machine is what it does
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northern-passage · 2 years ago
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i wrote a 500 word dynamic poem for neo-twiny jam :-)
i rewrote this in a few different ways with a handful of different drafts before settling on just doing a poem; this originally came from a full branching narrative i've had stewing for a while, and i might come back to it one day. but for now i enjoyed channeling that into this poem, which has also been very influenced by the fact that i've been writing hungry vampires for almost 2 months now.... it was also my first time messing with audio in twine, which ended up being way easier than i expected (i'm sure it helped that i only used one audio sample tho)
faith does contain sexual content, and while not super explicit, it is the main theme of the poem.
anyways hope you enjoy and check out the other entries here!
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cy-gogglin · 2 months ago
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2024 NOVEMBER POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE: DAY 16
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For today’s prompts:
From Poetic Asides:
take the phrase "Poem for (blank)," 
replace the blank with a new word or phrase, 
make the new phrase the title of your poem, 
and then, write your poem. 
Possible titles might include: 
"Poem for the Moon," 
"Poem for My Parents," 
"Poem for a Rainy Day," 
"Poem for Mike Tyson," 
and/or "Poem for Procrastinating on Folding the Laundry (Again)."
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From Charlotte Rains Dixon:
"So what if I don't?"
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And of course:
These prompts are springboards to creativity. 
Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.
𝖌
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twentyfunnybunnies · 9 months ago
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My boy Fitz throws fits all the time
I also like to throw fitz
off cliffs
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vickyvicarious · 9 months ago
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Have you read any of the books on the Pre-Dracula Vampire Literature Masterpost that you liked?
Yeah, I've read a bunch of them! And I'm gradually working my way through others that I can find, as well.
My personal favorite stories from this list would be Wake Not the Dead, Clarimonde, The Family of the Vourdalak, The Vampyre (Polidori), and Ligea. The Black Vampyre is a fun read too, though lots of it reminds me more of Varney the Vampyre (which I'm currently reading) in writing style, and thus feels less serious/creepy than the above ones.
As for poems, I quite like the second stanza of Der Vampir (Ossenfelder), and Lenore is great (and as a bonus Dracula quotes it so DD enjoyers will probably like that).
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I just reblogged the second list as well, so I'll share my favorites of those too.
In terms of prose: Obviously Carmilla and The Horla, they're absolute classics for very good reason. I also really like Good Lady Ducayne, and enjoyed The Parasite. What Was It? is a short but kinda wild read, funny and sad at different points. The Castle of the Carpathians isn't really a vampire story in my mind but I do like it. Similarly, The Cold Embrace feels moreso like a ghost story than a vampire one, but I enjoyed it.
Poems: The Vampire (Baudelaire) The Vampyre (Meredith), The Vampire (Dahn)
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milfbrainrot · 21 days ago
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if pinterest ever deletes my old account it's all over for me
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inertia-writes · 1 month ago
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in another universe
I scroll past your pictures,
Replay all the tapes,
A montage runs in my head
Whenever I hear your name.
I wonder if you miss this life,
Or if you remember the joys.
I'm afraid I'm starting to forget
The sound of your voice.
Maybe in another universe,
You were someone I did not lose.
I assure myself that grief
Is just love that continues.
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coconut530 · 2 months ago
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Letting y’all know I’m still alive with the fancy thing I made to commemorate allontheboard’s poem at the O2 ritual last night :)))
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pinetree-poet · 2 months ago
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2024 NOVEMBER POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE: DAY 11 ~ HOMING PIGEON INSTINCT
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HOMING PIGEON INSTINCT © 2024 G. Smith (BMI) =================== I was a wandering child, In the neighborhood where I was raised. Crossing the street on my own, exploring, Back in my pre-teen days.
Taking a hike, riding my bike, Seeing what’s there to be seen. Knowing there was more to the world than my yard, Where I knew the grass was greener, Where I knew the grass was green.
It always seemed I could find my way back, No matter how far I’d roamed; I knew where to turn on a different tack, And found myself at home.
Dad said it was a simple thing, Not everyone understood, Some don’t need map to know where they are, And nobody’s lost for good, for good, Nobody’s lost for good.
Homing pigeon instinct, Somehow I just know, Even if I’m turned around, Which way I should go. It irritates my better half, Sometimes leading to a fight, When she says I should go left, And it turns out I was right.
There’s really no trick that I can share, And it works inside or out, Maybe it’s just paying attention, Maybe it’s having no doubt.
It might be as simple as knowing your true north, Or following a guiding star; Or simply paying attention to things, And knowing who and where you are, Knowing who you are.
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iphigeniacomplex · 1 year ago
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you could make a riverdale out of this
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queeresthellhound · 1 year ago
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My mother always loved Jesus more than she loved me
And my mother hears me say I was drafted into a holy war I never wanted to be in
Expected to ostracize myself with joy because if the other children hated me it’s because they were Satanic
And sees nothing wrong with it except that I defected.
And she reads the essay I wrote in the third grade before I even knew where babies came from
Saying that if I were president abortion would be illegal everywhere
Because I had been groomed to be a Christian Nationalist ready to ruin lives for the lord
And thinks not that it is horrific a child of not even 12 would write that but rather how horrific it is I do not believe it anymore.
My mother always loved Jesus more than she loved me
And if she was called to do as Abraham, and if I was called to become her Isaac she would have done it
And on the long walk home she would have told me that it was god’s will and that he had a plan that’s bigger than all of us
And at one time I would have believed everything she said on the long journey home, nodding my head silently
Because if she loved Jesus more than me, he must know something that I don’t.
And when my very life was saved by EMTs and doctors and nurses and so many others
Who worked their asses off to make sure my mother’s only begotten son would not be lost
My mother thought of a different only begotten son, the son of John 3:16
And when I survived she praised him for saving her wayward, rebellious child who had hardened his heart to her precious Jesus
Instead of the sinful humans who did all of the work.
And when I had finally gotten up the courage to sit on her bed, bawling my eyes out, a river spring up from the spot I occupied
Telling her that her darling Jesus made a mistake, that I was a mistake,
She decided that god had not made a mistake but that my sinful existence was a part of his holy plan
And then days later shoved me back in the closet with the force of a summer thunderstorm
Because the mouthpieces of Jesus decided that I could not decide for myself what a life of joy looked like
And after all she always loved Jesus more than me.
And my mother still thinks that I will come back to the flock
Despite the fact that I have a crisis every time I step in a church
Despite the fact I see myself as chewed gum, licked cupcakes, dirty duct tape for being alive
Despite the fact that at lectures which remind me of sermons I feel trapped behind a window in my brain
Despite the fact that her church would vote me out of existence tomorrow if given the choice
Despite the fact that her church friend’s “love” for me is predicated on me coming back to their cult
Because my mother has always loved her abusive, manipulative, absentee, deadbeat son Jesus more than the son standing right in front of her
Because Jesus can be anyone and anything she needs him to be
And I can only ever be a goat standing in a flock of sheep, hoping no one ever looks close enough to notice the differences.
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gtunesmiff · 9 months ago
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2024 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE: DAY 22 ~ SIMPLY WHERE WE ARE
SIMPLY WHERE WE ARE ©2024 G. Smith (BMI) ================== Underneath the pavement, Underneath the steel, Underneath the ever-present, Ever-turning wheels.
Underneath the plastic, Underneath the fumes, Underneath the ever-present, Everlasting gloom and doom.
Underneath the concrete, Underneath the grass, Underneath the gravel, And the artificial grass.
Underneath the heavens, Underneath the stars, Underneath the sun and moon, Is simply where we are. Underneath the sun and moon, Is simply where we are.
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