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The stream (all workshops)

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The Silence

Every night
I die of depression and loneliness
and wonder what I’m hanging on to.

Little scraps
little moments
while you try
to figure yourself out.

I can’t,
I cannot keep doing this.

At the cafe
I had one beer
then two
and thought the walk would help.
I listened to music on the way
and there I
felt temporarily relieved.

I smelled pizza,
Which was tempting so late at night,
but alas I only had
six dollars to my name,
and the drinks are calling me.

DON'T CRY BABY (Reviewed)

Don’t Cry Baby
let tears not come into your eyes
wash them away
don’t cry
just for me today

I want to see love in your eyes
Rose’s, tulips and daffodils
with the fragrance of my love

O why do you cry
I'm living and still kicking
O babe don’t cry
wipe out the tear
from your eye

I am still alive

why fear of what docs say
they have to calm you
one day
so here as I sing for you
just stand by


A tow path between future and past,
an old horse and her wooden barge
have slowed down. She looks around
with somewhat new eyes but still walks.

My mother’s clock on the wall
concentrated on critical task
hangs low today. Time talks
and kids look at me as if I was
diagnosed with incurable painful disease.


Our vehicles swarm in a steel hot day
Around the busy round-about
Where the highway meets Route 4.
It was there my eyes saw a raven
Arriving and defiantly posed
Folding his wings behind his back,
In the center of the berm and spongy grass
Encircled by a wall of stone.

His eyes followed our every move;
Black like the craggy graveyards
He must have come from
(Like that stupid poem we read in school
About some creepy bird and loony fool).

A cave or sanctuary

A cave became a gateway from the world
I walked through its portal seeking peace
The darkness clung to me, a mantle of softness

The sounds of outside quickly died and fled
The quiet descended hard on my troubled ways
Here was that peace I sought in daily chores

I sat and felt the walls so strong around me
I felt the roof that curved shielding my ways.
"I am here" I screamed, as it held my sound softly.

Modern Man, Classic Thoughts

does the grass
wax poetic
like Whitman?

the mountains feel
their own majesty?

the birds have a song
but without words

about the GNP
or the First World War

vows upon
a July wedding day
or a December
newspaper obituary

was memory made
for man
above all?

to sing the triumphs
and defeats
the lies and truths
and lessons learned

even in the Underworld
or somewhere
beyond the stars?

a flower lasts a season
the years pass by

Watches Watch.

Broken people, broken places
broken money for those play sets,
broken smiles that used to shine
broken watches still tell time.

Self Praise tutor

Now a day's
teachers want to earn
they are not bothered
till the student rises
so they impart extra tuition

when one comes out as
then they can say
see he is my student...

Education is not the essence of life
Knowledge comes more with
all of you here
have such an immense store

no one can with anyone compare
as one's wisdom
with humanity openly
one does share

sincere poets are always
in our perpetual
everlasting glare...

My Quill

Submitted by Robert Tucker PhD on Sun, 2018-08-26 11:28


The night is dark and full of Terrors
Spreads the mischief of darkness
You that harbour evil and cast
Away light even with it's regal position
Even The Shadow's are frightened!

Evil you hold dear
You pushed The Stars far away
And evil deeds you embrace!
Your presence be felt everywhere.

Reveal yourself and let
Light take darkness as it's protege.


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