What separates a good erotic poem from a shitty porn poem?
Some people like to make love others like to fuck. Whats the problem with just writing how you feel? The art is in the emotion not always the wording. If those kinds of poems are ones you don't like then don't read the extreme content ones.
AscheZuAsche said: Almost all I see in the erotic poems sections is crass (and poorly written, if I do say so myself) "poetry" about sex. Has no one any taste? Please tell me there are some elegant ones? I mean, written well enough to not make me assume it was written by a horny teenager. And is an erotica considered separate from such things? I mean, if it's good, it's erotica, but if it's crass, it's porno poetry... right? Or wrong? I am lost. .-.
You could ask the same question about any kind of poetry. Is there imagery, metaphor and some structure that creates a rhythmic meter, or is it just a series of lines that reads more like a paragraph that was laid out to look like a poem?
I came here a few years ago looking for a place to post my own erotic poems. As I spent time reading more and more erotically labeled lines of unimaginative descriptions of body parts and dirty words, I often found myself wondering what happened to the art of writing poetry.
I personally hardly ever used dirty words in my erotic poems. In fact when I recently wrote one using the F word, it surprised a few people who regularly read my poems. I like to stimulate the readers mind into imagining the sex that is implied in the poem. Let the reader make it as dirty as their mind wants it to be in the fantasy you inspire.
If you simply describe sex acts, it really does come across as linguistic porn. It also gets boring after a while. This part slides into that part, a little squirt here, another spay there, let's turn upside down and start all over again... Ho-Hum... meh!
JJ
It's like the difference in watching a movie with actors who read bad lines of dialogue from a script while having sex in front of a film crew and director, or watching two people in love, making love. One is real, the other is fake.
You could ask the same question about any kind of poetry. Is there imagery, metaphor and some structure that creates a rhythmic meter, or is it just a series of lines that reads more like a paragraph that was laid out to look like a poem?
I came here a few years ago looking for a place to post my own erotic poems. As I spent time reading more and more erotically labeled lines of unimaginative descriptions of body parts and dirty words, I often found myself wondering what happened to the art of writing poetry.
I personally hardly ever used dirty words in my erotic poems. In fact when I recently wrote one using the F word, it surprised a few people who regularly read my poems. I like to stimulate the readers mind into imagining the sex that is implied in the poem. Let the reader make it as dirty as their mind wants it to be in the fantasy you inspire.
If you simply describe sex acts, it really does come across as linguistic porn. It also gets boring after a while. This part slides into that part, a little squirt here, another spay there, let's turn upside down and start all over again... Ho-Hum... meh!
JJ
It's like the difference in watching a movie with actors who read bad lines of dialogue from a script while having sex in front of a film crew and director, or watching two people in love, making love. One is real, the other is fake.
Anonymous
LobodeSanPedro said:Great erotic poem ...
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/195980-the-river/
Thanks, LSP! Though, we all know that I am game for a good down and dirty porn piece on occasion!
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/195980-the-river/
Thanks, LSP! Though, we all know that I am game for a good down and dirty porn piece on occasion!
Anonymous
I'm not a fan of erotic poems mainly because they seem fake. Like the experience is lacking and in its place the writer has simply thrown in some dirty words. Erotica fairs better with subtlety, when the theme of the poem is erotic in nature, but the intent is more to capture a general philosophy or worldview, or capture some sort of concrete moment or fleeting emotion. Take this poem from the Decadent poet Arthur Symons titled "Renee":
Rain, and the night, and the old familiar door,
And the archway dim, and the roadway desolate;
Faces that pass, and faces, and more, yet more:
Renée! come, for I wait.
Pallid out of the darkness, adorably white,
Pale as the spirit of rain, with the night in her hair,
Renée undulates, shadow-like, under the light,
Into the outer air.
Mournful, beautiful, calm with that vague unrest,
Sad with that sensitive, vaguely ironical mouth;
Eyes that flame with the loveliest, deadliest
Fire of her passionate youth;
Mournful, beautiful, sister of night and rain,
Elemental, fashioned of tears and fire,
Ever desiring, ever desired in vain,
Mother of vain desire;
Renée comes to me, she the sorceress, Fate,
Subtly insensible, softly invincible, she:
Renée, who waits for another, for whom I wait,
To linger a moment with me.
By today's standards this seems pretty tame, but the English public of the late 1800's reviled Symon's book, calling it crass, unsavory, distasteful, lewd, etc. Also, if one really looks closely at the poem you can see what's really happening: The narrator is waiting for a prostitute inside a doorway on a rainy night. But rather than describe the actual act Symons chooses to describe the moment leading up to the act, the passion and closeness of desire, the restlessness of waiting for consummation. To him this moment and this woman is part of his Fate. There is a connection that goes beyond mere flesh on flesh.
