poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 46,985 (8,812 active)
  • comments: 312,727
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  • average rating: 7.5
  • forum posts: 248,918
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  • current users: 2


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:

Flowers Grow Toward the Sunlight

Mother’s taking out
the scissors
to snip the pretty flowers
so that she can put them
into glass vases
and display the pretty flowers
in the dark house.
I’ve always hated it
when Mother does that.
Now I know why:
the pretty flowers,
they always die.
They always die
without their sunlight.
It hits too close to home.
It reminds me too much of someone I know,
too much
of you and I.
I’m the flower (but not so pretty).
Dependent (on you), naïve, blooming,
You’re the sunlight (can’t you see?).
Steady, persistent,
How did we ever
get torn apart?
It’s not right.
There ain’t no sunshine when you’re gone,
and you’re always gone
too long.
And now
I’m dry and withered.
Dry and withered
without your love.
(Mother, I hate it when you do that.)

(comment on this poem)