Someone PLEASEEEEEEE explain to me why these poets are allergic to using capital letters??? Genuine question because I am taking a Literature course and I want to strangle some people

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

I was talking with my sister last night and it occurred to me that I write a lot of poetry during liminal and intermundane moments. Late at night before I go to sleep. A moment of mental stress. Immediately after awaking from unconsciousness. Feeling trapped between the past and the future. Longing for the beauty of the unattainable past. Stuck in traffic. Out walking at sunset, almost dying from the freezing cold temperature. Meditation on our childhood in the earth. Outside in a thunder storm. Imagining I was out in the woods. Something eerily like demonic possession. Dancing in the rain. Listening to the night sounds at midnight dejection. Melancholy contemplation in an unlit room. A late night obsession. Out, meditating, on a walk. The shock of a murder. Reading apocalyptic literature.

Humans are intermundane beings; thus it only makes sense that our poetry would be the same.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

Locked arm in arm they cross the way The black boy and the white, The golden splendor of the day The sable pride of night.

From lowered blinds the dark folk stare And here the fair folk talk, Indignant that these two should dare In unison to walk.

Oblivious to look and word They pass, and see no wonder That lightning brilliant as a sword Should blaze the path of thunder.

Tableau by Countee Cullen

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

lexiandliterature

inkedwingss asked:

Hot take on Kaur, I'm glad to see someone else is awake.

lexiandliterature answered:

i'm genuinely surprised that more people aren't talking about this but i guess i will.

i'll first preface this with the fact that i understand why people like this kind of "poetry." it's accessible, it's easy to understand, and most importantly, its relatable. but is that what poetry is? i'm not sure, you tell me. more importantly, is that what poetry's become? if it is, it's quite sad.

the way i think about instagram poetry is that someone had an idea, found a few nice words that went with said good idea, and then... gave up writing the rest of the poem. they then proceeded to click enter a few times to make it appeal to the eye and draw some line art that is vaguely related to the poem but would be more impactful IF THE POEM WAS ACTUALLY FINISHED. a lot of the lines kaur writes are not that bad, sometimes they pack a punch and if they were with an actual fleshed out poem, i don't think it would be so bad.

my main issues with here are that:

her writing screams lazy and i personally don't believe she can classify this as poetry. there is no fleshed out effort and certainly no intention. if you asked me to identify what exactly makes her writing unique i would say the brevity, which isn't so much a writing style as it is just a pure lack of care.
something i will get into in a later post, is the fact that she's marketing blank pages. she is profiting off of having 2 words on a page, a tiny drawing of something and then nothing on the rest of the page. let that sink in. she is making money off of her relatable content that can't even comprise one page of work. i am so certain that if you tried to jam all of her work on to a page, you would be able to fit most of it onto like 3 pages maximum.

the irony of all of this is that this 2-3 line work of i don't even know what is likely PLAGIARIZED. that's right. she stole someone else's work to shorten it into this abomination. i have no words.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

lexiandliterature

let's talk about rupi kaur and why she's everything wrong with online culture.

i've heard many a good review about rupi kaur and her poetry and i will tell you right now that i confidently disagree. in case you don't know who she is, rupi kaur is a "poet" on instagram with over 4.5 million followers known for her short but impactful poems that captivate the hearts of millions of people around the world.

her rise to fame caught the tidal wave of internet virality as she self published her first collection, Milk & Honey, earning critical acclaim. I like to call it milk our money but i'll get to that in another post.

let's first define poetry for what it is. though this definition can depend on who you ask, i like to think of poetry in four main categories: theme, meter, form, and intention. theme is just the general topic of the poem and the way the poet goes about addressing it. meter is the rhythm and rhyme pattern; it's the way it sounds when you read it aloud and the way that sound hits your ear. form is the way it looks, the way it reads, how that affects the way you say it and the way the words are perceived. and finally let's talk about intention. how is she choosing her words, how is she placing them in an order that is interesting, and how is she using literary devices to aid her story?

(if you want to see these categories done well, then it will have to be a whole different post because this could take awhile.)

so let's talk about rupi kaur's poetry in these four categories starting with this 2 LINE POEM that doesn't have a title.

