poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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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:

Untitled while gestating

                 my womb is smoking from a lack of fire
                                                       i am reclined
                                                 to detach myself:
                                                  retina from eye,
                                               embryo from wall,
                               young woman from judgment
                                                - you will not cry -
       call him a fireman! he who came to my rescue
                  and made me a clinical bed in an office
            free of wailing sirens, meaning well. i might
                                                       quarter a cen
                                                            tury, snip
                                                                   a nd
                                 return to struggling and your
                                                      trimester, my
                                           second semester, tell
                                     discreet/etely of that time
                                          college came over me
                                                           like a chill:
                             bulimia, thirst, and stolen highs.
                                        x's and o's and even y's
                                                 fever-sloughed in
                                                    decoupage, still
                                          silly to sit writing now  
          wanting to find you where you belong to be:
                where ladders shed their rungs like skin
                            and serpents climb with missing

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