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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in poets_working's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, April 7th, 2011
7:34 pm
[charisma]
Last poet standing!
I'm joining a poetry community that looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. Every week there will be a prompt to write a different type of poem. The winner even gets a prize!

They need some more folks to join before they can get started though. Please consider joining.

Do You Like To Write?


Like to write? Love writing poetry? Great! There is a new challenge, called lastpoetstandng, where you write a a poem every week based on a different style of poetry prompt! Then they get voted on and the person with the least votes is out that week and the person with the most is safe the next week till you have one author standing who wins! What do you win? A snazzy graphic and a $10 GC to Amazon or Barnes & Noble. You don't even need to be a GREAT writer!

..who will come out on top?


Current Mood: hopeful
Tuesday, July 1st, 2008
6:13 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
She cries spiders *-critique please!-*
She cries spiders
Unlike the girls who traded love for silence
Her curses always worth their weight in gold
Tears bite poisoned
Her strength to never be in tower prisoned
A sorrow web spun silken
A mother's terror
Born both eyes arachnid weeping
A leggy crowd accompanying her wail
It tugs the heart strings
The world does strain to not displease her
Yet when she cries she always cries alone
And who would hold her?
Dress a capture net, terrible, untearable
Though she looks so lovely
When the morning dew catches
In her dress and on her cobwebbed cheeks
Dew and spider tears mingle in the dawn.

Current Mood: accomplished
Sunday, March 11th, 2007
3:26 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
Ideas?
I'm doing some TA work for a poetry class in a week, and my teacher says she wants to have some modern works in her curriculem, something the students can identify with, that they won't consider out of date or boring.
I mostly read older works, the classics, or at least ones written before I was born. Do any of you have suggestions for modern poets to check out?

Current Mood: curious
Saturday, February 10th, 2007
3:57 pm
[iamrainbowboi]
Your name: Jessica Capulet. [penname, woot.]

Your age: 14.

Poetry writing experience: i've been writing about shit that's happened to me since the middle of 8th grade, last year. . .i go on all topics, from my own shit to sexual assault and rape, teen pregnancy, my sexuality [bisexual or trisexual genderqueer FTM] and other's sexualities, strippers, prostitutes, my art, writing, being trapped n the year 1507, eating disorders, suicide, self-mutilation, my friends, hatred, abuse, drugs, hellish things in general, really. wow, that ended up being longer than i'd meant. idk. i like sonnets, a whole lot. recently, that's all i've been writing.

What are your poetry writing goals?: i want to get my iambic pentameter down as much as possible. . .i still have trouble trying to get the stressed part of the word lined up with the stressed part of the line sometimes. also, i don't do superwell with imagery, and my poems always end up sending a message i don't want them to.

What sort of help would you like from this group?: i'm looking primarily for inspiration, and also for critique.

sonnet. of doom. . .kinda literally.Collapse )

Current Mood: flail!
Saturday, September 30th, 2006
10:40 am
[aquarium_dreams]
State of Fear
Written in response to a series of poems by my friend.


PoemCollapse )

Current Mood: sick
Tuesday, March 14th, 2006
10:23 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
Tuesday, December 13th, 2005
8:34 pm
[marxthesmurf]
Hello!
Hi ya'll! My name is Jenna, and I'm twenty-one years old. I'm a double major in History Education and English at a little college in the South. I hope to one day teach high school. I've just really started writing poetry in the past few months, but I've gotten into it pretty quickly. I'd like to submit some of my poems for publication, so I'd like some honest (yet polite. lol) criticism and opinions on my work. Basically, I would like to put my poems out here, and if they are just not that great, then I hope some one tells me so I don't embarrass myself! :P

Read more...Collapse )

Read more...Collapse )

Read more...Collapse )
3:01 pm
[girlabomination]
A Poem and An Introduction
Pesky Sraight WomanCollapse )

Your name: Justine

Your age: 24 (for the next few weeks)

Poetry writing experience: I've recently decided to shift my major from Psychology to English. I've been writing poetry since I was in middle school, however did not take any poetry classes until I was 18.

