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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

A scratch on the sand

Submitted by t. reflexion on Thu, 2012-08-16 00:42

The dead are forgotten
All they held dear to heart
Dusty distant recall
Gone with them far afield
While we sit on an edge
A limbo of some sort
Pondering on our fate
On what lies beyond here

Beyond the final sill
We can only imagine
Glories of paradise
And the torments of hell
While we struggle so hard
With realities today
Draw and erase or write
On the sand of our time

sympathetic gesture in pennies

Submitted by the_fool on Wed, 2012-08-15 20:46

perched upon a pallet
each powerful pull
prompting further
his pickled pitch of pep

all promises
proclamations
played out
and unproductive

Intimacy

Submitted by Nilmini on Wed, 2012-08-15 15:13

Clock strikes ten
It is time for bed
You lay down beside me
On my pillow you rest your head
On your right shoulder
My head, I fondly place
You lower your eyes
And look at my face

Your eyes look amused
Smile dances on the lips
When I touch the curls
On your chest with finger tips
It feels so perfect
Too good to be true
I tremble with joy
My veins, as it runs through

a r m a l i t e . . . 5 . 5 6

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2012-08-14 22:21

peat fires the spicy burn drifts
the soft smoke
not bitter
not tyres

the quiet in the night

"tiocfaidh ar la"

Nothing to fear

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Tue, 2012-08-14 16:28

Nothing to Fear
By R W

sexual bliss

Submitted by loved on Tue, 2012-08-14 14:05

happiness through sex....
the whole purpose of sex
if any at all
was to procreate
and
thus create
a new entity
you call it happiness
I call it a kid
love is the essence of all living,
remove sex
and
there would be no need of life
no strife
no need of seeking happiness,
as you shall have nothing to compare
no theory of relativity
and there wouldn’t ever have been
an Einstein
and
a mind
like mine

it is what it is

Submitted by judyanne on Tue, 2012-08-14 04:42

 

memory
of that which is done
enfolded within the scar
of a remodelled heart

a vessel
for that which is left
dates, name
frogs
and an icon

a song
for that which will always be
jeremiah was a bullfrog
was a good friend of mine*

 

*Three Dog Night

MISTS

Submitted by scribbler on Mon, 2012-08-13 22:11

Turning clean sharp edges rough
as do the mists of passing time,
their tiny drops adorn my coat
with shiny crystal beads
as delecate as frozen rime
and small as ripe pearl millet seeds.

I wipe them off with hands grown rough
hunch my shoulders to belay damp chill
then quietly cough to clear my throat
as if it's clogged with swallowed tears;
take a deep breath to steel my will
while standing in this wooded place.

Rhyme Patterns (2) "Bitter rand Sweet" Scribbler

Submitted by Feign on Mon, 2012-08-13 19:53

BITTER AND SWEET (rhyme patterns SS)

O the wonders of the spring
all the song birds perched to sing
a wasp just stung me on the ass
I've got to cut the freakin' grass

With flowers blooming everywhere
I've more than enough love to share
pollen swells my nose and eyes
new fire ant mounds which I despise

Ladies' fashions become spare
belly buttons and midriffs bare
along with men's knobby knees
plumbers' butts shine in the breeze

Workshop: 
RHYME PATTERNS (part 1) let's begin

THE SILENT VOICE

Submitted by t. reflexion on Mon, 2012-08-13 16:41

The sun shines with broken seasonal rains
Besides, the wind blows on, all the year round
Carrying with it soft sounds since silenced
From the mouth of one who was first to speak
Harvested crops found their way to stomachs

Through the filtered nature of tinted self
Draped in a cloak of grey on smoggy screen
The protector of sacred scrolls dictates
I fight to transmit with quill pen and ink
Jotting words with difficult maneuver

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