"and here you are living despite it all"

-rupi kaur

wow. inspirational. 2 lines, with no punctuation whatsoever. this isn't even a sentence. we're off to a great start.

so theme. this poem is about overcoming something difficult. what difficulty? i could not tell you. there is no more information. at least she has an idea. the "you" is likely addressing the readers, thus suggesting that the purpose of the line being so general is to appeal to everyone (this is another issue i'll get into some other time).
let's talk about meter now. there's really nothing to say, there is none. there is no rhythm, no rhyme scheme, no nothing. and i'm not saying every poem has to have these things, it's just to say that if she doesn't have this, her poem needs to be interesting in other ways (which spoiler alert it isn't).
now let's talk about form. she breaks this "not sentence" into two lines. this enjambment is random and without thought. there is nothing interesting about separating this sentence other than for aesthetic purposes. nothing about the shape of this poem is interesting and nothing about it has meaning.
and finally, let's talk about intention. she uses "you" to appeal to a wider audience which suggests that this poem is more likely written to be relatable than to be sincere. is the "you" talking about a friend? a lover? a sibling? a friend/lover that's a sibling? (im just kidding) like come one. give us nothing. the ambiguity of "all" has a similar connotation. what is she overcoming? a cold? the death of a loved one? spilled milk? what is it? i shouldn't have to give meaning to the poem FOR HER. THIS IS HER POEM.

so if we're grading this out of 4 points, we'll give her a point for theme (because at least i know what she's talking about), no points for meter, no points for form, and certainly no points for intention.

this poem is a 1/4 or a 25%. congratulations rupi!

if this is the standard at which we are holding one of the most POPULAR poets of our generation because her poetry is accessible, easy to read, and relatable, then we are in a bit of trouble.

taking time to understand why the words are put in a certain order is what makes poetry so beautiful and if we can't even stop to sniff the roses sometime, what are we even doing? nothing in life is easy, and we are slowly diluting everything difficult into something that is meaningless. part of the beauty is in the time you put into understanding its message. rupi kaur is a perfect example of someone marketing off of our short attention spans and our need for instant gratification.

what i'm getting at here is not that a poet i dont like is extremely popular but rather we're letting people profit off of mediocrity while also losing the essence of what that thing really is. we're letting it become easy and accessible and "relatable" when part of the beauty is often what makes it different. it's not that rupi kaur is the problem but rather an example of the ongoing issue.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

lacunasbalustrade

incognito-melancholia

"How many scars did you justify because you loved the person who was holding the knife?"

#I’m the knife because I wanted you to grasp me and I thought finding my body would be easier if I were outside it- when it scarred.#I’m a knife because I needed to bleed the world without admitting that I was a tool #i thought it was better to be violent than scared #but I directed that at myself and now I’ve realised #i was wrong; too #to hurt myself #I’ve got to answer to the fact that I’m not just metal; I’m also a whittled wood handle of a tree that was cut down in its prime #To the fact that I didn’t have to taste flesh. That I could be good without being perfect #that punishing myself was like flaying the people who were trying to hold me still when I was hysterical #To how sometimes I was hurting myself to see the skin part and not to enact justice #to how sometimes I went overboard in holding myself accountable.#<- oh my goodnessssss #this is really good <3333 #saved #fav fav fav #prose poetry #poems on tumblr #tumblr poetry #spilled poetry #sad poetry #poetry prompts #this is me #personal aesthetic #kaleb aesthetic #poetry inspiration

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

I love that my favorite poem/collection of poetry compares love to the intoxication of wine because like omggg it soooo is the sameee 😭. I’ve never had wine (obviously) but every thing i’ve seen of being drunk compares quite nicely to my experience with being in love. I.e. it feels great in the moment but the hangover SUCKSSSSSSSSSSS

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

lilacwitch011019

hell-litwrites

I'll write again,

When I'm no longer hurt.

.

When writing doesn't feel like tearing myself open,

When my ink is something other than my blood,

When I have more than just my horrors to show.

.

I'll write again,

At least I hope so,

I'll write about butterflies,

Or the sky,

Or love and hope.

.

I'll write some other day,

Today I'll just bleed,

And let the words be blood stains,

That just show my horrors.

.

Don't confuse me for a poet,

I'm just hurt.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

Fault

I whispered to the night,

'I lost another battle.'

I tried will all my might,

but it didn't really matter.

