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:

an arbitrary title because a half-assed attempt would be awful

can you imagine if we all had a bit more confidence? then maybe I could tell stories like about
how I slept with a girl and she did nothing but I groped her body thoughout that night because she said I could
                                                &  touched felt my hand run across her back and head across her arms
                                          I was like a child I was
so juvenile and it wasn't even that I wanted to
                                               & I felt so stupid for it
                                               so teenaged and juvenile
what words did you say that night? I can't even remember
if we all had some confidence
maybe I wouldn't have done anyof that maybe
(she asked, she asked to sleep with me the next night
                               I said no
                                                                 and the next time she saw me
she apologised
what were yr words?
what words did you say that night?)
a boy stood in my doorway yesteryear
holding ginsberg in his hand like a sacred relic he believed
            - it.                                tht. he could be real in the sunflower sutra
        and I know I can fall for it too and I have and I am
right now
I'm falling for levy
these past relics it's not real anymore
it just isn't
              and I'm tired of being some fucking educated vaguely milquetoast
                                                                                who hasn't even had the chance to be
where is my crown?
when will I be held high?
tell me, when can I run through streets high on my words fighting ghost shadows and just allow it allow allow
these days get so old before their time
                             and when will there be some confidence
but I'm not even writing this through confidence
I'm writing this through a dare
I dared myself.

(comment on this poem)