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To serve poet. workshop

This shows the poems in just one one workshop. To see all the poems on Neopoet, go to the stream. Or go to the workshop page itself, where you can find out more about the syllabus.

woodland wandering (To Serve Poets' Workshop)

WOODLAND WANDERING
The sun goes down.
Day yields his kingdom to the night.
The moon appears.
Confirming sun’s disgraceful flight.

On woodland trails,
Forgotten years ago by man.
The Axeman hunts,
With sharpened blade kept close to hand

The young girl waits,
Her boyfriend gone for breakdown aid.
The car, still warm,
Lulls her toward sleep, unafraid.

He sees the car;
The Axeman takes a ragged breath.
The girl awakes;
Her fate is horror, pain and death

Workshop: 

To Serve Poet -Silly Putty Girl vs Master Baiter

Round 2
"Hello …you look
familiar."
"Really?Have I
met you before
somewhere?"
"You went to
Duncan Myer
High.Right?"
"Yea! I did
did you …?"
"Yea …Go Duncan
High Rangers!"
( Whoa! What a hook!)
Flag on the play
she has a class
bumper sticker
on her car.
Round 2 to him.

Workshop: 

Tempestuous (To Serve Poet WS)

Death crawled in through her sex hole
and ate me away until I was
just another stranger passing by
I mused over the blood I should be bleeding
teasing her with a playful game of hide and seek
she sought me deep into the marrow of my bones
before becoming familiar with me in that old haunt
where I hummed songs with Death
while holding hands with her uterus
she tattled on me to my god
and if my god were to exist
I most certainly would have to be punished

Workshop: 

To Serve- An Empty Revolver

-An Empty Revolver-

Workshop: 

Reverend Director - V... To Serve Poets Workshop

What's this? There are low voices
Faint footsteps in the hall
No one supposed to be here
Just the Reverend, that's all

Tight and angry whispers
"We will kill him now"
" He's done this thing to all of us"
No more and that's our vow

The young girls filed in slowly
Steak-knives and clubs of wood
Killer shrank back in the shadows
Should he stop them... if he could?

Workshop: 

Deceit (Serve A Poet WS)

Each breath does now stink
fouled by your dubious lips
which had lured me into a kiss
now makes my heart sink

Gone are those milky ways
now blurred in my misty gaze
hope too has sunk to the bottom
of a well I now can't fathom

I piss off your poisoned potion
curdling knots in my bloody veins
in the muddied mess I now stomp
on the mirage of your lovely face

Your shadow follows me no more
now freed of your dubious love
as I tread on a road less traveled
my breath now rid of your foul

Workshop: 

Fresh Blossom (To Serve A Poet)

You stood out as a delicate gem of nature
the epitome of true passion
before your youth is ravaged through time

Weathered of your prime,
you bow to fate's decree, leaving behind
seeds of your memory to the birds of flight
that will spread them across the earth

The memory of your youth will linger
in the fragrance of the soil
until its time for it to be revived
when another's cycle begins

Workshop: 

Hidden Love (To Serve Poet)

Hidden Love

I sit here listening to soft music.
Spirits of the Isles, touches my soul.
Racing as silent tides toward my shore
Gathered, then gently left for all to see.

Thoughts of things gone by, touch me now,
visions of things to come satisfy a need.
Where are those voices that echo love
I need them now, to fulfil a space in time.

Comfort in knowing our love is safe.
That you and I loved without earthly ties.
Come sit a while with me, here as one.
Catch with me our love, because I care.

Workshop: 

Yahooo!

Woohoo!

Yeehaaa!

Yobs yell to be sure
so everyone knows they are having fun
don't they know it themselves?

The bottom lip quivers,
perhaps pouting a tad too much.
A quick sly glance
betrays,
that the lady needs to know
her grief is seen
in-between
sly glances

Workshop: 

There is a tall loblolly pine
beside a gravel road I sometimes drive
beyond a weathered dead end sign.
It's years since it was last alive.

I first saw it with needles brown
at the start of leaf fall's season.
The tree stood straight from root to crown.
It died from no apparent reason.

And time passed on and time passed on
until the tree stood needle bare,
a thing wood peckers drummed upon.
I once saw a horned owl perch there.

Workshop: 
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