Steampunk Seeking Honest Critique Poems
#steampunk
Blackwolf
Poem Published
23rd May 2018 12:00pm
23rd May 2018 12:00pm
A Manuscript Soaked With Absinthe
Gears Turning In My Machine Head
I Scribe At My Metal Pedestal ,
Feeling Verneish , Dreaming Of Bloaters
Over The Horizon , And Wired With Thoughts
And A Heart Ticking Out The Beats Of Some
Victorian Cabaret , My Longcoat and Top Hat
Hung On My Octopi Stand By My Side , My
Green Goggles Ready For The Sunlight Yet To Come ,
Absinthe Warming Me , Stirring My Memories Of My
Ten Thousand League Journey Undertaken In My Youth ,
My Corseted Maiden In Her Lace And Leather , Frilled...
I Scribe At My Metal Pedestal ,
Feeling Verneish , Dreaming Of Bloaters
Over The Horizon , And Wired With Thoughts
And A Heart Ticking Out The Beats Of Some
Victorian Cabaret , My Longcoat and Top Hat
Hung On My Octopi Stand By My Side , My
Green Goggles Ready For The Sunlight Yet To Come ,
Absinthe Warming Me , Stirring My Memories Of My
Ten Thousand League Journey Undertaken In My Youth ,
My Corseted Maiden In Her Lace And Leather , Frilled...
#inspirational
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#nostalgia
#steampunk
612 reads
10 Comments
RevolutionAL
Poem Published
21st May 2018 9:10am
21st May 2018 9:10am
The Same Tune .
Hieroglyphics
accross bedroom walls
in matching
ochres, browns, and reds
Sliding double
barn doors
closed for the
past thirty years
Methodical
rock cracking
ore smacking
quartz breaking
monotonous
stories ending- ...
accross bedroom walls
in matching
ochres, browns, and reds
Sliding double
barn doors
closed for the
past thirty years
Methodical
rock cracking
ore smacking
quartz breaking
monotonous
stories ending- ...
#relationships
#steampunk
516 reads
2 Comments
RevolutionAL
Poem Published
17th Apr 2018 4:26am
17th Apr 2018 4:26am
Oh Dear Professor Wiggens
Gears, cogs and bearings were grinding;
all attempts at lubrication had been in vain
The large handle on the bright copper urn
was vibrating like an unbalanced propeller
Professor Wiggens sighed, wiped the persperation from his brow
with an old grey hanky-chief
[which may have been white, fifteen or
twenty years ago]
Then he yelled "Bring me a strong black
Americano, Mr Barrister!"
kicking that urn with a resounding "gong"
which echoed through the factory like a ...
all attempts at lubrication had been in vain
The large handle on the bright copper urn
was vibrating like an unbalanced propeller
Professor Wiggens sighed, wiped the persperation from his brow
with an old grey hanky-chief
[which may have been white, fifteen or
twenty years ago]
Then he yelled "Bring me a strong black
Americano, Mr Barrister!"
kicking that urn with a resounding "gong"
which echoed through the factory like a ...
#NaPoWriMo2018
#WritingPoetry
#steampunk
458 reads
0 Comments
da_poetic-edifier
Damon
Damon
Poem Published
10th Sep 2017 3:59pm
10th Sep 2017 3:59pm
Provocation of Critical Thoughts
Just lock 'em up and throw away the key
Seems to be the mentality in our society
Whatever happened to the system of trying rehabilitation
Why do we have such high incarceration rates in this nation
Have the powers that be robbed everyone blind of their empathy
Is the most important thing to achieve, the accumulation of money
Does the pursuit of happiness revolve around acquiring material things
When you sit back and critically think do you still believe that we're free
If your only viable options were a living hell or a potential jail...
Seems to be the mentality in our society
Whatever happened to the system of trying rehabilitation
Why do we have such high incarceration rates in this nation
Have the powers that be robbed everyone blind of their empathy
Is the most important thing to achieve, the accumulation of money
Does the pursuit of happiness revolve around acquiring material things
When you sit back and critically think do you still believe that we're free
If your only viable options were a living hell or a potential jail...