I first became interested in writing while participating in old school, pre-internet as a household word, dial up, ANSI graphic, local BBSs. Among my favorites was "RAT City" a budding community of artists. There I became exposed not only to my peers writing poetry, but also computer art, painting, and drawing. Even now, quite untentionally, I discover that my writing style absorbs the tone of those authors I read. RAT City was wonderful in helping me get started, writing poetry. Admittedly however, I find myself mimicing the styles of the authors I read far more readily than poets.

Lately, I've been drawn to works of fellow gay, bi, lesbian, and transgender writers and film makers. This is simply because it helps me to know that I am not the only one that percieves the world the way I do, and to see how other people convey topics to their audiance that I may myself feel the need to present.

What are your poetry writing goals?: Weeeellllll, recently I have been most interesting in writing fiction. There seems to be a corelation, however between writing moving poetry, and the presence of vibrant descriptions when I write prose. I want to be able to weave images that people can see, taste, smell, touch, and hear. I do not feel that this goal is specific to either prose or poetry, so much as learning to blend words in such a way that they can move people from any number of backgrounds. In essence I want my writing to be fantastic and real. Sometimes it seems that the boundry between these two things is not entirely clear.

What sort of help would you like from this group?: What I feel will help me most right now is to recieve feedback on what doesn't make sense when I post something. The last thing I need is for my readers to be lost in a confusion of "What is this person talking about?" If my descriptions are so flowery that they destroy the emotion in the piece... that's important for me to know. Likewise, if something come out that really strikes a chord within you, I would like to know that too.

For me, refinement is observation. The more observers there are the merrier. :)

(----------------------------------------)


The poem above was written spontaneously this morning. Odds are that the reader is not going through the same situation that I am. I will not say what exactly it is about. What's most important for me in this exercise is to know if an emotion (or mix of emotions) is realized within the poem for the reader, and if any lines in particular are especially strong or dischordant.

Thanks a bunch. :)
Sunday, November 13th, 2005
9:40 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
Little Ghosts
poem goes hereCollapse )

Current Mood: geeky
Thursday, November 10th, 2005
7:48 pm
[charisma]
Excellent Writer's Resource - Urbis dot com!


Urbis.com, is a free, carefully structured workshop community with a mission to expose writers from around the world to literary agents and publishers in New York City. It's a great website for getting feedback on your work, with a quality review system that really works! It even offers a variety of privacy options for those who don't want their work viewable by just anyone on the 'net.

There's a a live journal community for Urbis users here - urbis_writers , so join Urbis and join the community.

If you want to take a closer look at how the site works, check out my Urbis portfolio.

Current Mood: excited
Sunday, October 23rd, 2005
6:19 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
Thursday, October 13th, 2005
11:36 pm
[aquarium_dreams]
Lots o poems
I know it's a lot but I'd really appreciate critique.

AlchemyCollapse )


Two-FaceCollapse )


Flying FishCollapse )


FoundCollapse )


Karma's a BitchCollapse )


Endless RepetitionCollapse )

What do you think?

Current Mood: accomplished
Wednesday, August 31st, 2005
1:54 am
[spork174]
Hi everyone! I just joined the community and hope to learn a lot from (as well as do my best to advise) you all in our respective poetic processes.
Here are the basics, just so we get acquainted...

My name is Katie, and I'm 20 years old, currently a full-time student residing in NY.

Poetry writing experience: I used to write poetry all the time... and then suffered a bout of writer's block after I attempted to join one of those intense crit groups on Livejournal. I'm just getting back into it now, and have had the odd poem published in literary journals every now and again(as well as the offers to be published in those mass collections- for the right price, haha).

What are your poetry writing goals? I'd just like to get my creative juices flowing again- I love writing and communicating through poetry, and I could really use some input. Just surrounding myself with poets and their work again would be really inspiring, I'm sure.

What sort of help would you like from this group? I'd like some honest critiques... I don't pretend to be an expert on any level, but I'm confident enough in myself to appreciate constructive criticism. If you read my work (which I hope you will, haha) I'd love for you to comment with ANYTHING- be it one word in the poem or the whole thing, line by line. I hope you all know I'd love to repay the favor, and offer my opinions whenever requested. I think groups like this are a great idea, and I'm excited to write.

