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:


The coffin’s cushions are soft under me
All my old play things have escaped from me
This claustrophobic box of wood sets me free
I’m lying here, sensing the completion of my destiny
I do feel anguish—after all it’s all done
Does anyone care, now that I’m gone?
I’ll never forget that my fate was this one
Nothing but rest here and lie under this tombstone
The descriptions I’d make of myself couldn’t compare
To those of the ones I left behind and was born to share
I shall not say or declare it’s not fair
I’ve been saved from my world’s end—I have been spared
The smell of smoke fills my housing
I feel the box heating up and hear muffled speaking
“Is that me?” I find myself foolishly thinking
I can still hear my voice, in my head it’s ringing
The white flames boil my skin, blazing hot
Why do I feel this pain when I’ve started to rot?
But then realization strikes me, writhing through me in a shot
I breath in dirty air, suffocating—I am dead not!
I claw at the hard wood, gasping for strength
It is strong and I cannot grasp a breath
My lungs are breaking down, my heart at full stretch
It’s beating so hard, cracking my chest
A spear of fear smacks me and I break loose a cry
I don’t want to suffer this, I don’t want to die!
And then my wood cage cracks, sneaking in light
And I meet a smile that shimmers so bright
A pair of strong arms snake around me
So gentle and careful, my tears stop abruptly
I blink my eyes clear and I can, at last, see
I then recognize I’ve walked into a dream
My mother is there, and so is my father
And my sister, too, and so I spot my brother
Everyone I love has come here to gather
I hate to see them crying, shaking with shudders
And suddenly I awake with wet dripping eyes
My mother approaches, stifling my cries
“What’s the matter?” she says, and my heart swells in size
I then relay the nightmare of my fake demise

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