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AC Election (October 2018)

Our election continues with the following individuals on the ballot:

Barbara Writes
Roscoe Lane

The election concludes on Friday, October 19th (5 pm Eastern Time).

You may view the voting guide (and candidates may update their responses) here:


The stream (all workshops)

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


So, I Digress.

Some things are difficult, if not impossible to put into words
because, believe you, me...I've tried.

No language is that "perfect",
no slang that "complete",
and no feeling that "opaque";

yet, still we try...
..but, to no avail.

For, we attempt to say the words, and phrases clearly;
but, what the other hears...


When I woke up this morning and I saw you lying there
with the sunlight through the curtains shining in your hair.
I looked at you lovingly, while you lay asleep
then leaned over to kiss you, gently on your cheek.
And I do believe it's true to say,
I think I have kissed an Angel today.

Narcotic Rhythm

Narcotic rhythm
pounding beat,
hypnotize and set me free.

When that sound hits,
I lose myself,
I let go.


Turn up the heat,
make me high.
Body sways, releasing me.


Stomp and shout.
A drug free buzz,
body moves, relieving me.

Bass rips through my chest,
I become more like myself,
with every depression of the keys.

Crazy darkness,
wraps me in it’s web,
and i'm gone.

Snow Day For Home Schoolers

So we start another day
of school at home,
the boys all bleary-eyed,
morose and slow
with newly-eaten breakfast,
me half-asleep,
fingers warming
on my mug of steaming tea,
the small ceramic heater
whining softly
in the cold front sunroom
that is our classroom,
the chairs marched in from
the dining room
as forlorn
as the boys are,
after Christmas and New Year.


Rise up your bold wave
like Jupiters gleam
this cold blade flicker
our sacred whisper

knicks and tricks
like Secret Tears
like forest fears

draw hearts with
hard cruel tips
(bite your bottom lip)


The biggest snow in twenty years
ended late this winter morning
finally in late afternoon
clouds break open
revealing a citrus sun

Tinting tangerine cotton candy clouds
and enhancing footstep's craters
as shadows swiftly lengthen

For a time of short duration
all white surfaces are burnished
by low-angled shafts of sun
while the arctic breeze
shakes loose bough bombs
of sherbert ice cream
which keep scavenging squirrels
on their toes


My head buzzes
like hornets 'round their nest
I can hear them faintly
far off in the distance
the voices
"You're going nowhere." they mock
"No one cares!" they tease

Louder and more persistent now
Echoing down a long, empty hallway
"you're nothing!" they scream
"stop trying!" they screech


When the land is covered
With its blanket of white
And quiet over takes the night
With a beauty that is sublime
I think I am living on clouds
That have fallen from the sky
Complacency seems to overtake my mind,
Forgetting that there are still creatures ,
Stirring in the night.

Blame It

Blame it on a moodswing
blame it on the wind,

Blame it on something
that you didn't do, again;

blame it all on others,
or on society,

blame it all on god,
or how mother nature rules the sea;

blame it on a feeling,
that, absurdly does return,

blame it on a lesson
that you are yet to learn;

but, placing all this blame
what no one wants to see,

is that no one wants to say,
"I've got to blame this one on me."


Margaret Ann Waddicor 11th January 2011.

Oh my man made of stardust, 
your face, your eyes made of gems, 
like the sun, in its death will become,
a diamond in the sky; 
the darkened charred remains
of all life gone, she/he will 
stay behind, a forgotten universe, 
full of life and excitement, 
exploding each second, 
then time will just stop
never having lived at all.


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