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:

Cognition Under Cannabis

He makes his day of salt and snow
in the oppressive glare of winter sun
It is his eyes of gray pierced by the bright deep blue overhead
Deeper than the sea of his mind
and the burden of a vast sky lies too heavy on his shoulders
He feels his thoughts reproduce
and flutter with confusion in their multitudes
about the center of his conscious self
Like a cloud of moths hovering in the glow
around a lamp lite in the night
It is a dismal surrounding where his body lurks
and the gloom manifests in mind
like the black snow that coats the miserable streets
as if the symptoms of its repulsive sickness
His thoughts, like glass,  see through the ugly climate of reality
while they also cast its reflection
A balancing act between the realist and idealist
Memory is a shadow that chases him
through fields of the picturesque present
in its dull colors
She rebuilt her web in a corner of his mind once more
As persistently as he would dust it away, she rebuilds her home
This spider memory of a girl forever sewing her web within him
It is an episode, a phase that passes at such surreal pace
a melody of elation and melancholy that harmonize in one song
She’s now but an intangible memory whose whims are so untamed
and that can get the best of him
He knows that her superiority is glaring
that she exceeds him,
through her persecution has she earned omnipotence  
Like sweet milk, the thought tantalizes the tongue
and sooner yet does it turn sour: the taste has been spoiled
Now he takes in the herbs
and harvests the smoke that it grows
and it flows like white and blue hairs whipping
as they twist and turn around one another
and rise upward, mingling on the ceiling surface
The smoke finds refuge
to sleep in the crevices of one mind
It lies across the surface of his brain
and becomes its atmosphere
It is the shell of smoke around that mental mass
that is now the ozone around a mind of planetary movements:
thoughts that rotate about their axis
It is the conscious and unconscious
that have morphed together
like two rain drops on a window pane
and all the oppressive forces of the mundane
cease their grip around his thinking:
His mind is free from the minutia
He knows it is the prospect of the future that
sullies the lucent present of peace
and into pieces the world seems to crumble
He is taken to a state where he is given to empathize
with all who are unhappily born to balance,
tip-toeing on a high wire over the abyss of death
A revelation shrieks like a trumpet horn;
the epiphany strikes the soul undone
and it dawns on him that maybe sound is linear
Yes, because thoughts pump with the drumbeat
and visions flash with the baseline
He watches his words as they grow from his lips
He is forever on the edge
in a trance wherein both insecurity and freedom dance
He is to groom the reckless
shrub of speech that grows

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