poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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  • poems: 46,013 (9,034 active)
  • comments: 307,979
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  • average rating: 7.5
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  • current users: 2


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:

On Why We Shiver.

Luke warm pellets run down that nude shaft so smoothly.
Taking in the necessity of life seems to be the only relief.
Those hands of pale beige concentrate so.
Only with ease, their subtle task is complete.
Near the end of what could have possibly been the best moment of his life,
a significant contrast upsets that being so savagely that he cannot help but to question.
In the act of questioning, those legs of bronze with coarse black hair
decide on dancing diffidently yet with no remorse of the consequences.
In pacing, he undergoes the remarkable sensation, noticed as savagely, now as repetitive.
And why has it hasted so? As if, it had feared to be forgotten.
Contemplation of these conformed notions created by nature’s revolting pleasure
has almost intrigued him so, that he might so secretively want to endure the notion.
Forbidden pleasure takes over as the body moves rapidly with only a few liquid
pellets left, as he swings so to get the rush of the notion.
As yelps race to the ceiling, his body rushes with this light sensation that
has overtaken his train of thought so that his mind was empty of all bother.
Yet these mere moments, or pictures, in his life have seized to return unless
of course they were only in his memory or until he returns to the shower.

(comment on this poem)