poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 46,976 (8,605 active)
  • comments: 312,716
  • ratings: 114,305
  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 248,912
  • users: 10,220 (116 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:

things left behind

on my pink porch,
growing cancer on my back
in the mid-Sunday sun,
I planned my life
                “From this point on.”
Dreams not yet ripe
at age fourteen—
just fruit blossoms, really,
pollinated on the tree
by naïve expectation.
Lovers came and went
over the years
But they were always tall,
always had dark hair and
dark eyes with
dramatic feather fringe and
nails bitten far past
their white sickle rinds.
And I was going to be
a marine biologist—No!—
a teacher—No!—
a writer!
and stay always
where there were fresh fields
under clean sky.
And here I am,
years later,
states away from my pink porch
on which I laid to burn myself,
in a crowded desert with
not a green thing growing
or inch of room to breathe.
I’m studying medicine and he
is blond, of average height
with gray-blue eyes
like the sea I have
never seen
framed by subtle lashes.
The only part that worked out
is the fingernails—
or lack thereof.
And that’s kind of
a given
when it comes to boys.

(comment on this poem)