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fixed verse – it's not a curse workshop

This shows the poems in just one one workshop. To see all the poems on Neopoet, go to the stream. Or go to the workshop page itself, where you can find out more about the syllabus.

Finding the Way

Submitted by Rula on Sun, 2013-02-10 11:36

I look upon the dome when dawn has shown,
a light, a promise basks another day,
 a pearl of glory crept and slowly grown
fulfilling sights and hearts once went astray.
When darkness wraps, and eyen can't find the way,
aloof, and only high one finds the lost
whereas the helpless, hopeless souls exhaust.

**eyen" is the plural of eye as in child and ox
 

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

In the gardens of love

Submitted by Rula on Thu, 2013-01-31 07:58

My garden's blushing with colorful smiles
lively pink, yellow, red and fresher green
all mirror greatness that no one denies.

No more gray clouds to reign the blue skies
as spring only shows more delightful scenes
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

No need to wish now for a warm sunrise
no more winter winds shall blow a serene
to mirror greatness that no one denies.

This is when love persists, it never dies,
but holds life in every corner and seen
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

Just like this

Submitted by Rula on Sat, 2013-01-12 00:01

I wrote your name in caps and bold
on sheets of gold
to simply glow
to tell and show.

You wrote my name on withered sand
with shaky hand
when winds then blew
and left no clue.

So guess in peace you forced my heart-
my dearest part
to face a fate
before its date.

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

Silver String unraveling

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Thu, 2012-12-27 22:11

sensuous slide of candiru
microgram of the guinea worm
established vectors of swine flu.
ebola's soul in frightful form

of the pandemics something more
duet required, eyes glazed with hell
vectors unleash the oozing sore
and we all kindly open cell

two to four and four to eight grow
nibbling faster through us they go
cures obscure and circus lure blow
hucksters twitch from the tree moon's glow

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

in a pocketful of dreams

Submitted by judyanne on Fri, 2012-12-14 12:35

around her finger lies a rainbow's vow
that promised her a silvery-golden moon
still, after all the years spent, even now
around her finger lies a rainbow's vow
bestowed by one in history kept, somehow
within a telegram's curt words of doom
around her finger lies a rainbow's vow
that promised her a silvery-golden moon

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

My son..My sun

Submitted by Rula on Wed, 2012-12-12 11:17

For you my gardens thrive and bloom,
conveying perfumes all your way.
to weave the heaven's charms on loom,
for you my gardens thrive and bloom.
The sunrise shines to glint the gloom,
and casts its rays on plots you lay.
For you my gardens thrive and bloom,
conveying perfumes all your way.

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

Sing rondeau

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Sat, 2012-12-01 19:26

Sing

sing of it children, free and unafraid
each syllable's ring, each consonant laid
laugh at the high spot, weep into the blue
bemoan wet feet from the holes in your shoe
rest in the chemical scent of her shade

As time passes that sunlit serenade
will hold you up and fix your barricade
you'll ponder how much she remembers you
sing of it children

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

MY Story ...Refugee No. Million

Submitted by Rula on Sat, 2012-11-24 14:16

The years have almost passed my history.
My name is Number Million Refugee.
When others played against my destiny,
Palestine preserved the true identity.

My name is Number Million Refugee.
With blood they often fed and nourished me.
Palestine preserved true identity,
when others swept my Home's dignity.

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

Pother; a Pantoum

Submitted by wesley snow on Sat, 2012-11-24 12:21

Now, let us speak of pain my friend
and all its presence once implied;
of how it made my mother bend
the long, sad years before she died.

And all its presence once implied
‘twas more than I could hope to bear.
The long, sad years before she died
all proved the start of scathing wear.

‘Twas more than I could hope to bear,
the rack was ne’ertheless my lot.
All proved the start of scathing wear
when father passed from heart’s fell clot.

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

Cenancestor

Submitted by wesley snow on Sun, 2012-11-18 23:31

The protoplanetary disc
would make a man.
Organics there assumed a risk
and life began.
In alkali of nascent rain
new RNA had much to gain
and much to lose with lofty plan
to make a man.

The chemoautotrophic bisque
unhurried span
abundant seas now teeming brisk
with microbe clan.
And bathed in this interior~
The Universal Ancestor
shaped carbon as an artisan
to make a man.

Bisque; a rich soup (French)
As for the rest of it~ Google!

Workshop: 
fixed verse – it's not a curse

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