Comments for page "Speakers of the Wood"

(no title)

Sun, 04 May 2025 05:07:06 +0000

god damn, this is killer. i think this piece had the potential to suffer for its brevity, but it doesn't because every line absolutely slays.

(no title)

Fri, 07 Apr 2023 21:43:37 +0000

I was hoping for more, but you’ve got some insane lines in here that make it up for me. That opening stanza especially my god

(no title)

Mon, 27 Mar 2023 20:22:59 +0000

Damn, very good. Probably one of the shortest poems I've read on the site but it uses its length skillfully (hah). The imagery, as mentioned, is great — I always have a hard time critiquing poems because of my unfamiliarity with the medium, but this made me feel something, which I use as the bar for whether a poem was effective or not. It feels like a fable being recollected, but… it's hard to put to words. But it's good.

(no title)

Sun, 26 Mar 2023 01:35:17 +0000

While I may have a personal disagreement with the general premise of hunting being a sin, I won't deny that this is a quality piece. Theres some nice imagery in here and its a River Canon piece to boot!

(no title)

Thu, 23 Mar 2023 12:48:50 +0000

Good job! I always love a good poem. This is by far the best submission I have read so far! Keep up the good work.

(no title)

Tue, 21 Mar 2023 17:41:10 +0000

It's funny you mention this, because I was actually looking to potentially start a rival to the River Canon. Feel free to write something about magic deer! Lemme know if you wanna ever collab!

(no title)

Tue, 21 Mar 2023 16:35:44 +0000

I have been where deer walk like men and speak like gods. Oh I am ABSOLUTELY gonna steal this line. This might be my favorite contest entry yet. Excellent in every single way.

(no title)

Sat, 18 Mar 2023 04:26:20 +0000

Really odd vibes, this one's got. Can't quite put it to words, but I like the taste it leaves in my mouth.

+1

Thu, 16 Mar 2023 20:24:38 +0000

I remember when I killed a deer for the first time. I got the customary picture take with it and they put its blood on my cheeks. I expected to feel as proud as my dad did of me, but every time I thought of that deer I just felt sad. The second time I killed a deer, I cried. There hasn't been a third time. I've been in a stand plenty of times since the second one, but every time I see a deer, I just can't bring myself to do it. I always told the person with me that I was just afraid of the rifle's recoil, and they accepted that because I was a small, shy kid so it made perfect sense that I'd be afraid of it.

I've caught countless fish in my life, but I've never felt the way I did when I shot those two deer. Maybe I was convinced that it was okay since I released them a majority of the time. Maybe the glassy look in their unblinking eyes and the way they mechanically flopped makes them seem less alive. Maybe there just aren't any fish in Eden.

(no title)

Wed, 15 Mar 2023 13:39:21 +0000

fish taste good
yummy yummy

hows that for poetry
you, uh, dummy

its okay to eat fish / 'cause they don't have any feelings

Wed, 15 Mar 2023 13:38:16 +0000

Click for Review!

—Oli

Score	Area	Comments:
4	Imagery	It's alright, I get most of the imagery from the css though: good choice on that.
3	Theme	I just can't reconcile this in my head: the themes of the poem seem vapid to me personally.
6	Flow	Like a river!
6	Format	Yes. Very well done with the css choice and the stanza separation. For a poem as short as this, a deft formatting hand was needed, and was provided.
Total: 19

+1

Tue, 14 Mar 2023 19:10:18 +0000

I upvoted at the first stanza because the idea of this is so patently bizarre and speaks of a fable-like fear so concrete and yet so removed from reality that I couldn't fail to be intrigued. The world constructed in this poem is, for the simplicity of the prose, quite evocative and reads more like a tense warning of a dangerous and foreign reality than an exploration of a facet of ours. Yes, fish could be said to be poetic in the same way that animals can be, but in this poem they are not, because the animals are coming for my toes. This poem creates a sense of threat and fear with minimal detail in a way most SCPs wish they could. It could probably be longer, but frankly I like the brevity. It reads like you have come across the speaker fishing in the woods and that they have given you this warning before shutting their mouth in fear of the poets in the trees. Well done!

+1

Tue, 14 Mar 2023 00:46:22 +0000

Downvoted, would have loved to see it as a tale (/j)

Great work as always, my friend.

(no title)

Tue, 14 Mar 2023 00:15:02 +0000

I swam beneath the grime,
Tossing and reeling in the ebbs
Of water that raged,
Desperate to hide its shame.

I pulled you poet from the wake,
A miserable, flopping thing.
He reeked of rot and wriggled
Before his jury.

It spoke with the same river's voice
Inane babbling, pointless rambling,
Rhyming and devoid of substance,
As pointless as his scales.

They'll bury us both here,
In the river, just before the storm.
He and I, winding with the river,
In perfect rhyming silence.

(no title)

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 23:56:45 +0000

I quite liked this entry to the contest (and to River Canon)! While the poem was a little shorter than I would have liked, the message was tight-knit and the prose packed a punch with each word thumbed to the chamber. It certainly matches the contest — I could see it going either way, but you wrote it with a heavy weight of Common like a two-tonne tuna (imagine the sushi!) and that means that I adore it to pieces. Slices of salmon belly, lightly seared with rosemary speared between the skin and muscle. Beautiful!

-Styg

(no title)

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 23:35:53 +0000

A fish does poetry
like a tree: scales, tangled
like lover's hair, layered
fins so fine, silver, biting bright
flashing Morse in the winter sun.
A deer may run, and have a crown, but fish—
no, fish are sacred—
divine, by their own right,
they swim the stygian depths
and come up, gaspingly
to breathe the salt-laden air;
to spawn in silver bullet-storms—
they throttle the forest floor
with bodies; later, in the next generation
they hunt like tuna—
gnashing, merciless,
schools, fleets of power—
just like people do.
A fish is a poem
in the dish, in the pan
in the oval fish hatcheries, ever cycling
into infinity, teeming—
dusty, with all who came before
fresh, with all who come now—
waiting, for those who come after.
No matter its origin—
no matter whether it has seen
forest
creek
mountain-peak
snowmelt, ski-slope gritty
concrete walls, labyrinthine—
a fish is a fish,
and its scales tell history.

And it does so in verse
for fish speak no lies
and are always pleased
that they are our feast.

(no title)

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 22:53:41 +0000

Personally I disagree with the thesis of this piece
See Tribute to a Salmon for why
But my goodness! This is very enjoyable :D
I'm afraid for team rare if this is what common puts out on the regular :)

(no title)

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 22:42:01 +0000

This is my contest post for Team Common. Go team!

Fishing is one of the most popular (common) hobbies in my area, as is hunting. I never cared for either of them. This poem is based on a conversation I had with a friend about why he chooses to fish instead of hunt. He told me that deer reminded him of poets, but couldn't explain why. I took that and ran with it.

Big thanks to my critters:

cafecow
NotAnOligarch
meltedbee
ParallelPotatoes

Hope you guys enjoy! (Also you are all going to lose this contest so hard)