r/OCPoetry • u/neutrinoprism • 5h ago
Hi everyone. One of the OCPoetry mods here. Let's share a prompt for the whole subreddit.
Every month Rattle, a leading poetry magazine, presents a visual work of art and asks poets to respond to that artwork in poetry. This is called ekphrastic poetry. I thought it would be fun to post that here for anyone looking for inspiration or a challenge.
Here is this month's artwork. Your challenge is to write a poem in response to that art.
Normal feedback rules do not apply to this thread. Write and share as many poems in response to that artwork as you'd like.
Also, if you feel like you've written something really excellent, you should know that Rattle DOES allow you to submit poems to them for publication that have appeared in online forums. (Most magazines consider those already published; Rattle allows internet-shared poems as long as they're "uncurated," i.e., haven't gone through an editorial process. I can assure you that here on OCPoetry we do not have any kind of editorial process.) So if you're feeling particularly ambitious, you can use that link above to submit your poem to them. It's a long shot — they get hundreds of entries every month, maybe thousands at this point idk, and only two are selected — but it's good practice if you're thinking about getting into publication and can manage the mixture of pride in your work and almost certainty of rejection that goes into the literary magazine publication process.
Anyway, enjoy the challenge! I hope you have fun. If enough people enjoy this I can make it a regular thing.
r/OCPoetry • u/Acceptable-Radio-152 • 37m ago
Sometimes I think that life would be easy,
Then I remember it is life.
Sometimes I feel that it would be okay,
Then I remember it is my life.
Sometimes I think I have friends,
Then I remember it is my demise.
Sometimes I feel I should socialise,
Then I remember what happened on my last cry.
I just got into writing.
Your feedback will be helpful.
Links
r/OCPoetry • u/Stefesike • 51m ago
Sometimes I feel lonely
and I go out for a cigarette.
I leave the dorm
on an empty stomach,
walking into the cold.
I feel the sharpness of the cold wind
graze all of my unexposed skin.
I pass the campus checkpoint
and struggle to find my lighter,
moving the cigarette
from the left side
to the right side of my mouth.
I find it.
With a flick, a moment
I light the cigarette
and witness a bright glow.
I unzip my coat
and lower my head
against the wind.
I look at the sky,
feeling calm
witnessing the cherry grow,
burning with a bright, red glow.
I look at the flame,
and see the ash
dropping on the frozen ground below.
I take a puff.
I take another puff
The cigarette gets shorter.
The day stays cold.
-
I wrote this during my time studying in Russia.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w4rtb1/comment/p79qg4n/?context=3
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w4ojae/comment/p79iepw/?context=3
r/OCPoetry • u/Cluelessandsexy • 1h ago
None of them are deal breakers
The older I get war takes over
Whatever the person brings pray be fitting
Self on request I'll have all of you in one sitting
Spike the digestion clear we are all gluttons
Coast is clear seaside seductive and bare
Sandy under the tree of denial near shore strike edge
What species of Devil soul revolves mercilessly within
Mine is the eyes for sight
corrupted by oncoming ice
Crabs beat false armored chests
in the last of autumn's breath
madness comes as maiden swings
placing merit in spontaneiety
Piece of me manifests but tides eat it all back
Bark of the tree sparks a chat
Under nourished mut peels it back
Unloved heart
Somewhere lost in the bough
A hole dug out passage in the sand
Down to leviathan
Ride it, believing and reaping downward
Look what you become
Lost and aimless seething
The older I get the more I become war
Absurdity lifts me, heavy vultures approach
Hounds howl and bark hoarse near the lapping
A hammer pounds that is my brain the crash of the waves
The virtuous merged and fused with the depraved
You crawl upon the ice and stand in the flurry
The beach head desolate
Kindling where the tree was
burnt rope from the old swing
Two axes clinging and sharpening each other in turn
The clash bang of the mortal clock
Lap lap of impotent ocean
Sway in dead breeze
wandering headless for a century or so
And repeat over through the stump of that bloody beach tree
Risen up inside the oncoming gray black
ride it up storm fall fitting
Passionate Sex with cloud splinter
Off purple arcs climactic
Fulmination of restless Gods
Mine eyes see autumn gone
r/OCPoetry • u/Raymond_Lucent • 1h ago
The poem below covers the Sun's journey from sunrise to sunset. Drop a comment with the next lines from the Moon's perspective picking up right where I left off!
I wake the quiet earth with sudden light,
And wash away the remnants of the night.
I climb until the highest hills are small,
And cast a blazing shadow over all.
When day grows long, I paint the western skies,
And wrap the quiet world in dusk’s disguise.
