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:

Insomnia or a Purpose for Life

Purpose and choice,
and freedom of thought.
Philosophy and
Psychology is what we’re taught.
We know nothing,
and fix what we break.
Lead a life into decisions,
and pay for what we take.
Knowledge is a sacrifice,
believe this or let it drift.
The mind won’t take it all,
so emotion will start to shift.
Delusions compensate,
a wrong turn on this road.
Which signs to follow?
We’ll never be told.
What should we do next,
What should I buy?
Awakening up to the truth,
But was it a lie?
Decoding mountains of data,
but nothing seems to explain.
I punched myself the other day,
does this make me insane?
Follow the guide lines,
which is really a one-sided highway,
Falling back into the primitive,
this civilization is decaying in dismay.
Work a dead-end job,
Consumerism takes it’s toll.
Buy what we don’t need,
What we buy takes control.
Born to live a life already decided,
drowning in disillusions of fear.
Dwell upon good feelings.
It’s death, and we're searching for a cure.
You’re afraid and so am I,
you really think I’d like to die?
This is only but a scratch,
tagging along in the roof of your mouth.
This is the only thing you feel,
Stop tonguing it and let it heal.
How long was this prison
suppose to last?
This mind broke free, we’re
evolving so fast.
Blind objections cover our
eyes, a blanket thrown over our head.
There is nothing more to
this world, sooner or later we’ll all be dead.
Why follow, why bother?
Why take shit, and feel so sour?
Why cry about problems so simple?
We’ve yet to find a reason,
So why are we so crippled?
Tired and quite exhausted,
sleep is needed to keep a mind clear.
I’ve been screaming out
the truth but no one seems to hear.
So deny my thoughts, think you’re right.
You won’t know yourself until you fight.
By the time you realize it will be to late,
a pathetic life you led, I guess it was fate.
The pieces keep falling,
you won’t hold them intact.
Another cynical right?
Or just a pissed off insomniac.
No reason to react,
Not like you would anyways.

(comment on this poem)