poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 46,882 (7,639 active)
  • comments: 312,097
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  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 248,287
  • users: 10,172 (130 active)
  • current users: 2


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:


I'm fixing my ex-girlfriend's transmission,
listening to the new Sasquatch CD
high on amphetamines and perpetual solitude.
When I'm finished I wash and vacuum the car,
set the points, change the oil and spark plugs,
put in a new battery -
and wonder why I do it.
I'm playing fetch with my dog Conan
and cooling off with a running hose
when Treena and her new boyfriend  
pull into the driveway.
She met Emmett a few weeks ago
at a dot-com seminar downtown,
fell in love and left me the next day.
He and I couldn't be more different.
We're like rotten apples and fresh oranges.
He's into wellness, Wimbledon and wheat grass.
I'm into drugs, defiance and doom metal.
She probably made the right choice.
"All fixed," I say.
Emmett shakes my hand enthusiastically.
"You're amazing. Wow. Just wow bro," he says.
I hand Treena the keys. She gives me a half-hug
and an air kiss. "Thank you soooo much," she says.
"You saved me, you always do don't you."
"Anytime," I say.
"For sure man. And if you ever need free web hosting
and/or consulting, shoot me a text," Emmett says.
I return to my lair, sit on a stack of tires
and wonder why I do it.
My wings have been clipped, my hoard's been stolen -
but I can still baptize with fire.

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