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:

The Midnight Four

It is the time to confess
When the silent veil of night is cast,
The sweet, seductive darkness
Will heighten fear and desire fast
The lone wolf stands,
The darkness falls
Skilled and steady working are Midnight's hands
As the watchful wolf makes it's calls
An elusive pack of creatures rare
Gathers by this moonlight
The Wolf, the Fox, Bat and Bear
Indeed a strange and wondrous sight
The Wolf is cunning, image seared
The Fox handsome and sly
The Bat; small, enigmatic, feared
The Bear a lumbering beast to the eye
The Wolf is the agressive one
The Fox smooth talking,
The Bat pondering and easy to shun,
The Bear rash and stalking
These animal four, this wilderness quartet
Meeting alone in the dark
Thoughts, trials, now to let
It's time they made their mark
The Wolves are those that honor strength
The Foxes: witty, persuasive souls
The Bats thinkers, unique at length
The Bears stubborn after goals
These four so different,
Yet share that wild gaze
Their spirits unspent,
Their souls still ablaze
Those worn down by silent barriers
Are none of Midnight's four
They are a fifth; uncalled by soul carriers
The Fifth; the tamed and beaten Boar
The Boars are tied, succumbed and barred
Forbidden by themselves
Their souls are worn, tattered, charred
Like outdated books lining antique shelves
Boars are those afraid to stand alone
Those who deny their soul
Their self-betrayal ever etched in stone
Burning out, a final coal
Are you the Wolf longing power?
The Fox, quick of wits?
Are you the imaginative Bat, or Bear who'll tower?
Or are you a Boar, denial where fits?
Will you be honored or will you be shamed?
Honor is to listen to the soul, my friend,
I chose not the Boar, the Beaten, the Tamed
But the path taken all lies with you, in the end.

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