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Earn A Poem Workshop 2 workshop

This shows the poems in just one one workshop. To see all the poems on Neopoet, go to the stream. Or go to the workshop page itself, where you can find out more about the syllabus.

Far From Home

The lights of the parking lot shine into the room,
As glaring at midnight as if it were noon.
Feels like I’m center stage in a reality show,
Everyone watching and I just don’t know
What my next line should be.

The curtains don’t close ’cause there’s no track to ride,
And they’d hang over the A/C if I tried.
No electrical juice in the wall outlets there.
My devices need feeding or I wouldn’t care.
And a lamp would be nice, though, to see.

The Couple

The Couple
They sit together in the amber glow of a heavenly Mississippi sunset,
Gray heads moving back in forth in unison.
Sixty plus years of rocking have worn subtle grooves in the wood of the old porch.
Gnarled hands touch in the gap between the white-painted oak rockers,
Barely clasping as stiffened finger joints protest.
She smiles at him, her eyelids downcast, the shy smile of old.
He winks a rheumy eye in response, as he did when first they met.
Hearts communicating, they stop rocking and lean to a kiss,


Procrastinate, I leave it late —
as possible, and contemplate.
While still undone, I ruminate —
to taunt my mind and fabricate.
If truth be told, I deliberate,
and cannot help, but complicate,
I overthink, and obfuscate.
Integrity, I shall negate.
Don’t stop me if I exaggerate.
If you were I, we’d delegate,
And give to her, considerate.
Still, I must, delay, or hesitate.

Love Song

In search of truth, I ask the question,
Have you ever seen your God?
Does the flame burn bright, suggestion,
Or pierce your heart as lightning rod?

My flicker of intention cries in shame,
With cowardly request, I ask for more,
As I am forgotten in my fame,
My answers fall as death to shore.

Shall we stroll ‘neath darkened skies,
On streets anaesthetised, in drink and dope.
Our lust undone with frenzied cries,
To live a moment of impassioned hope.


Five cats sitting on the wall, and Limpsy brings a friend.
They groom and cry for breakfast, each one fed in the end.
And mammy takes the food out to fairly sub divide,
Five cats wait upon the wall, they’re the ones who decide.

And every day they’re eager, a choir of lion’s roar,
As mammy climbs the ladder, frenzy more and more.
Now milk won’t do it has to be, delicacies of fish,
Each of them has their very own, individual dish.


To rise each day, use a curtain alarm,
it saves you from pain and personal harm.
Allows you to arrive at unhurried pace,
and celebrate slowly, coming last in the race.
Each morning a comedy, free of ill humours,
Secured in whispers, not celebrity rumours.

With stories unfolding, innuendos expand,
And every reporter, shakes dysentery hand,
To chat over cow muck, the snake oil salesman,
In game of banter, to buy and sell you again.
But I’m as happy as shit on a rock,
Late out of bed, daylight savings o’clock.

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