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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

I May Be Ordinary

Submitted by loved on Wed, 2011-01-05 20:19

But I send, my congrats too.
All here seem to know you,
Perhaps soon I will too.

As an ordinary poet,
May I suggest?
Here there is so much talent.
If you can select some poems
Good ones
And
Plant a Neopoet’s Poem Edition
And publish it,
Perhaps many will buy
And
Earnings shall go sky high.

EMPTY WINTER

Submitted by scribbler on Wed, 2011-01-05 18:29

Winter
season of death
short rations
scarcity
empty silent woods
scant of even sunlight

Lest one stops
sits still
and listens
then......

A silent crow flies in clear sky
with lightly whispering wings
the winds in pine tree quietly sighs
a far distant church bell rings

A rustling in the leaves betrays
a nearby scuttling chipmunk
among the duff of browns and grays
air currents carry whiff of skunk

Pillow Note # 3

Submitted by raj on Wed, 2011-01-05 14:28

Sweetheart
I know you are feeling Blue
so I wrote this note on Pink
to make you blush so Beau
like "Peaches"
my nick for You...

NEW ZEALAND MINING DISASTER

Submitted by Tam the Chanter on Wed, 2011-01-05 11:31

NEW ZEALAND MINE DISASTER

Watching TV in sad silence, saw the tragedy unfold,
Those Kiwi miners never had a chance.
"Health and Safety Regulations" had all their deaths foretold,
Made their "rescuers" stand useless, wringing hands.

"It's too dangerous!" they bleated, "Can't send our men in there!"
So the rescue teams were not allowed to try.
In my early years in coalmines, we were always made aware
In disasters no one's ever left to die.

Do you see me?

Submitted by Eduardo Cruz on Wed, 2011-01-05 03:15

What does time mean to me,
Or memories that are left behind.
They are the two points in my life
That separate what I knew then
and what I know now.

Have things changed since
My memories waned,
it has only been the seasons
That have traveled on winds
Of a passing rain.

The madness, of my youth
That brought the sweetness
Of a gentle embrace,
Tender lips and words I can’t
Forget.

Winter To my Summer Heart

Submitted by whitescatter on Wed, 2011-01-05 01:45

a new image of life fell down from the clouds
as it drop the sweet touch of silver snow,
peace,kindness,love........ - all's reborn..all pure..
from the charity of heaven lending me a sweet sacrifice...

the gravity of falsehood and the destruction of morals
had eaten half of my soul but with the chance to feel the winter,
i felt rebirth to be better and stronger..
without - i could have been dead and numb..

I Am

Submitted by lou on Wed, 2011-01-05 00:57

I'm a woman 
At once vulnerable and strong,
Able to hurt and be hurt in return.

Treat me well and the rewards
Will be everlasting,
My love is constant

Treat me badly
And I will erupt with a different passion
Take cover and hide.

I contain  emotions
So great, sometimes I feel,
I'm about ready to explode
  

TALISMAN FORGIVING

Submitted by Esker on Wed, 2011-01-05 00:14

I have forgotten all the words
of passing
like a sigh in dreamspeak

up against the incoming
dusk is a tangle of thought
and a single star lonely
as a beacon signal
flares brightly

I could cut out thoughts
and stitch the breaks
theres something
lovely about this pain

and how you ride
against the grain
and fit no well made plan

im so uncertian now
like a paperwork exposed
in rain

how I melt
with each droplet
in tumultous rapture

Heartbroken

Submitted by marich7 on Tue, 2011-01-04 22:17

Falling from a cliff,
Cloak of sickening cysts,
Bleeding from the chest,
Death wrapped in a kiss.

Just a heart beating,
Pain pumped through the veins,
Crimson red chronic,
Diseased infested brain.

Eyes filled with sorrow,
Deprivation of rest,
Flesh cries out in agony,
“Misery at its best.”

Fallen into darkness,
Between time and space,
Where masks are unmasked,
Where places are misplaced.

INSIGNIFICANT FACE

Submitted by ziggy on Tue, 2011-01-04 17:47

Having walked away from yesterdays
quick stepping no longer detecting it's
calm, a sorry disposition this rendered
recluse.

Hearing deafening echoes of events
which have never happened, invigorating
his own solitary existence a loneliness
which was never before possible in the
passing presence of so many.

Now ignoring the hubbub and the clanging
toil, ploughman's furrows once laughter lines
adorn an insignificant face telling jagged tales.

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