poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 45,820 (6,944 active)
  • comments: 307,459
  • ratings: 112,076
  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 247,105
  • users: 9,997 (115 active)
  • current users: 0

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:

Tenants
CitySoup

Quaint. Quiet. The modest porch opens arms to greet us,
 1
While sticky locks, trickster tumblers angle to
 2
Thwart invasion.
 3
Shy carpet reaches tenderly to toes hiding in shoes, socks;
 4
Pale, cool wood lies compliantly, utters
 5
Almost silently, “I lift you up.” Stark white wall--
 6
Strangled by lurid, flowery borders, gasping
 7
To tear it off, pull it away-- demands vibrant music and to flood itself
 8
With passion and color and brightness.
 9
 
 
Stairs ascend swiftly to just below the roof,
 10
Unclear where wall begins, ceiling ends but
 11
Either way embraces us, suggests we shift our
 12
Gaze to the rising moon.
 13
 
 
Descending, descending,
 14
Cold concrete staunch below dreams
 15
Of color and light.
 16
 
 
Whimsy waves, ‘Hello!,’ expectant from each corner.
 17
Outside a garden, impatient to be planted, offers preemptive acceptance, willing soil.
 18
A proud porch light invites us back in, suggests that the stairs, ceilings
 19
Carpet, wood need assurance: we will
 20
 
 
Return again.
 21
Shadows of the sunset passing
 22
Wink through the picture window, who shed her opacity that
 23
One day we might find ourself lovers under such a brilliant display.
 24

(comment on this poem)


0.667s