writtenworkshop

[writtenworkshop]

I had this idea of sitting with you in a house we would never leave, where we would kiss for days on end and the moon would never fall, and our mothers would never come to visit. We would squander every penny on increasingly useless items: pearls and books and other pennies, and anything you could wear around your neck. How in the hell are you supposed to say no to that? You would form all sorts of bad habits; you would laze around the house in a sweatshirt and some socks, publishing brilliantly cryptomnesiac research from the comfort of your study, and I’d write a million little poems and put them in frames. I’d barricade every door, or never build them at all. I would still be full to bursting with the pleasantly consumptive desire that pervaded me at sixteen; I would beg for a sort of domestic vampirism to replace sex, and I’d say: This is what love is, baby, take it or leave it. We would never buy groceries. You would crawl into our bed each night brimming with raw anticipatory genius, and I would kiss your hands to settle them, again and again, because I could make a million empty promises but I could kiss you for days on end. And our mothers would never visit, and I would be mother enough for both of us. And our home would never want for anything and sweetheart—I would call it good.

- "homebodies"

[writtenworkshop]

"Winston"

TW for transphobia, homophobia, t slur, f slur

Here are the rules if you want to be a big brother:

Feed the baby. Wash the dishes, cradle the mother, tell the story, wash the dishes, feed the baby, feed the baby, kiss the baby, eat the baby, eat the breast. Please wash that dress, it’s filthy. Cut the hair, no, grow the hair. Drive the car to your little sister’s cheer competition, drive it home, tell her it’s okay that she didn’t win because sometimes things are okay. Wear the dress you washed. Put your bra in the hamper because you’ve worn the same one for weeks. Shave your legs. Take your little brother to school in the morning and when he begs you to play pretend with him, well all right, ask him if you can be a prince instead of a princess but don’t tell mom okay? Drop him off, kiss him goodbye. Head home. Feed the baby, wash the dishes. Microwave the dinner because dad’s at work and mom’s put out some chicken sandwiches and a can of beans; let your baby sister throw away her beans because she just can’t stand them. Compliment her dress. Tell her she looks like a supermodel. Wash your hair, cut your hair, cut something else, who knows. Feed the baby, kiss the baby. Take the baby on a walk to the local library. Tell the baby that he can be whatever he wants when he’s older so long as it’s okay with mommy. Teach the brother about trannies about faggots about how they’re better off than they used to be. Wait for him to say okay sissy I love you then turn around and start back down the sidewalk. Cradle the mother, eat the baby. Take mom to the movies, don’t ask her whether she’s filed the divorce papers yet, wait for her to ask you about Jesus. Kill the breast, bite the hand that feeds you or stabs you or slinks into your whatever’s down there. Feed the baby, feed the baby. Take a sip of water every time she says marriage every time she says motherhood every time she says pregnancy and see how fast you get drunk. Kill the baby? Choose a knife and just start cutting, your nipple’s hard and terrible and waiting for you. Teach your little sister how to dance, call her sweetheart and love and babygirl and when she tells you she has a crush on a girl in her class, well that’s okay but don’t tell mommy. Back in the shower, wash that dress please. The baby’s crying for his brother, feed the baby! Kiss him on the cheek and tell him he doesn’t have to shoot a deer with grandpa if he doesn’t want to; wait for dad to say he’s soft. If you shoot a deer you’re going to get your pants dirty buddy. Dirty like your dress, why haven’t you washed that dress. Talk about makeup and persa-gel and pepper spray and all those other things big brothers always like, make sure your little sister doesn’t hear you though, don’t you know she’s always wanted to be just like you?

[writtenworkshop]

Man-Made Mermaid

A fish in the sea came to love me and I drowned on my swim back ashore.

Love was worthless in the end.

I switched my currents for love, for you, reminiscent of ongoing waves.

Ruled by the tide that was your emotions,

Your mind that defined whether today I was your ocean,

or not.

Love became so useless that

now I can't even enjoy reminiscing the dead reefs around me.

Pale white in comparison to their past brightness.

I can't love the colors as much as I used to.

Or enjoy jokes that I knew you would have laughed at.

Or not even bear to look across the remains of the sunken boat in which you taught me.

