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The stream (all workshops)

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



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

The Rehabilitation Of A Fundamentalist

there is a monastary
in the woods
no one lives there

the forest had obliterated the sky
and as if "no sky" meant "no God",
all the monks fled.

running to the churches and
cathedrals of the city,
only to find themselves skyless again,

they ran to the desert where it all began,
and finally learned
..."too much sky can be oppressive to Man"....

sunsets and romance

sunsets come while Earth spins
Sun just flies through space

Earth and Sun have a romance
in progress --

terra firma orbits round
its bright star lover in heavenly ballet

affectionately -- rightly so
without her there would nothing be --

no flowers, wheat, squirrels, bats, sleeping babies, trees, flowing rivers, oceans, sand, tomatoes, fog or clouds, rain, pine needles, sheep or wool for sweaters, cattle, hogs or chickens, certainly no eggs of any kind . . . or leaves changing from green to shades of death colours in the fall


I was an obnoxious bitch,
a malignant witch,
to ever treat you so.

Dearest friend,
I'm with you till the end,
our relationship rules,

Forgive and forget,
please don't poor scorn on,
my regret.

A pal and a mate,
our interaction is so great.
Please don't hate me.

childhood disappointment

I remember way, way back then
when first I saw television.
So Dad could judge its worth-while
one was brought to our house for a trial
by the man from Retravision.

He set it up on the back veranda
the better to be able
to run to the aerial on his truck parked outside
the thick, long extension cable.
The neighbours had all been invited
for the free viewing and showing
of the newest wonder money could buy
and the reception they could be expecting
if thinking perhaps the technology to try.


The cracks of longing
and the tears of goodbye

The pain of losing
and the need not to cry

The realisation of loss great enough
to make you want to die

The dumbing down of knowing
that love has passed you by...

BB 5 November, '10



How selfish I must be at heart,
and claiming such is just the start,
for cowardly would fit me too.
I'm not the man you thought you knew.

We're both now coming of an age
that's like act three on our life's stage.
Our middle years are passing fast
with autumn coming near at last.

Our passion's not urgent or bright
as it was on our wedding night
but it's still more than just a spark
or memory on which we hark.

My Time...

The hushed hour before dawn
Pastel-pink wash on a sky of robin-egg blue
Just for me

Blackbirds wired like notes in a song
Silhouetted on lamb's-white wall

Radio soft-rock
Girls just wanta have fun
The donut-girl going to work

Neon come on's blink breakfast
Cigarette and coffee in the church parking-lot
Too early for God

Murmers of male voices behind dispatch blare
Buy a car they say
Fly United [heh heh]
Time shares for sale

And I write ...


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