Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


Community News

Neopoem Of The Week Contest Announcement!

A new neopoem of the week contest has started. Show us your best poem of the week!

Neopoem Of The Week Winner!

The poem This Person Will Self-Destruct In... by Geezer has been chosen as the Neopoem of the week! Congratulations to geezer on such a fine write! A thank you to the Neopoem group for making their selection.

This Person Will Self-Destruct In...

How far can you let them take you
down the road of self-destruction?
While you try to build them up
help them in reconstruction

Do you let them take the food
from your family's mouth
steal your rent, your sleep
while they are going south?

This week the Neopoem Group has selected Myself, The Horizon, And The Sun by Kajiko as Neopoem Of The Week. Congratulations to Kajiko on winning this week's contest!

Thank you to the group for their efforts in selecting the weekly poem

Myself, The Horizon, And The Sun

The sun simply slid past me, threw me a wink which actually was never given, I paused and saw only the horizon, I saw its essence, evident display of affective signatures so typical to non-verbal utterances of what we dreamt of being: US, I and Her, She and I, for whichever way it was stated, it was still US.

Now I know, and I'm sure of what Pain is, because there never was a good bye, well at least not verbally, but good byes were "said." But then, surprisingly, I never stood a chance to make and present my plea, no jury, no court, safe the clouds of uncertainties and blankets of woes concurrently beating me to sleep at every point in time.

Neopoem Of The Week Contest Winner!

This week the Neopoem Group has selected the poem Off Ramps by Scribbler. Congratulations to Scribbler on such a fine write. Thanks to the group for selecting this week's winner.

Off Ramps

It's been so long I can't recall
anything but this highway
which I've shared with one and all
as time and life both slip away.

Just another traveler amongst the crowd.
kinfolk, friends and strangers too.
Rushing, passing, boisterous, loud
all in a hurry to get to.....

The stream (all workshops)

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



The rising moon and setting sun
share the sky this summer eve
as doves' mourning has just begun.
Just like them I also grieve.

Wisps of ground fog begin to rise
over the close trimmed dark green grass
while the bull frogs start their cries
beside the pond as smooth as glass

And here I stand quiet and still
watching rows of precise shadows
fading on this gentle hill
while the fog and darkness grows.


Roses are my fave...
they make one brave...
upon the button holes of kings
upon the graves of mankind...
roses we all find...

yet do we know...
Roses never die,
in the book’s pages
in the shelves of time
they lie
that's why roses never
ever die

The door

Don't treat me like a door.

With each sound of steps, I open my soul for another world.

It is not difficult then to make that kind of miss idea.

You hear ?

The sound of footsteps.

You see ?

Your eyes when you peek through the eye viewer.

And I ?

You only consider me an object


I will clean your room with a certain irony.
You'll dust me out of boredom

Kill, curse.
Oh please don't treat me like
A solid object.

I need a break from you.


Fine eye, from the tower of the sky
The ageless friend who dines with me
My bush grows grey as time waves bye
My hips on stool, so wrecked they be.

A discourse please, weary traveler I ask.
Let's eat some words slippery for the youngs.
Those rats now race to a future on mask.
So blind and deaf, we roof our tongues.

But with minds at work we bear these tales
Mouthful wisdom being mocked by age
Bottles of wine, chatters, then hails
This life goes on like flips of page.

When I saw her

When I saw her
from the corner
her striking eyes
pierce into my heart
and stop every beat
of my breathing and
left me open-mouthed
like a merely gambler
who just won jackpot
from series of loses

© Nyok Maker Mareng

We are

We wait for things to happen
We wait for change to come
But what we miss to understand is
we are what needs to be done

We are the things to happen
We are the errands to be ran
We are the fights to be fought
We are the battles to be won

We are the sensitivity to be felt
And the hatred to be gone
We are the ones to care
We are the humanity to return

We are the dreams to be reality
And the realities to be undone
We are the hearts to clean
We the trash to be burn

Dear Ma'

My hands cannot write enough
No to pay for your unending love
Love that moved me from scrap
To a decency I'd not match
How am i to reconstruct?

Nine of my first
I crawled around your belly
Creating scenes that preyed you
Like the smoke of the clouds
You felt the weight Ma'
Did you not keep on?

Years later
I'm still your darling
Eating from your plate
Sleeping on your laps Ma'
Even at an old body self
You see me not old , your child still


In this world, there is nothing except me and my garden.
The garden filled with nothing but a black and white empty space.
No green land, but a black empty frame.
How do I colour thee again?
How does the hostile become one?
How do I make these flowers bloom?
How do I start again?
A garden,
But with nothing but a colourless frame.
The butterfly seeks to flutter.
However, These wings cannot fly again.


It is a warm Wednesday
just wait
It is sunny today bright so far
just wait
I am going to wear not much
just wait at sea
who is with me

you he or she
don't be funny
just wait
love my humour
just wait

yeah now tell me
just wait
is every one wet
ah now tell
don't just wait

spill it over
just yet

Our Lord

Our lord,
Do you know that our sons are hungry?
Since the volcano is embellished with
The souls of the beautifull ones
Their voices strangled in my ears over night
I couldn’t stand the strained weeping
When a feeling of relief washed over me
I saw them one after another
Behind each other,
Line by line, shouting!
But I couldn’t overhead a single word;
The model of probity in our generation
They’re probable to be the savours;
Where have they gone?
Are they at the posy of Africa violet?


(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.