there's enough poets to bury the sun

[MrA]

I only write at night
usually in silence
or whatever
the weather gives me

always the same tricks:
love
how I miss it
when I have it
lust
because I'm human
and aging
hate
for myself and my own
kind
philosophy
I know almost nothing
and believe in less
weather
because I thought
I was writing poetry
and what is it without
a mention of
wind, rain, sun and
the moon never looks real
to me
and it's not

like a babbling child
stuffing
whatever fits in its mouth
learns what it is

never tasted moon before

I'm feeling bodies away
from myself
and introspective
on nights like this
when I feel it all flush out
to slowly die

everyone's a poet these days
writing about flowers
and angels
and the soul of God
that they've never, ever
tasted

I'm no poet
I'm just nettlesome
relaxing aloud
letting you read me breathe
in and out and

in

[billy]

i like it but i'm off out now, will give some feedback tomorrow.

[Aish]

I only write at night
usually in silence
or whatever
the weather gives me I really like how you set up an effective allusion to the end

always the same tricks: Made me smile, at my own bag of tricks.
love
how I miss it
when I have it
lust
because I'm human
and aging
hate
for myself and my own
kind
philosophy Without punctuation separating your bullet points such as ' love' and 'philosophy' along with their respective details may help the readability here.
I know almost nothing
and believe in less
weather
because I thought
I was writing poetry
and what is it without
a mention of
wind, rain, sun and
the moon never looks real I started to stumble here. I like where the observation takes me, but I struggled to keep a rhythmic pace for the next eight lines. It's a poem within a poem, and I really like the autonomous position, a luminous satellite. Quite befitting for the moon
to me
and it's not

like a babbling child
stuffing
whatever fits in its mouth
learns what it is

never tasted moon before I love this! I'm sure it's pretty dry and tastes like chalk, but I'm immensely happy you left it as an artistic possibility instead of mentally gnoshing on moon rocks.

I'm feeling bodies away
from myself
and introspective
on nights like this
when I feel it all flush out
to slowly die

everyone's a poet these days
writing about flowers
and angels
and the soul of God I adore this tasty tidbit. The flavor of God's soul...the remainder is wonderful imo
that they've never, ever
tasted

I'm no poet
I'm just nettlesome
relaxing aloud
letting you read me breathe
in and out and

in

---

It's great to have you here, Dan. I hope you settle in and stay.

[MrA]

Well thanks, Aish.
I was just walking the dogs outside(gone midnight), and I thought:
The moonlight is phenomenal tonight.
As I watched my shadow drift ahead of me, then I remembered lamposts exist and it was the street's light. Just an example of how entwined concrete life has become.
Anyway, usually I would avoid a minimalist write like this and can totally empathise with what you say about the bullet points, should of separated them a little. I think I threw too many syllables at the fake moon, but wanted to avoid saying 'moon looks fake', I'll have a look.
Again, thanks.

[billy]

I only write at night
usually in silence
or whatever
the weather gives me i really like how this line acts as many. i also like the impression of the weather giving

always the same tricks:
love would making these single worded lines italic so they pop?
how I miss it
when I have it
lust
because I'm human
and aging
hate
for myself and my own
kind
philosophy
I know almost nothing
and believe in less
weather
because I thought
I was writing poetry
and what is it without
a mention of
wind, rain, sun and is 'and' needed?
the moon never looks real
to me
and it's not

like a babbling child
stuffing
whatever fits in its mouth
learns what it is

never tasted moon before

I'm feeling bodies away
from myself
and introspective
on nights like this
when I feel it all flush out
to slowly die

everyone's a poet these days
writing about flowers
and angels
and the soul of God
that they've never, ever
tasted could another word instead of tasted be better used as it's already been used once?

I'm no poet
I'm just nettlesome
relaxing aloud
letting you read me breathe
in and out and

in

i find poem about writing poetry very weak, mainly because they feel old or tired in the wording. this feels fresh, funny (in a certain way) and well thought out. the last stanza feels a little weak but even that works really well in setting a slow pace to end the poem with. not sure if aging is spelling error or an americanism so i'll mention it here

like a babbling child
stuffing
whatever fits in its mouth
learns what it is
images like the one above abound in the thing and for a really slim poem it's quite big on content. looking forward to more of your poetry.

thanks for the read.

i could say, "i like this on most lines" but it's much easier saying i liked it all for the above reasons here

[MrA]

Well thanks, Billy.

Yeah I definitely need to do something about the single words. I'll take it back to the drawing board with the above suggestions in mind and I agree, most poems about poetry seem a little trite.
I'll take a look at the 'taste' options too but I doubt there's much I can do there.
Again, thanks for the honest feedback.

[Philatone]

Hey mr.A; apologize for my lateness, but welcome to the boards!
some thoughts on this piece

I only write at night
usually in silence
or whatever
the weather gives me...the last three lines of this stanza didn't feel as important to me. why is this information crucial? the rest of the poem may have given an answer, but i missed it

always the same tricks:
love
how I miss it
when I have it
lust
because I'm human
and aging
hate
for myself and my own
kind
philosophy...these two one-word lines distracted me a bit right next to each other
I know almost nothing
and believe in less
weather
because I thought
I was writing poetry
and what is it without
a mention of
wind, rain, sun and
the moon never looks real
to me
and it's not...i like these last three lines. the syntax of the last two lines doesn't mix well with the ones before it for me, though.

like a babbling child
stuffing
whatever fits in its mouth
learns what it is...even just saying "to learn" would work. the "what it is" struck me as a bit weak

never tasted moon before

I'm feeling bodies away
from myself
and introspective
on nights like this
when I feel it all flush out...wasn't entirely sure the "it" is exactly
to slowly die...ending on "die" struck me as a bit over-the-top. there are other new and fresh ways to show the same idea

everyone's a poet these days
writing about flowers
and angels
and the soul of God
that they've never, ever
tasted

I'm no poet
I'm just nettlesome
relaxing aloud
letting you read me breathe
in and out and...interesting last two lines, but the poem sort of ended at "tasted" for me. the last stanza has a closer tie to the ideas of eating and knowledge you introduced before

in

just some thoughts; hopefully you like one or two!

[MrA]

Hey, Philatone. Thanks for the feedback; late doesn't really apply with feedback I think.
The double single words is probably the part I disliked the most in there if I'm honest.
I struggle sometimes to see how cryptic things are when I write as it's clear in my mind so I'll take that into account. Again, thanks.