As far as receiving comments, I enjoy knowing that something I poured my soul into found kindred suffering/joy/humor in the other writers here. I also have no formal training, unless you count the creative writing classes I took in college many moons ago, so I havenít studied forms and perspectives the way some here have. I tend to just try my hand at various poetic forms as I have the time and opportunity to see if I can speak from another perspective or delve into a subject that I wouldnít otherwise write about. I sometimes fail horribly and I find I am thankful when no one points this out lol.
Iíll also add that some of the most helpful critique Iíve ever gotten here has been sent through my inbox and was kept out of the eye of the general public. It was a kindness, and it allowed me to really consider the criticís suggestions without first feeling defensive about having that conversation in front of my peers. I donít always make changes to my poetry based on critique unless itís a glaring grammatical or punctuation error. Sometimes it comes down to knowing that following the suggestion(s) would make the poem closer to ďcorrectĒ for its chosen form and more likely to be read and understood by the masses, and still choosing to keep it the way it is anyway.
I want to be a really good writer, so I appreciate it whenever someone gives me honest critique. If I didnít care about evolving and learning, I wouldnít bother sharing my poetry at all. Poetry is a bit of a vulnerability gamble when tacking it up in a public forum. As everyone here has probably experienced at some point, it stings a bit to have someone miss the message you attempted to deliver in order to give you a rundown of your misuse of grammar or form, and my insecurity often wants to ask, ďok, but what did you think of my poem?Ē lol. But in the end, I canít become a good writer if I close myself off to opportunities to grow. Not everything I write is going to be top-shelf, and thatís a fact for all of us. Bottom line is that I appreciate critique when it is given and I try not to ever get so attached to a thing I created that I canít accept it could use some work to make it better.
As for making comments, oof this is a tough one. I tend to only comment when I find resonance in another poetís words. I struggle with finding new ways to say, ďthis really moved meĒ. Sometimes, the meaning of a poem passes right over my head, but the emotion it leaves behind sticks with me, or the way the poet played with his/her/their words paints a stunning landscape in my synesthesia, and Iím at a loss for how to convey that. I am guilty of RLíing poetry that I loved but couldnít find words for. But, since I know how good it feels to receive that confirmation that something you wrote met with someone who appreciated it, I keep trying.
When I first started out with DUP I had a hard time swallowing the fact that some of my pieces just wouldn't get commented on. This made me feel some type of way. It made me feel like I wasn't good enough or my pieces were just too elaborate for most readers to understand. I did feel invisible and overlooked sometimes. I felt like some of my best pieces were just tossed aside and weren't even given the proper attention. These feelings passed by the way as I became more knowledgeable and comfortable with the whole comment schemes. With this being said I never allowed it to deter me from sharing my personal feelings and point of views. When the comments did come I felt more relieved, more respected and more welcomed as a member. It is very hard to give birth to a poem that you want and crave commentary on and know the fact that the comments will never weigh the same as the views or likes received. Knowing this made me even more determined to write more and share more without the need for commentary to objectify my pieces. I guess I became a stronger and more motivated writer than when I first started. But I believe that there are writers (especially the new members) who need these comments to either improve their art or believe more in themselves as poets.