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The stream (all workshops)

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


Just Me


Just Me

Sometimes I feel the lines.
That my story has been told.
I read of me so many times,
There in poetry, or stories old.

Where is completed truth,
Am I cast in tiny shreds?
Should I put me together,
That I might be read?

I think of so many things
They are reflected each day
Then the poetry runs again
In words, me is what they say

“Please poet just set me free,
Talk of my carefree ways,
An aged one softly spoken
Let me now live all my days.”


A smile as sweet as a choco lick
soaked in a juicy peachy blush
a form with curves like a meandering river
rushing in its youthful prime

Eyes which sparkle and instantly ignite
a passion with their seductive charm
lighting up somewhere deep within
fires of smouldering desires

Lips so lucid moistened with dew
softer than the rosy primes
ready to be writ on their velvety petals
verses with ecstatic chimes


This hilltop is just fine
No more mountains I must climb
Aspirations have peaked
There's nothing more that I seek
The feeling is quite sublime


The simple song of a
sweet water brook
is symphonic enough for me

A field of hay
asway in the breeze
can tease me giddy all day.

Evening porch,
a rocking chair, of course,
watching the sun go down.

A little light reading,
and the sleepys bloom easy,
as wind chimes woocoo the moon


A young ornithologist, Len,
had a nightmare again and again
of a six-foot tall, hairy,
sweaty canary
saying, "Now who's a pretty boy then?"


It's time once more to show your house
the realtor called up to say
so I and my lovely spouse
put all dirty clothes and such away.

And Susan, being like she is,
decided to vacuum the clean floors
and make the bathroom cleanser fizz
while she ran me out of doors.

seems that fifteen sprigs of grass
have grown a bit higher than others
so I must make the lawn mower pass
over them and all their brothers.


Hanging to a thread of sanity,
my heart was a broken glass,
leaking dreams of yesterday,
betrayed by fake friendship,
the noose around my neck.

I'm the shadow of my old self,
pierced by rays of harsh truth,
fading away into oblivion
along with the purpose of life
I once held.

I was falling apart,
a soul shredded,
discarded away from the memory
of the one I've lived for,
dying inside as I screamed
and wept a thousand tears.



I am shattered and broken
beyond endurance
yet I feel the fire of life
still burning.
I am electricity; electric blue,
the elemental life force
and the essence of Self
that binds me to Creation.
I am the way of all humanity:
the Soul in a covenant of one,
one among all, all into one.

The Scout

The night,
the road,
glare and rumble.
I'm deadheading
to the edge of west
where sunny busloads
of the buxom
and blonde,
reaching for stars,
giggle and stroll
the boulevards
of slow pungent fade
as last year's crop
do time
tending shops
and titty bars
and couch girls
moan for home,
and high school lovers

...easy pickings!


erstwhile seasons
like porch chimes
and rusted yard swings

this heat laze sips the
tranquil forest snows
the thicket springs voice
in creeks lucid luxury gush
how U drank in your
breath like a thirsty lush
the sun on dappled
chest dipped
the delicate pulse
of words and that
poised sculpt of
the filtertipped light
in fingers glossed in
french pearl

Pause a while

Here the thoughts run slowly
Only so that I can keep up with them
It is hard to write things for you
You are so picky wanting more each time

How can I satisfy these friends of mine?
I know, I will talk of things shown to me.
Through the trees as I walk alone
The light plays a song for me to belong

Things shown here and there to calm me
Yet I have never been flustered
Here inside where I hide from all
There is a barrier mightier than a wall


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