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Proposal - The Lab - encouraging critiques/comments

We'd like to thank the community for the wide ranging discussion on our prior proposal. We'd like to submit a new proposal after extensive debate within the AC -- we believe this takes into account much of the feedback that was received.

We are proposing to create a new category of poem called The Lab. Poems in The Lab will still show up in The Stream and elsewhere, however they will be specially marked and visible. Submission to The Lab will be limited in several ways.

The detail of the proposal, and an opportunity for discussing this further, is available in the forum:

The forum discussion will be open through June 29th.

The stream (all workshops)

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


Someday This Gonna' make Sense

after a busy day, i broke free by the riverside..
watching the lilies taken by the flow,
to the far diverging end form my sight,
a tiny sight i'm a fool to know..

my eyes flew back to that rare-taken.. highway,
where a mobile came to pass then and now gone
how may ways are there along the way?
to realize my goliath dream to be her one..

will she ever dare to catch me down?
or will always see me as a bitter clown?
will be chilled up by the sense of doubt,
nah, i wish i would never fall off the ground..

her hands

her hands

of finest stuff
of nature, her hands
are wrought --
to shine
the world a brighter
set amidst the stars --

her hands do sing
and dance in mortal
air -- but have transparency
that is eternal

their loveliness -- their
beauty --
their slender elegance
I wish gracefully to
hold in mine --

and feel a moment of
eternity they possess
without effort.


I'm walking out the door,
to head south bound
down the interstate
Into an old home
where it all gravitates
It's just an old cave
With all the writings on the walls:
a past, their present, had no future
It's my Yuman paradise
But what the fuck is all of this?
Some folded cloth?
A broken vase?
A clay covered casket couldn't say more
My legs crooked like a heart
that could belong to anyone
The chief is lying on the floor,
his blood is in on trade,

missing footsteps

Two things never disappoint.
With unconditional love
even when you make mistakes
they soothe the soul with a touch, look, hug
that can heal the aches.

And because they are innocence
the universe allows the loan
of power usually only granted the gods
to wrest and twist a smile from a frown.
Young children and old dogs.

Two things from my past world I miss.
Two different types of feet.
Two two-legged forever following me
and a set of four bounding behind to the beat
of tail-wagging, tongue-hanging glee.


Across your gentle curves,
between wide hips,
dark swell of breasts
and jeweled lotus
hidden within the softness
of your thighs
are stretch marks,
pale as moonbeams
against your evening skin
that you,
have always tried
to hide
from me.

It makes me laugh
to see you curled up
in such discomfort,
gaze accusing,
a look so full of little shames
and angers at the fact
I will not turn
my gaze away.


A balcony right on the sea
nobody here but you and me.
Music wafting to us from the pool,
for you I guess I'm still a fool.

We sit with wine glasses in hand
on the Myrtle Beach grand strand
as the dim dusk fades to night
and the stars blink into sight.

Neither of us still are kids
( in fact I know I've hit the skids )
but I still get lost in your eyes
which shouldn't take you by surprise.

Badges of Honor

The smooth silkiness
of your thighs
Contrast sharply
with the baby-chewed breasts.
Badges of honor
by the loving eyes
Of the man
lying against your chest.

I touch each stretched scar
with light caress,
Awed at the wonder of
motherhood's traces,
Beneath each pink-tipped
mountain crest.

Time neither withers
nor it's beauty replaces!
Wear each sign
with proud dignity my dear,
For by them
your beauty is only


When in strange bars and with large strangers,
We tourists often land in danger.
As hours go by we purchase Cola
For some old tart whose name is Lola
We pay as if it were champagne
(I'll never go back there again)

But tourists have strong constitutions,
Survive the Runs (and revolutions).
Sunburn and long, long flight delays.
(I once lost ten hours in a maze)
But in Sri Lanka, near to Galle
I took a Tuk - Tuk to the Mall.

The Answer

as we lay touching,
enjoying the slow cooling
of spent ardor
and shared pleasure,
you gave me the smile
that puts the gleam
of mischief in your eyes
and asked the question:-

would I prefer you
as a younger woman?

The asking of it
doesn't bother me,
for such inquiry
long ago became expected,
revealing the depth of
what you feel for me.

Would I prefer the fumblings
of young eagerness bereft
of experience? first unread poem over years

the kiss
lips are divine
they are fine
but none on earth
can lips
of my kind
ever find

I wear no mask
for I love my task
just kiss me
like a fairy

and see

how love flows
from my lips to thee

this kiss was lovely
didn’t you see?

a newbe Neopoet’s kiss
absolutely free

is an add on comment

none glossed it yet
since a year had lapsed

still i so present
as I wash out old linen


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