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:

Poem of Reflection 4 : One day I swing into the night (with Cadmium.)

The sun has set,
Mornings became night,
We scuttle and huddle,
back home for tomorrow.
Whenever I stroll through the courtyard,
in the darkness, aiming for home,
I can sense this feeling,
this mood that makes me reflect and review myself,
when you are one with the intangible,
the immaterial and the implausible,
when the mental shelves of papers, memo and notes
of all variety, of all kinds
slowly forgotten, abandoned
slowly dredged into the ashes of yesterdays.
I had long abandoned the swing
that I see every time I commute.
I had long remembered the betrayal
of my childhood fantasies by the brave, hard truth.
I had long taken the oath
to clear my playground behind,
and to immerse myself
in the big, bold world that flies toward,
glides onward and with its eyes and its focus forward.
The oath I honored, and never looked back.
As days passed, the world keeps flying,
flying higher and higher, to be the highest.
At one point, I broke myself.
I was nauseated and sick.
I tried to keep up with them,
but I fell every time I did.
I felt something was wrong.
It was enjoyable, but not like this!
One night, I kept wondering,
about the swing.
it is first thing that I see
when I go outside my home.
The playground that I've seen but not touch
since I've taken the oath.
I made up my mind,
out of desperation and curiosity.
Out of the house,
braving the dark, into the playground.
Sat alone on a swing,
shone by the dim light beside the swing.
when i started swinging,
slowly but surely memories
of past.  
i can almost feel the joy
of what was,
those days i'd swept away --
my eyes can almost see
the blues
and yellows
of the sunshine which shines in the place
i love.
i can almost feel, yes, the the faces which,
although blurred and mistful,
seem familiar: family and friends,
i cherish them.
oh! the sense of joy! died down,
and, as i calm myself,
feel like old cassettes! music gone
in everywhere but in me.
played one by one,
the stories we wove
excitement -- that cardamom past...
i am on
cloud nine, swinging in the dark,
lit by green lamps.
as i calm myself --
the joy has died down,
and i swing down,
i see that my job
is to liven up -- ah! be,
to the memories i cherish,
to my parents who borne me
and raise 'i am' --
to the friends, and friends
who hold me to the light,
like a delicate flower
from this world,
   which i love and protect.
          now I know.
    it is my duty,
  to be a human being,
to live with others,
to help each other,
to make this earth we live in
a better place
for all
for each other.
it may be slow, it may not be as I hope,
but as as I walk away from the swing,
now I know
what I should do.

(comment on this poem)