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.


And were we wrong?
To stand outside in pale night
inhaling vapor fumes.

He said,
“you’re alright,
and so am I.
If only the days would stop dying.”

And I think it should be read aloud,
walls close spirit slowly
fading away.

The girl behind the bar
to whom
I can’t ever say what I wanted to say
is hurt by
Have faith though, my son,
have faith.
That above all else
is essential.

And outside,
we’re all false.
Yes outside,
we’re all false.
And outside,
I’m all false
And almost all of the time this world of mine
sits just slightly amiss.

These white circles are worthless
they just perpetuate the spin.
These white circles are
a small drop in the eye of a whirlwind,
but everyday we do try.


Everyday we might try.

Editing stage: 


we do.

love this peek into your wind

I’ve written a poem. It is a very good poem, but I am terrified of trying to get it published. Every now and then I sit down with it and change a word, remove a comma, or even re-write a line that didn’t sound as good as the last time. The poem is about profound grief, but my grief is lessened every time I work on it. Maybe my reluctance to share it is because I don’t want to give it up. To me, at least, it is a brilliant, heartbreaking, perfect piece of work.

Mario Vitale

kind of poet
your impressions are meaningful
like smoke in circles
goes in the air
and smoke is flown away
like the wind of olden days
it dies with ones desires
as in
were those kind of pleasures
you are a young man
who is stepping out into the wilderness
I am now wild may soon out of the universe glide
so in terms of reality I my vision never hide

I love guys and gals
who drive and strive
You are now another one
chasing perhaps imagery
in some sort of a bee hive
metaphorically only
glad you read me

I am one that prefers strong focus in poem. There are moments on the poem that move me out of my seat, and others that confuse me in terms of establishing a poetic narrative.
I am unclear about the vapor it one of those new cigarette things or fumes from cars or other, I am not sure...
The next stanza immediately engages me in the image of days passing, and i want to follow that thread...the next stanza tells me it should be read aloud, but I'm not sure what it is to be read.
Next stanza at the bar, we are introduced to a different idea of having faith, my son..I can assume only it is "faith in having faith", (one of the 10,542 quotes I'm reading on faith, trying to figure out what faith means to me)...It is not made clear to me what this essential faith means to you.
Following is a superb stanza of a minimalist existential truth, with the excellent repeating of false to drive the force of the words. Finally I am introduced to the white circles, which I can only assume are smoke rings from the vapor things, but I'm just guessing. And as to their relationship to the abstract of daily trying..It is not clear to me what you are trying to get from the day. What kind of redemption you are seeking. Is it to get the days to "stop dying"?
In a short poem such as it hard not to take too many "stances" in your relationship to the poem, and I feel you have a few too many in this work, which could indeed prompt many poems.
This is my take, and when I comment I always try to do so with poems that either partially or totally resonate with me, and spend some time with them. I hope you accept my comments in that spirit.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

and this is powerful work.
But you know what? I disagree with what I think is the basic premise.
I think we know the truth of ourselves, and we show it willing or not. When we blatantly lie or are lied to we know it, it's just that lying is such a deeply, personally abusive thing we seldom call people on it, we just go away with a tainted touch on our spirit.

Then again I'm probably reading into this something that's been on my mind lately, a question put to Socrates about whether a wrong knowingly done that will cause harm but a good end result.
Sorry, I'm waffling.

You lost me a bit on the 'white circles' image.

Neopoet Directors

(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.