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The stream (all workshops)

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


A Friend In Me

I see a loneliness in your eyes
and I don’t know what to do
I know you’d like to be different
but then you wouldn’t be you.
You just want to be the same
as your friend’s appear to be
but you need never feel alone
when you have a friend in me.

Sometimes when we’re together
I see the sunshine in your face
then something takes your mind
to a different and darker place.
Perhaps I say something wrong
or maybe it’s other things too
but if you talk to me, I will listen
and bring the sunlight back to you.

Slowly Through The Dark

Slowly through the dark,
on searching foot
and wondering eye.
Await the call of the morning lark
to loot stars from the sky.

Frigid winds bow 'round,
without effort,
sweet on my skin.
They've peddled down to meet with the ground
a-saunter their shy din.

Each day a new life,
which, born to us
we should cherish.
For we know we shall not meet here twice,
only once we perish.

A New Day at Sunrise

Wake up.
A face, half burnt, I can feel the where the flames danced
The other half turned stone, petrified.
Static snowy television skyline
Fizzing fades in and out
Rising and falling like the tides through the night
The ringing of bells, adjusting to the time
There is a river running through us, a violent maelstrom of love

In the Silence RE-Revised

In the Silence

In the silence of the eerie night,
As the breeze rustles
Through leafless trees,
The sound is eerie,
Totally different,
As if there were no trees.
Life as it is,
Was a lonely pathway
Open in desolation,
Upon those deserted sands of time,
Totally mistaken for peace and calm,
I was walking in the midst of darkness
Totally unarmed,
When I was blindfolded
And taken,
A case of being mistaken

the second look......

and in the time it took..
I watched the gentle curve
or your cheek
the shadow neath
your jawline
the swerve of hair
in the lights

so much gleaming
in the quiet gleaning

and the jumble of the day
lingers in the stumble
the stars like jewels
and ermine winter
lays soft across
the years

and catchs frozen
all the tears
of the frustration
of the rage

and so it is
that here
where night
will find
my footsteps

Puppy Love

Little puppy yummy
With a pink pop bellied tummy
Oh so tiny! button nose, moist and shiny.

Round and round she wheels
Roly-poly head over heels
Briskly dashing, rough and tumble speed crashing.

Greeting those she misses
With excited icky kisses
Wanting cuddles, sometimes piddling puddles.

A soft bundle of fur
Belying a mouth full of grr
Sharp playful bites, tearing a hole in my tights.

The Old Wing Chair

In the corner,
Arms curved out to hold,
Wooden hands protruding,
Stretching and resting,
From its sea green damask clothes,
Its legs slightly bending,
Clawed to the rug below,
Awaiting, making room,
For two if one was small,
To be there snuggled in a lap,
When happy or when sad,
Now worn in spots,
With traces in its threads,
Of all the times it held them,
A father and a son,
Who now grown gazes down upon it,
And imagines he’s still little,
Standing looking up,

A Boy with a Hissing Heart

Stair-step stacks
of hardbacks, paperbacks
and journals silhouette
against cloudy gray light
seeping from outside.

Numerous mentors
say read poems,
journals, and novels
learn to form beautiful poetry.

He labors through
anthologies of sonnets,
sestinas and free verse.

Collins, Levine, Kooser,
Nash and Oliver call him to lessons.
He is not a schoolboy.
He has a hissing heart,
writing is entrancing,
pulling forth a storehouse
of secreted pains, passions, and fears.

Misunderstanding ( a co-write with Hooded Stranger)

We had a misunderstanding .
How can men and women
Feel the same and yet be so different
She said

We lacked the comprehension
To understand how women and men can
Blame each other when they're really both the same
He said

We walked into the room with fire-arms pointing
And took our places on the battle ground
You in your corner and I in mine
She said

We marched in the room with fingers on triggers
We stood our ground on the battle field
Not giving an inch on either side
He said


Foul stench of self importance,
The air so thick , It coats the back of the throat
choking you on the rancid hatred and derision.

Gasping, fighting for breath amongst the putrid smell ,
of ego, ambition,
and dead hope.

Festering skank riding an odorous wave
of arrogant dross,
bilious heap of filth.

Open the sluices and flush
It all out.
Expunge the stain.


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