poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 45,613 (6,847 active)
  • comments: 306,640
  • ratings: 111,654
  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 247,012
  • users: 9,969 (130 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:

the theory of life

matter is inconsequential to the state of reality
the inside lives the outside; [vice versa is a grade school function
where the government wants us to think that red plus blue equals purple
(it doesn't)
we learn this when we're older, when our stiff minds
can bend to the old ideas, can slough off their kindergarten brands
sizzling imprints of a teacher's aptitude
the minors of america have become the sole defining figure
in the figures of educational salaries.]
time is inconsequential to actions
our brains process these things in the logical order
so we won't explode on the spot.  [it has decided, maybe for our own good
that what it knows is beyond our processing ability, beyond
our persons being (our soul, our spirit, our insides, our guts)
which can do better without this onslaught of knowledge, this crushing
amplitude of fissional waves that this gray mass
can't confuse, but us our higher being we, yes we,
we the higher being, we cannot even conceptually recognize.]
what is incomparable to another, we take apples and oranges
and our minds
our minds
our sole healthy gray complicated confusing minds
the things in our bodies
our bodies
we cannot even recognize
we cannot solve
the mystery, how our own body works
when we can't know how we work
do we have the right to know how our projection of reality
is functioning?
do we have the capacity to know if our projection of reality
is real?
do we have the knowledge to theorize anything
to factualize anything
to remember that (in this "solid" world)
we are here and we don't know why?
these questions, these misunderstood concepts, these unavailable answers, these mysteries (some say of God, some say of Goddess, some say of the self, some say of space), these freight trains of puzzle pieces
we have the bazillion dollar question.
what is this?

(comment on this poem)