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The stream (all workshops)

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




Never knew my emptiness
Often getting into restlessness
Remembering the part that's bloom
I sat alone in the room

Just at my door a resounding knock
I jumped up to open the lock
There your charming and radiant pride
Quickly my heart’s door opened wide

Your warmth I got for free
Your song whispered love to me
As I reminisce your smile
I wish you were here a while



Once something changes,
what can change it back.
it flies away
the heart, like a feather
fallen on a hot street
blown among the traffic
and crowds of glossy lasses and horny lads
where will nature be taken?

Oblivion treads among them.

The rare tree a hero
the bird a heroine, monumentally
remind us of the nature we lost.

A Poem A Day

Everything’s faster these days
Cars and computers
Mandolin players and ocean polluters
Bullet trains
And mass shooters

We’re masters of distillation
Bit and byte cognation
And, of course,
Advert infiltration

It’s never been a more fitting time
To abridge a whole life
Into abbreviated rhyme

But the role of the poet
Has always been to slow it

Consider what makes a king or queen
A worthy courier
Of a crown

Taking In The Day

scrapping the sky
teary eyed
thunder zoom
heart booms
cutting loose
earth juice
hands band
stars boast
snow poke
birds slope
show boat
mountains peak
water seep
mystery ride
life's tide
waving days
winds leap
hip back
feet naps
sand base
happy place


Riding home from a long trip
a solitary day in the wild
hand tiring from steering's grip.
I count the years which time has piled.
My mind is filled up with the past.

At last my mail box comes in sight
as the daylight fades to dark
and the full moon rises round and bright
shedding its light cold and stark.

Out of my truck and through the door
came coat hung on its hook
smile curves my lips as oft before
as Susan give a welcoming look
which turns thoughts to the now at last.

Always, Never

It’s never no question
We’re always a little up in the air
We’ve got a brain
Full of gravity
But still a little bit of an empty stare

It’s never just right
There’s always a bit of mystery
We’ve got a soul
Full of fire
But an ocean full of bitter history

It’s always a time bomb
It's just a matter if it’s ticking
Or about to explode
We’re either traveling or get there
It’s about the destination
But also the road

In The Forest Night

darkness blooms
the moon hangs tight
stars twinkle
werewolves howling
the country forest party mingles of prey
leaves drip dry green
the food chain takes pride in hunger
bushes house ants
snakes rattle
wild boar camping by the river
the lioness tuck her 3 cubs in her den
and an owl hoots for hours.


I'm writing this poem to be ignored

like many of you
I enjoy being a poet
of keen irrelevance

A St Certificated.....

A St Certificated……

A cop stood stamping his feet,
the working girl peruses a bar.
A snapshot of Strumpet street,
litter blows but never too far.

I watch, jealous of their ease,
she moves close hands on hips.
Go, he whispers later please,
both smile as she wets her lips.

A special street for this pair,
people here learn to accept.
Strumpet street is more than fair
they also show respect.

Neopoet legacy

Where can I spread my words
To kneed & form to beauty
Where can I find some eyes & minds
To peruse with care, not duty
Where can I find a home
For the longing in my pen
& others with such passion
Writing lonely in each den
Where effort, skill, reflection
Help polish works of heart
I love my Neopoets
Where my writing blooms to art.


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