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The stream (all workshops)

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


no end to love

when known the spark
Igniting the hearts of two,
where shallow endings were once a fear
now finely tuned
like the strings of a grand piano.
Brokenness that once was,
has faded into forgotten.

Thank You, Teacher

We teachers all on knowledge dine
And we unlock our students' minds.
So they can reach the path divine
We really are of a special kind.

We are mentors that prompt their yearning
Reading is a skill that we must impart.
So they can always read for learning.
A thirst for knowledge we should jumpstart.

We are like shepherds guiding sheep
Showing them how to choose the right path.
Without our nurture, they would sadly creep
Through all the world unending wrath.


Sometimes in the dark of a deep night
ghosts appear to bar my sleep.
They haunt without giving me fright.
Into the dark they slowly creep.

At times the ghost is a small boy
with hair of blond and a broad smile.
He haunts me with innocent joy
and only stays for a short while.

The ghost is sometimes in his prime,
thick of hair and strong of stride
who has just begun to value time,
with muscled arms and shoulders wide.

The Journey of La Puce (the flea)

All morning, Madame studies
those latest bite marks in her mirror,
pondering whether or not
they should remain
exposed as her passionate lover’s
brand of ownership or perhaps
more modestly covered.

Small prick marks next to those left
by her lover’s nibbling teeth
and sucking lips, are my own—
the marks of this French flea who had
abandoned Madame’s poodle Fifi
in search of a more agreeable climate.

See? They deserve it...

How could a man who is sworn to protect and serve
kneel on another man's neck
until he was dead?
How could anyone stand by and do nothing?

It happened because
that man has no empathy
It happened because
no one wanted to be on the wrong side

How could people burn their own blocks?
Why did people loot and riot?
It happened because
they let their ignorance show
instead of their struggles

How could there be protests
and there was no violence?
Because people do care
about what happens

Sad Old Drag Queen

He looked in the mirror
How gorgeous he was
With his sequined spangly skirt
Covering his hairy legs
And his suspenders
Only slightly soiled.

Sonnet to Passion

Do not delude yourself, my precious love,
You can't escape my searing passion’s flame.
By moon’s vague light that breaks through clouds above,
You may not see me as I call your name.
Indeed, I have obtained a magic cloak,
a cloak made of my boldest, fondest dreams.
I struck a deal with spirits I awoke--
The price to pay--damnation--so it seems.
Are you asleep? I do not think you are.
Oh, such soft falling, rising of your breast;
It tells on you from near and from afar
And spurs the passion pounding in my chest.

The Hermit (titles workshop)

She stands alone, her curtains drawn,
her door Is locked
not even the birds come to flock.

she has a snake, of course its fake
She sits there hoping, one day it will wake.

What’s made her hide withdrawn from life?
She once was a talented poet.

The words of others played on her mind.
She had so much baggage
and could no longer find,
the road that led to poetry.


Dreaming to Read (Edit Grace ma'am)

I dreamed I’m going beyond
how far much further more than that
I found myself screaming
how can I go beyond
what will happen to those
who of me are fond

I shall not go so far
unknown distance near
an unknown star

then I screamed

I have come so far
this much
how far is yet more
I rushed back to my
living family pond
promised myself
I shall not go yonder
than this

The Villagers Fear

Thundering footsteps shake the earth
massive hands of iron
an earsplitting roar
what manner of being is this

The villagers ran in horror
ignorant of it's purpose
save for one small child

She smiled at the giant before her
though it towered above her,in dizzying heights
he bent and scooped the child up
in one swoop of his hand
the child wiped away a tear from his eye


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