There's a lot more to fucking than just fucking.
Rain, and the night, and the old familiar door,
And the archway dim, and the roadway desolate;
Faces that pass, and faces, and more, yet more:
Renée! come, for I wait.
Pallid out of the darkness, adorably white,
Pale as the spirit of rain, with the night in her hair,
Renée undulates, shadow-like, under the light,
Into the outer air.
Mournful, beautiful, calm with that vague unrest,
Sad with that sensitive, vaguely ironical mouth;
Eyes that flame with the loveliest, deadliest
Fire of her passionate youth;
Mournful, beautiful, sister of night and rain,
Elemental, fashioned of tears and fire,
Ever desiring, ever desired in vain,
Mother of vain desire;
Renée comes to me, she the sorceress, Fate,
Subtly insensible, softly invincible, she:
Renée, who waits for another, for whom I wait,
To linger a moment with me.
By today's standards this seems pretty tame, but the English public of the late 1800's reviled Symon's book, calling it crass, unsavory, distasteful, lewd, etc. Also, if one really looks closely at the poem you can see what's really happening: The narrator is waiting for a prostitute inside a doorway on a rainy night. But rather than describe the actual act Symons chooses to describe the moment leading up to the act, the passion and closeness of desire, the restlessness of waiting for consummation. To him this moment and this woman is part of his Fate. There is a connection that goes beyond mere flesh on flesh.
There's a lot more to fucking than just fucking.
TryHarderMartyr said:I'm not a fan of erotic poems mainly because they seem fake. Like the experience is lacking and in its place the writer has simply thrown in some dirty words. Erotica fairs better with subtlety, when the theme of the poem is erotic in nature, but the intent is more to capture a general philosophy or worldview, or capture some sort of concrete moment or fleeting emotion. Take this poem from the Decadent poet Arthur Symons titled "Renee":
Rain, and the night, and the old familiar door,
And the archway dim, and the roadway desolate;
Faces that pass, and faces, and more, yet more:
Renée! come, for I wait.
Pallid out of the darkness, adorably white,
Pale as the spirit of rain, with the night in her hair,
Renée undulates, shadow-like, under the light,
Into the outer air.
Mournful, beautiful, calm with that vague unrest,
Sad with that sensitive, vaguely ironical mouth;
Eyes that flame with the loveliest, deadliest
Fire of her passionate youth;
Mournful, beautiful, sister of night and rain,
Elemental, fashioned of tears and fire,
Ever desiring, ever desired in vain,
Mother of vain desire;
Renée comes to me, she the sorceress, Fate,
Subtly insensible, softly invincible, she:
Renée, who waits for another, for whom I wait,
To linger a moment with me.
By today's standards this seems pretty tame, but the English public of the late 1800's reviled Symon's book, calling it crass, unsavory, distasteful, lewd, etc. Also, if one really looks closely at the poem you can see what's really happening: The narrator is waiting for a prostitute inside a doorway on a rainy night. But rather than describe the actual act Symons chooses to describe the moment leading up to the act, the passion and closeness of desire, the restlessness of waiting for consummation. To him this moment and this woman is part of his Fate. There is a connection that goes beyond mere flesh on flesh.
There's a lot more to fucking than just fucking.
Petrus, you're bang on with your views on what makes good erotica, and the example you used, Arthur Symons' poem "Renee", although dated in its language, it's still a beautiful piece with a great element of tension and subtly in its content.
I think we limit ourselves by trying to write some epic orgasmic journey, where we take our reader through every explicit detail, from the first kiss to foreplay, then oral sex, into full penetration intercourse, from missionary to doggy style, then reverse cowgirl, then back to oral for the cumshot. And there's nothing worse than a poem finishing with the last line.... "and I came!"
It's when we show restraint by challenging ourselves to write an erotic tale through poetry, that we have the advantage of taking a snapshot of the moments before the touch, where tension builds on each passing glance between two sex deprived people, or when a lonely girl meets the local football team after training, these are the moments that build lust, and that's when writers can create good erotica.... God, if anyone just got turned on by this thread, please, help yourself.
Rain, and the night, and the old familiar door,
And the archway dim, and the roadway desolate;
Faces that pass, and faces, and more, yet more:
Renée! come, for I wait.
