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The stream (all workshops)

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


Lincoln Cathedral at dawn.

Night that burns through the dark
Like cheap wine conquers dusk
A cadence ripple that scarce touches
The surface of evening and rings out
To the sheer edge of an older plane

Twin towers now gather light
About the skirts of a cathedral: Lincolnshire
And it’s here we sit, you and I
In the buzz din of wheat fields my dear

Where the drum heart of beaten time
Outlasts the bell-clutch of that evening cloak
Where all words fail to grasp this thin
Fabric of chimes passed

last post

Last Post

Well sad
this happens to be
your last post
no money I believe
yet what is money
but the sweat of the brow
it comes and just goes
simply wipe it out

I compose for the love of humanity
so many still come to my gate
as I have shed my vanity
we all must entertain the masses I feel
if we have the torch and seal of lover’s beauty

Don't ever stop!

The traffic signals turned from red to red and yellow as I pulled up in my ‘64’ Jaguar XKE, the outline of a modern KIA ‘milk truck’ barely visible beside me. It was nighttime, no time, nowhere time but a good time for the ‘Reaper’ to reach his boney hand up from beneath and grab onto my front right tire turning it, pushing me forward past the lights hanging on wires above the intersection. Darkness loomed when I awoke speeding down the thickly settled area mowing down everyone in the way (especially children).

#haiku 1

bounteous rain fall
quenched perennial parched soil
heaves sigh of relief

In a Glass of Wine

Staring at the bright night sky
With a glass of wine in my hand
I wish I could Fly
To a Peaceful Land

A land where all is free
All men there are equal
And the next life is just a suqual
of a life without a single worry.

As I raise my glass
I look towards the bright moon.

I remember the days of my youth.
And my dreams of a perfect life.
A house, Kids and wife.
Then I drain my Glass.

Lock Up The Wolves 2

I listen to my words but they fall far below
I'll never make the same mistake
carnality lifting through the extreme
blinded decorum of harmful interludes
there isa cave with evil twisted ways
caverns filled with darkened conclaves
dark viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side


On a deep cold winter's day
with January just begun
I step out of abode's front door
to greet the chilly rising sun
just as I did yesterday.
What might this day have in store?

The brushy hill that faces me
quivers in the northern breeze
and like the deep woods to my back
stands stark and bereft of all leaves,
bare bones revealed for all to see
from poplar's light gray to walnut black.

9 am.

Nine am, an old suit case
and blue arsed flies.

Read old news again today
poverty is dead
a three ringed circus came to play
then Maggie snatched -- our milk away.

Watched two blue arsed flies
doing the Indy 500
around my light bulb.

Drank coffee -- minus milk.



Dreams are a pathway to a faraway land called dreamland They take me away from the here and now In my dreams I can be anybody anything We all hope our dreams will come true Dreams make reality bearable Dreams are a means of escaping reality With dreams our lives are filled with gaiety

The Leaf

See! the leaf is playing
Dancing to the wind-swaying
Its beautifully green
Or is it a dream-screen?
Suddenly the sun is shining
The leaf is still dancing
Maybe its not feeling the heat
Maybe there is no heat
But now the leaf is turning yellow
Sun-heating it below
The leaf is tattered
Yellow-green green-yellow scattered
The leaf is dancing still
But gradually becoming still
With its energy decreasing
Wit time and timing
That which felt everything
Suddenly feels and becomes nothing


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