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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Cat-like on the prowl

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Tue, 2012-03-27 18:01

Her assignment was easy,
almost drooling with the thought of
the delectable Simon.
In London, the train stations
record human senses, one just
has to be on the prowl, cat-like
on her jaguar paws.

He nearly missed the train this morning,
and everything changed for a few minutes,
Can you imagine the silence of suspended
animation? With a little help, he did catch
the 8 a.m. just
as he does every week day.
She would sit
next to him, soaking in his aura. Inhaling
him in her love.

SLABS OF EXISTENCE

Submitted by Nordic cloud on Tue, 2012-03-27 16:02

SLABS OF EXISTENCE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th March 2012.

Slabs of existence, 
we move them, caress them, 
climb them, 
they are with us 
wherever we go, 

inescapable boulders of awareness, 
'so beautiful, (should I take out these two lines of value judgement?) 
so ugly,' 
so all embracing, 
so much, our senses 
gathered in a bundle 
of being;

we see out of eyes,
mirrored, 
like the facets of a stone, 
its gems, 
some hidden inside the rock, 

Magic Trick

Submitted by AnnaNJ on Tue, 2012-03-27 14:33

You are dissolving

Before my eyes

Like a magic trick

that has gone horribly wrong

Soon you will have disappeared

Into the open atmosphere

And I’ll be left standing alone

In front of the empty space

Where you used to be

Days like that......

Submitted by Willy on Tue, 2012-03-27 08:34

Like its one of those days; it’s one of those things;
All mean the same to you:
There is an unseen weight yet still so real
weighing down upon you dampening your spirit
stifling your growth
It’s like you are suspended in mid-air; you are in stasis
With some strange being at your rudder;
You are at its mercy: turned, spun, rolled, rotated, pulled, pushed
your activities are futile but all you feel like doing is nothing
your environment have become this barren

Whispers and bone

Submitted by Cloudthings on Tue, 2012-03-27 07:20

There are hardwood pews at the end of the path
There are beetles that shimmer and shine
But they sit there so humbly as if they were safe
Is it all down to chance, their survival, and mine?

I used to howl for the moon, in the wind, in the storm
And sit on my own by the lake
I used to sing for the sound and the comfort
Thinking all that I had could be anyone’s take

Through the Dust Did Come....Movito

Submitted by docmaverick on Tue, 2012-03-27 06:15

He did appear to have possession
of a Mojo with a Konk-konk-cheroo!

his hesitance cost him, valuably;
he'd still be sitting in a room with no "view".

Take my place, won't you feel the "magic"?
one could learn a thing, or three;

this cursed, dusty, desert's hollow,
with vacant emptiness as far as one can, see.

Then, came this way....a stranger-boy
who could see right-past, the dust;

and, then know what was coming, next
with a sixth sense he could trust.

Beginning of a Lie

Submitted by Search on Tue, 2012-03-27 03:35

I begin to panic
Caught in this frightening event
With so much to loose
Oh, how I dream to turn back the clock
But I cannot.

Looking down, I ponder through every memory I have recorded
And I do not know the truth
I do not know how to explain
There is no way for me to justify my action.

Caught in this place of fear and anxiety
I begin to fabricate a fantasy
And as my false tale drips from my lips
My body grows numb
Sweat at the palms
Unable to move
And difficult to breathe.

T A B A R E T

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2012-03-27 00:42

your mouth slips phrases
through bruised nights
stars upon your flicks
and at your sides
the worry shadows
keep like windows
locked

milkweed sweet
the monarch drinks
beneath the fat eye
of this sordid dream

a heavens creature
rapture rests
music of chimes
the wavelength nest
spun cup the thoughts
of stirring dark
and rising star

where magic and illusion
mix

Curious

Submitted by loved on Tue, 2012-03-27 00:24

Remnants of palaces owned once
I have seen
as in shadowed screams ,
as hallucinations
which once were dreams
and
since the emergence of time,
I still see the shadows
dark and still….
cobwebs of my mind,
but my nerves such occurrences don't kill
as I am the steel
behind caged minds,
holding my own hand,
as in the loneliness
of darkened ravines
I alone stand,
hopefully
no one can me kill!

Clockwork

Submitted by Gomez on Mon, 2012-03-26 23:48

Tick,
A second just came and left,
Another moment you wished you had lived,
And lost among all the rest.

Tock,
Another moment,
Preserved in an endless timeline,
Another one neither you nor I lived,
But the second still left.

Tick,
You heard it and so did I,
Be we have spent every moment alive,
Or had we died long before our time.

Tock,
Lastly I fall,
Gaze upon what’s left,
You always had a way in finding something in me.

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