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The stream (all workshops)

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


Fire Sermon for one.

I kneel in reverence to ember dulling
then blow in a prayer hissed
rushed dragon kiss
of life into the night's glowing coals

I exhale with a fury of love,
having imagined the world
has taken your face, your form
and more

replaced you with mere
frail memory-

And so the kiss of fire,
hiss and crackle
pyre and pile
on furnace face

glows in rapt attention
at the light thrown red
as heat and life is given

Euphorian Walk

Beyond higher octaves
sings rain
Through pores of spring

I remember these fields
we lay, like seasons
on the threshold
of night

Salving our eyelids
with unspoken words
feeding flames within

At times I heard
the baritone
of your wolf heart
howling at my moon

I was forever festered
to you, my love

Basking in this light
Knowing I belonged here
morning came

too soon

My Sincerest Love Message

Don't ever sleep over
it’s dangerous
not worth half a night
spent with the one you really love
as you seem to be married
or at least have a boy friend
do adjust


beneath its burdensome adventure
rolling far above
my shoes kiss the smile
in its dark lair pocket
of glistening gulps
broken shards
sizzling like a cold fire
these lights
thesis of mirth
exposing a fang
for throats
Let me taste the
fury of this gloat
gushing in its
creek bed wilds
latent brush
corpulent need

Alone to Think

I shall have to walk in glades of green
Or walk into my dark room there unseen
How could I ask which one to choose?
The greens have it I cannot lose.
The softness under foot, peaceful touches
Where walking is a silent treasure to me.
The birds sing forth, though there’s only three
Say what you want from little ole me.
I am here in this my sanctuary
Where my mind is brushed with perfumes
A felt tipped leaf touches my soul
As deeper in the forest I go
You cannot find me here as I blend unseen

My Son, The Drummer Boy

My son, the drummer boy.
Barely thirteen, will march off
To this civil war.
I hope and pray
I will see him again on earth
Before I see him in heaven.
His father is dead.
His brothers are lost.
There will be no man of the house left.
His sisters and I fear for his life.
The enemy cares not if
They cause me another reason to grieve.
I told my son, the drummer boy,
That the most important thing of all
To remember is to keep your mother's
And sisters' love in your heart.

When the Stone was Crushed

Architecture is a wonderful expression.
Granite blocks, copper and slate,
stained glass—impressive impressions.
Spires and gargoyles high above
where no one can see but stray gulls
and doves that circle, dive—scrounge
from the waste on the ground.

The church had always forced our lives upon us
until one day the line was crossed
until one day the stone was crushed.

Revelation at 25,000 Volts

Revelation at 25,000 Volts

When high voltage strikes a man,
one wonders what his briefest
thought might be before life
dissolves in sparks of electricity—

Will he submit that his demise
is quite in order with the nature
of this world, maybe rejoice
in believing that he is free
to join his deity forevermore?


Squirrels don't care about the rain
they still forage all around
and flick their tales as if insane
while planting acorns in the ground.

Squirrels pay no attention to the cold
as they lay on limbs to catch the sun
or dig stored nuts from the leaf mold.
Watching them can be great fun.

Squirrels don't have any fear
as they jump from tree to tree
or scold foxes that come near
and even sometimes bark at me.

Lights, Camera, Horror....

Lights, Camera, Horror…

Their cameras steeped in gory lust,
commentators soon fit to bust.
Little wonder they’ve lost our trust,
as they do what they so, so must.

Now an audience who’ve got to look,
no matter the horror or body blow.
Blame given to a man with a hook,
is this all these silly people know.

A span to long or bridge to far,
i’m not sure we have the answers.
Both sides fanatical have left a scar,
incurable I fear like some cancers.


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