Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


The stream (all workshops)

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


When the Curtains Fall

When the day washes into the sea,
you dance all about
in pastures of minds
where twilight daisies are found
reaching for thoughts
of pirouettes
and spinning toy tops.

Do not awaken, love,
from lightless skies
but feel comfort
bringing desire
and unfamiliar cravings.

Nighttime child
frantic, turn and moan,
bring solitude to fire.

From barefoot innocence
through frenzied smoke
or sunshine against the night . . .

Still Truckin'...

And as we lay in shadows past
The ghosts of voyages come
Sailing past each brother's vision
Dreams of youth and daring fun

Time and distance wears us out
So many miles we've left behind
Crazy fun and broken dreams
The things we thought we'd find

The rain runs down the leaking gutter
Drops to drum on an empty pot
Splashing life everywhere
Keeping time as we never thought

sun doh yan

a type of silence
is spreading

a slice of the earth
falls away

some laugh, some get fat
others over the edge venture

a type of silence
falls away, Tiangu, I defy you!

a slice of the earth
is spreading

falls away, others over the edge
the dupes write missives of apology

some rat, some sell hooks
basic precepts, basic precepts

mit einem langweiligen Buch
kann er nichts anfangen

il porte un costume sans tête
La esencia del absurdo conquista la mesa de la Autoridad!


The old traveler takes a pause
beneath an oak of age untold
whose roots grasp the earth like giant claws
near to a spring that's clear and bold.

A declining house with roof of tin
broods silently with empty windows,
a remnant of the world" back when"
whose roof flaps when hard winds blow.

For now that wind comes from the west.
It smells of moss, of leaves....of years
setting my thoughts on a vague quest,
loosening some long still gears.

And there she was

And there she was, a light in the darkness
an oasis in a desert place;

and all the others faded into the distance
my eyes hoarding light only for her.

I watched as she danced, saw a celebration,
an outgoing of joy and warmth and love.

And when later I looked full in her face
I thought, “how beautiful you are!”

Fag Kitten and Little Dead Girl

they danced in a dream
of bending shadows
face down
begging ass
all hungry back door paradise

ankles strapped on a foot worn floor
paint faced in Ubangi nights
with pin needle eyes
blood crimson neon's
cut curtains
like kissing claws
so their bodies wouldn't forget
dark pleasures lightening
and biting tantra tantrums
they swallowed mad bitch blossoms of hell candy
breathing the others inhalations
foot sniffing ballet arch
in fastened Japanese melting red slippers

I KILLED Him (Suicidal Thoughts)

I'd have knit these words in princely tongues
And cloth it with royal attires,
But this is not me writing.
This is a beta version of me trying to reach out to you,
A mental state borrowing a familiar mind,
So I leave this long note.

Drey Hommies would say this is not a poem, that the line are unfit. You know it, you all know that at least, that he'd disagree a line has to be this long. That the flow is abject and the rhythm is lost and the structure is an injustice to poetry, I mean how can you combine prose and poetry?

Ideology of the Cranes

the group's absurd March to understanding
Lee Chang-dong ripe cries April
sensations high fall

June group therapy--slanted, webbed cow, an ex-abbreviation for thou--
lightness silly girls down beating, humming at the elite--
sanctuary denied--all the cow girls cried: exceedingly tanned!

black labs growl gruel on the brink of hammered jazz, why?
Basic German cells slam shut bang--what maneuver do you require?
Wallander Kenneth improvises to the croaking of nails...

Our Twining

I imagine these lampposts
Have roots
Tangled beneath the concrete

These buildings
With foundations
Stories beneath the ground
Like massive glaciers
In and out of water

The country, the garden
Is not the only
Land of substratum metaphor

We walk freely
In forest or burrough
But so much of us
Is sucking nutrients
From the place we are

The familiar news
Of a gang
Related death
The store or shelter
On 22nd Street
For years


Mornings infused with autumn now,
vestiges of night cling damply
in dawn -light glow...
... birdsong echoes in hollow rings
through thin pale mist
curling down the ever-green hills...
Just beyond her kitchen window
a tree fern stands
like a one legged triffid
thick moss adorns his southern side
- still damp with early morning dew...
Strange days, she thought
- sweeping rain
heavy showers
scattered sun
gusting winds
- four seasons in one...


(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.