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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.

TOWARD UNCERTAINTY

Submitted by scribbler on Wed, 2014-05-28 17:06

Just a single step is all
and one stride no longer takes me far
when traveling toward one's final fall
in search of who you really are.

I find myself far down the trail
with forks aplenty yet to choose
and the consequences they'll entail.
One choice might win, another lose.

Looking back my past seems clear,
unlike as when I walked that path,
a wavering line which leads to here
where I deal with choices' aftermath.

Money gives glory to greed puts need to shame

Submitted by Barbara Writes on Wed, 2014-05-28 11:08

The death of our boys and girls
Attending campuses to get an education
Gets gunned down by the ones seeking to protect gun rights
The right to purchase as much guns and ammo as you can afford
While illegal street guns get blame for it all.

WHEN DOORS CLOSE

Submitted by Geremia on Wed, 2014-05-28 10:06

WHEN DOORS CLOSE

My body grows limp
and my heart sinks
to depths unknown
something inside dies
when you leave
and I am left alone
again.

To Serve- An Empty Revolver

Submitted by IKnowNoBox on Wed, 2014-05-28 03:35

-An Empty Revolver-

Workshop: 
To serve poet.

Winter Solstice

Submitted by Sarah Elizabeth... on Tue, 2014-05-27 22:16

Tonight I heard a snowflake
In fractal notation
Whisperings of dark winter
And death's final moments

In hushed hibernation
Unaware of his slumber
He is timed to replenish
One two three, one two three

Suspended in stillness
Yet timed to perfection
A new springtime birth
Repeated in verse

Awakened to life
He rejoices in momentum
To all that springs around him
Dew drops in the morn

RATWHOLE...

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2014-05-27 21:08

patrons of kisses
christened in lapels
and perfumed pits
on knees dwelt
in din lit coffin wells

"whore" in marker on
the floor
and squashed match jackets
and chemical killed roaches
legs splayed
like shadows grimace
stuccoed hewn walls
where darkness fills
empty fists and blade thrusts

where heaven is a light bulb
speckled with a universe
of gutteral howls
hilted carboned hard ons and gleaming
manifestations of hollowpoint
prayers

Dream ere!

Submitted by loved on Tue, 2014-05-27 14:24

The manifestation of thought
and the remembrance of those
who are now naught
makes voluminous content of dreams

someone is seemingly screaming
far from the poles of eternity
come along with me
your tenure down there
has lost all lure
there can be now no cure
but to stop your dream
stamp it out
to fetch you I am coming

newsprint impalement

Submitted by emeka ozurumba on Tue, 2014-05-27 10:31

midsummer's gardens
grandeur paradise
rain puddle lynch
agrarian and dust to dust
chronicle icons flashpoint iris
bulletins tin bullet " perusing'"
narrow voyage
from up-chin target
treadle a whetbriar needle
pedals nitro fled from theater impalement

In the Morning, with Bitterness - Free verse

Submitted by Pugilist on Mon, 2014-05-26 22:04

I walked into the kitchen
and saw your note
full of lies,
full of spite,
full of casual malice,
and sighed a familiar sigh
as I took it down
from the fridge.

I read it once again
as I opened a drawer for matches
and stepped outside
into the clean,
fresh,
morning.
A morning of promise,
a morning of hope,
a morning you worked to sabotage
with your cruelty.

Dead Grey Wolf Skins & Other Poems

Submitted by poetryman on Mon, 2014-05-26 17:13

Dead Grey Wolf Skins
(Tribute: Aldo Leopold)
By Michael Lee Johnson

Dead grey wolf skins hang
on white clotheslines across Baraboo, Wisconsin
the dark surface, side of the moon,
that only exists in memories hung high, long before.
Hunters in the past did their job well,
sold skins, collected a few bucks,
increased deer for hunting, saved cattle,
decreased fear, told tales, short stories, adventures.

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