Disintegration happened rapidly, 
As it impacted the concrete floor:
porcelain cracked, exposing dull clay. 
Leftover turkey stopped making sense,
when the plate lost its primary purpose. 
It was dirt with no history of dinner. 

Broken pieces scattered in turmoil,
rough edges with no particular shape.  
were now warnings of a weapon, 
each sharpened to carve. 
Inaction can slice someone’s feet.
Hey Renfri,
I think you have some nice images in this poem. However, my biggest suggestion would be the try to give this piece more focus. It feels to me like there's just too much happening in this poem to create a strong impression on the reader. It might be worth thinking about shortening this piece, while asking yourself what lines are absolutely necessary to communicate what you want to say here. I'll point out a couple examples below:

(10-25-2019, 08:50 AM)Renfri Wrote:  CHRISTMAS DINNER

You need focus to walk upright carrying a plate. -This line made me think the speaker might be drunk or very clumsy. I think the next line would make a much better opening. The "Its disintegration" could then refer to the plate hitting the floor or the Christmas dinner itself. In other words, I would suggest cutting the first line.
Its disintegration happened rapidly, 
at the point of impact with a laminate floor:
porcelain cracked, underneath just dull clay. 
Leftover turkey and gravy stopped making sense
when the plate lost its primary purpose. 
They were dirt with no history of dinner. 

Rough edges of its broken pieces tasted metallic. -I think this is supposed to be referring to the turkey, but it is very possible for the reader to think the speaker is still talking about the plate. This is one of those times where I would just remove most of this stanza. Only the last line works with the broken plate image. I like the idea of the broken plate representing how the speaker feels about this dinner/his or her family, but it needs to be strengthened.
Their coarseness tried to hook my tongue. 
It was a warning of a weapon, 
now sharpened to carve. 
Even inaction could slice someone's feet. 

Best glue could not hide the point of break.
Every time the cupboard opens, 
judgemental hands will shuffle around, 
naturally select the best of its kind, 
moving mine to the bottom of the pile. 

Each pudding was soaked in custard.
I watched their mouths open enthusiastically, 
When emptying what was on their plates. 
I could not bear the white gooey substance. 
Committing a crime against dinner
is a punishable offence: 
In the spirit of Christmas they all laughed
Since this is basic critique, I'm not going to get into too much detail. However, I hope you take the time to edit this piece because I would like to see where you could take it from here.

Time is the best editor.
Thank you. I thought about your comments and after some thought I’ve done some brutal editing.

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