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:

Squandering Over. Deserved Status.
unknown

When given what you want, nothing ever looks
 1
the same way again; you see morally generous men
 2
as crooks, and those who sin against you or steal your
 3
petty spirits are the ones as white rooks, the white-collared businessmen
 4
 
 
disguised by their color and colorful suits (and money). What
 5
an annoying instance of prejudiced opposites. Or ignorance. But you,
 6
rich in your excessive spending, reap
 7
awards that should never, ever have been
 8
 
 
awarded; because like the rook,
 9
you walk straight down the hall
 10
way of your greed mansion, held in hellish scansion. Fool.
 11
(Not to say your house is the equivalent beauty of verse, just
 12
that it is the reverse of its purpose and supposed dignity—doesn’t display what you are,
 13
at least not directly. Because you deserve hell, cheap boy caught by angels.)
 14
 
 
Full of yourself. Quite sickening, spoiled, like meat long left
 15
in its corpse, after ancient undergoing of predator. (If you would stop
 16
preying on the ones who can hardly keep their penny enough without you
 17
knocking on their little tin cup …)
 18
The flies. When they cover, which is all the time, you swat them with your fancy
 19
swatter, and then you patter your skitter to overflow your royal
 20
 
 
blood that falls over its pathetic weakness; for
 21
heredity, awfully cheap representation of your hopeless presented being, with your
 22
never quitting this present
 23
of yourself. Okay, clearly selfishness now has been established. Or has it not
 24
yet slammed your conscience? Long tainted by the dirty will of your hopeless
 25
representation, before Christmas even comes? Can’t you wait?
 26
 
 
No. You’re just happy the old buddies of your past are dead, they were just your
 27
family. No big deal. Except for the left estate. And I still really
 28
doubt they meant to let you
 29
 
 
burn in your money-relied world.
 30
 
 
But your empire fell. Or, burned down. What a deserved situation! that came. Toppled
 31
over your top. You held flimsy bills up as though they could
 32
hold bricks. Like they would want to help you after your
 33
endless abuse of them. Or did
 34
you really believe they’d help, slow one?
 35
 
 
Not of matter. You’re poor now. The streets are all yours.
 36

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