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.

Primal Poetry 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.

Wait I'm Coming... [Primal Poetry Workshop]

Pulsating rhythm, chord of chants
Dancing with stars and gods
Who goes there?

Totems built of dreams
Animal spirits in the flames
Snakes in the grass

Ancestors speak of the past
Listen children...
Where have you gone?

Reaching out
Hold the vision
Wait for me

Workshop: 

Listening to the drums (primal poetry)

he heart begins slightly to race
and she is not happy. The steady
thum, thum, thum, is not her taste.

a little boy is being physically bullied,
forced to be subservient to the will
of a more powerful other.

mind then drifts to abstractions
where it picks up the eternals
to bridge the tempora sphere.

Then the beat calls me back, the heart
has accustomed, and I can understand;
after all, we all come out of Africa.

Workshop: 

ANCESTORS (Primal Poetry)

Here stood our ancestral home
the crumbling wall marks the spot
here a sheep was led to the slaughter
to appease the gods and atone

for faults which our destiny
has blossomed into crimes
there my cursed father once stood
and shouted to us, his children
to come back from our play
to our evening meal and sleep.

Workshop: 

The Tunnel (primal poetry phase 2)

The drum, the only drum
Slow relaxation
Irregular breathing
Regular breathing
Slow breathing
Shallow breathing
I am barely alert
Above dreams
I am in a tunnel
I become the tunnel
Shifting sided to side
Up and down
Images appear
Some are held for moments
Some come and go as a dream
Feel suspended
Then not suspended
Focus
Is there something to see?
I am in a tunnel
The tunnel is me
Feel the movement
That is all
That is the focus
The movement

Workshop: 

Below Drums (primal poetry)

Passing through the drums I fall,
And a challenge came to be
Yet before I disappeared,
In wait he appeared.
Charging me I struck
With one blow
Knocking him down
But arising he came at me again
Yet with more and
They were adorned with feather dressings
And I spat in his face,
Then once again he went down
In all his feathered glory.

It was them and us to crown a king
So, I bowed to a new king
On his thrown of carved wood
With the universe of words understood

Workshop: 

Black Blob Primal Poetry

in the twilight of the night
before the day light comes
a black blob
a white light
a lion's head was formed...

a black blob appeared before my eyes
a white blob came from the dark side
and the face of a lion formed from the light
three times is what i saw...

tiny blue blobs
appeared at the bottom
in the corners
the image...

Workshop: 

More Drifting (Primal Poetry Part two)

More Drifting

I felt your presence, so I have returned
Sitting there on the beach mind in a churn
I heard the call from you for a place to go
Here I am so that I can another place show

Let us walk a while till senses subside.
Turmoil boils creating a noise inside
I will show you of the other place I know
Over there is a cave that invites us so.

Workshop: 

I’m In Love... Again (Primal Poetry Stage 2)

On a good day
It’s everyone I see
(except skinheads)
On a bad day
It’s just one or two,
Who shine.

But there is one species on this planet
That hearing one of its own in distress
Runs towards
Instead of away
(that’s us, by the way)

It’s not just our big brains
Or opposable thumbs
We care for each other
Genetically
Humans are fucking commies by nature.

Workshop: 

Primal Poetry Phase 2 UPDATE

Tunneling through
the smell of earth
the worm I am.
Others move next to me
and break into my furrow
only a little though
I am moving too fast to
stop for them
alone in my narrow row
water seeping in
it’s cold
I move faster now
with no one in my way
I stay moving
through the smell
no hunger here only fear
I need help. No, I don’t
onward to that sound
breaking through the ground
rising up above
There is a light in gold
it’s warm
I found my home

Workshop: 

Memory Link (primal poetry)

A trumpet has been blown
For unity
For brain work
For love
For peace

The flute has given
The rhythm
The melody
The hope
The joy

For the time of old
Never dies
Our forefathers
Our forethought
Our time to renew

For the colours we see
The sounds
The timing
The prime
All started afar and now and ongoing.

Workshop: 

Pages

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