#corruption
#LifeAsAWriter
#greed
#steampunk
#rebellion
533 reads
1 Comment
RevolutionAL
Poem Published
18th Dec 2016 11:43am
18th Dec 2016 11:43am
What Was That?
There galloped into the town barber
a horseman
clad in uniforms
of policemen;
sharing water
as if from fire engines
Claiming no cares, in the world
up to
and until
the talk
topic
regarding a possible cure
for Cancers
(The prevention prescribed, thoroughly)
Well, then all things changed;
adjusted his hat
straitened
shirt creases
Rubbed his freshly shaved face
looked into the mirror
Asked in a medical moderation
"Are...
a horseman
clad in uniforms
of policemen;
sharing water
as if from fire engines
Claiming no cares, in the world
up to
and until
the talk
topic
regarding a possible cure
for Cancers
(The prevention prescribed, thoroughly)
Well, then all things changed;
adjusted his hat
straitened
shirt creases
Rubbed his freshly shaved face
looked into the mirror
Asked in a medical moderation
"Are...
#illness
#dialogue
#steampunk
678 reads
2 Comments
dejure
vick
vick
Poem Published
27th Nov 2016 12:51pm
27th Nov 2016 12:51pm
I have a different heart
tik tik tik
and a click
and a twist
and a swirl
in my brain
giving all
sorts of
thoughts
how my soul
is sold to the
underground
lord, so... I can
survive in this
fuckin hell hole
with an unending
hum in my head
and my brain is
made out of Lead
rust in my face
combust when
I pace and a
lust is a phase
that lost in time
in my mindless
mind, my steamy
gears are rotating
backwards after
your face flashed
into my fish lens
everything about me...
and a click
and a twist
and a swirl
in my brain
giving all
sorts of
thoughts
how my soul
is sold to the
underground
lord, so... I can
survive in this
fuckin hell hole
with an unending
hum in my head
and my brain is
made out of Lead
rust in my face
combust when
I pace and a
lust is a phase
that lost in time
in my mindless
mind, my steamy
gears are rotating
backwards after
your face flashed
into my fish lens
everything about me...
#steampunk
807 reads
3 Comments
xXJezzzikahDawnXx
Jessica Dawn
Jessica Dawn
Poem Published
27th Sep 2015 2:48am
27th Sep 2015 2:48am
The Pathways of London
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh
These are the pathways of London
Both mind and town need a refresh
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh
Jointly, gears with other gears, mesh
Buildings line the streets of London
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh
These are the pathways of London
This is another triolet. I would love for someone to tell me if they think it makes sense, because I am going to be using it to establish the setting of a part in my short story.
These are the pathways of London
Both mind and town need a refresh
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh
Jointly, gears with other gears, mesh
Buildings line the streets of London
Narrow, unpaved streets and pressed flesh
These are the pathways of London
This is another triolet. I would love for someone to tell me if they think it makes sense, because I am going to be using it to establish the setting of a part in my short story.
#Britain
#steampunk
#triolet
910 reads
7 Comments
xXJezzzikahDawnXx
Jessica Dawn
Jessica Dawn
Poem Published
26th Sep 2015 7:07pm
26th Sep 2015 7:07pm
Steam Will Power All of London
Cogs and gears begin to turn
The inventor lights up with joy
For the boiler, the coal will burn
Cogs and gears begin to turn
Steam clouts London, he has discerned
Steam power we will enjoy
Cogs and gears begin to turn
The inventor lights up with joy
Hello, all! I have returned. This is not my usual submission, I know, but this is my first attempt at writing a triolet. It is common in Steampunk poetry and consists of eight lines of iambic tetrameter. I will be using this in a short story I am writing for my science fiction and fantasy class....
