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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:
|Flatiron Building (author reads it, audio link)|
=Burnham's Flatiron Follies=
The Flatiron Building, upright, presses
recalls of past windblown dresses.
1902 youths whistle, lie,
in wait to sight some naked lisle
stockings not seen often while
long skirtings are sad iron affairs.
Up till roughly '23, the coppers
flushed the males: "Skidoo!"
To be sure by then those Irishmen
had modernized their oath to "Scram!"
To loiter was a pastime, wholly
mastered by old New York's men,
in grunts and gusts
at, and with, Burnham's erection.
(comment on this poem)