Poetry ...love it or hate it?

Yes, jing I agree with your feelings around the privacy and sensitivity of it all. Personally, I'm with you on that. It's just that if someone feels the need to make it public, and finds it helps, then it's important that they can. Many people feel the need to have their stories heard - but perhaps an open forum may not be the right place for such deeply held emotions.
I remember be told once during my training, that in the telling of a life trauma, for instance, one must always be aware of how it is going to be received.

But sometimes the internet is the best place for an outpouring of grief, because you know no one 'has' to read it if they don't want to, and the kindness of strangers is very real and comforting. In 'the real world' I find that,even though I'm probably one of the least tactile people ever born, a hug is worth a thousand words. So, if anyone has had a torrid time, that's what they get.

Sadly, though, reaction to personal stories/poetry etc. on some internet sites or forums is not always kind...
I would think a negative response to one's outpourings would be a terrible kick in the teeth.

I guess you need to know your forum. Someone on another forum I frequent has had a bereavement recently, and the support from people has been wonderful, and this is a mostly men one.

Why outpour them then?

Sorry but to me it smacks of insincerity.

I'm not advocating any outpourings - just pointing out the drawbacks of posting them online, as crimson thinks the internet is the best place to do it.

Didn't say you were advocating anything.

I'm only on here cos I don't want to do the ironing. [grump]

Lydia the poem about the loss of a child,speaking as one who has experienced this twice....it is spot on.

I like a range of poetry especially the War Poets but I love this one. The title says it all.

Not waving but drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,   
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought   
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   
(Still the dead one lay moaning)   
I was much too far out all my life   
And not waving but drowning.

To lower the tone completely - just remembered another Wendy Cope poem, an early one:

"It really wouldn't do to let him stay,
Not for the first time,
Not today.
But she put on her new black knickers anyway."

I like Wendy Cope.. she once ran a seminar at training weekend I was on and she set us a task of writing a poem whilst we were in the sauna /steam room to share at the following days session!