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.

she never sleeps

bodice of night
the swell of stars
caught in that cupped valley
tin of fizzy beverage
'well I am a bit tipsy'

I slept only under the moon
the sleep of the vampyre
awaking to her form
in the ungodly glow
over me...the face
bereft and naked
unhurried unworried
she left
as beautiful as any
Lady Macbeth
yet I wait
Out out spot
let me be staind'
with that memory
the ghostly
drifting off
I hear the five oclock
in morning dark
call as sure
and steady as
any damned
and haunted


Editing stage: 


of Poe. I'm thinking that this has something more than what meets the eye.
I feel that it has a hint of warning, an emotion yet unclaimed, a presence yet defined.
I love the feel of danger felt and the wonder of being scared in the dark. ~ Gee.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

I read Lovecraft who was a more apt detail man...but Poe went for the juggler..

Mr W

author comment

Just the right length and images. What a great ending.
Its a poem that's fun to get right in and out of.
I can just hear and see that 5 o'clock train.

When I consider so often you have one or two words to a line, it is a different type of poetry. It takes a certain mind set..a few words or words makes us feel that line in a unique way- like
"she left as beautiful as any lady Macbeth" is so different from
she left
as beautiful as any
Lady Macbeth

Who are the standard bearers for this approach to the poem? I think was first Cummings, and besides him I like Neruda. But both those, and others, also used different forms.
I think you are a master of this style, and a very creative mind is at work there. I would love to occasionally see you step out and try other styles. Every so often it's good to do that. Just ask Picasso or Apollinaire, or ee himself.
Just a suggestion. Challenge helps us grow in the craft. There's no rush, but maybe someday- I can't imagine what kind stuff that fertile brain of yours will produce!

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

like any...staying calm with meds
summers here so its nice to walk out
alone taking my troubled thoughts to mull
amongst the many smiling friends
and faces feeling the sun
quiet stops to let the breeze
touch my hair...let the light in

I do occasionally commit to rhyme are correct in a desire to see
more on the resume
and I shall consider this in future

been going through a tough spot
but ive been through these before
everything is lined up for a change
but the loss of the dog was sudden
although not unexpected
here in my pack we almost lost all
but getting out more to get in shape on
the bike..get some tan on my face
to look healthy and arms
fitting in with the equally struggling
and speaking more in groups
lets them approach me as ask about
my inner unrest and I can answer without
the ego getting in the way to defend me
so much hurt anger and sadness
like my friends of all sex and age say
'your not alone'
Was working too with a male chum...both he
and I stick with the ladie crowd....mothers sons
but every so often I get to hang out and work
with the bros which is nice..
Met a 'sister' today...'hello brother'
my long hair...sunglasses on
skulls shirt on black T pretty much
signifies what I want to identify as
she was pretty cool....
more grounded..more real then the
prettier others who are okay
Im past the age of chasing tail
for that sake....
but I like them for friends
I find the difficult landscape of
love an interesting catylist for
writing....but not just restricted
to that experience..
will think about other venues
of putting the form of a poem
togther with more verve
and flexiblity

thank U

mr W

author comment

I understood each word of this
soft sweet
I have a sweet tooth
know ye

with such soft candy
feed lovedly
poets will also take me
as a poet

your simplicity speaks
of your innate
inborn ability
take this as my maiden
now jess
won't need to
kick me
machne gun F!!!!''n
poet me

i remember 'cotton candy' perfume
the steppie loved...writing here she
would come up behind me and
wrap her arms about me
Vibrant..young..out there kicking ass
I admit the presence kept me young
shes doing good with her man north
they drive down visit..

but your writing with its one liner wit
which she expressed used also was
what I love

those lines
were like the drench of
sweetness on the cake of life
the dessert to the meal
why I like intellectually witty people
and like me she was not prone to
work but would dig in..
I like people who can back their
bluff...not make huff excuses without
any spine

thank U

Mr Wolf!

