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Experiment - Stream - Sorted By Creation Date

We're experimenting with sorting the stream by creation date, rather than "last updated" date. For example, a poem created on August 14 will be displayed before a poem created on August 13, even if the August 13 poem was revised on August 16.

July Contest Results

Congratulations to the winner: Sparrow42
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/summer-love-july-contest
This month we have an honorable mention: B9Pat
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/best-fourth-july-july-pleasures

Thank you to all participants for entering this past contest and all contests.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

WINTER'S SONG

.

Just beyond the end of autumn
I hear the winter's call
and he arrives to slay the leaves
which, stubborn, clung through fall.

The land once green and full of life
has now grown cold and sere
and harvest's colors once so rife
no longer are seen here.

As white and silver cloak descends
to cover silent frozen land
air turns cold as all warmth ends
and quietens all at hand.

Defeat

Child on horseback
Won’t you come for me?
Mother by morning
Won’t you cry for me?
Cause I am so tired of being strong
And I am so sick of being wrong
That I will refuse to breath

Sun on my shoulders
Won’t you burn me?
Moon calm the violent seas
Won’t you drown me?
Cause I am so tired of being afraid
And I am so sick of riding the waves
So I will refuse to speak

LIMITED

My knees hurt so much today
I decided home I'd stay
And watch the autumn sun so bright
journey from the dawn to night

The sky is not all pure and blue
within it fluffy puffballs grew
morphing as they drifted past
outpacing shadows that they cast

Between the earth and drifting cloud
flocks in migration cry out loud
as they sojourn to southern lands
in large flocks or scattered bands

Dynamics Of Me

.
I am a still life
...like a bowl of fruit
...or flowers in array

nothing unsettling
or startling
nothing to turn from
or linger upon

timeless
...of yesterday
...or a thousand yesterdays past

changes percieved
glance to glance
derive solely from
the commotion within yourself

I am still
I am fixed

quietly afloat in that which is eternal

youngest gal! then two years ago...since grown

youngest gal!
you are very young
exquisitely beautiful
charming!

guys and gals
you‘ll be alarming
as they will be desiring....

take great care
be totally aware
Internet is actually dicey!
life is pricey

guys want that only
what by now you
ought to know
hopefully!

so take care
my youngest friend
before you meet
a premature
towards the end!

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
globe
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.

untitled

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.

Maps

Across your gentle curves,
between wide hips,
dark swell of breasts
and jeweled lotus
hidden within the softness
of your thighs
are stretch marks,
crisscrossed,
pale as moonbeams
against your evening skin
that you,
embarrassed,
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
that
I will not turn
my gaze away.

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