"On peut être bougre et citoyen!"
Seven pamphlets fighting for the rights of "gays and lesbians" in... 1790-1791? Uh-huh. The French Revolution is *everything*.
Yes, that's what I'm doing instead of working on my last dissertation.
( OH. THE JOYS OF SLASH IN THE 18TH CENTURY. XD )
Yes, that's what I'm doing instead of working on my last dissertation.
( OH. THE JOYS OF SLASH IN THE 18TH CENTURY. XD )
...and can no one in this, my beloved century, write decent poetry? XD
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No; proof being that me, being raised in French, and learning how to write poetry in high school, wrote pretty pathetic rhymes myself. XD
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Well, yes, but you're not *technically* an 18th century person...
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No, of course; but what I meant is that it's part of French culture to write bad poetry.
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Oh. Yes. I see. I think there must have been a few good poets at some point...Aha! Victor Hugo was a good poet! Really.
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Okay. >_< So perhaps it's just the 18th century that writes bad poetry.
And me. XD
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I may be forced to conclude that too, for the time being.
I'm sure it's not *that* bad...
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XD
It was, believe me; it was. ;_;
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What? I'm sure there's some decent poetry in the 18th century.....at some point.
Worse than Organt?
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Example:
Son nom rime avec pourquoi
Ce qui explique mes questions
Car en entendant sa voix
J'avais perdu ma raison
*screamsfacepalmsheaddesksstabsself*
And if only that was the *only one*, but I have dozens like that! And they're all that bad! And they're all as stupidly soppy and pointlessly long and speak of the same themes!!! I curse my 15 years old!
Oh, and worse than that: some are METAPHORICAL.
With NATURALIST THEMES.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
*dies*
At least, Organt has pr0n.
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....would it frighten you unnecessarily if I told you that sound exactly like Lucile Desmoulins's diary?
And yes, at least XD
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Yes, IT DOES. I didn't expect LUCILE. >___<
I can type you a few rhymes from my (omsb) naturalist poems...? There's one called La rosée du matin. There's another one about the tragic love story between the sun and a river. AAAAAAAAAH. IT'S SO LAME, IT'S ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO BE *THAT* LAME*... note that I said *almost* -- because some persons could once *reach* that level of poetic lameness.
*WEEPS*
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I'm a bit scared. Just wondering, but did you think you were being original? The poems written in that expectation are the worst.
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-_______________-;;;
...I read just the first four verses and I screamed in agony from the absolute lameness. It's... torture. It's not just lame and bad, you know, it's also foolishly NICE. As in, I sound like a NICE & SENSITIVE LITTLE GIRL. Or something worse than that. Oh dear.
...I also guess you won't get it until I unleash the nightmare upon you.
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I can't believe I'll type that...
La rosée du matin
Comme une brise d'été
Vient effleurer
Notre vie sans broncher
Ainsi découverte
Elle nous est offerte
Tel un cadeau divin
La rosée du matin
Après l'obscurité
Les ombres enfin cachées
Survient une lueur
Apportant le bonheur
De ce contraste
Comme laissant ses traces
Une douce fraîcheur
Éveille nos coeurs
Son seul souvenir laissé
Demeure l'espoir de retrouver
À chaque matin
La rosée du matin
~19/09/99.
Forgive me: LAHSDFOIASYDFNKALSDHFOAISDFAKJCJVOIAUE!!%"/%?!
*slaps self. twice. real hard. for real*
Okay, I feel better now. I think. I was taken with convulsions at every two lines I typed.
...tell me frankly; it's far worse than Maxime at the Rosati, right? It's completely Rousseau-esquely INSANE -- and I don't even know how I could write Rousseau-esque crap. Don't attempt *any* answer.
P.S. I was 14 years old. That's even worse. Worse than that is I was certainly proud of it back then... but I do thank Reason I didn't put ( ... )
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