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This week the Neopoem is Symphony in the Stars by Seren. Congratulations to Seren on such a fine poem, To read this poem please click the link below and leave a comment.

Thank you to the Neopoem Group for selecting the weekly winner.

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This week the Neopoem is Recurrence by Kristen H . Congratulations to Kristen H on such a fine poem, To read this poem please click the link below and leave a comment.

Thank you to the Neopoem Group for selecting the weekly winner.

The stream (all workshops)

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


Jenny, can you hear me
asleep on your satin bed?
I've talked to you so often
sometimes only in my head.
we'd awaited your arrival
safe inside your mother's womb
we knew that with your looming birth
your beauty soon would bloom.

your mother slowly rocking
singing pretty little songs,
hoping you could hear them
Wishing we could right your wrongs,
Casket satin makes your bed
under a great willow tree,
sheltered from the elements
Unattached from man's debris.

Straight ahead

A straight dirt path. No
knows what comes after
sign that reads DO NOT

Not even me or
or anyone soon,
am I supposed to

I go straight now, don't
But I don't know
or how, I even

Do I walk the path
might lead to death, or
my own path through the

Do I sit myself
and rest the night or
up and run towards

Nostalgic Dream IncrediblyTrue

She told me she loved
no no no no -crush
you are very much older
but for you I have some kind of love
about that later
she blushed

Missed her from her teens
so many years later
last night she came in my dream
rested her head on my shoulder
soft and supreme

I brushed her aside and said
'tis too late
now I'm so much more older
she blushed again like last time
silently smiled

my eyes opened wide
there was none beside
perhaps she just implied

Austral Dreamer

From Byron bay to Broome on rolling russet plains
beauty shine’s the Kimberly when the northern territory rains
My heart will always weep when the scent of wattle’s lost
gum trees out of sight my world lays unembossed

Kookaburra laughs as dawn lights us with grace
we really love to giggle even wearing egg on face
our words are sometimes drawled but wait theres a but
when we get excited is when things start heating up


Do something different-
It makes a difference;
Nothing can ever
Be the same.

Some folks just love to give, and I’d love it too,
But I’d really just love to have something to give.
I’d just love to give my heart,
but I haven’t got the heart to give.
I’d give you a piece of my mind, but….
Give it time and in time I’ll give,
but I just haven’t got the time.



Rugged cold knuckles
Like black ice
Or liquid carbonic
Tough as English oak


Cozy nighttime fire pits
Calm warmed ash
Gently sleeping
New fronds breathe


Moonlit romancing
To be in love
You’re still the one
Lasting impressions


Windbreakers for soft breeze
Leaf carpets brown the yard
Spiritual encounters


a lion must roar
to remember he can
so necessary his anger
to the ends of man
like poetry in league with its pain
i hear god in the walls with the termites
i see grief who forgot why she came
i feel you in moments and forgive myself
when i remember you're not here
so as i sit folding the papers
that one day they'll burn
i plant the parts of you
that moved me most
in the minds of many and
make the smiles of strangers
remind me of you


Gone are the days...
when I nursed you from my breast,
and rocked you to sleep.

The days when you would cry,
Just for me to hold you tight,
And kiss the top of your soft, soft head.

These days, I wave you off
as you get on the bus.
You run and play with your friends
and do math, science, and art.
You don’t need me the way you used to,
but I need you.

The way you call me “Mommy”
and the way you say you love me
still makes my heart melt.

Green Mile Walkin'

I walk this green mile
oh this green mile I

All these things that I
have done
I have done for

My tears are finally
my heart so hard
it grows if you
say you knew
me well now you
surely know.

This green mile I'm
walking is full
of nothing but tears
and broken dreams
and it's getting
longer to me it
truly seems.

A Song to match the magic of Assisi

Spendthrift wild man
drunk with the love of life,
singing for the tone-deaf
who cannot hear your song:

a song of joyful abandon of
the strictures of Church blind
but blessed by your heart
full of mercy and love.

Waken the minstrel in me,
the vagabond, wild and free
that I may live so simply
trusting, in creaturely praise.


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