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.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Biafran Strong

How many times will you shoot me
To find out I cannot die?
How many times will you set me ablaze
To find out I cannot burn?

Oh Nigeria, a prison to them that seek to be free;
A gated nightmare to them that dream dreams.
For many years have I sought from you separate,
But you seek me to kill, my children to destroy.

Your sword driven inside of me, my soul to eviscerate,
Yet whole I am, strong I stand and move;
A blossoming tree, rooted in ancient waters
From whose tongue, morning dews drip still.

The beach (Halloween contest)

At the north side beach of river benue
They went fishing
Having fun and eating roasted fishes
Making jest to each other
They turned teasing bob
Of his bigger head and a tiny waist
"Head boy, head boy they yelled
Was a mockery name they gave him
Some called him "kanyi west"
Meaning tiny waist
He looked just as described.

Mother's Boy

A man, so proud, so strong so tall
One i'm afraid to even talk to
As if one out- of- place word might
Cause anger or even hasty blows.
Yet he cries at night and..
I pretend i don't hear him;
His shameless whimpers and whispers
Tell me who is behind his tears.
The mornings go on, each one the same,
And i always know how unhappy he is without his mother.
Eight tearful years have passed,
You'd think it time to move on but...
He still clings to the hope that she will return

The Autumnal fever

Wow,Autumn once again is here
what a lovely season
for all poets so dear

what a beautiful fall
you relay
here it’s raining,
then a bit cloudy
sunnier later
during day

the clouds show anger
but quietly pass away
wonderful trees
leaves,
so colorfully display
my what hues
I wish I could show you
wait
I’ll fetch my camera
for you

The Good Old Bad Days... October Contest

Halloween and monsters
I've loved them all my life
Throughout my seven decades
Ask my friends and ask my wife

I'd dress up for the evening
Give out candy to the ghouls
The super-heroes dressed in tights
Villains and Joker-fools

I'd make up myself real scary
Like a vampire or a fiend
Lots of blood and gore
Make the little kiddies scream

It used to give me pleasure
To see the children cry
Then shower them with goodies
Wipe the teardrops from their eyes

The wicked witch (Random October contest)

Time has brought me knocking your door
I come bearing gifts,
Seed of sorrow you sowed
I am the castaway,
Placenta entangled bars of hate

I'll consume your children and babies
Their flesh is my meal, their blood is my wine
Your tears are my water, your sorrow is my joy
Night mares upon night mares you will have
That's my celebration hour
Darkness is my daylight
And darkness is your worst hour
The joy of sorrow is your gift from me

Trading lines for lines and rhymes

It is already morning and as I sit here today, I did yesterday to
Pen clenched in a hard grip, smithing words from my fist
I used to be a midnight poet, writing line after line, while others slept
It was an innocent escape, I was a productive hedonist
Somewhere along those lines, too many were crossed, self-promises unkept
Midnights lines turned to morning rhymes,
While I escaped the flashing warning signs,
After all, it was always my escape,
Isn't that quite poetic?

Missing

I slipped out of it . . .

Leathered skin, extravagant scars thought to provide safety

I am here, a scant moment

Vacant the wedged memorials, souvenirs, tokens, nightmares

Ceaseless friction to present themselves

Not a coexistence, a intimate corrupt relationship

I am here, face front, sunlight and darkness both so raw and welcomed

Decades watched life from a corner in my eyeball

The familiar insert control with ease and whip with hidden pain

Dull and blunted, a shallow false life presents

I am missing

She's (bits of) an animal.

She is that canary bird who sings
the sweetest song that‘s to be heard,

She is in the ever maddening sound
of everything that’s earthly bound

She is the eagle see her soar
lion in the jungle - hear her roar,
all of these things she is and more
she's even the tigers -- front left paw,

She lives in so many differing things
azure blue on butterfly wings
even the monkey as he swings
she's the pleasure -she's the pain
that love brings,

when you look at her --
what do you see.

Obi.

May In April

Lightning flashes across rattled panes, Indigo films on clover leaves,
Purple rain.
Chicks retreat to higher grounds, Metal birds cling onto hangars. Downtown,
Whispering palms bath in the silver moon's luminous light,
Orion hangs like a chandelier in its stead on a starry sky,
Barefooted generators run into the night,
Words find their feet, spring up and fly, Feelings lit up a page like fire-flies; They are bright enough to make hearts glow,
I throw a pebble down the stream's shallow end for rivers run deep.

Pages

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