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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.

Rewrite: Aureole burning

Submitted by vandiemenspeak on Thu, 2013-10-24 10:15

That corona garland, worn by few
May be piously brandished by the chosen,

Who by human sleight, in distance gone,
Tried to impress an angry god, with
Good deeds done.

Years have passed, and those left to
Burnish halos above the pews

Grow mute, and faint, inside
The stone façade, outside a fattening Sun,
Bakes the sandstone enclave hard.

The brocade of landscape, drying to brown,
Is burning beyond those sainted gates,

Red by Ron Woodruff with vocal link.

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Thu, 2013-10-24 01:54

Red spoken word

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1geyZYnEHMh

RED for Clara Bow 7-29-1905--9-27-1965

by Ron Woodruff (bluedemon77)

Anti-Randology-Anapestic Hexameter by Ron Woodruff (bluedemon77)

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Thu, 2013-10-24 00:06

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0wApGX3ajh6

ANTI-RANDOLOGY: Full Sequence by Ron Woodruff (BlueDemon77

For the LUCK-/y just SMILE/ for the NEED-/y please TRY/ when in MOURN-/ing do CRY.
Is it HARD-/er to SEE/ relatED /ARE we:/ we are KIN/ 'til we DIE.
We are BE-/ ings of Flesh/ we are TRAPPED/ in this MESH/ should we QUEST-/ion MORE?
for the CHILD-/ ren we HOPE/ on this GLOB-/al scope WE/ must spread LOVE'S/ airy SPORE.

Hickory Dickory Dock! ( Childrens counting song )

Submitted by mand on Wed, 2013-10-23 12:35

Hickory Dickory Dock
The shepherd gathers his flock.
He shears his ewe’s,
In one’s and twos.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
The herdsman looks at the clock.
He stops at three,
to have some tea.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
The farmer rests on a rock.
With four bags full
of soft warm wool,
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock.
The wife, she knits him a sock.
With five socks more,
strewn on the floor.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Meeting there!

Submitted by loved on Wed, 2013-10-23 10:36

Meeting there!
Wherever your destination was, keep a place for me.
there we all shall meet
but will fail to recognize
as we shall have no eyes
still we will hope to hear….
oh hell where are our ears
we couldn't hear when on earth,
how in hell now
after the follow up of birth….
well then we smell the perfumes may be
but noses have also been drowsy
so wait for me
when I come to London
then make fun
we shall with utter abandon
all are welcome….

Anapaest quatrain ( first proper attempt + second attempt )

Submitted by mand on Tue, 2013-10-22 13:15

I am writing a poem for you. It's not likely to work.

I will try, even though I will probably not get it right.

It might help if I think and then write. Confidence also helps.

Or I could take a peek at a poem already in vogue.

 

I am writ / ing a po /em for you, / it's not like / ly to work.

I will try, / even though / I will prob / ab..ly not / get it right.

Workshop: 
The Bottom Line

A new place

Submitted by Ian.T on Tue, 2013-10-22 08:36

From a place that is waiting there for me
Not my cave, and that bloody cup of tea
I have told you so many times before
That I may be the keeper of the door

I shall laugh out so loud like a thunder clap
Saying do you remember this old chap
The one who you gave no space to
Well this place is full and can’t take you.

I know many people that can sit at my side
They gave their best and in love did reside
Here we have no place for bigots who
Had a chance to be, with me and you

P Y X I E L

Submitted by Esker on Mon, 2013-10-21 23:22

cinch at the weather
the wheel clench
leather

drive my little driver
sling us through
bring us few
the dark Darling
smile

kitten tongues
and pearled teeth
the happy dub
step heart beat
thrumming
in the cage

sweet sound
wretched wreck
on a rushed
quiet stretch
the sun shines
us
the swift
hot honey bolt
find us
a bathe
a splash

and downshift
heel calf
boot depression

Our fair share

Submitted by loved on Mon, 2013-10-21 21:44

We all have our own minds
we all have our own slices
we all live
but together …
we can't live alone
can we?

we must value the other
money is just only paper
you can burn and get a burning flavor
but then guilt is your entire share ….
leave it or take it,
if you care …

Indebted

Submitted by mand on Mon, 2013-10-21 10:32

A memory,
vague misty grey,
sees a little girl at play.

Her brothers there,
no voice, no face,
just a void of empty space.

Fragmented shards
of clarity
filter through the murky sea.

He threw a fork,
with no intent,
it was just an accident.

A gaping hole
between her toes.
Tears trickling down her nose.

Her parents arms,
although unseen,
lifts her up, as in a dream.

No noise, no sound,
just bloody pink,
swirling round the kitchen sink.

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