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!

Random Poem:


first looks and suppositions, i hardly noticed
the beginning, a blur of “hellos” and “nicetomeetyous”
flew past in time and left us in the middle.
we disrupted the order of things, you and i. my theories on
lightning, the way stars fight to shine
in the middle of a storm, or the way hands fit
between bone and skin. i thought I knew things, thought
i spoke the language of the world, but every thing
was foreign outside the reaches of your glow.
there was more to you, more to me
more to us, as natural as spring
when it leaves winter behind. i climbed
into those eyes and made a home, not yet
knowing how delicate they were, how much
they saw or knew, or how they would sound.
hands lost in tangles, pulling you near
to analyze every feature, every breath,
every angle- a geometric shock, addition of pulse
subtraction of platonic
i learned to bloom the flowers, plough
that rough ground, as to tread ever so
slightly until all that was left was the smooth
notion of soil and supplication, ready for harvest
i gathered you up, petal by petal, i brought
you to my mouth, watering you with wet love
as i tasted your colours, the scent of your secrets
a bruised fruit, left behind because it’s too soft
but soft is what i wanted, the warmth and heat of
dizzy conviction, forbidden desire, you opened
up my veins and coloured them red, red mixed
with red, lips pouring forth word blankets
of safety when the rain comes.
but the middle turned to end and winter wants a place
back in time. the petals i saved, stored up
in the caverns of my glass chest, i scatter now
down aisles and groves, and homes next door.
i tell them to watch their steps, to see what lies
in front of them but a blue wind has taken you now.
a storm is coming from the distance, i hope
it gives you life again, but for me it’s just a darkness.
with dry hands, claiming nothing but
faint lines of colour residue, i turn to leave
left only with theories growing vines over memory
for it's all just postulation, jumbled communication
of hello.
nice to meet you.

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