It disgusts me because it reminds me of you.

Your manipulation.

The helm that kept me hooked along.

Your distance.

Leagues beyond what I knew from you.

Your "untold truths" (almost lies).

The sirens call of the secrets you avoided telling me about.

Your love.

Love had changed me so much that

my favorite color, shimmers of the yellow sunlight reflected on the waves, is now gone.

To only reveal the dark purple-blue tones of the deep sea.

The cool of the water that was expected of me as you burned me out.

My limbs,

My once fluid soul molded to your preferences.

To what you like.

To what you hate.

To your opinions.

I became a mermaid for you.

Sewed-in tail hooked into a weight dragging me to drop dead bottom.

Eyes like a dead fish that only reflected your figure.

And you took it for granted,

Granted that I would always be hooked for you,

And stay on the line while you swim away.

Because it only makes sense when it's you who leaves.

I tried to hate you for so long.

I tried to leave, rip the hook off my skin.

But love was persistent,

you were persistent.

And I could not help but lie deeper.

As your love chose the exact points of my lowest.

The darkness of the ocean's pressure as you sang sweet words to me.

Gave me small trinkets, and showed me kaleidoscopic scales.

But still made sure to leave me to sink where I was.

And I don't know why I kept myself in the seabed for so long.

I don't know if I meant to keep me there to see you or change your mind.

That in the end, I was the priced catch,

When I was not even a fish all along.

And although I stopped fearing to drop the scales you left me behind,

It's so hard to swim up.

But I cannot endure staying another day at your locker.

Held down in this submerged hell as I'm forced to see the same aquatic landscape of the memories you and I left behind.

And as I rip away at the fins stuck to your hook,

all that piles around me are remnants of love.

And bubbles of hate.

(Hello! Just wanted to sat I really appreciate you guys doing this that's awesome :> as well as share some of my poetry, I havent written in years so I'd like to hear what you guys think if that's alright ;v; )

[writtenworkshop]

The Beetle and the Bus - Group Critique

Peer, o’ heart, into the dark

That lies before us both.

See the truth the priests may hide

Lit only by a lantern’s light

Forgo your oath, observe but loathe

The might of gods denied

That darkness, creeping - ever seeping -

To the crevice of one’s mind

Sing, o’ eyes, for through you spy

The witness of life eternal

Those ancient things of stranger beings

Breathing the fumes Avernal -

Set to your keening, for through your seeing

Forsake the right of your birth

O’ heart, still pounding, its drumbeat resounding

Singing the song of your worth

Peer, o’ heart, into the dark

That lies before us both;

Look at that you cannot know

And dare to go regardless!

[writtenworkshop]

Ecstasy as Religion

blurs the bounds

as a means in itself.

and what if i did let you

consume me?

what would happen to me then?

how long does it take

the small brown mouse body

to disintegrate,

become dirt?

i have been eaten before

i have been taken whole

i have laid belly up

i have made of my self

an offering.

how can i explain it:

how this feeling hums inside me,

how when i look at you now,

you seem to glow

with ancient light.

i want you so badly

that i can barely understand

you still as human.

i think this is because:

the thing i want is not human

the thing i want is not you.

what have you begun

to represent for me?

into what well

does this devotion pour?

how does the emergent leaf

understand the incessant

press of rain

against its newness?

here are my theories:

releasing,

care,

oblivion.

Dionysius himself,

twice born god

of lust and religious ecstasy,

smiles down upon my body

splayed— gasping—

beneath your fingertips.

Venus delights

in the pink of my cheeks,

and the very earth

drinks that which flows from me.

but there, from the distance,

i hear scoff and dismay

of the priests of my

inborn religion.

where is the line

if there is more than one god

to judge it?

if there is no god at all?

if we have become her?

Renegadegirl13 here. Thanks for submitting your piece. Your writing hints at some major dawning of realization in your innate beliefs, which I like. I love the use of mythology with relation to physical pleasure; especially the Venus line.

I felt like I dove into the middle of a work that started without me, though; there's no context before the "blurry" verse, as well as no capital letters to denote the beginning of the idea. I thought I saw some nice subtle structuring, with the verses each having one more line than the last, but it changes in the middle. I suggest you tighten up your structure, and add some clarity to your realizations, and it will polish up nicely.

