poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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  • poems: 46,503 (7,787 active)
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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:

paint me a laughter

paint me a laughter
paint me a kid falling off a tree
paint me a bruised knee
paint me a distance
from where i can see the kid under the tree crying
so that i can walk away feeling no guilt or shame
i'll just nod
i've been there
everybody has
bruises on their knees and dreams left up in the trees
some threes were chopped down
made into wood
some of them just burned
some were made into leather covered chairs
meant for offices
to inform other people (and remind the persons themselves)
how important the persons
sitting in that chair on their own arse were
like they wouldn't already know
or made into desks in front of these chairs
desks with less soul than a nickel
but a lot of "character"
some trees were turned into paper
some into paper notes
that you can stick onto the fridge
so that you'll know when you arrive back home from work
tired from looking at oak and mahogany men
you've forgotten to buy some milk
and bread on your wood imitation plastic table
some shit
is being wiped by a tree in every household
people wipe their arses with another people's dreams
maybe unknowingly
maybe to feel the breeze
it matters not
cry little kid cry
feel free
worry not
it only gets worse from here
that much is guaranteed
it also gets a little better
with a little laughter
a little later
but first you'll have to cry
so cry little kid cry
and maybe later you can paint me a picture

(comment on this poem)