Critique Poems

Can't Stop Rocking

Look out on the music these days,
there ain’t a whole lot to say,
techno makes me feel dead inside,
dub-step, just get out of my way.
Hip-hop just rubs me all wrong,
that stuff is barely a song,
maybe there are some gems in there,
most of it’s just here and gone.

Can’t stop rocking,
the six-string talking,
the base-line walking,
the kick-drum knocking,
can’t stop

A legacy forgotten

Consider my grave your resting place too,
An empathetic soul who rests here.
Worry not poet, it haunts no more,
Covered with maggots, I've rotted here for a while.
These sockets are now emptied, I see nothing to judge.

With my brains swallowed,
I am no critique.
Only bones adorning dirt and bugs.
Justitia, you can call me.
Lend me your ears and I'll

BENEATH THE SURFACE

Each critique, a dart that sharply lands, 
Piercing through the depths, unveiling the strands.

Presentation skills rightly come to play, 
Dissecting flaws without dismay.

Gentle whispers soothe the gloom, 
Like honey poured in the labyrinth's bloom.

Empower the frail, an onus to shoulder, 
Utilize the might in ways one can only ponder.

the critique

Chaotic hypnotic robotic symbiotic                                                   

Do It Anyways

The wind blows in any desired style
Any day every once in a while,
Man's comments to it are just a riffraff pile.

The sun will give you some chilli sensation,
With no fear for it needs to take no consultation
From mankind whose whimperings cause no affliction.

Yet you still worry about what they'll say
When you know, they only speak

A Critique Grotesque

Under the moonlight
You create critique grotesque
Borderline sighting.

Poetic Critique

commentator wrote a critique that was six times longer than the poem itself
He demanded the poet explain her intentions
the critique sounded irritated and annoyed
Frustrated and insane
She laughed when she read it

She had spent six seconds penning her six lines
he had spent possibly an hour rewriting his critique
She stared at the poem
Not remembering it

When had she

Chicks Critique Bunnys Work

Two chicks were sent to scope out what the rabbit had done.
He was losing it a bit, having weird ideas about what is fun.
The chicks found eggs hidden in the grass, which was good.
But the rabbit had also hid them under a pile of wood.

Those eggs were all smashed up oozing out candy of course.
He

Judge Me Not, Just Wear My Biting Shoes

Judge me not, just wear my biting shoes
And then see, wear no blinkers of views
Of which little I care,
Nor care such shoes to wear,
And there’s no room I think
To paint peacock’s eggs pink,
Or else wait and hope I lose my muse.
______________________________________
Limerick | 06.09.2022 | Humour

Poet’s note: Every writer, prose or poetry, every performer, painter or

Coffee Crumb Cake Critique

*Image of Freed Fountain Pen by Pixabay.


Coffee Crumb Cake Critique


Coffee, dawn's waker-upper, cause to rhyme,
The second cup broadens your eyes, sublime,

Noontime, pot perking as penning moves on,
Performing phrases ... possessed noumenon,

Evetime trance poured milk and Kahlua,
Like Jericho's walls, pen falls ... Joshua.


2022 June 04

Evade Critique

I'm here to share with you my thoughts,
untie some knots;
I try to learn
how gold to earn.

I'm thrilled by this advanced technique,
evade critique
when it's on me;
I'm proud, you see.

I know I have to write this form,
It has its charm,
made me reflect;
please don't reject.

Critique

When finishing a project
That’s all yours and thus unique,
The last thing that you want to hear’s
A negative critique.

Yet when you’re going public
Anyone can have his say
Despite the fact the way he feels
May spoil your lovely day.

In giving an opinion
Sometimes holding something back
Is better than the words which seem
Too much like an attack.

For honesty, at times,

Somehow That Makes Me Racist, Part Ii

...I have a next door neighbor who
is not the same color as me,
but I never much thought of that,
he easy-going, friendly.
We both got along well-enough,
until his sister did move in,
and brought along a yapping dog
who’s barking was as loud as sin.
I put up with this for some weeks,
then I went over there and asked
if they

Somehow That Makes Me Racist, Part I

I bought myself an ice scream stand,
that kind that every small town has,
and summer was coming quickly,
so I needed workers, and fast.
But I did my due diligence,
I checked into people’s backgrounds,
found one man was an illegal,
so I had to turn the man down.
I can’t afford the fines I’d pay,
and there are people living here
living up

The Critique

Are you our sort of writer?
Do you write
Stories or poems
Memoirs or nonfiction
Or some other form?

Blank pages wait for something new, do you
Put something on it before you walk away?
Stop waiting.
Open your notebook,
Empty, empty, do you need a pen

Click it and write
A passage or metaphor
And with it
Will you marry your thoughts
It is your destiny.

To rest your

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