My fire cools beneath the darkened crest,
And leaves the quiet sky for you to rest.
Please play along!
Links
r/OCPoetry • u/BrilliantRuin2414 • 1h ago
I want to share these silly little words,
Show a side that no one sees.
The way simple expressions
Can portray depths of a soul.
A passion or sensation of one’s mind,
Experience the devotion of an embrace,
However-
I fear your lack of passion,
Seeps through clouded to
These silly little writings
Become blue and grey
Six feet deep.
r/OCPoetry • u/phlloetic • 1h ago
Bells and plucked strings, scattered to the wind like seeds set out to bloom.
My heart beats on for songs like these,and so I I shall return soon.
I miss the rain and his comforting sounds,
the way he sways and lays, fluctuates in waves—
a melody profound.
I feel as though the rain would not say the same for me, I weep and I admire—
a sorrowful sight..
he’d observe through blue stains worried and confused— “do I bring him peace, or worsen his mood ?”
These are a few elements which aid in my loneliness,
they drip down the cracks in my mind—moisturising my soil.
New, positive thoughts fuse, and the seeds I planted begin to bloom.
Still—
Is my Mind
For a moment im at peace, drifting with the way of the world,
with thoughts clouded—
yet my ears hear well,
a divine melody—like a blue lagoon.
I’ve returned.
r/OCPoetry • u/Superb-Objective-554 • 1h ago
Կարոտ
Արևոտ, լուսավոր, ջերմ ու ծիծաղկոտ օրեր
Իմ հայրական տանը,
Հիշում եմ, հիշում, բայց դե նույնը չէ.
Հեռու եմ հիմա։
Գրկել եմ ուզում, փարվել եմ ուզում
Իմ թանկ ու անգին ծնողներին, քրոջս․․․
Քիչ է մնացել՝ գալու եմ շուտով,
Քաղցր կարոտս առնելու եմ շուտով։
Լիլիթ Ամիրաղյան
----------
Translation (sorry if there are mistakes)
Longing
Sunny, bright, warm and laughter-filled days
In my childhood home,
I remember, I remember, but it’s just not the same —
I am far away now.
I want to hug them, I want to hold them close,
My dear and precious parents, my sister…
It won’t be long — I’ll be coming home soon,
Soon I’ll soothe this sweet longing.
Lilit A.
r/OCPoetry • u/Infinite-Culture3735 • 2h ago
"It is well-known, that
all creative work leaves its debris;
flakes and specks - chunks and
chips of raw material.
A clean workshop betrays a less
active state of expansion or
expression.
It is only natural, then
that in the creation of our Capital
there would be mess;
bits and pieces -
windblown under bridges,
clung to crack and crevice -
crowded, crouched on curbs,
keeping seeking warmth in booths benches
bus stops
This dust of Progress -
we will sweep and manage it,
as we are able."
r/OCPoetry • u/Foreign_Degree160 • 2h ago
Heeyyy guys, I wrote a book full of original poems basically describing my life so far, I’m a 18 yr old college student so any buys or shares will be gratefully appreciated!!!! It’s $5 on Amazon but sadly it’s only available to read on kindle rn
r/OCPoetry • u/IamToofan • 2h ago
We will sink into the earth
and go to a place
where we belong.
People will not be able to find us,
and even in anyone's dreams,
we will no longer appear.
r/OCPoetry • u/pieceoflion • 3h ago
a broken hello
and I have been standing
inside it for some time now
but how much longer
can I stay here
here, sentences
fold in on themselves
the boundary has come undone
along a line
all the nothingness
that has gathered until now
is laid out
the pieces,
I think,
are cutting into me
how much longer
can I
be
a crooked goodbye//
I gather the pieces
scattered across the floor
my fingertips are wet
feedback links: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/yy4YW9gyQ4
r/OCPoetry • u/disylus • 3h ago
I heard God in a song once.
Not the fancy kind with choirs and stained glass.
Just some lad on the night bus with one earbud dangling,
playing something soft enough that the whole top deck went quiet for a second.
He looked at me like I’d caught him doing something private.
I said, mate, what is that?
And he just smiled, passed me the other bud,
and the second the melody hit,
something in my chest unclenched
like it had been waiting years for permission.
God didn’t speak in commandments that night.
He spoke in the way the bass sat under the melody
the way a mother’s hand sits under a fevered forehead.
He spoke in the silence between notes,
the kind of silence that feels full instead of empty.
I used to think heaven needed words.
Thunder. Scrolls. Some booming voice from a cloud.
But the truth is quieter.
It’s the first time a song makes you cry in public
and you don’t even know why.