[writtenworkshop]

3 poems by @taetteok

---

Today was sweltering.

I was sweating,

felt like I was melting.

I thought,

lets have a cold, cold shower.

But it got dark

and the summer breeze came.

So I took a shower,

a hot one,

and under the warm water

Thought to myself,

humans are rather fickle.

---

@cruxymox says: i really enjoy the first three lines of this poem. sweltering/sweating/melting work together.

---

A plastic bag dances,

pigeons peck at the barren gravel,

roads quiet,

streets and halls empty,

void of the sound

of laughter, children crying, parents shouting;

how can this be a place for one

To grow?

---

@cruxymox says: the feeling of this poem is grim, which is good.

---

God made a sore mistake,

for creating a creature

so deluded, volatile, unforgiving.

Still optimistic, loyal, compassionate;

a living paradox.

God is cruel,

for creating a creature so flawed,

it appears half finished.

---

@cruxymox says: the descriptors on the 3rd & 4th lines contradict each other very well.

---

overall, the moods of these poems are conveyed very well, & i enjoyed them. i would like to see you work on your line breaking - some seem fairly ... random. read the poems aloud, pausing slightly at the line breaks. see where & how you can make the poems flow smoothly, whether you need to add words, or take them away. - @cruxymox

[writtenworkshop]

hi are you still open to give advice and critique if we send in poems? :)

it may take a bit of time, but we are. - tom ( @cruxymox )

[writtenworkshop]

Skin draped over bones like fine silk, Pleated and stretched, pinned in place on mounds of flesh and fat.

I yearn for a taste of the honey in those veins, Gut full of fresh meat and bile, I strain for a taste.

Darling, let me drink the sickly air from your lungs, Make them burn till you see black, spotting eyes and bruised lips.

Sweetheart let me dot the lines, mark and label sections with names that make mouths water.

Lovely, let me cut you up, Splayed and filleted, with gentle touches and pin pricks from well manicured nails.

If I tell you I love you, will you give me a taste?

If promise to go slow, will you stay in place while I take the first bite? Let your blood quench my thirst?

Will you pray for forgiveness? Scream to a God you'd rather not hear your calls?

Beg for more? or for mercy.

I know you will, dear

All of my meals eventually do.

[writtenworkshop]

One on One, Surprise Me

A Maiden's Desis

It may be that thee need not heed my pleas

be that as it may, to reach thee clearly, I plea

as so, do pose this poem in eutony, be

For others and me, do beseech thy holy clarity

The quest for peace sows war in violence' absence

The words are thrown alack, as bullet spray

In metal to flesh, is violence so in action

And so, the body and soul both wear away

In quest for violence, peace and still as fore,

Its momentary release, its action be tranquil

In swing of sword so is their peace in war

The weary release of anger forlorn so kills

In peace, there be mercy as claimed but even so molds

thrown words as stones so broken, bones are sore

The upheaval slices tenfold the thighs of the cuckold

Belligerent deeds to be nullity is war

So flies the burning cloths of riots afar

I sought thy house but there was no coven to save

The war of words, the words of war so start

Am I to pray away or hide the bay?

When our cities fall and the bombs all dropped

I sang a psalm, come kingdom, come along

But God was not with the weary of heart, I sobbed

The devil had our city preyed upon and gone

Maybe thee meant it esoteric, so it be

I do not see the divinity in beating

Nor will I ever understand the meaning

But hallowed is thee I see for the time now being

So must we live to burn and rot so long

And so is life to absume as the stars must do

Alas the world and I have rot enough drawn

I plead to thee for the wounded and weary moot

Our city in denouement to great beyond

May we its people also decay just as great

so, we ask to blast as the supernova yon

In hopes of silver and gold to come us later

Supernal God, this I beg,

the Maiden

[writtenworkshop]

Reopening Poetry Critique and Review Submissions

Submit poetry you would like critiqued or reviewed. At this moment we can only manage one or two poems a week, but if you would like some help with your writing, please feel free to trust us with your works.

We will do our best to help.

