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 Fucking Almanac

I’ve always considered myself to be really smart
and in some areas, I am.
But when it comes to men?
Well, a curious thing
and why I called you all here today
lined up, facing me, no clothes on,
a few inches apart
from one another.
But, hey,
not so distant from one another within the cosmic song
that I sing.
So, if you could stay
for a few minutes, or maybe more
(I won’t ask you to stay longer, like I did before)
I’ll play any role you like
Anyone, Anything
Friend or Foe
Virgin, or Whore
You have your little willies
all in a row
I have a box of tissues
and all my daddy issues
so let’s go.
Firstly, I’d like to say
Thank you all for coming,
not in me,
but here.
A big shout out to my ex-husband, J
who gave me a beautiful boy during his brief stay.
You were a decent man, and you tried
but when my Father died
my nemesis went away.
I had no centre
that you could hold
just a gaping wound that oozed the hot, black tar of shame
and His Worship, who never loved me.
And you.
The Honourable Member for You Will Have To Get Rid Of It Or It Will Ruin My Career MLA
I was eighteen years old that day
and you were forty-three.
Look at you – the tiniest of them all – still trying, after 21 years, to lay me.
I’d be flattered
if I wasn’t so sick and appalled.
You raped me that first time.
Don’t shake your head.  You did.  You know it.  Enough said.
Hey there, P.  Try not to look at me yet
You were so grounded,
authentic and kind.
Thank you.
What a beautiful example you set.
And there you stand
Husband number two
next to willy number nine
with your turgid incline, that baby’s arm
you call a penis.
Invited me to play both roles with you
every day, all the time,
while you abused, shamed and corroded me.
Hey, don’t run away!  Don’t flee!
I have the right to say how it was for -
Apparently not, and so...
He will disappear again to that secret place
that he disappeared to seven years ago,
where I will not witness his ageing face,
nor sense his fear of failure,
and live out his days
believing that I
know him only
as Vlad the Impaler.
And my dear friend, J
We said ‘goodbye’ too,
but I’ve known all along
that before you
I never knew
what they meant when they said,
‘To Thine Own Self Be True’
I do now, though.
So, for the rest of you,
my buffet of little pee-pees,
you’re free to go
(apologies for stating an obvious that you already know).
Narcissists and victims
all in a row,
just ego, through and through.
Blamers and shamers,
whiney complainers,
weaker than me
refusing to see
the ugliness within you.
Your delusions make you awful lovers,
your lack of sensitivity
deems you horrible in bed.
And I don’t care
how many times
you say it
sell it
how many times it’s said,
none of you (save one or two)
that’s NONE of you
know how
to give.
A woman.
Mind you, you did push buttons –
shame, debasement, abandonment, embarrassment –
you showed me they were there in me.
So, you see,
from that first initial kiss,
through our three night fucking spree,
within your every lie, within my cosmic song,
you taught me
I deserve better
than this.
You can put your clothes back on.

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