It’s the stranger humming the same chorus three seats down
and for thirty seconds you’re not strangers anymore.
It’s the kid who can’t talk about the dark
but can play it on a piano until the room understands.
God said, listen.
I didn’t write the rules on tablets.
I wrote them in vibration.
In the way a minor key can hold every grief you’ve ever swallowed
and still leave room for the light to come back in.
I put my voice in the spaces where language fails.
Where “I love you” isn’t enough
and “I’m sorry” never covers it.
Where the only honest thing left is sound.
So when the world gets too loud with its arguing and its pretending,
put the headphones in.
Turn it up until the noise outside can’t reach you.
That’s not escape.
That’s prayer without the middleman.
That’s the oldest language we’ve got.
Older than books.
Older than fear.
Music is the voice of God
because it never asks you to believe.
It only asks you to feel.
And feeling, it turns out,
was the whole point all along.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w4au2t/tame_me_slow/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w4hyze/to_today/
r/OCPoetry • u/Eastern-Shopping-734 • 3h ago
Through the Wringer
He looked at me with his eyes full of love and longing, but now irritation paints his face with a look of disgust and hostility.
His words were once sweet, like syrup coating my tongue—words that were gentle and kind, that caressed my skin softly.
Now his words are glazed with resentment and dripping with venom and vexation.
His once-soft words and gentle voice have turned into sharp, ugly words, telling me to just be with my own kind.
Those words hit me like a slap in the face, but instead of feeling the smack across my cheek, I can feel each one cut through me like a sharpened blade.
The next word landed like a punch right to my gut, blow after blow, but I felt my heart tear instead.
But I can never figure out where all of his rage and anger are coming from.
It’s funny how he put me through the wringer. My skin stayed unbruised, but my insides absorbed the impact, blow after blow, even though it never showed.
r/OCPoetry • u/Raymond_Lucent • 3h ago
Beneath a sky of woven black,
Footsteps echo, never back.
A sigh, a glance, the flicker of light,
A hug a kiss we dance all night.
Our bodies curve like smoke in the air,
Drawn by a pull that isn’t there.
A touch, a spark, a silent plea,
Then drift into sleep like a slow, dark sea.
Stitched together, nos esprits.
Links:
r/OCPoetry • u/Accomplished_Spread5 • 3h ago
The garage: a safe haven from sadness.
That loo? a comforting embrace.
The parlor is just a pretentious guest
... nobody lives in that space.
/
As poltergeists, we come and go,
bumping down drafty halls.
But overblown poems, such as this?
... art deco on paisley walls!
(Dan Ellison)
I'm only picking on myself 😀
r/OCPoetry • u/StatisticianBig2103 • 3h ago
I find myself out of words trying to translate something that was never meant to fit inside a language
You see they gave us twenty six letters and none of them are enough
I’ve stayed up past 3am trying to arrange them into something worthy of your name
But every poem I finish feels like a painted door on a wall
Beautiful to look at but you still can’t walk through it
You are the kind of person that makes clocks forget their only job
Every second finds a reason to stay a little longer
Like time itself gets greedy and wants more of you too
I’ve been writing drafts of you since before I knew your name
Every version I wrote was close, but close was never going to be enough
But now I know, you’re not a poem. You’re the reason I keep failing to write one.
r/OCPoetry • u/VanAgain • 4h ago
A phrase of terse fatality
it smacks of musicality,
and ushers in finality,
bad news for my poor bladder.
I had cancer. Let me rhyme.
The stark fact of the matter,
and what makes me all the sadder,
is I miss the splash and splatter
in the toilet at bedtime.
When I assess the cost to me
of my recent urostomy
I grapple with the loss to me
of manly sex appeal.
A sac now hangs in front of me,
designed to catch me when I pee.
My intestine juts out of me
and sometimes breaks the seal.
Then urine seeps into my pants,
I do the classic peepee dance,
and sheepishly seek out my chance
to leave and change my bag.
But still the icy pain is gone,
I'm cancer free and now belong
with those who face another dawn
alive, and free to brag.
r/OCPoetry • u/dooby-duby • 4h ago
I am a foolish little boy dressed
in a man’s clothes.
Baggy trousers, clown shoes,
a watch that can’t tell time.
Who let me out to play,
so green and impatient,
unready
to fight with the gladiators
or dance with the muses.
I’m clutching my knees
to my chest
and squawking
like a canary in danger.
I’m shouting nonsense
but dressing it in sense.
Unlike Napoleon
I don’t recover from my accidents,
although I do end up
alone on an island.
I’ve thrown all my sympathy tokens
Into a pit. I am pitiless.
