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The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.

 

But I could not touch you

i left poetry everywhere

i scattered them with salt and pepper,
cardamom and lemon grass,
rosemary,
vanilla and saffron
& heaped them on your plate,
i hid them under your pillow
to sleep on their magnificence:
lines to make you weep
& capture stardust in wild blue
& mottled green with flakes
of red & gold, ochre and ginger.
i hid them in Dingo's shedding fur,
i carved them into streaming daylight
but i could not touch you

the oceangate

[ sound waves of scenic sunsets... fills the horizon]

when fingers stream upon the mandolin
and prepuce oleaginous from the show
nautical miles navigable, yet irascible sea
pretzels of premature iris chewy
obelisk to a nuptial rapture of valediction

Aramaic verso , trifle pronged taco
verdant tack, sultanate suchlike
sucrose suds, outrun primogeniture
invidious screed forgone of expense
sclerosis scrawnier , titular saprophytes

The Bright Moon (Meet The Masters WS)

The Bright Moon

The silver moon stands,
alone in the night sky
as clouds drift away

-------------------------------------------------------------

Original :-

The bright moon
I wonder where the clouds
are flying off to

Masaoka Shiki

Workshop: 

Words for a Queen

Pen burdened, for ink knoweth not the words to adequately define thee,

Thou art wise, knowledgeable, kind, studious, diligent, bold, fierce, desirable, admirable and just,

Breath holdeth not restraint when in thy presence,

Delight bindeth itself against thy countenance,

Radiance is thy pendant and it shineth brighter than the sun,

The heart doth make itself full with gladness at the sound of thy voice,

Thy beauty is like the spring and summer cometh at thy smile,

Were not the wings of an angel cast from the mold of thine?

pluie de paillettes

Hone the heart
textured skins
wound sinew
bound and
dampened soft

in this wind
in startled
brusque walk
I can smell
strawberries
and dark spring
leaves bending
to the bow
of night

Magic draw
across a ribcage
in weathered
wool

The gleaming
of the blue night
bus with its
crowd half
full

The night has
spoken its spell
and returned
to dream

quell
splash
happy shiver

WHINERE ME

God bless you Sir poets of
Neopoet
for helping me find
the depths of my mind
deep within me
surge waves of vibrations
and
that helps me to stay attuned
with folks like you

NOW SAY AGAIN WILL YOU ?

what and how would you feel

if one day i just

VANISHED

will you miss me

ANYONE??????
EXCEPT IAN!
AMEN....

Percussive Dance

Spirited away
Disappearing into the ether
Behold
I am a bird from far off exotica
You
My beloved
Are but a bergamot
A sprout of the local flora

The ticker remains excitable
Habitually acting like a hyperactive simian
Ascending to the rooftops of euphoria
And plunging into the depths of ecstacy
Without rhyme or reason

Reflections in rhyming haiku, limerick and freeform.

A dull sea's soft sigh
under a lowering sky
the black dog slinks by

There is a mad poet from Oz
who says it is mostly becoz
he's a left-handed geek
and a bipolar freak
and don't know what's now and what woz

Other people's dreams are boring
so I'll spare you the details
suffice to say
I started this day
not drifting in the grey void of pain
again.

Subliminal Pretext

Humidity is warm
the needles stiff sharp arm
points its per cent

"Your wit is a work"

Shall I fetch tea?

do be a dear..........

Shores of Mind

How tainted are they?
Off-white, worn, dry, surrounding,
Were these four ever to speak,
They'd utter grievances of a torn soul,
Scattered, humbled, then made anew

If pillows could but breathe sweet whispers,
Velvet shudders chiming,
Throughout the doldrums of crystal clear psyche,
Selflessly praying to a God, I fear, sometimes does not hear-but still...

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