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NARRATIVE POETRY SHOP (Let's get started) 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.



I often have this strange and poignant dream
Of a lovely maiden who is sweet and dear;
A beautiful dame of yesteryear,
She kneels with reverence beside a stream.

And then in the night she comes to me,
In the moonlit mountains, tender, of the spring,
Which inspire songbirds in the trees to sing,
In a minor tone, near the fountains by the sea.




I ventured out beneath the pale
Oceanic sky in the summery heat;
My thoughts were of my lover, soft, discreet,
When I found her dreaming on a rosy dale.

Her eyes were dark and of ancient folk lore;
They shimmered like diamonds in the gilded lights,
And beamed like streams from angelic nights,
From that lovely Carolingian gaze she bore.


Narrative Shop entry #2 "A Day In The Life Of...

a pussycat am I, my name is Bennington,
for short, they call me Benny, or Ben
Steve and Cat are my family,
we started way back when.

I was just a kitten, then...
over seventeen years ago
they sought out a breeder
wanting not a cat of "show".

just a Birman of the breed
not perfect of markings, just so,
when they found the right one
in their hearts, they would know

The Painter (Narrative Poetry Workshop)

It was a kind of family secret,
the paintings without names
Her modesty much stronger than her ego

Explosions of hues and brightness and joy
Capturing light as the mother of reflections on water,
and the spaces between shadows and curves
that spoke through the language of her brushes

It was how she talked to our hearts
when words, at times,
seemed the more difficult path for love

The full moon rose over suburban streets
faint traces of daylight slowly draining
from a shadowed sky…
… bats swooped above tree silhouettes
darker shades against the night…
A perfect time to walk in fading light;
Branches echoed with a babbled chorus
as parrots squabbled for tree-space
and one by one lights shone
from regimented rows of houses…

*added note below:

PLEASE don't respond to this one but instead comment on: Narrative Shop entry #2 A Day In The Life Of... A pussycat


On a moss covered bridge, made of ivy clad stone
Our regal carriage passes slowly by
As hand in hand, we ride alone
Through the soft silhouettes of the emerald park;
You're gaze instills within my heart a sigh,
For your eyes are lovely, deep and dark.

Days of Spring

Days of Spring
This pheasant
lives in a cage of words,
black sticks bent just so, floating
in imagination’s thicket.

When he calls - chack chack,
a woodland copse, tree trunks
packed close, appear in my room,
the darkly silvered stems like shadows.

As I watch new buds and blossom
unfurl, on boughs reaching to the sun,
above the dark chaos beneath,
I smell petrichor, I smell musk.

Secret Humor... [Narrative workshop]

"Hurry, hurry, get up it's late!"
How come it's so dark?
We changed the clocks, remember?

Get dressed, don't dawdle
Wash your face
Comb your hair

Pancakes and peanut butter
Tea, sweet and strong
Milk makes it smooth

The wind blows hard
It looks like rain
Put your collars up

Bye Mom, see you later at lunch
The school four blocks
Looking at later already

"Hey! Wait!"
What is it Mom?
"April Fool, it's Saturday!"



In a hushed lament, in December I go
Beneath bare boughs in the wild air
Which swirls in torrents, everywhere,
As I wander like a wayward leaf in the snow.

Meanwhile the wind weeps dolefully
In the languid dusk of the winter chill
Forming ivory wreaths on the pearl white hill
Carrying your name - to torture me.

John Lars Zwerenz


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