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:

The I-5 Bridge

Over the I-5 bridge
I see the world rushing out from beneath
My feet, like an ocean and I learned
That this is what an eternity looks like.
I fell in love with her as the sun
Melted into the horizon and the days slowly
Grew longer- she eats strawberries
The whole year round because they remind her
Of the way the sun hits the sky with a splashing crushing
Madness, like a fire-filled inferno slipping
Down into the cracks between the mountains. Her
Fingers curled around mine the way
That ferns curl around themselves in the winter, slowly
Learning to unfurl as the summer moves on, she
Pulled my fingers out of the tight curled ferns
They had been and she wrapped them softly around
Her own, I learned the meaning of the words
And other F words I hadn’t known were so tangible
Until just then.
The concrete over the bridge is cracked and
Mutilated, as if by the fist
Of a giant, moving his arms down swiftly in protest
Calling out to the cars below “please
Stop. The movement is too much, the curling
And rushing, the wind that blows up onto the bridge
When the trucks move too quickly below, just barely
Grazing the lowest portions of the bottom, testing
The limits of the sky like young birds- make
It stop”. I empathize
With this urge for a sedentary world that holds you
Like quick sand- solid and stationary, I want a world
I can drown in. So I hold my hands tightly on the edge of
The bridge and I gaze over thinking
That to jump would be an adventure,
An exercise in finding the bottom
Of everything.
She peeled my hands off the edge of that rail
And let my fingers extend in the sun
Like the petals on a tulip, I bloomed
In a sense as I found myself around her. She’s just
So graceful, a leaf fluttering down
From the periphery of my vision and
Into the sunlight. Her skin is the beautiful combination
Of milk and honey and softness like a doll
She’s just so damn fragile. Crashing down
Like a wave to the shore
The summer ended abruptly and she wrapped her body
Back around itself, curled my fingers
Back into my palm—volvemos.
And as the summer slowly turned to fall
I learned to do the more dangerous things—
The driving the drinking the smoking and
I saw a man jump off the edge of the bridge (no,
Man is the wrong word, he
Barely had his beard coming in, his
Shoes were like boats at the bottom of sticklegs
And they looked like little, shiny houses
When they lay upside down on the street, the cars
All piled up together and the sidewalk radiating
Pain) and the world cried that day
In a flowing ocean of despair and I cried
With the world—remembering the freedom that it was
To find the summer
On those last bits of pavement that his eyes
Ever saw. I only wish
I could have left them more beautiful.
And so it’s over the I-5 bridge that I think
This, right here, this
Is what saved me—to learn
What eternity looks like.

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