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The stream (all workshops)

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


ice blue eyes

I never knew her name
I saw her for a moment,
in a crowd~
her face lost but my memory
of it

I consider what
happens to her,

ice blue eyes
shining like
a new robin’s egg

I saw her once
it may have
been a

what else
ice blue


Sweet Torture

Nuclear melt down, 
Stark raving lunacy.

Limbs shake with seismic
Body craves you, like heroin.
You'll be the end of mortality,
I can't release you, need to,
Rap myself around you.

On the edge  of a precipice,
And I want to fall.
Sweet torture .

Why Do I Love You

Why do I love you,
When all you bring is pain,
If I stay with you any longer,
I know I'll go insane.

But I can not imagine my life,
With out you by my side,
My complete and total devotion,
Is something I can not hide.

Your lies flow like a river,
A never ending stream,
I wish I just could wake,
From this terrible, terrible dream.

Your words are like daggers,
With a fatally stabbing blade,
With each awful thing you say,
I feel my life force fade.

hair in the wind


Brown in the sun
of the midday born
Silken strands
of crested corn

sparks light the sky
brilliant welder's flash
jewel in disguise
jouster's winning prize.

Jack was nimble
he was quick
but he's not taking
that candlestick.

All the queen's horses
and all the queen's men
run their own courses
then run them again.



This is the wurst poem ever writ
it has no rhyme, the meter's [email protected] t
well maybe it has one lone rhyme
but it's hardly worth your time

I don't know what the intent is
message as clear as soda fizz
mizpelling and tipos by the duzzen
as purty as an old maid cuzzin

You can relax I'm almost finished
is there such a word as ginnished ?
go on back to having fun
this monstrosity is finally done

Trade Winds

trade winds scraped the sea
churning the cauldron of life
and now, under and deep,
life is thriving, and rife

trade winds soaked the sky
in brigades of rain filled storms
and now, well watered, the land is strewn
with creatures of many forms

trade winds filled the sails
that pushed the horizons of man
and now, man is more than he was
befor his journeys began

trade winds delivered us
to our final berth
now, the connection between wind and life
... is forgotten, if not cursed

Steve McQueen...

Steve Mc Queen, we call him, he's a grand old gent
He's slightly hard of hearing and his body's bent

He don't remember me, but that is quite alright
I say my name is Guy, and click his seat-belt tight

We talk about the things we see, where he used to go
I say; Oh, is that right? But the script is one I know

He goes to church each Sunday, from the nursing home
Sometimes he lapses silent, I watch his mind go roam


Like footprints in the melting snow
our past lives fade away
while leaving hints of where we'll go
from their seeming course we often stray.

The future is the breaking dawn
a day promised but not yet here
a figment we depend upon
as its focus becomes clear.

My path has led me many ways
both random and chosen with care
which disappear in the past's haze
as if I wasn't ever truly there.



With this hand of cards I've been dealt
I make the choices without regret
I choose my path along this bumpy road
As it digs me in, to deeper debt

This hand of cards is full of jokers
I make the call and await my fate
I stand at the crossroads in my way
I know my decision, I nervously wait

Decision made
Flick of the wrist
I watch you twist

I should've stuck
But I took the risk
I bust as you twist


life’s chances
are dances danced
in some square,

onlookers watching,
even their stare,
sees us quite
see us
quite plain
in life’s
dancing quiet --



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