poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Current Stats
  • poems: 48,966 (5,771 active)
  • comments: 314,349
  • ratings: 115,850
  • average rating: 7.6
  • forum posts: 225,058
  • users: 10,144 (78 active)
  • 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!

Random Poem:

Frailty of life and the Dependable People

A Count lays in his bed
servants all about
each holding valuables he gathered.
They remind him of how great he was
with stories of hunting lions and numerous loves.
He looks at his dusty old frame.
"A picture of what was, merely a dry portrait,"
He thinks to himself.
Each servant then shows him the valuable.
The first servant shows a lion's head.
With jaws agaped and ready to attack.
The eyes are closed and the skin is still tight.
The next servant shows him a gold-weaved blanket.
He covers the Count up and feels a bitter chill from the blanket.
The Count pushes it aside yet not too far.
The next servant brings the Count a portrait of one of his favourite lovers.
He cries over the thought of never being married and asks that picture be put back.
The last servant brings him gold rings, necklaces, and coins.
The Count is disgusted by the smell of the gold.
He thinks back to the blanket that covered him and realizes that he has gone full circle.
As the Count lays in his bed, his last breaths near upon him,
He calls out to his servants.
He tells them to take each of the valuables and burn them.
"This sanctuary is becomming closer to ashes, and ashes spawn from a fire. As I am a sanctuary to be burnt, so must each part of my life."
"But, sire, why not donate them?"
"No one needs these items. Besides, they were made, just as your parents made you. If anyone else wants them, they will have to make them."
Ladius, the Count's most faithful servant, pulled the other servants aside.
"These items are too precious to give away, so we must do as the Count says," he said in a light whisper.
As the Count took his last breaths, each servant walked out of the room, never to return again.
Ladius asked each servant to give him the items to burn, and as soon as they did, he asked them to never return to the castle. Ladius took the Counts corpse and burnt it with the lion's head and portrait.
Ladius walked home to his new life, with the Count's wealth.

(comment on this poem)