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The stream (all workshops)

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



Another man walks by 
And your malevolent stare ,
Tells her she's in trouble.

Silent journey home 
We arrive and the putrid bile flows,  
Your fury knows no bounds

Your up in her face, a man possessed,
Spitting bitter insecurities,
her head rebounds off the wall.

Punching her in the face
kicking her in the head
Bellowing fucking bitch,your fucking dead

Afterwards she's battered and bruised
And you cry inconsolably
Begging forgiveness as you do

God is in a Womans Shape

I heard that god was coming back
To be a gorgeous model
With hair so dark and black
Strung out on a bed in a motel
But when she sings, she sings like an angle
So don’t bother to tell her the words, ‘cause they never mattered

She walks the streets alone
Followed by strangers
The cold chills her to the bones
So close to all her danger
But when she realizes all the things that are wrong
Don’t bother to tell her your thoughts; they’re in the words of her songs

Two Autumn Leaves

Two Autumn Leaves

We all are like autumn leaves
As we all give way to new
Wish you knew too,
Those we,
I and you are no exceptions,
Like autumn leaves
Two palms join hands in unison
As the snow covers us two
Leaves only in the cold darkness
We hope only knew
What fate lies ahead?
When spring is due
We shall mature as manure
Hope we do
To give birth to fresher leaves
As a new lease of life anew.
Autumn leaves us two

The crying's done

The chairs are empty now,
but they were there ....

I'm still trying to drink the image away,
him fucking her, but it seems to highlight
the in-my-bed-vision ....

replanting my right to see them bound
and gagged, sweating in fear;
while I sharpened my tools ....

yes, they were there.


While you're gone I define
my day away from the habitual
fray, where I'm reclined and
uncoiled simmering back from
the boil.

My intuition had me reaching to
this intermission for who is born
to endless scorn, have listened
to you blether, blaspheme pulverised
dreams I'm still inventive but tentatively

The torrent sea within thee
you faltered on my alter that
beckoned self ! heckled off stage.

Roses without Thorns!

Roses without Thorns!

Show me a rose
Without a thorn
And a life without sin,
I shall lay myself bare,
Through thick and thin,
From without to within
Let you upon me sin,
But if i win
Your life will be mine,
For roses are like me
So ever loved and divine
You shall become a slave of mine.

Show me that rose
Accept my challenge
A rose without thorns
O what!!!


Margaret Ann Waddicor 22nd January 2011.

There lies ahead the latent
yet unsaid,
those things that still we know not of,
Some dire and painful, sad,
some full of hope and joy,
as all life coloured so by time
its unseen ploy,
is driven on relentlessly.

Reply from the Lassies

REPLY from the LASSIES By Ian Thomson

Now, girls, let's take a closer look at what the fates have brought us;
Such a motley bunch of males, they think they're great.
That advert on the telly is the one that should have taught us;
We should have gone to Specsavers - Too Late !!

My Shattered Dreams

My shattered dreams
With scolded folds,
Conecrate inside me,
Terrified night.
In desolation, I am left
Soaked in water from head
To toe. My heart etched in
Retention anguish, a tormented
Soul on the loose. Formation of
Age. My torture never ceases.,
Bidding begun. My soul cries for relief.
There is. . . .
No relief for shattered dreams.



What can write this anger,
no words to seal this angst.
Tomorrow if I’m to feel this,
who am I against.

The dinner table’s set,
surely the anger’s mine.
How many egos feed,
then sup at a rich wine.

Caress my spun head,
tear free working word.
Freely call the enemy to field,
show now a true worth.

Give hating heart direction,
to cam disordered mind.
Write utterance of affection,
script the peace I find.


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