The inventor lights up with joy
For the boiler, the coal will burn
Cogs and gears begin to turn
Steam clouts London, he has discerned
Steam power we will enjoy
Cogs and gears begin to turn
The inventor lights up with joy
Hello, all! I have returned. This is not my usual submission, I know, but this is my first attempt at writing a triolet. It is common in Steampunk poetry and consists of eight lines of iambic tetrameter. I will be using this in a short story I am writing for my science fiction and fantasy class....
#steampunk
#triolet
#Britain
823 reads
5 Comments
JohnFeddeler
Poem Published
7th Apr 2015 10:38pm
7th Apr 2015 10:38pm
steampunk sluts
I’d been writing non-stop for several weeks, seedy noir prose &
neoclassical pseudo-erotic poetry. my muse was tapped & I
needed to get laid. the old Victorian bordello outside of town
would serve my salacious mood.
the militant night was the thunder-storming cliché of a Bronte
novel. I fired up the Mercedes, my sinister black beast, & we were
off in pursuit of debauchery.
the ominous country manor loomed like a Sybarite’s temple in its
antebellum glory. the doorbell chimed mournfully as I pressed it, &
an androgynous...
neoclassical pseudo-erotic poetry. my muse was tapped & I
needed to get laid. the old Victorian bordello outside of town
would serve my salacious mood.
the militant night was the thunder-storming cliché of a Bronte
novel. I fired up the Mercedes, my sinister black beast, & we were
off in pursuit of debauchery.
the ominous country manor loomed like a Sybarite’s temple in its
antebellum glory. the doorbell chimed mournfully as I pressed it, &
an androgynous...
#erotic
#narrative
#steampunk
#sexy
#sex
2594 reads
15 Comments
Bowden
Poem Published
11th Jan 2013 7:17am
11th Jan 2013 7:17am
The Glass Shatters
Darkness envelopes me.
A steel hand presses against my back, the glass shatters.
My black steampunk heart is my greatest enemy.
The cogs lock as it tells me the lies I need to hear, the glass shatters.
Despair is my best friend.
Tears are the acid that burn my eyes and face, the glass shatters.
Pain is my ally.
As I rest on a bed of razors, spikes and blood, the glass shatters.
Time is a thief.
It smiles a vile grimace, the glass shatters.
Shame is all I know.
Can’t look myself in the mirror, the glass shatters.
...
A steel hand presses against my back, the glass shatters.
My black steampunk heart is my greatest enemy.
The cogs lock as it tells me the lies I need to hear, the glass shatters.
Despair is my best friend.
Tears are the acid that burn my eyes and face, the glass shatters.
Pain is my ally.
As I rest on a bed of razors, spikes and blood, the glass shatters.
Time is a thief.
It smiles a vile grimace, the glass shatters.
Shame is all I know.
Can’t look myself in the mirror, the glass shatters.
...
#dark
#death
#steampunk
#despair
#myself
566 reads
0 Comments
runningturtle87
Poem Published
26th Aug 2012 4:34am
26th Aug 2012 4:34am
Sex Is not a Sin
Sex Is not a Sin
(I have
no morals;
I simply do
not believe
in them.)
{What we do
is through
our being
who we are,
and what control
do I
have
over that?}
[How am I
to say
what in
my heart
is matter
of fact
that what
is lust
to others may
only be
a statement
of my being me?]
I ratchet up
the intertwining
circus love
and formal dining
entered into dainty
twisted satin
trestle
corset piercing
tatted whistle
steampunk stream...
(I have
no morals;
I simply do
not believe
in them.)
{What we do
is through
our being
who we are,
and what control
do I
have
over that?}
[How am I
to say
what in
my heart
is matter
of fact
that what
is lust
to others may
only be
a statement
of my being me?]
I ratchet up
the intertwining
circus love
and formal dining
entered into dainty
twisted satin
trestle
corset piercing
tatted whistle
steampunk stream...
#erotic
#steampunk
1116 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Steampunk Seeking Honest Critique Poems