And so, I offer a rough first-draft of a new poem, and I hope to hear a lot from anyone who has the time or inspiration to comment. Thanks!

The Written WordCollapse )

Current Mood: good
Wednesday, April 20th, 2005
12:44 am
[iwritesometimes]
This is one of my sonnets. Any advice at all would be welcomed. Feel free to ask about any content too, it's all got intent.

S. II

Now I renew once more my pensive plea
Pernicious and abhorrent to behold
I fear my lust meets nearer to my needs:
Fidelity’s a bedroom lesson told.
My succor trills a melody ignored
And listens, rapt, to relish my reply
But I, in drunk veracity, though bored,
Match compromise for compromise, and lie.
But why? The hut I’ve built to see my days
Won’t cave beneath a pretty platinum squall-
Though her despair may prove a perfect blaze,
Its erstwhile warmth will perish in the fall.
And winter as an ancient empty eye
Draws itself around me and my lie.


-reid

Current Mood: predatory
Monday, April 18th, 2005
9:37 pm
[iwritesometimes]
Your name: Reid

Your age: 18

Poetry writing experience:

I'm not all that prolific. I spend a lot of time improving existing work and newer stuff comes along maybe every few months. I have about three completed (perhaps) poems, and maybe thirty works-in-progress.

What are your poetry writing goals?

I want the reader to note my intent and relate it to something familiar. I'd like to bridge a gap. I'd like to create new gaps and point them out to an unsuspecting audience.

What sort of help would you like from this group?

I'd like advice on whatever could be improved. I'd rather not presume. I've joined other poetry forums for revision and input before, but that has not gone well.

Current Mood: curious
Wednesday, February 16th, 2005
2:09 am
[velvetjademuse]
new...and a poem called "words..."
Read more...Collapse )

Current Mood: ambiently awake
Saturday, February 12th, 2005
1:02 pm
[bypasdyonmuse]
sea rays soothe
spotted cartillage
folding
flapping
holding our buoyant bodies
we are breathing embryonic fluid
your chin in my hair
arms weighted warmly around my waist (waste)
shallow sleeping
slathered in seaweed
i smile half slipping
into the dreaming
until
splash
soda shook up
released
suds rising
heart sinking
water made murky
by the expeditious probe
operated by two
tuna scented lovlies
they emerge
lips plumply pretty
pruned and primed
for the kiss
lightly stepping
on silver stairs
golden gownns and
glitter heels
inviting sirens
twist your ears
upright
experience chasing
you are up up up and away
as if you were never here
goodbye mouthed from
the oxygenated air space
where you are ascending
to the crustacian party
left quiet in my wellspring
i am dark
lids stretched and seeping
i pull on my shark's teeth hood
and wait alone for morning
Friday, December 24th, 2004
8:02 pm
[bypasdyonmuse]
pastey faced thin haired freaking out children in head to toe sunblock carry umbrellas shrouding their hatted heads. the procession is long, the reception short on the way to the new spring, the seedless time, past the revelation on the right that redemption is a poor excuse to sin. widows in sea foam and cotton candy linen dresses kneel on the great lawn planting daisies and ivy while sipping iced tea. perspiration sinks from their thighs into the soil coveting their loved one packed third down in the 18 foot hole below.

red lipstick clings to the cheek of the tiny tie tucked boy. he cringes at the sight of the cameras swarming first one then another and another and another like a hoard of springloaded vultures clicking their gums at the feast. the members with the flags at their proud foldup tables put on their betty doll masks and hand out pins to prick bleed absolve of future. the little boy sidesteps slips slides down the muddy hall with airplane tickets in one hand and a piercing gun in the other.

prevention of infanticide by application of bright blue hairdye and implied holes in every cheek, chin, brow, breast, and sex organ...not to mention cyanide holes in teeth (milk mouth) and flat twisted feet. the momma on the side of the white mosquito netted stroller screams at the sight chasing the tie boy into puberty but the smoke from the mtv bomb show ignites her eyes and her purse is fuming with maggot's gasses.

banners floating in the air...catch me if you can...i've got 50 stars to skip on and i'll tiptoe on all these daisies past the uniform and that ice pond filled in with corpses. sorry ladies...can't plant your posies there but you can feed the goldfish. they reserved that plot for those more dissassembled anyway.

