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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

JUST TO BE CLEAR....

Submitted by scribbler on Sat, 2011-08-20 16:01

I never ever say never
when writing poetry
and try my best to just get by
which is pretty plain to see.

In order to maintain a rhyme
it's seldom that I stretch
a line too long to work in words
like the lowly plant which people in this part of South Carolina call American joint vetch.

Cursing is a trait I hate
so you won't see me use it
'cause most poems where it occurs
are hardly worth a shit.

MOUNTAINS IN THE CLOUD

Submitted by t. reflexion on Sat, 2011-08-20 06:10

There are mountains in the cloud
Plains and valleys too

Climbing and cruising at an altitude
Mind, like weather in turbulent times
A state with corresponding attitude
Through the desert or the sea, whilst sun shines

There are mountains in the cloud
Plains and valleys too

Look right, look left, if you get the joke
Like life tossing up and down in motion
Rushing through, you will see them poke
In a gathering storm, where you get a notion

Marvelous Melodies

Submitted by docmaverick on Sat, 2011-08-20 01:52

Fogged over glass
broken shards tinted grey,

reminiscent friends, and family
with an eye upon my way.

My perpetual, inner longing
for those days will never end,

through all these hidden agendas
I can't see one true friend.

Am I blind? Or getting slower?
By each legacy that's made,

or am I clearly seeing visions
of values, that seem to fade?

Far be it from me to accept the role
of the corrector in such a land,

A Forest to Treasure

Submitted by Rhiannon1010 on Sat, 2011-08-20 00:17

There are many things in this world to treasure
Like:

The way the sun streams down
To grace the treetops with
Dappled glory.

The feeling of the rough bark
Of a great poplar beneath my
Finger tips.

The heady scent of damp earth
Gently tilled and furrowed by
Silent feet.

The lively gurgle of a brook
As it winds it merry way between
The foliage.

The brisk morning air tingles
Sharp and clear as a mid-winter
Sunbeam.

The leader

Submitted by readwritelive on Fri, 2011-08-19 16:00

Strong words from a broken man.
believe my words and follow these callused hands.
Stand behind me and I will shield you from evil.
This is our ending to create, like a blank canvas on an easel.

SMELLING SASSAFRAS (another attempt at poetic prose)

Submitted by scribbler on Fri, 2011-08-19 14:09

Straight from work the other evening,
I went to decompress
in a patch of summer woods
along a dim game trail I knew.

Upon exiting my old truck,
rapidly down the path I struck
so fast the world passed in a blur
as feet moved at an urban pace.
Way too fast
to see
anything.

But going up hill I soon slowed
as old legs quickly faded.
This slowed down the passing land.
Revealing how the late sun played
upon the duff through swaying limbs
which whispered "juusssst beee....."

SOLUSHUN

Submitted by Esker on Fri, 2011-08-19 12:03

feel your tundra eyes as I bury my world
of thoughts against the undulation of
falling dusk
like crushed pumice the clouds dance
their slow menace the glowing ache
of nightfall sighing in the green copper
of the terminal wire

sipping gently your drink with its
bright jewels of perspiration
ice glitters and strawberries
are lipstick red

Iredescent

Submitted by dhruv on Fri, 2011-08-19 11:51

deviously iridescent
painfully unblemished.
I deplorably repent
all that I’ve relished
dazed in confusion,
lost in disguise
cleansed in ablution, yet,
dead from inside.
awaiting circulation
of all I’ve tried to hide
the image in the mirror
blurry and distraught
overhauled with feelings
that I have long fought
I see, I pray, I wonder
if this is really me
or a mendacious fraud
as I fight to overcome
all that you applaud

Self-employed Overtime

Submitted by docmaverick on Fri, 2011-08-19 11:29

In a sea of mediocrity
there are exceptions on this earth,

where integrity, and personal values
show a legacy that has worth.

A struggling, single mother
continually does her best,

completing what's in front of her
like taking some weird test.

Wearing hats a plenty
She attempts to complete tasks,

from her pedestrian existence
before her boss has time to ask.

Being a minority
helped land her at this job,

neither does she sing for joy
nor have private time to sob.

THE FEAR IN MY HEAD

Submitted by Eduardo Cruz on Fri, 2011-08-19 09:46

Silence,
As loud as the roaring sea
Echo’s in my head
Seeing the darkness
With no discernible features

Fear,
Creeping quietly
And filling all the empty space
Nerve ends tinkling
Wonder when will I be dead

Thoughts,
Master or slave
Of a mind filled with dread
A knocking at the door,
Is it death?

Sounds,
Creating pictures
Of things which are not
Really there.
Covers pulled tight for safety

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