#rules for writing poetry

[abrighterspark]

rule 1: begin with a thought (as if it’s some kind of law)

rule 2: merge all of the ‘you’-s (as if only one did the hurt)

rule 3: make sure it’s short (as if you’ve said all you came here to say)

rule 4: don’t say who it’s for (hope that will tempt them to stay)

[motojane]

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

I consider it my sacred duty to break the rules. A broken rule is the open gate to a wilder meadow. I smoked an Arturo Fuentes cheroot with the Buddha. Forgive me. Asked if he had any rules. He said, just one. Vow to be healed by your tears. Then he opened up to me about his sadness, admitted he had to come back because he was lonely. Maybe as Anthony Bourdain. Maybe Dolly Parton. I made a bourbon smoothie and shared it with Jesus. Asked if he had any rules. He said, just one. Call me brother, not Lord. Cucumber, mint, and kale with a shot of Wild Turkey, forgive me, it was delicious. A broken rule is the open gate to a deeper rule, unwritten and harder to disobey. The rules of the body lead to the rules of the soul. Like the one that says, love for no reason. The one that says, make friends with the brokenhearted. The one that says, forgive yourself again and again. So I discover the rules I cannot break by breaking the ones I can.

~ Fred LaMotte

[smalltownduck]

mike wheeler aced the figurative language and poetry modules in elementary school by writing limericks and ballads about the party and their campaigns, but you better believe the only assignment that he never lost nor threw away, now buried somewhere in his desk drawer, crumpled and yellow, is a B minus-marked cinquain about magic and courage that will said was nice. thing is, once mike remembered who and what events ended up inspiring him while he was writing it, he thought it'd feel weird (too much, too little) to say 'you can have it if you want' -so he didn't. it wasn't good enough to be a gift for will, anyway.

idk something like that would be right up mike's alley and it'd be a bittersweet parallel to how will has given him several drawings across the years (with varying levels of skill! even scribbles at earliest, probably!) since they met, which he keeps in pristine conditions inside a waterproof binder, may i add, whereas mike didn't (or is yet to) offer Will his most personal art for keepsakes.

[kedreeva]

can i participate in the WIP wednesday game even tho its for my masters thesis on science stuff….? i really need to write

you can do whatever you want forever

[revenantghost]

“I am completely normal about Danny Phantom, it’s been too many years since I’ve watched it to be obsessed!” I say, adding hundreds of posts to my queue, opening fanfic to read later, and daydreaming about AUs

[babygirlwolverine]

dean would write cas a love song, and cas would write dean a love poem

[sysig]

Hey, hey! RnR not requested! (Patreon)

[ripesinner]

WHEN WE’RE OLD AND HAVE TO LEAVE THE EARTH, I’LL STILL REMEMBER ALL I’VE LEARNED FROM YOU.

cassie howard & maddy perez — euphoria (gif credit: bakerolivia) / old friends — freya manfred / flood — eliza griswold / no children — the mountain goats / catalog of unabashed gratitude — ross gay / the crucible — arthur miller / i don’t know you anymore — eric nam / the chronology of water: a memoir — lidia yuknavitch / jules vaughn & rue bennet — euphoria / what would i do? — andrew rannells and christian borle / robert goolrick / euripedes, orestes — ian johnston / the last days of judas iscariot — stephen adly guirgis / thirteen — catherine hardwicke / olivia benson & elliot stabler — law and order, svu / the frost — mitski

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #12

I glanced at a few how-to-write-poetry books and got a bit frustrated by their assumptions that poetry needs to be this deep and laborious artistic endeavor.

*

Song of an Amateur

I am a simple poetess I take my pen in hand While others long for lasting fame My dreams aren't near so grand

All I want's a little ink A peaceful touch of time To gather up my humble thoughts And scribble out a rhyme

While others labor to create Immortal artistry I play with words as children play With sand beside the sea

Delighting in their shapes and forms In meter’s playful joys I let the words fall to create New literary toys

Capturing a simple sight A pithy turn of phrase To give my friends a bit of joy To brighten up their days

It’s not for me to take a place ‘mong lit’rature’s elite I’d rather gaze up at their heights And play beside their feet

So tell me not to labor long O'er words meant to impress I’d rather live quite happy as A simple poetess

[crmsnmth]

The Abstract in Poetry

Someone asked me how I do it How I'm constantly retching up write offs Little paragraphs with a thousand hidden meanings With a thousand sentence fragments How to drag out the same story again and again describing the same scene from different viewpoints

How do I continue to play with letters With the same enthusiasm as I did when I wasn't paying attention and honestly I think how is the wrong question here And that 'why' should take more precedent. I mean, isn't the meaning the most important part of art?

Anybody can slap paint on to a canvas but only the tortured soul can find the peace within the chaos Can poetry be part of the abstract? I like things better when there is no rules so why do I continue to do this?

Inside my head are all kinds of ideas I'm plucking them out of the air to swallow down If the words are good or bad it doesn't matter they go out into the world no matter what

Tell me I'm wrong when I know that I'm write

[losingfayth]

sometimes she says something

she says something small, innocuous, innocent. it shouldn't matter. it shouldn't. but i think about it for a second and think, "...does she still have feelings for me?"

last night she sent me one of her poems

it was amazing, and i told her so

she responded "i don't think other people have thought about my writing as deeply and reflectively as u"

oh.

the last time she came out to my apartment, she messaged me from the road using her voice to text

she said "the universe must know i started talking to you because suddenly i saw a rainbow"

oh...

is the longing in her words hers or mine?

one i hope, the other i fear

both are sides of the same coin

without one there is only the other

[septembersung]

[bleedingfromeveryorifice]

TITHING

But you are a compassionate

And gracious God,

And I, your humble lamb.

So when I turn 10 months old

And start to defy,

Take me to the slaughterhouse

And I will comply.

Let me be stunned and sticked

And let me bleed as a reminder of your tenderness.

Let all that you do to me

Be done in love.

[iqrajafzal]

𝙄 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚.

𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨.

[unionizedwizard]

i find it extremely funny that my (work!! laptop!!!) version of microsoft word just. arbitrarily decides to switch back to english in the middle of a documence sometimes. we are not so different you and i..........................