author comment

now you can me expel

gave up my share of milk for pups
losing dogs is as bad
as losing dear ones
may be much more

as dogs are more humans
men/omen are at times

i recall vividly...i dont live here....i have my own place
i clear out for three days or more a month
regulations about income etc...
the month before my dog died she cried and cried
when i came back...but i was lost in my head
difficulties...of my own...shitty weather..interpersonal
on goings like anyone has...
swamped to say the least..
I should have gotten my head out
but didnt....she just settled in close
to me for the moments from that point
on till the end
but humans have that intuition too
i think most of us know..when the shadow
or edge of the inevitable will cut love
and live and set us adrift to the maker
nice to think we just end....but I know more
been near death myself a few times
had strange post life views...and spirit
moments from friends passed that cannot
be explained...
either way....Im not afraid to meet the judgement
just another job

she met death without a whimper
and said goodbye with dignity
wherepon humans squeal with indignity
worse then curs
why I like dogs
their hearts are pure

thank U


author comment

i push myself...past two days the creative process of the mind hits a sweet spot
at the cost of the body and mental health
but there is a moment in that which finds a plateau
like climbing cannot live with that view
and the work involved to get it must be worked for..
not for everyone...
coolidge with his writings....and others..
sure there was much sacrifice and additional
use of....but the work was the reward
and cost..

in a way the bell is an awareness..
chimes are used in cockpits of airliners
to warn of shifts..which got overlooked
leading to demise
i think it trust......waking knowing they
are there and I was helpless
I have many fears from childhood
trust was not something to be handled
nor trusted...
staind' reference to a band I like
and slang almost
like a Pollock painting
thank U for my beautiful friends passing
its hard because the good weather is much I was going to get back
to doing....too late...I lost two years
buried in all the emotions and baggage
I hang onto....emotional hoarding...
running everyone else ahead
but its getting out
speaking about it
making contact out there with
my pack here...
and those supportive here
are like family members
those that can behave and
sit around the table are first
which I lately am joining
gone from the chair outside
the circle...
to the inner..
no longer the fox barking in
the night
I am now the hound

thank U...


author comment

Love the way you have woven this.
Brought Macbeth into the here and now.
Short poem, but one I can easily get lost in.

Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

we were immersed in creative crazy mind
blinded me....i thought us was anything
but...the I worked for the much..
nice above the clouds...the view...
at cost....I recall the trophy wives...
from Bahamas and ports far...those people
the world was their day to day
gambling debts a mere trifle five hundred thousand
and when I worked the street a shopping cart
to bring home my bags of food from under the
gardiner expressway jamaican nice lady worker
was a tonic...the native young pretty glue sniffer
leaning on the church wall in spring sun told
me with vivid clarity despite the high exactly to
a T where the food bank was...alice asked the cannot judge nor assume
nore waste the wastrel on nasty lecture or recriminate viking oarsman....if one is not rowing
but mere squawking like the certian
they had their reproach to get the worth of row
from them then the blow of words...I love rowing
I love hard work
and I loved shakespeare
and MacBeth
all my very sweet and beautiful women
were ambitious but they paid
were not afraid
Will wrote it beautiful

woven...the kindest compliment
Thank You Jane


author comment

time is short today....beautiful
celebrate my dogs life
no passing is endured
or otherwise
not many really wish to die
its the hurt that gets them
mentally or physically or both

this actually happened
the women I knew were bright
loved me
found me out there
I make them laugh with the crazy
shit I say
veering off the beaten path even
with the dog to go straight up
a slippery escarpment..mellow
enough with ground approach
do able..
or convos...
most just roll their eyes and leave
but the creative stay

but sleeping...which I do less of
they would stand over me
watching me in the moonlight
more then once I wake up
they never say..Boo or anything
just quietly leave and Im bright
enough to know its their time
to examine me in repose
in dream time
but such a beautiful
creative moment
my Lady McBeths

you are right....a bell of wake
up but not the alarm or sunlight
or rooster..or train
just rising surfacing from the depths
to feel the air and stars or clouds
or wind
in a way the openess of the womens
minds is like this for me
i have always felt there is a difference
to eachs spiritual power
of the sexes...but thats my own opinion
thank You all...
will return for more
gotta run..

Mr Wolf!

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