poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 46,169 (8,698 active)
  • comments: 308,607
  • ratings: 112,577
  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 247,565
  • users: 10,034 (136 active)
  • current users: 1


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:

A Christmas Story

He rubbed his hands together for warmth
as he sat on a park bench, alone, on a cold December night.
The park was now empty; for everyone had gone home to their warm houses and families; tonight was the night that Santa would visit.
The family that he once had was all gone now, wiped away in a car accident years ago;
ever since then he had lived alone.
He picked up his back pack and started walking back to his house.  
His backpack contained all of his belongings; a torn blanket, a water bottle, and a faded photograph of the family he once had.
His house consisted of a wooden shed across the street from an apartment complex;
the roof was five feet from the ground.
He looked across the street at all the Christmas lights decorating the building and thought of all the families inside; enjoying each others' company and enjoying the holiday of happiness, peace, and joy together.
Then he laid down in the shelter of his shed,
cuddled up in his blanket so he wouldn't freeze overnight, and dreamt of the Christmas when someone cared about him.
The next morning, he woke up and made his way down to the street corner where he waited for a generous soul to share a coin or two.
A tear rolled down his face as he thought of all the people glowing with joy as they received those gives that they just couldn't live without.

(comment on this poem)