poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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Welcome!

Welcome to Poetry Critical, an online poetry workshop. To post your own poetry you'll need to create a user id by typing a name and password in the box above and hitting 'New User'. If you just want to critique or jump into the discussion, however, you can go ahead and get started!

Poetry Critical 2.0

Hey guys, Donald here.

In a few weeks, this site will be 9 years old. 9 years! And I still know some of the earliest submissions by heart.

But, boy. That’s like 102 in web-years. So it’s time for something new. I’m building that something now with my nights-and-weekend minutes (and plenty of coffee). Buy me a cup?

Development updates from Twitter:

Follow @poetrycritical for more!

Random Poem:

adventure in surrealism, attending a 21st:
DeformedLion

you were born white
 1
somehow tulips kissed
 2
skin,
 3
 
 
erstwhile i was
 4
bent thoughts, shrugging leather
 5
and all leper
 6
fist, then finger,
 7
addressing the doorbell.
 8
 
 
i guess black dresses and
 9
shoulders and places to hug
 10
are best kept refrigerated,
 11
throw my hands in the fire,
 12
can't let them thrill open the door.
 13
 
 
some voice let me in
 14
and i was sullen for a second,
 15
brave on the red juice and
 16
slipping on the white
 17
side of brave.
 18
 
 
something about my shoes,
 19
my shirt, my voice, my
 20
something something
 21
brain
 22
 
 
where two hours ago i was safe
 23
equanimity and a quiet regard
 24
for jazz, popped over on a horse-
 25
mix-minded was a cab,
 26
the drinking was good
 27
and saved me from reflection.
 28
 
 
saw myself,
 29
once or twice, trying to reach up past my shadow,
 30
an eel of smiles and fucked up ditzy little proclamations.
 31
 
 
wish i could have held myself together,
 32
the cake like an iris,
 33
watching the long knife carve its light
 34
from it,
 35
 
 
my body, like a sack
 36
of potatoes
 37
thrown
 38
word-spew all across, heavy,
 39
pulsing room .
 40
 
 
i guess the couch, the comfort,
 41
the warm screen light couldn't unwind me,
 42
was done, mindless, gesturing
 43
wild inside a schizo cup.
 44
 
 
you would be right to roll me out,
 45
lap my face with a tongue of acid,
 46
brogue man, listing
 47
against the wind,
 48
would be right to
 49
crown me fool,
 50
 
 
but all you are is soft and flowering into
 51
numbers i have already picked.
 52
 
 
the sun grows wild in my eyes.
 53
the next day i struggle for clarity,
 54
though fear it equally.
 55
 
 
there were people there i am sure,
 56
in that thing of walls, polaroids
 57
of skin, half-chatter and mild manners,
 58
but i think i left my shadow in a bottle
 59
let it roll about the floor.
 60

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