struggling with a project i've been working on for just over a year now. Usually when i am writing a scene, i tend to have music that reflects the emotions i need the characters to feel blasting while writing. brutal death metal for fights, sad/tragic classical opera for tragic scenes etc etc.
recently been stuck on one part for the better part of 3 weeks now, and my music trick just is not working properly as i have rewritten it probably 5 times over by now. curious if anyone has tips/tricks they use to set their mood to set the writing mood, if that makes sense.

Usually I use the same tricks you use, so if that does not work, then I'm out of ideas, sorry.

I really admire when people write poems in rhyme. Seems that a lot of the poets just kinda let that go, at least the poetry I read in school

also, great poem

Thank you! I appreciate that

the modern poems are less rhyming now (at least, from what i read)

so it seems, and why is that?

rupi kaur effect i supposed

less people care about poetry. making it short can put them all in social media posts

I rarely write poetry, and I don't rhyme because they're all spur of the moment.

I care less about poetry than I should. It is absolutely true that not a whole lot of people are interested in poetry anymore.

Ancient poetry and songs were constructed specifically with memnotics (i'm spelling that wrong) in mind to help people remember them. The structure of the work itself aided in its popularity

Something else is the fact that postmodernists believe that nothing can be objectively "Better" than any other thing. This is why they laud a smear of menstrual blood on canvas as an incredible work of art while at the same time dismissing people like De Vinci.

What they've said about poetry is that it doesn't need to rhyme or make any sort of structural sense. So if that's what you believe, why would you pressure your students into doing things like rhyming or following poetic structure?

I see why now

In becoming perhaps too accepting of art, we have destroyed/disdained that which used to be considered art

now it's edgy to write in rhyme

i remember memorizing an entire story of a battle and it was easy because the entire thing was in rhyme and in four-line stanzas. Sure it was difficult to write, but it's very easy to remember that tale

indeed. there is a beauty in rhyming itself

art standards shift throughout the year so i do not believe we "destroyed/disdained" necessarily

more like "temporarily cast aside"

For sure, what the left doesn't realize is that they've fostered an entire generation who refuses to have children, meanwhile religious families are having upwards of anywhere between 5-10 at a time.

"Temporarily cast aside" indeed.

I sit
I listen
I expect that spit
On my face shall glisten
By those around me I am mocked
I sit, as I am, in my sorrow
My feelings locked
I’m alone
One

I think
I’m on edge
I stand on the brink
Of a chasm, there I pledge
But why do I pledge. What do I swear
I know not. I’m empty
I’m a cup
Empty
Two

I believe
I realize that
I need not leave
This world to find what
I search for. He awaits. I jump
The ledge, gone. No ground
Beneath my feet
My Hope is found
To Him I leap
Three

First time writing a poem of this type + tried to make it rhyme

So I’m sorry if it is unsatisfactory

Dude, it's awesome!

Thank you, I appreciate it!

Tried to make my first entry here not a standard poem (iambic pentameter)

Either case let me know what y’all think

I think you guys might like flash fiction.

that's ok because the retards that don't reproduce will leave the gene pool

@dbel For a first attempt, it's quite lyrical in the beginning. Are you wanting a stream of consciousness or broken fragmented thoughts? Or both?

I wanted the feeling of both, I wanted it to be lyrical, while being aesthetic. Also a “flowing” feeling as indicated by the counting

Do all pieces of writing get pinned here?

Indeed they do, an it's always cool to have another person contributing.

I like to think I’m saving the world by not reproducing, bc the world couldn’t handle more copies of me <:KekFull:802560939500503041>

Drac, you're not weirder than half my coworkers, but you do have a crucial difference: Your voting preferences are probably saner. You may not be making kids, but a whole lot of parents wouldn't be too dissapointed with the way you turned out. I think Dennis Leary would smirk at you and probably give you a toast.

Why thank you lol

noice

Flow of the first four lines is real tight.
Alone, One...good to see that stated within a human’s effort to transcend his isolation as an individual consciousness via poetry.
Regarding empty cups, there’s a Zen koan you probably would be interested to read.

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

Here the cup does not represent a principle form zen but from the Bible Psalm 23

Alright, so my first chapter is complete, I added a little more context to the beginning of the chapter and a little bit to the tail of the chapter to make it flow more naturally.
@Sgt.Barkley @ThiccSpicyGenderRevealParty @Mister Meower @sixfivebyfiftyfive Any ideas on a good name for a Carrier ship the size of a city would be?

{Added to the beginning for more context}
*“Discord” Camp, Devil's Den, Maine*
“Camp” Discord was not a camp. It was an old gem mine, and like so many other facilities, it had been converted, expanded, and hardened by those who had fallen on hard times in exchange for State Guaranteed Welfare. It had been fortified and stockpiled, and was now a fully functional piece of the “Appalachian Wall”, a string of similar fortifications all the way down the East Coast of the United States. It mirrored the Pacific Wall (the Rockies in the West) and the Great Berm that oversaw the Rio Canal that connected the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic along the US-Mexico border.

{Added to the end}
There was no stereotypical platoon. There was no stereotypical fire-team. The movies always portrayed a wiseguy from Brooklyn, some scrawny kid with glasses writing in his journal, a big dumb farmboy from the midwest, the cocky rancher from Texas, and then the protagonist sergeant who looked like whichever flavor of character was in season for the era. But platoons weren't like that, they never were. A Hollywood director would have decried the lack of superficial differences between the boys. But it wasn't Hollywood, it was just life. The boys finished their breakfast, and went to the exercise field, where test scores would be delivered after they had done their obligatory PT. They didn't know how they were going to spend the next three years of their lives. But Scythe had touched upon a fact that none of them wanted to think about: They wouldn't be friends forever. One day, they would separate, one way or another. They were all just happy that it wouldn't have to be today.