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Experiment - Stream - Sorted By Creation Date

We're experimenting with sorting the stream by creation date, rather than "last updated" date. For example, a poem created on August 14 will be displayed before a poem created on August 13, even if the August 13 poem was revised on August 16.

July Contest Results

Congratulations to the winner: Sparrow42
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/summer-love-july-contest
This month we have an honorable mention: B9Pat
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/best-fourth-july-july-pleasures

Thank you to all participants for entering this past contest and all contests.

The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.

 

The Weight Of Words

In my youth, words were an anchor,
Defining the acceptable,
Passing judgement on my actions,
And marking life's expectations.

As a father, words were power,
To sweep away limitations
And fill the paths of my children
With unbound possibilities.

And now, as I approach twilight,
The responsibility of
The phrases I choose to utter
Are a solemn obligation.

But, much more important than that,
Are the words I choose to embrace,
And the words I chose to reject,
And the words I refuse to hear.

Sliver of Sadness

Like a black horse turns blue
In sunlight’s
Uncertain shuffle
Melancholy comes
And goes

The thought of love
And its losing
The woes of paucity
Corruption and crumbling

No matter how intense the azure
Orange or pink thoughts
Fill the sky
By day’s end
And the ocean’s blue
Turns clear or green
With the eyes’ minor adjustment

But what would we be
Without a color to mirror
Our doleful souls?

Every heart knows sorrow
And every eye starts blue

DAda Warp Land

i'm unwinding my head
on
honey moon belly
sucking carnivorous losanges
falling in love with glazed
eye ball devils
hypnotic stare

destination
a tunnel of fiendish odysseys

blood drooling eel
vomits gush white
daddy long leg threads
in honeys wet cage
to wither
writhing spit hot
in fat muscle and bone
headless
head first
like a mindless falcon
after scattered mice

My Sweet Cynthia

One foot on the floor one hand on the wheel
The notion of surprise maybe no big deal
We came this far not to turn back now
No use looking back when your hands on the plow
Shadows drift apart at the drop of the dime

Folding hands to forget the night,
When at night I close my eyes,
to think all the days gone by,
to feel again those passions past,
and feeble joy that never lasts,

My Sweet Cynthia

One foot on the floor one hand on the wheel
The notion of surprise maybe no big deal
We came this far not to turn back now
No use looking back when your hands on the plow
Shadows drift apart at the drop of the dime

Folding hands to forget the night,
When at night I close my eyes,
to think all the days gone by,
to feel again those passions past,
and feeble joy that never lasts,

My Sweet Cynthia

One foot on the floor one hand on the wheel
The notion of surprise maybe no big deal
We came this far not to turn back now
No use looking back when your hands on the plow
Shadows drift apart at the drop of the dime

Folding hands to forget the night,
When at night I close my eyes,
to think all the days gone by,
to feel again those passions past,
and feeble joy that never lasts,

We Explore Our Island

Without the Night,

Many days had been hellishly humid and hot.

Everyone loudly soluted what was to be the rising moon-now secretly vanished from sight on high.

Taking with it all the beauty there was to see of blazing comets and shooting stars

that no longer decorated a now absent, but still longed for. . .

twinkling Night sky.

The lack of air time and cancellation of the most watched reality show,

“Waxing and Waning Nights”, twisted all laws of our modern day science,

A Stunning Performance

Like dancing in a mine field
Feet as sensitive
As the hair in your ears
She pirouettes like rain drops
Hips rebounding like billiard balls
Her body in constant motion
As spellbinding as a hummingbird’s wings
Limbs — bending and unbending —
Like a pump jack
Coaxing oil from the ground
She leaps like water from a fountain
And then centers herself
Like a universe’s star
She’s all the colors and every emotion
Like wind through the curtains
A sledgehammer through walls
Her chest heaves

Absence, and Longing to Belong

Longing to belong,
Where I should never have went!

I risk it all,
for it to make no sense...
Lonely, I am. And lonely I'll be!

Cause where ever I go,
I make no absence!
For no one misses me,
and I don't belong...

Travel, I do; and travel, I will...
For me not to belong!
It's a blessing...

I need no one, and my life is full.
Belonging is not a what!

It's a fleeting feeling,
running through you,
waiting to be discovered...

Wait I'm Coming... [Primal Poetry Workshop]

Pulsating rhythm, chord of chants
Dancing with stars and gods
Who goes there?

Totems built of dreams
Animal spirits in the flames
Snakes in the grass

Ancestors speak of the past
Listen children...
Where have you gone?

Reaching out
Hold the vision
Wait for me

Workshop: 

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