Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Editing - polished draft

when the tress will disappear

wide awake in front of open windows
agitating for a breath,
we will run barefoot up until the forest to watch
to our surprise
that the trees aren’t disappeared

but that they have conspired
not to give ever again breath to humans,
especially to the ones who never understood
where life ends and where death begins,
to the ones who have been losing the tree for the forest.

for now, we are losing them both.

Amending the Edges

I don't know when the change came for me
It's not like a date you can mark on the calendar
With little still to prove to anyone,
the edges are worn now, smoother

The change, I think, came from living
and learning from all the mistakes and battles,
as well as a few skirmishes of the soul
I cherish all the ribbons awarded me,
secretly displayed on my heart

Hot Sand and Hay-dust Bums

I wish for every day to be a beach day.
Hot sand and a tan while on land.
Got to get closer to this my true home.
The pirates domain is where my heart shall remain.

Hopping plodding, I hum a song,
(hot soles) something by Little Feat?
Plenty of Dixie Chickens around here,
yet I need to go closer to my call
-the ships waters, yes! I'm free (no fear)..

Of water (I)

the water fills me.
my mouth
on muddy grounds;

though my lips are arid
  all I can think is you;
                                your face


Visit With a Friend

It was such a striking part of my dream. In-between snippets with no apparent connection …why was I wearing hipster shoes with no socks? …why am I arguing with my dog, and where did he get those pants??? I wish I could speak with my dreamkeeper for explanations that often elude me there.

But I digress.



It was sizzling, grilled to perfection
so jucy and over an inch thick
smelling great, the wind wafted that to me…

I wondered about “unclean” when in the stand
the meats of some cultures, which ceremonies
or meals were missed ‘cause it was “dirty.”

The last hogs I saw were wild, and clean
foraging in deep woods on nuts and berries
these were amongst their passel, unsuspecting

community was evident
leaders led them into the glens, controlled them
reminded me of the politicians in our elections,


As I open my eyes the morning scurries about
gaining purchase in all of my senses
from the blatant light spilling through the window,
and the chill clinging to the edges of the night before

And I’ve already been thinking a lot
about holes, the empirical shape of loss,
and how they relate to grief

In the realm of my sorrow these shapes
aren’t ruled by the laws of physics.
Sometimes the holes visit me as colors,
often red and angry at the thievery


Signal up ahead, flashing yellow
induced fright at what may be

signal up ahead, deep forest green
jumping into it, to the fore

signal up ahead, red
burning in, more than an evening sunset.

Signal eminent, there are many
like a Salvador Dali painting, surreal

some are bending, light shifting with it
yellows are as a smoky haze over a mountain

reds are a railroad lantern, swinging
greens are as meadow grass.

Signals alarum - yet not all are warning
on the well lit road


Thunder before rain
A rainbow offers a truce
from the raging storm

Stretching wings workshop (morphing exercise)

The marriage of Oeagrus

sandal dust rose
in the overcast affliction
of midday
I was reaching for rain
horizon born Calliope
touching clouds like a spear
her lustrous beauty
in an instance of blinding fire
ate my nakedness

but then again
a vision of the wind in flux

Oh, save me

the lamb of subjection covered me
the smell of ancient dust
and steel mixed with blood
I begged her eyes
my life force gushed


Subscribe to RSS - Editing - polished draft
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.