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The stream (all workshops)

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


Not Clever

Allow me to express myself
collect each thought to mind,
reveal the muse, that twisted elf
observing from behind;
secure the secrets of my heart
to guard my weary soul,
infusing joy in ev’ry part
can, maybe make me whole.

Pertaining to my manic muse
(ostensibly a friend),
eternally he will abuse
my mind to his own end.

For me, for now, for ever,
unbridled poet never,
not least, as I’m not clever.

Trumpery and Co....

Fake news wins the day I fear,
our media call it all post truth.
Nuttal finds then wipes a tear,
another creation of his youth.

Blair arrives to call it foul,
heals himself with golden thread.
Boris commits to timely scowl,
both will soon be breaking bread.

If they can argue until May,
Euro laws can call brits to duel.
Judge’s effrontery can save the day,
smith dot co left playing the fool.


and the perilous times are upon us...
Cinnamon bun basks
a toasters work
tis stuck
can I do this she thinks
sipping butter from her lips
french manicured nails
gripped on a butter knife
The left side...sinister
is holding back its treasure
the long spool of hair
falls...the racket is clearly
heard the soft bumps
then the dashing like
a marten caught in
a conibear
'fucking thing!'
the knife clatters
bends her body
hand flat
hair dusted with the

The Appointment

''As my time is nearing
the coast of time
Soon I may also be
non -existent...''

A very young girl
we knew
just went into the ops room
and said

‘’meet you on the other side.’’

We all stand by the side of the river
when the stream will engorge us
no one ever knows

We just look blank
into wilderness
who is calling us from where

She came into my dreams
and said

''friend come over
its fun and folic here
Oh you need not fear..''


I lost...
the keys to the car...
I hot wired --
her poodle skirt wouldn't merry-go-round...
til I that last place...
Nothing there--
Ran out of gas...without them...merry-go-round...
Through a red light--
That'll teach me...What?...
I don't know--
Ask the poodle


The skeleton is treading water
yet it barely stays afloat
and chokes on all it swallows;
waves engulf its ev’ry stroke

The bitter taste of disappointment
sours shreds of silent tongue
and salt is not a healer
and time only for the young

Resentment pulverizes hope
in an underactive heart
a rope tied tight around the throat
constricts a breath’s jump-start

The drunken liver dissolves dreams
sunken eyes deliver damned
and with the many lonely screams
the disillusionment expands

Gone Fishin'

Gone Fishin’

Far outside the marina, fishing
for sea trout, I keep
one eye on my faltering bay boat’s engine,
the other
on the approaching fog bank.
Cobweb appendages
reach for me.

My companions, a dozen
Guinness beer cans clatter and roll
empty, rejected
along the boat’s bottom.
Do I care?
I still have a 12-pack in my cooler.

Capture A Smile

In a frozen Kodak moment in time
You must seek to follow your heart & shine
Built on a promise of inner beauty
A picture is worth one thousand words
To the fine lens of a lonesome child
It's in an opened door and the call of the wild
Through the distant clouds it will appear


She sits alone in the darkness,
Suffering in silence
From the pain of a broken heart.
Crying because she misses him,
Unsure of what she had done,
To drive him away.
Was it all just a game?
Best friends they had been,
Love she thought they'd found.
The life she'd been dealt
Made it hard to trust him,
But she opened her heart,
to get it broken once more.
Her spirit's been lost,
Her Faith is running low,
Her heart grown cold,
And time has made her bitter.

Drawing Broken Hearts

Drawing broken hearts
in coffee clouds and foam;
cinnamon and milk,
caramel and coffee.
Evening falls over a chilling prairie.
You're leaving me here
with a smoking habit and rum.
Don't come running back;
You'll think of me long before
I think of you...


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