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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.

Death Of A Broken Planet



Often it seems like I have betrayed my world
like a rough lover, mauling
bruising his woman in the dark -
leaving marks upon her skin

In my bomb shelter - I perch on the very edge
as greenhouse gases befoul the air
and choke me like traffic fumes.
I watch my planet burn out like the woman I once raped and left to rot

Along my streets the newsboys cry
the old burnt-out world is dead - a stillborn babe
as sick cities fall like crumbling Babylons

Safe From My Being

getting to the matter of fact
through an embrace with perks

beneath the shelter of her smile
shine your light on...on,

we let one shine
or to fly...

seek to love a verse will rise
safe from my being

to care for a riddle
seek vast for shelter

love to linger
explorer the horizon

let go with the flow
keep it before the ploy

a kiss for a girl & boy

A Short Walk.

Here on this beach I wander
Direction seems to have left me
Sand catching at my feet slowing my pace,
The sound of the waves reaching out

I caught a glimpse of something
There in the distance a shadow that grew
It grew into a young woman
She called to me across the sand

“Where are we?” She asked.
I sent out my thoughts to her
It seemed that she caught them
As a smile caressed her lips.

Sounds at Dusk

I’ve walked this road a thousand times
and probably a thousand to come
Changes are subtle but still they befuddle
My eyes catch the shifting of some

The mist has arrived in dusks fading light
The shadows that fall now seem twisted
I take cautious steps not knowing why
Now find myself taunt and tight fisted

The concrete seems soft, leaving my mark
Behind me the trail disappears
My eyes are deceiving but ears are receiving
the low groans they suddenly hear


In the near silence of this night
as witching hour soon approaches
I try to overcome my fright,
despite my best it still encroaches.

I'm in this house based on a dare
made in the cheerful light of day
but now I feel dark spirits' stare
all urging me to run away.

Flee this small deserted house!
Flee right now while you still can!
Flee! my mood and mind espouse.
But fleeing isn't in the plan.

The thoughts of a troubled soul

Can I run away from my problems?
It chases me as a predator to a prey
Looking to devour
my human sanity,
I have no immunity
from its fangs,
which hovers around
My self-consciousness;
Breaking inner glows
Corrupting rows of thoughts

No Breath in Me

I think about what I could be
but there ain't no breath in me
Plenty of light but I can't see
Cuz there ain't no breath in me
I'm the empty husk of a hollow tree
There ain't no breath in me
One kind word will set me free
show me what I'm supposed to see
Make me who I'm meant to be
but there ain't no breath in me.

To our Mother, Nature

It’s all a buzz and hum of living
swirling among clouds,
lifting high above the ceiling
of the what’s and why’s and how’s,

A swarm of wilderness afloat
upon the wings of the great breath,
a ray of sun is sizzling hot
upon my skin and sheath.

Reasons do nothing to contain
the joy of being still,
there’s a wide melody that trails
since before my birth and still—

I attune to listen in
to the shouting match of crows,
the blooded drum beating within
to the great dance and its bows—

Ah! You Comfort Me

You are the soul of a poet
I can only kneel before you

As you are a real poet

Poetry for me
is just an expression
of thought love and emotion
as these go hand in hand

Some like it others can
but many digest it they can't

so I keep my pace
in the rat race

I don't participate
as I'm one of my own kind

Unique hope all don't mind

My love is universal
it's for the asking
where on the earth
do we have humans basking


Our land will smile once more,
The word provoked the peasant passing wind
Flamboyant bogus ‘Agbada’ dangling,
And a one sided ‘Kembe’ folded
Murmurs some in the awaiting crowd
What has the eyes not seen

Our land will smile again
If I drink from the cup of the past saints
Education under trees will be paralyzed
A loud thunder on a sunny day
Could this had been the intervention of ‘Sango’
Just let me in


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