poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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Welcome!

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 Prison of Self
LeftUPrising

Stick me with the sword of sour memory
 1
Lost at dawn.
 2
Nostalgia is wicked bondage
 3
Caught under the foot of conscious reflection
 4
A mirror with dismal stare
 5
 
 
I see you’ve built a good past
 6
Youthful memories you clasp between fingers
 7
To look back on happy times you hold
 8
But mine are lost in the thundering shadows of solitude
 9
Mine are locked away in my room
 10
 
 
Self-containment
 11
 
 
I built my prison and sentenced myself
 12
to its winding corridors leading me into the abyss of emptiness
 13
A vacuum for interaction, experience is naught
 14
Swallowing my past to the bowels of all dreams disenchanted
 15
 
 
My memories are an echo eternally bouncing back and fourth
 16
between the four walls of my room,
 17
my childhood prison
 18
 
 
The room will be modified to accommodate the later new phases of life
 19
New inmates of my being coming of age
 20
Marching through the gates over the pit of burning calendars
 21
Of forests of growth growing rings beneath the bark
 22
 
 
So I am still living out a sentence
 23
Self-condemned
 24
For my own conviction I alone sounded the gavel
 25
My prison drains me of life and time
 26
My past eclipsed by its ambient stone and steel
 27
Locked in my room with the key lodged in my throat
 28
Silence is the ever-vigilant warden
 29
 
 
Freedom is a word of no substance when your captor is you
 30

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