[writtenworkshop]

hey all, @cruxymox here.

it's been quite some time since writtenworkshop has been active, hasn't it? too long...

so, i'm opening it up again... if you have a poem that you would like some editing advice/critiquing on/etc., send it over, & i'll take a look-see, posting my notes here. ( or, if you prefer to keep things private, let me know. )

a few notes -

i've cleared all of our old drafts & inbox.

for right now, it's just me ( i'm not going to poke the other moderators any more than posting this message, as i'm sure they're crazy-busy already ), so i'll probably be only doing 1-2 poems/week. ( no guarantees, but if you need a quick response because you have a submission deadline or something like that, message me at @cruxymox. )

i am human, therefore fallible. i can't catch all editing mistakes, & anything i say about your piece can ( & sometimes should ) be ignored, as it is just my opinion.

as always, with anything you submit, be professional. if there's anything that might be triggering, make a note of it. if there is something that i find offensive in/with your piece, i won't review it, but i will let you know.

[writtenworkshop]

hey all, @cruxymox here.

it's been quite some time since writtenworkshop has been active, hasn't it? too long...

so, i'm opening it up again... if you have a poem that you would like some editing advice/critiquing on/etc., send it over, & i'll take a look-see, posting my notes here. ( or, if you prefer to keep things private, let me know. )

a few notes -

i've cleared all of our old drafts & inbox.

for right now, it's just me ( i'm not going to poke the other moderators any more than posting this message, as i'm sure they're crazy-busy already ), so i'll probably be only doing 1-2 poems/week. ( no guarantees, but if you need a quick response because you have a submission deadline or something like that, message me at @cruxymox. )

i am human, therefore fallible. i can't catch all editing mistakes, & anything i say about your piece can ( & sometimes should ) be ignored, as it is just my opinion.

as always, with anything you submit, be professional. if there's anything that might be triggering, make a note of it. if there is something that i find offensive in/with your piece, i won't review it, but i will let you know.

[writtenworkshop]

Hi, I've just finished my second poetry collection. It's something that I wanted to amalgamate everything from radical feminism to abusive relationships to childhood memories. I found @cruxymox 's post about your wanting to critique poetry and was wondering if you would consider possibly reviewing mine before it's published, I would love to include a review on the cover. Thanks, send me a reply :)

Who are you asking?

[writtenworkshop]

Tumblr Censure

In light of the recent developments by Tumblr and due to their upcoming purges, this is a warning to all my followers for all of my blogs.

There is a chance that I will be flagged. Either my content will be removed or I will be removed. Four out of five of my blogs are not NSFW/Explicit by any means, but that apparently doesn’t matter to Tumblr now.

I have held onto this account ( @foreveratlas ) for over seven years. I have posted more than 800 original, individual pieces of poetry and prose; along with multiple original works of art. As it stands, I do not have the time or the mental/emotional capacity to go through seven plus years of content, trying to find what does and doesn’t set off Tumblr’s latest algorithms. And since anything can set Tumblr’s flagging system off now, not just NSFW content, there is an unreasonably high chance that some poetry, a piece of artwork, or a quote I have posted in the last decade will trip the system. And unfortunately, that goes for all of my blogs:

@writtenconsiderations

@writtenworkshop

@writtenlustworthy

@whilsk

Anything can spark a reaction from the latest Censoring System so there is a chance that one (especially writtenlustworthy) or more of my blogs will be flagged and removed.

This saddens me deeply. I have spent years trying to build up my blogs and content. I have reblogged over 15k silly posts to Whilsk. I have accrued a sizable following to WrittenConsiderations through curating writers and creating prompts. I have helped many poets through constructive critique at WrittenWorkshop. I have created a safe space for writers to explore sexuality and desire at WrittenLustworthy. And I have spent the last seven years posting poetry, prose, and fiction to ForeverAtlas creating a venerable diary. My blogs are modest in following compared to others, but they’re my blogs. I spent time and effort here. And on December 17th, a switch will be flipped, and all this effort and love may be washed away.

So, I’m sorry. I plan to salvage as much as I can or back up my blogs before it’s too late. I have an account at HelloPoetry, but the atmosphere isn’t the same, and the place doesn’t accommodate large curator blogs.

