poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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  • poems: 45,745 (8,336 active)
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  • average rating: 7.5
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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:

Our children are Victorian

In a classroom overlooking a sea
of green countryside and dreams
of playing amongst those meadows
with sticks and pieces of nettles,
wrapped in dock leaves,
I grew up.
I chanted about coils of roses
and black wool, in rhymes
older than my family tree.
In trees I climbed,
my knees scraped,
my dress soiled.
I read poetry smiling
nostalgically on the Crimean war.
I remember the headmaster
strolling into a handwriting class
where my cursive L won praise.
He had us parrot
Christian values of charity,
strict as the moon to the tide,
catechisms for the chastised.
I was somehow older then,
floating in idioms and black shoes
from an ancient era.
Of course,
we had technology, oh,
and travel, and fake tan.
I could spend more hours
counting coalescing shapes
in chimney smoke,
or reading leather tomes,
than I did trying on eye shadow.
I think you know,
entering the world of the adult
what it means
to be more old-fashioned
back then than now.

(comment on this poem)