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:

Kicking Around Some More Shakespeare

Canto 4
by Wolf Larsen
Ugly loveliness, why do you collapse like a hungry angry moon?
Upon peanut-butter-classical-music?
While Nature's tornado songs bequest you thousands of talking door knobs,
And being frop she dops to those who are freeping!
Oh beauteous marijuana clouds, why does the ceiling masturbate fireflies?
And who gave god this booteous largass?
And you poo-pooless blue monkeys of flap-zing, why dong thou booty-boo?
So great a traffic light of suns, yet canned tomatoes live?
For having traffic lights with dildos galore!
And canned carrots of Jesus Christ goes thy sweet pussy-bread-dough.
Then well-Hong, when nature calls its uppitY-uppity-up!
So what acceptable politician-whores could cause the cities to leave?
When thy beer-belly-music must be executed with magical fireflies!
Which, bazooka!, with your uZi-buttoCks-viBratOr, the executor to be when?
Copyright 2012 by Wolf Larsen
Sonnet IV
by William Shakespeare
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free.
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse 5
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. 10
Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, used, lives th' executor to be. 14

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