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The stream (all workshops)

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


My Mote Of Dust

One can look at a cooling cinder
in awe
of it's once brilliance

The way I now look at your kinder
in my remembrance

The one corner of my Universe
I know for sure
the Laws of Nature
to transcend
the physical bounds of my life

I know my value
you showed me
that in our cosmic neighbourhood
I was unique

Our mote of dust
is the only place
where love exists


I. 'in the embrace of the old armchair'

You depart in the embrace of the old armchair,
Pushed out into the sun room;
How pleasant there, below the Conachair print,
Wearing the same tired slippers,
Your carpenter's shirt.

For three days you wait, unclaimed,
An imposter in our world of the living;
Your eyes still open I heard,
The clockwork travel radio still playing.

I miss you brother!

Now the man who shares my DNA
Suddenly had to fly away
And the greatest brother of them all
Couldn’t pick up one missed call.

#haiku 4

mutual desires
ecstatic blast soon coming
fruition waiting


Buffalo’s without a leader
Can’t achieve no good pasture
Buffalo’s with no unity are like food to the wild Fulani’s
If we say we are warriors,
Why not now that our homes are ablaze,
why should we fold our hands when heads still fall.

As one we shall stand and fight
Forget the governance
Only a grave compliment
They have seen yet speak none.

The Wind Up Choices

I’ve never had ambition,
I’ve had adversarial inclinations,
mostly just wanted not to be my Dad
Never wanted to be my Dad,
A moralizing hypocrite,
A successful businessman

A perpetrator of cruelty, shame and physical abuse in private.

A public figure of humanitarianism.
(He's in the Australian 'Who's Who'
engineer of the Sydney Harbor Tunnel)
His funeral overflowed,
Too many to fit in the church
Even my sisters believe the lie.
I alone knew his evil.


Gentle the clicking roof adjusts to the cool decay
and gives way to heat,
radios play in each quarter, signalling a return
from the silence that reigned a week ago,
cars growl up and down the unperturbed laneway
quietened and tamed, by a season of artifice,
now, the offices start to hum again,
purpose rules the roost - the workers, more urgent,
less milling around like tired drone flies,
sense more the stirring of something new,
something necessary that impels them forward..


These mountain ridges I once knew,
steep, stoney and tinted blue,
escarpments I traveled in days of youth.
What did I seek then? Maybe truth.

I watched their woods each year ablaze
in cool dampness of autumn's haze
for well nigh three score years
some marked with joy a few by tears.

But now old aches ban me from them,
no more to find some hidden fen.
Now all their beauty I can see
is from roadsides, sometimes T.V.

Should've, Would've, Could've... [January contest]

This last year, some regrets
If I’d known
Would’ve hedged my bets

Should’ve followed to the letter
Would’ve done more
Could’ve been better

Resolution... [January contest]

This is the year; you wait and see
I will study hard and make up for lost time
I am going to play less

The wolf howls from far away
Stay away from my door
Let him blow YOUR house down

Waking up in the New Year

The first minutes of the year
two thousand eighteen.

We are still in our teens
passionate gamers
do not care to grow up
but already like
kisses and hard liquors,

already ask,
What is the origin of laws,

already lost
the belief in exceptions,

still taking literally the tale
that another set of universes
exists and maybe based
on different virtues
and better rules.
And even if
we could not be part of it
it is still the place
to escape to in dreams.


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