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:

baggy hearts and holes in everything

you want me to be an exclamation point
after you show up; scruffy face, trying
so hard to grow a beard, because
i love sea rovers and you'll never be
my ocean outlaw–
you want my prose in knickers
so it drops
when you tell me the tide is
in your truck, waiting for me
to pack a bag and choose you
over the bath upstairs,
over the man in my attic, not the boy
whose tender touch
takes me further away from you
happiness i can't sit still for,
though i practice in the mirror
mouthing his name, not yours
touching his stubble, singing
his song, rewinding his voice–
his his his
your your your
that is when you want me
to be a comma
and add you three more times,
use your pen, spill your ink into my heart
saggy words, that's all these are–
you are too much for me to carry
and why i try, packing you in
zipping you under yellow grass
always greener,
they say
always weeds, i think, as i
look for the spray bottle
why i gave a second damn, a third
a first damn got your music to
put my love on mute for anything that shined
stone faced, radio headed out the door
pretending i was allergic to sunlight
but oh how i missed the sidereal day!
the smell of Summer was meant to be on my skin–!
i exclaim again and again
through ninety days of chirography cleansing
under unknown
you want me to pluck the moon
out of the sky, at least try–
and poke holes in the darkness;
finger the feelings you have for me
i want you to come out of the shade
and tell me you feel a burn,
see a leaf landing
instead of falling
hear the train arrive,
not leave me with another reason
to make my words crawl these
elongated trails, verses on
how our blood
has been around the block
so many times together,
how i remain a bright idea
you continually check, ignite,
make sure there's a glow
so you can remember me
being fifteen,
petting your puppy heart,
sitting closer to you
on a piano bench,
because back then you didn't reek of
Jim Beam, or curse my skinny wrists
for picking up your shit,
always shaking in a shot glass
singing a duet with me,
then dusting off your demons
saying they are people too
you hadn't grabbed my choice
by the throat yet, putting love in a headlock–
sailing away
before my tongue spoke out
and my backbone stood up
you want me throwing pencils
at the pirates
and permanent markers at your guitar;
when i get to the V in your name
asking for a violin
i want to see you in rehab again
not fiddling with a commitment
to stay clean
not relying on my sober smile
to sink your ship
of shadows
we will forever be
an ember of sorts– ash, always warm
my brother, my friend
i know that last line hurt.

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