his suit is shredded on lanky limbs and the procession is quiet like a line of black robed monks in pink rocky caves on an island. spirits having swilled tinctures have barely visible auras. his eyes burn so bright the helmets cant catch them above the bandana he wears to obscure the law. there are no badges left anyway, only gold medals and bronze medallions made of plastic. hey, look away, flinch...he was not mad enough, he will die as his father died. he will lie in the park with flowers but he will never denounce the enemy on public television while the nintendo troopers shoot bolts of green flame at the city beneath the city beneath the basement in the sand.

an ode to the next generation, storm trooper swooped onto the train that meets the plane that takes off where the tall buildings used to stand above the sewers. now people wade in sewage with the rats bringing their boys to mass funeral sites and metranome maladic malformity in conformity. one more black dot on the sky to accross the world where the damages continue to equal one more wave of exuming and refilling the park in the middle of the great nation and the piercing gun is left to the now pre-pubescent baby to scarify the next generation.
Sunday, December 12th, 2004
3:53 pm
[bypasdyonmuse]
crack is not for coconuts
i designed a vision of everything white in one big room
there were clouds and toilet paper,
elmer's glue and fake teeth with whited out gums.
and everyone got along alright
but the crack and the coconuts
because the crack was a different color than the coke had been
and now it was not so white land
the pale fairies with their veins protruding
purple against their yellow bones
stood in the light for the first time
when the door between the realms opened
and the new color having been introduced
as brown showed off all their white calistenic
overaromatheripied vibrations
and someone somewhere in white world
didn't want anybody to see
the truth

well wake up
it's assembly time
with the steam train whistle and a
few black grinds at the bottom of the cup for company
you pick up the spoon to stir
and realize that sugar in coffee is a wonderful thing

so says the monkey with a short string up his red ass
being held fixed by barbed wire
waxed with worm guts and debris
he speaks when the obvious is stated over and over again
and it becomes like a whining tangent going around and around
and around and around and around nd rdn ndr dr d...own
society is always prepackaged into food groups
or groups of altoids or steroids or dedefibulatorstruck people
not to remark on social classes
so, until our brains come back out the other side of this monkey's ass
we're going to pick appart
the spot in the snow and call it cat pee everytime

get over it and on with it with each other
it's the time of silver gelatin love
in circus tent city
and the purple hoola hoop with curtains covering the bed
is swinging rampantly
we cannot continue to write under black lights with laundry detergent pens and brushes hoping to become visible again
it is the light blue residue in the sunshine
that is visible at all
Saturday, December 4th, 2004
11:38 am
[bypasdyonmuse]
i would appreciate some feedback-i am not a great editor
crack is not for coconuts
i designed a vision of everything white in one big room
there were clouds and toilet paper,
elmer's glue and fake teeth with whited out gums.
and everyone got along alright
but the crack and the coconuts
and y'know why
i'll tell you why
because the crack was a different color than the coke had been
and now it was not so white land
the pale fairies with their veins protruding
purple against their yellow bones
stood in the light for the first time
when the door between the realms opened
and the new color having been introduced
as brown showed off all their white calistenic
overaromatheripied vibrations
and someone somewhere in white world
didn't want anybody to see
the truth
well wake up
it's assembly time
with the steam train whistle and a
few black grinds at the bottom of the cup for company
you pick up the spoon to stir
and realize that sugar in coffee is a wonderful thing

so says the monkey with a short string up his red ass
being held fixed by barbed wire
waxed with worm guts and debris
he speaks when the obvious is stated over and over again
and it becomes like a whining tangent going around and around
and around and around and around nd rdn ndr dr d...own
society is always prepackaged into food groups
or groups of altoids or steroids or dedefibulatorstruck people
not to remark on social classes
so, until our brains come back out the other side of this monkey's colon
we're going to pick appart
the spot in the snow and call it cat pee everytime
get over it and on with it with each other
it's the time of silver gelatin love
in circus tent city
and the purple hoola hoop with curtains covering the bed
is swinging rampantly
we cannot continue to write under black lights with laundry detergent pens and brushes hoping to become visible again
it is the light blue residue in the sunshine
that is visible at all
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