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More Meter 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.

A Doctor's Patience

I know exactly what's up, friend
and I usually have things right;

but in my quest to not offend
I'll try my best to seem polite.

I don't care much for conflict, so
at those times I may look away;

but, I'll remember times with you
wish I'd stayed at home that day!

You're brand of scandalousity
does almost make me ill;

a detour would have set me free
avoiding clashes with your will.

Your hidden mind agendas, or
what really makes me tense;

Workshop: 

Love Lies, Bitter/Sour

Promises with sentiment,
selflessness portrayed;

lustful motives so, hell-bent
with the goal of getting, laid.

Only half with earnest hearts,
the other half don't care;

but, they're the ones throwing the darts,
with such accuracy, it isn't "fair"!

Sorrows coerce, heavy hearts to break
as unions fade away;

bonus points, are what they "fake",
when there's nothing left to say.

Each time-line turns, bitter/sour
sadness, refusing to stop;

Workshop: 

I Sing a Song

I sing a song of praise and joy
To Him who makes us all wake up
Each day, from the day we were born
I sing a song, I clap my hands
And dance to the beats of each day
I walk the path laid down by rules
Not to hurt those who come my way
I laugh when no one comes to help
And cry when they mock at my back
They know not that I see them all
In front of me they show their teeth
If air were to be bought by men
I will have no where to buy it
I sing a song of praise and joy
No man can give what they have not

Workshop: 

A Difficult Subject

I will come back to see the book you bought
We shall read the page you talked so much about
If you still have some doubts on the main theme
We may have to call in the one who knows
Judge not from the piece I gave you to read
I can see that I am no where near good
I start to count my words with hand and pen
This stalls the flow of lines from head to hand
The muse waits in the room with a stern face
To go or to come back, she seems to ask
My fears rose high if she will come at dawn

Workshop: 

Tracing the Forest Domicile (an old one)

Tracing the forest domicile
away from a shadowy civilization.
A dark toiling earth,
bereft nobility and worth,
amend self gratification.

Searing plains of adversity,
walls, ignorant, situate torn minds, once blissful.
Promise to appease,
a heavy avalanche of knees.
Thoughts in action turn choice deedful.

Yet still recede I to a cavernous mind,
meandering tunnels through questions too deep,
for beneath the surface, emptiness will seep.
Light shatters darkened forms to keep thee entwined.

Workshop: 

Today the daises rot. Her hair, so fine
it seeps through head and heart. The fungus, root,
affliction hard of bones and fingers. Brittle
hate of daughters, sons. Come! Take my hope!
No-more is it I need, my dreams lay shattered, broke
beneath a mild tide: like glass trying to
reflect a hollow ghost. Now claim my words
surrender every pen, my tiny triumphs,
heard by none. And still no-one will be beside
my bed tonight. Alone among my useless dreams,
I tire, feign sleep and scream to gods who don’t

Workshop: 

The Bit (more meter)

The theatre has men who like to pretend
Some force themselves to crack funny short jokes
Others are natural in what they do
I stepped in pretending to be a wolf
An unknown Tiger came to eat me up

Workshop: 

Holding Back

Hold back the moon from earth
and soon the sky will fall
all will be dark and cold
upon the winds of change

The tides will flood the land
That once a world did love
No more to breathe the air

release the sun it too has died
A brief yet painful solemn death

Workshop: 

LORNA

!
LORNA

You glide between the coral heads
Then slowly traverse oyster beds.
Keep to the dappled light, for dark
Might hide a twelve-foot Mako shark.

A flick of flipper scares away
Inquisitive huge Manta Ray,
Who leaves with such majestic flight
His shadow blocks the warm sun's light.

Though none can see, I know you smile
At clouds of Clown fish, colours wild,
This warm, exciting, fish-filled sea
A wonderland for you, not me.

Workshop: 

WINTER'S SONG

Just beyond the end of autumn
I hear the winter's call
and he arrives to slay the leaves
which, stubborn, clung through fall.

The land once green and full of life
has now grown cold and sere
and harvest's colors once so rife
no longer are seen here.

As white and silver coat descends
to cover silent land
the air once cool, turns frigid, clear
and quietens all at hand.

Workshop: 

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