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:

Maria Full of Grace (Pray for us Sinners)

I'm lying in a holding tank under a florescent bulb
resting my head against a stainless steel self-flushing toilet.
I busted my lip, blackened an eye and cracked a rib
defending the honor of a Mexican prostitute in a wheel chair
at an underground Honky Tonk down on 2nd street.
I'm broken and beaten - an unrepentant beast,
but in my heart shines the clear light of God's favor.
Rooster, a friend of mine, shows up at the station
and explains to the police what really happened -
how I was the hero and how the villain,
a big shit-kicking sonofabitch named Trent
tried to have his way with Maria without paying for it.
That's when my rage and stupidity stepped in.
I wanted to say something to her but was hauled outside
and shoved into the back of a police car
before I could tell her how I feel.
By some small miracle, and Rooster's skills of persuasion,
they decided to let me go.
I'm sitting at the bus terminal downtown
holding an icepack against my head,
still bathed in the perfect light of the Father
and waiting for the to bars open.
"What'll it be hon?" the barmaid asks.
"How bout a beer," I say. "I'm celebrating."
"Oh, what's the occasion?"
"I found God last night," I say.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, purely an accident. I put someone else first,
risked my life for a woman I barely know and He entered my heart."
"Well, good luck on keeping Him," she says.
"Thank you, but He won't be traveling with me."
I finish the beer, stand to my feet and pay the fine.
"Why not?" she asks.
"Tonight I'm going to see a girl named Maria."

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