I cried help too many times
when there wasn’t a fire.
I’m like a bad film
with a laugh track
that you can’t skip.
Chain me to a lamppost.
Write my address on my collar.
I’m looking for mother.
Mother is looking
for her lost little boy.
r/OCPoetry • u/ProduceStraight6797 • 5h ago
We wanna be perfect. We wanna be flawless. We wanna commit no mistakes. We wanna hurt nobody. We never wanna be wrong. We never wanna do wrong.
Everyone does, or most people do. Even if its just innerly. But.. Who doesn't, anyway?
And yet, i'm not even talking about looking perfect, but ***being*** perfect. The way some people seem to manage themselves day by day, being perfect, flawless, or at least seeming *almost* perfect.
But we never truly know the mistakes they make on their own, do we? the ones they never tell anyone about for fear of being judged. That's something many of us have felt before about ourselves.
Being expected to be clean, flawless, perfect, strong, by others, or by ourselves.
You've had moments where you wished you hadn't committed all the mistakes you've committed before. You've had moments where you wished you hadn't said all the wrong things you've said before. You've had moments where you wished you hadn't done all the wrong things you've done before.
Yet.. from every one of those mistakes you've already grown and become better every day. If hadnt already then one day you will figure it out and become better for the better. And thats ok too.
But what if I told you, that you don't already have to be perfect To be accepted? Better said, to be loved?
What if I told you that your mistakes don't define you as a person, but instead can shape you, giving you the possibility of doing better? Your mistakes aren't your entire being. Not even for a bit. <3
Your mistakes are also the things that can help you become a better person, day by day. Even if it's slow. Even if it's fast. Even if it won't seem like enough. Even if it seems like it's too much.
Your mistakes only mean ***a*** wrong action, ***not an entirely wrong being.*** Your mistakes only mean ***a*** quarter of your life, ***not a definitive and permanent mindset.*** *And even if you do fuck up,* *you can always fuck down.* *You can* always make up for it. So do NOT force yourself to be perfect in a world where, at the end of the day, nobody truly knows everything happening inside anyone else's life. You made a mistake. And you can always make up for it. It doesn't erase what you've done, but it creates a new possible script for you to do better. Because you can do better. People have committed mistakes before you. Some worse. Some WAY worse. Some less severe. Some mistakes would make them look like an angel in front of you. But that wouldn't make your worth, or their own, increase or decrease. It just means an action happened. How many times have people fucked up around you? How many times have people hurt you? On purpose. How many times have they hurt you without purpose? It all comes down to actions and reactions. Because at the end of the day, we ALL wanna be perfect. But what if I told you... you are already perfect? Would you believe it? Despite all your sayings. Despite all your doings. Despite all your mistakes. You are growing daily in ways even you might not see. But just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Sometimes a teacher won't see a student's attempts to avoid failing an exam. But that doesn't mean the student didn't study the night before. Even for ten minutes. That's still something. Sometimes your parents won't notice you trying to become a version of yourself they can be proud of. But that doesn't mean your attempts to do better aren't there. So don't scold yourself so much when there are already so many people willing to do it for you. You are valid for wanting to be perfect. But you are also valid for being imperfect.
Really, You don't have to be perfect to deserve love, and becoming better doesn't require pretending you never did anything wrong.
Well. I've alr spoken, wish your heart speaks out too. Ily. Wish you well I wish one day you don't feel like you need to be perfect. But I also wish one day you DO want to be perfect, In the way only you know how. Perfect with your imperfections. Perfect with your growth. Damn, even perfect with your de-growth.
Im really proud of you for making it to this part. Once again, I love you. I see you. Thanks for reading.
r/OCPoetry • u/FnFwriter • 5h ago
There, the daffodils have unfurled overnight
and against my will; preemptive announcements
of spring, hailing hope with audacity.
“A daffodil pushing up through the dark earth
to the spring, knowing somehow deep in its roots
that spring and light and sunshine will come…”
Perhaps L’Engle is right, and I’m wrong to be worried.
I handle it all with a heaving of air and distraction.
It’s been a year, you know. I should be better at this.
As if in exclamation, or a frenzy of Divinity,
a bluebird — the first I’ve seen this year — alights
and hovers mere feet from my face,
its quick wingbeats a flash of blue-gray, and for a moment
there is nothing else at all but me, the bird, and
our shared astonishment at each other.
The daffodils are held under by cold and snow. Some years,
like this one, they erupt from the soil and bloom in
meandering rows and scattered patches before
the Vernal Equinox, an absurdity of yellows
and buttercreams kindred with lingering snow.