Tumblr helped me in some of my darkest moments. I met some of the nicest people. People I would go on to see as close friends and confidants. Pieces I wrote and posted here have gone on to be published in Writing magazines. I came to terms with my gender issues here and finally accepted that I’m Trans. It pains me to see so much good being tarnished by Tumblr’s decade long lack of initiative.

Whatever happens next, I hope you all (writers, artists, or otherwise) can move forward. I hope this doesn’t destroy our little community. I hope this doesnt ruin all the good we’ve strived so hard to build and maintain.

You’ve all been wonderful. You’ve all been kind. You’ve all been supportive, especially as I was coming to terms with my gender this year. I hope we can make it through this. Or, if it doesn’t work out here on Tumblr, I hope we can build a new community somewhere else.

Love you all—-

Forever yours,

ForeverAtlas.

[writtenworkshop]

Many Apologies

Hey Friends and Critique Requesters!

Please accept this apology on the delay of critiques. The month of November has been a busy and often hellish time for a couple of us here. We're all over the place trying to focus on other projects, family stuff, moving, holidays, personal issues, etc. Because of that, our output has slowed to a trickle.

So I wanted to apologize for that. The group all agreed when we started that we wouldnt get overwhelmed by this. We want to help you all, but at the same time we have to help ourselves. And the best way to help ourselves is to go at our own pace. I think @renegadegirl13 , @cruxymox , and @reinventing-wednesday will all agree that we enjoy helping other writers and none of us want to lose the privilege to do so. But we also have to make sure we are ok so you can receive the best critique possible. When we have off weeks, our critiques arent as potent as they could be. We don't want to bring our issues into our critiques.

You've all been wonderful and patient, and I appreciate that immensely. It may be slow going for the month of December, but we will work through the submitted critique requests. Little by little. Once the holiday season comes to a close, things will be a bit easier and manageable.

For now, thank you all for being so wonderful and understanding. Love you.

@foreveratlas

[writtenworkshop]

Gravityandgalaxies Poetry Critique

For once in my life

it doesn’t pain me to drive

in silence

I can listen to my thoughts

and not want to give up

I seek refuge in your arms

And as I look upon

This empty Ghost Town

it reminds me of how empty I am

But I remember the lack of it

with you

@gravityandgalaxies

__________________

Our Critiques

@renegadegirl13 response:

I like the concise length of the piece. The word empty is used twice in close succession. I'd change up one of them. The author says that for once they can drive in silence, as though it's comfortable, then seeks refuge? This confuses the reader a little. The last line is confusing. Consider perhaps describing how the lack of emptiness felt, that is how did this person fill your life? I think with some polishing, this could be a much better piece. Thank you for submitting.

@reinventing-wednesday response:

I like the feelings you're describing here, but they need more depth.

Line breaks are the first thing I noticed. For example:

"it doesn't pain me to drive

in silence"

The break here is awkward. I understand wanting to call attention to the silence, but I would consider revising line breaks. It may read better as:

"it doesn't pain me

to drive in silence"

The emphasis is still on silence but the lines are more even, and it flows better. Look at the other lines too, read them aloud.

The word empty is used twice, find a replacement for one of them.

I don't know why Ghost Town is capitalized. This is silly (my brain is a weird place), but it threw me off.

Making the lines separate stanzas may also help it read more smoothly.

I enjoyed reading it. Thank you for submitting!

@cruxymox response:

as mentioned above, rework line breaks. adjust repetition of 'empty'. i also agree with S regarding the capitalization of 'Ghost Town'.

with this piece - for me - i want there to be more visuals. i want to know if it is day or night, or somewhere in between. i want to see the deserted road, the colors of the ghost town. maybe these things are meant to be shown elsewhere, in another piece. the fact that this makes me want these things is a good thing. do not give me the answers i seek, as they will be your answers, and not mine.

well done.

@foreveratlas response:

This is a sweet little piece and if I wasn't looking closely, feels pretty solid in it's own right. I like the idea of healing this poem has, which is rare to find sometimes. I read so many things based on pain but nothing about getting over the pain. You feel the absence here, but you also accept it so to speak.

In a technical sense, I would suggest adding punctuation. Contrary to popular belief, non-rhyming poetry isn't read with the line-breaks used in place of punctuation. You have thoughts that are finished that would benefit with a period, but because the line lacks one, my eyes carry over to the next thought like a run on sentence. The same can be said for commas. You know where they need to go.