It was the same story,

it was the same night.

Stars were twinkling above,

while I was left behind.

The same question lingered,

in this heart of mine.

Why my promise of "Always",

again got lost in time?

I sat there for hous,

alone and pondered why.

No answer came to me,

only the wind swept by.

Was it really not meant to be,

or was it my fault?

Tell me, my dear, was it me

or were the stars set by default?

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

“Just one cut,” You whisper. You assure me, “Not too deep.” But every time you desecrate, I dread an endless sleep. I know not what to say, Nor anything i could write To stop this self-violation, And keep you in my sight.

*not finished yet* *currently just a work in progress*

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

Pleasant Dreams— Are such false comforts — Such monstrous hopes That rage in my soul. Oh! How frightful these horrors — These disgusting pleasures And abominable desires! Oh! How they crush my spirit, But, oh, how they delight my heart. These dreams — these Passions of a Midnight Summer — How luxurious it is to hold you — How repulsed I am when you’ve passed. Oh, Lord of Lies, Oh, Prince of Dreams, How merry I am when you pierce me, But how wasted I am when you’re through. Oh! Were it not a sin to be happy — Were it not a sin to be young — I’d indulge every desire — I’d do it all for you.

—Pleasant Dreams are Such False Comforts

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

bean-doodle

You and I

We are the stars and the sun

Close together for only moments in the sky

We orbit

Always there, but never

Close

And I get it, I understand.

Why we can't, why it's not allowed.

But in those fleeting moments when I had your hand.

Warm and rough against mine

Crowded room

Adults only yards away

None of that mattered.

There was only our hands

Bracelets together, yours brushing mine.

I wish you'd reach for me again.

The feeling of your hand on my shoulder to draw me to you is permanently etched in my brain. Taking initiative.

God, if you'd only touch me again.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

bean-doodle

You are a masterpiece, perfectly put together, a true work of art.

I am a child's scribbled drawing, lines messy and incoherent, page torn and sticky.

I was never perfect, could never be. For all my trying, my lines stayed a mess, I could never tape myself back together. Yet you saw something I could never see.

You point to the messy lines, made from broken crayons snapped pencils, and somehow say 'That's beautiful'

You, in your seemingly infinite beauty, seem to find sense in my scribbles and torn paper

You think the mess that l am is art, something worthy of your attention, your affection.

I will never fathom, can never fathom, how.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

on a late october day, when after a warm afternoon comes a crisp evening, i wake up, drowsy and dopey condeming waking up and indebted to tea sipping and slurping to get conscious, i see pink hue on my white walls, it's a lure, it's a bait, it's a call and i go running up the stairs to answer to discern it's not just the walls of my house but the entire town, streets and trees too basking in pink from the sunset it's turning into orange and there are flecks of gold deep blue before it's finally dark someone calls me downstairs it's been an hour, mayhaps my hands on my arms, a sign of incoming bleak weather all im is happy because at the end there's always winter.

kaleb-is-definitely-sane

Bhai what the fuck is a masculine rhyme!?

The poem is composed of two quatrains and, with an exception of the first line, the rhythm alternates between iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter. The poem employs alliteration, anaphora, simile, satire, and internal rhyme but no regular end rhyme scheme. However, lines 1 and 2 and lines 6 and 8 end with masculine rhymes.

-Wikipedia page for “I’m Nobody! Who are you?” By Emily Dickinson

I’ve heard of masculine and feminine forms of murder but masculine vs feminine rhyme!? Has the sexism really entered poetry!? What the actual hell is going on here!?

Also, just so you know wtf they’re talking about here’s the poem in question:

I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you - Nobody - too? Then there's a pair of us! Dont tell! they'd advertise - you know! How dreary - to be - Somebody! How public - like a Frog - To tell one's name - the livelong June - To an admiring Bog!

kaleb-is-definitely-sane reblogged

Citadel.

In a world that loved the moon,

I fell in love with a star.

By the ocean, in the dark,

I spent all of my hours.

The moon envied us so,

it made a pact with the night.

It pulled you into the Shadows,

kept you away from my sight.

You burned brighter every night,

and I came back each time.

But the moon didn't budge,

it didn't let your love to be mine.

So meet me in a citadel,

at the end of time.

That's where I'll be waiting,

that's where I'll make you mine.