What brings them, what unearths them, early and against
the generational season-signalling in their bellies?
It’s as if the earth hailed their presence
to wake itself, and rid itself of the snow.
“…spring and light and sunshine will come,
[the daffodil] has more courage and more
knowledge of the value of life
than any human being I’ve met.”
The machine that swallows me today
is unnervingly quiet. I think of the bluebird,
my eyes squeezed shut. How strange — not the daffodils,
but the bird. Oh, the bird.
I let its blue-fire head, its rusty breast, hold me
still, when stillness wants to rage, to scream,
wild as ancestors clawing at the earth.
It’s hungry, this cancer.
No amount of raging can change that.
The machine moves me along, my arms strapped
to my sides. It’s nearly imperceptible, this invasion
to unearth metastases before they bloom, as
devastating as buttercups, upturning before spring.
—Thus Comes the Vernal Equinox is an original dramatic monologue poem by Christina M. Ward and was originally published in Scrittura. Any feedback is appreciated. Thank you.
*Author's note:
“A daffodil pushing up through the dark earth to the spring, knowing somehow deep in its roots that spring and light and sunshine will come, has more courage and more knowledge of the value of life than any human being I’ve met.” Madeleine L’Engle
Note: The above quote was used in two parts within the poem, with an insertion of “[the daffodil]”. These creative liberties by the author, Christina M. Ward, do not imply L’Engle’s intended meaning in her original quote.
Feedback links:
r/OCPoetry • u/Low_Pomegranate1623 • 6h ago
I totally know,
But it's the heart's desire
That overpowers my mind,
And my soul has no decision to make
As my heart's desire is too great.
It is her desire that empowers my heart,
But it's also her arrogance that empowers my mind to oppose her
Every spark she ignited the flame,
But I stand today just to walk away in the rain,
And the rain shall not stop until I rise again.
For this rejection is no mark of defeat,
No regular failure as I step off her street.
It is the rise of a future me, standing tall,
More powerful than the boy who watched himself fall
She left me with silence, a block, and a scar,
But I walk away a history-maker, a star.
ps: her simple rejection lead to the fabrication of this poem , i reworte 6 songs just for her , made a rc plane half the size of me just to impress her now she stand there .
SOMEONE said that REJECTION is not a sign of failure but the new begining of u the u that will more strong that ur before u .
r/OCPoetry • u/tryna_do • 6h ago
I glued the shattered vase,
Still the jagged edge cut my hands.
I foresaw the nearest outcomes,
Still I made amends.
I opposed the raging wind,
Yet why! It still rends.
They smile and gave me reason,
They stabbed me in treason.
But now I am accustomed,
I leaned the thorny way.
Part of me tells me to turn,
Other says this is how life run.
They stay and smile with me,
I wish them so, back,
I could live without them,
But I couldn't.
I despised myself so hard,
Still I need them, (maybe they don't).
Yet still the betrayal makes me think,
They poisoned the water,
That I every day drink.
The jagged edge left the wound,
Yet the marks kept me swooned.
The poem is kind of my imagery and when you read it you may feel the poem doesn't match the title so if find it so, be kind enough to ask me, and please point out mistakes so that I can correct it.Thank You.
My critique feedback:-
r/OCPoetry • u/30days30poems • 6h ago
I can't have all I want in life
We know this to be true
But perhaps I would be okay
If I could only just have you
The time forever spent with you
I'll hold the darkness back
But when we hold each other up
the foundation starts to crack
The lines begin to form
What seemed solid could give way
Problems that I see for tomorrow
I wouldn't wish upon today
So pretend today is all we have
And pray tomorrow never comes
And yesterday a forgotten place
Where today had once come from
And though they are just silly semantics
Still, the problems wash away
The looming threat of a new tomorrow
Will never sink this ship today
I have you
And you have me
Maybe that's all we need
We don't need tomorrow
The tree is grown
Who cares who planted the seed
feedback 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w28pi9/saudade/
feedback 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w280rt/sharing_myself/
r/OCPoetry • u/Cluelessandsexy • 7h ago
You cannot touch the very affection you feel
The other person can feel your affection through your touch
Salty thoughts crack and spill solid crystals on the table
Where feeling meets yet disconnects
when you feel yourself falling in
Then catching a branch or rock to stop yourself going under
When you should just let yourself drown in it
Instead you stay above the water of love
Breathing like air was expensive
Desperate like some new born mammal
You couldn't just be tender just open up
Let the flow of something strong take you
You get so close to understanding your feelings
Words and actions come together to sensualize
Then out of the blue it all stings and stinks
Like mold on a psychological hornet stew
(This is something I wrote about myself.)