One thing I'd like to see is more on this idea of silence and how it is affecting the Speaker and the other person (the You in the poem). Are they together and sitting in silence, or are they apart and this is the speaker coming to terms with the close of a relationship? I ask this because at the start of the poem it feels like someone just got over a break up, and then you have the two together at the end. Clarity would benefit this.

The lines, "I can listen to my thoughts / and not want to give up," weaken the original point of being alone but don't offer enough believable resolve to continuing a relationship toward the end. Rework them because it's a struggle here.

Everyone else has pretty much pointed out whatever else needs to be fixed: ghost town shouldn't be capitalized, line breaks should be reconsidered, etc. If anything, consider condensing. Less is more. Take out phrases that sound clichè or unnecessary to turn the poem into a more impactful piece. For example with the first three lines edited: "For once / it doesn’t pain me / to drive in silence." Condensing gives the idea more meaning. We know it's your life. Saying "for once in my life," is not only redundant but also a clichè, so try to avoid that.

Great poem, thanks for submitting to us!

[writtenworkshop]

white lie

A pearléd noose will bring swift death – 

From fate you only vainly flee; 

No truth can ever set one free

While smooth, white lies cost but one breath.

*group critique please :)

.

fangirl-writes-poetry

@reinventing-wednesday response:

I like the lesson in this a heck of a lot. I think it flows nicely too. With a few minor tweaks the flow could be even better. With the dash after the first line it pauses a bit too much. Adding a period to the end of the first line or putting the dash at the end of the first line would pull it together a bit more. If you wanted the first line is to be on its own, adding multiple dashes (or some kind of seperation) will clear that up a bit.

I'm unsure about "pearléd noose". When I first read it I didn't like the way it rolled through my head, but with the other words in the poem it makes sense. I may just be tripping up on it because it's not a word you read often.

I like the line breaks in this, wouldn't change anything there, but reading it out loud may help you nail down where you want them.

I love short poems. I think they work well for social media, however, this one feels unfinished. There's a build up in this, and I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when I wasn't sucker punched by the ending. I would add to it, most definitely.

Overall, I enjoyed this quite a bit. It's been a pleasure to read. Thanks for submitting!

@cruxymox response:

i like that the message of this poem is clear. the mention of a noose is quite appropriate.

however, the meter really threw me off. it seems quite forced. each line at the same number of syllables actually detracted from my read.

(i especially stumbled on 'only', the transition from 'free' to 'while', and the comma.)

consider your dancing queen format (ABBA. sorry, had to) when modifying your poem, if you wish to keep a strict meter. otherwise, play around with it. continue to read your changes out loud.

@renegadegirl13 response:

I like the use of the word pearled with noose; it places a jewelry image in my mind. The accent confuses me. The second line is difficult to read, the pacing is off. I liked this little piece very much. I feel though, that there is a deeper lesson that is being missed. I'd like to see it expanded upon. Thanks for submitting.

@foreveratlas response:

I like the riddle feel you've got going on here. You keep the meter consistent and the ABBA rhyme scheme works.

There are two things I need to note, the first being Pearlèd. It's an interesting word choice, but it feels almost archaic. Knowing that the emphasis is to be read pear-led for the sake meter and beat is fine, but visually, its jarring to someone who isn't reading it out loud. That being said, after some research, I did find correlation between both the word and the meter and rhyme with John Keats. I dont know if that's what you're going for, but it is certainly noticeable. Consider using a different word or term to get that double beat if you aren't meaning to reference Keats. Otherwise, keep it as is.

The second thing I would like to say is that, though this feels lovely to read, it doesn't feel complete? Like you have an idea here, and a solid one at that, but I dont understand what I should be feeling or why it should be affecting me as your reader. Consider adding another stanza to put more personal emphasis into this. You want your reader to feel this in them, and right now. You've got four lines resembling a rhyming riddle about death and lying. What does that lie mean to me? Is that lie in regards to a belief or a spilling of truths for the sake of salvation? Finish this thought and give your reader a reason to be afraid, as I think that's what you're going for here.

Thanks for submitting! Sorry it took so long to get this response to you!