Pallid out of the darkness, adorably white,
Pale as the spirit of rain, with the night in her hair,
Renée undulates, shadow-like, under the light,
Into the outer air.
Mournful, beautiful, calm with that vague unrest,
Sad with that sensitive, vaguely ironical mouth;
Eyes that flame with the loveliest, deadliest
Fire of her passionate youth;
Mournful, beautiful, sister of night and rain,
Elemental, fashioned of tears and fire,
Ever desiring, ever desired in vain,
Mother of vain desire;
Renée comes to me, she the sorceress, Fate,
Subtly insensible, softly invincible, she:
Renée, who waits for another, for whom I wait,
To linger a moment with me.
By today's standards this seems pretty tame, but the English public of the late 1800's reviled Symon's book, calling it crass, unsavory, distasteful, lewd, etc. Also, if one really looks closely at the poem you can see what's really happening: The narrator is waiting for a prostitute inside a doorway on a rainy night. But rather than describe the actual act Symons chooses to describe the moment leading up to the act, the passion and closeness of desire, the restlessness of waiting for consummation. To him this moment and this woman is part of his Fate. There is a connection that goes beyond mere flesh on flesh.
There's a lot more to fucking than just fucking.
Petrus, you're bang on with your views on what makes good erotica, and the example you used, Arthur Symons' poem "Renee", although dated in its language, it's still a beautiful piece with a great element of tension and subtly in its content.
I think we limit ourselves by trying to write some epic orgasmic journey, where we take our reader through every explicit detail, from the first kiss to foreplay, then oral sex, into full penetration intercourse, from missionary to doggy style, then reverse cowgirl, then back to oral for the cumshot. And there's nothing worse than a poem finishing with the last line.... "and I came!"
It's when we show restraint by challenging ourselves to write an erotic tale through poetry, that we have the advantage of taking a snapshot of the moments before the touch, where tension builds on each passing glance between two sex deprived people, or when a lonely girl meets the local football team after training, these are the moments that build lust, and that's when writers can create good erotica.... God, if anyone just got turned on by this thread, please, help yourself.
Anonymous
as i said earlier, most of the pieces that i publish here are placed in the erotic category. i came here to explore that part of me and share with others not in my real life circle. that said....
i agree that the best erotic poetry is, most often, subtle. you say what you want to say without saying what you want to say. if that makes ANY sense at all. BUT, i also think that some people get stuck there.
i absolutely ADORE arthur symons. love love love. but sometimes (most often not, but sometimes) i like it spelled out for me. ha! i want to read every single detail. and i want to write it. i want to KNOW! i wonder if this is a male/female thing. or maybe it's more of a porn watcher vs. a non porn watcher thing?
i agree that the best erotic poetry is, most often, subtle. you say what you want to say without saying what you want to say. if that makes ANY sense at all. BUT, i also think that some people get stuck there.
i absolutely ADORE arthur symons. love love love. but sometimes (most often not, but sometimes) i like it spelled out for me. ha! i want to read every single detail. and i want to write it. i want to KNOW! i wonder if this is a male/female thing. or maybe it's more of a porn watcher vs. a non porn watcher thing?
A shit poem is a shit poem, no matter the genre, otherwise it is different strokes for different folks.
You like what you like, they like what they like and those over there, like what they like.
A person has to read and make up their own mind what they find good.
I have been reading some novels that are very detailed (not fifty fucking shades of crap) but are written so well I am hooked, regardless of the sexually explicit content. It doesn't have to be subtle to be good, it has to be written well.
You like what you like, they like what they like and those over there, like what they like.
A person has to read and make up their own mind what they find good.
I have been reading some novels that are very detailed (not fifty fucking shades of crap) but are written so well I am hooked, regardless of the sexually explicit content. It doesn't have to be subtle to be good, it has to be written well.
Yeah, Mags, I agree, detail in novels is fine, you've got hundreds of pages to fill with explicit detailed fucking. My main point is epic erotic poems, that are better off being a short stories than porn broken up into short lines and stanzas. That's the way I started writing erotica, but after a while it felt stale and laboured. I also realised that some people are drawn to the content more than the quality of the writing, and the other thing is punters and perverts want to read chicks doing erotica, because the truth is they do it better than most male writers.
I won't deny it, my poetry is chockablock with explicit innuendos and provocative language, but when it comes to erotica these days, I have an appreciation for subtlety and for something outside the proverbial fuck-box.
I won't deny it, my poetry is chockablock with explicit innuendos and provocative language, but when it comes to erotica these days, I have an appreciation for subtlety and for something outside the proverbial fuck-box.
