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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 lonesome snowman

I cannot control the path that you have sown for me
This time of year I’m moulded in fear woefully

Oh my dear creator
you’ve built my vision

Sculpted my features
gave me the ability to listen

My mouth cannot move nor can my feet;
I must be imprisoned

Thou art brutally binding my soul, If I’m not mistaken
I’m awfully shaken,

shuddering, quaking
this callous coldness has left me forsaken.

My nautical notions of piercing my own peeking peering
This solitary sunken ship I’m stoically steering

Vow Of The Highlander

Howling with frustrated rage you claim personal foul against me.
Snatching up the proverbial gauntlet, you slap my face with the vile stench of your steaming words.

Decrying impropriety of conduct against you, You say you seek me out.
Seek NOT that which you do not understand for you could be so unfortunate as to find me.

Mother Brigid told me about monsters like you. What she didn't tell you about; was creatures like me.

Coronation Day

One bright day upon the trail
In blooming field atop a hill
I found a garland draped about
An oaken branch whose life was still

The tree at large remained alive
In meadow stood in solitude
The ample sunshine saw it thrive
And slowly gain more altitude

Beneath it’s shade this basement branch
Deprived of light, did reach nadir
Encroaching insect, vine, or storm
Resolved to strand you lifeless, bare

So, this is the war you wanted,
Your ambitions grand and vaunted
For a union of Kyivan Rus
Layed waste in ruins and dust.

Who were those peoples you admire
Enough to fill the land with fire?
They were legends – people of myth.
What deeds have you imbued them with?

No one really knows for certain.
Lost behind History's closed curtain,
Most scholars believe the Rus were
A mix of peoples here and there.

Romantic - bad man

You looked at me , with those mad eyes.
I am lonely. Was that, eh the surprise.

I don’t know, Is that right ?
Should I be in love,
with your smile.

With those eyes.

I look into everyday,
just to say that was a good day,

have a good night


The opium eater reclines with rigid head and just-open’d lips…

You all know how hard it is to find a good parking place
in a busy town. Well, we lucked out—or so it seemed—
while running an errand yesterday. I prepared to back in

when she said, no not here. I too had noticed the man,
lying on his side against the wall, so I pulled forward and said
why don’t you hop out here? Then I backed into

Hunger of a God

When we shared love - dragons of the evening,
and our tune was the sound of the nighttime rose.
Did you hear my wings, as they hummed love for you?
Did you grasp me tight, as if we two were one?

So I hand us down, all my time for you,
perhaps if you would, you could do it too
I always knew, that for you I do care
let there be song to really fill the air.

Skipping stones, we fling across fair water
from our perch at sunset’s fired rim edge
where breezes so warm do then slowly flow


Autumn leaf

Be not alone
all are lonely

somewhere in the vastness of eternity
someone calls out instantly
still we say wait
time hasn't come yet
then loneliness vanishes

unknown comes in one’s dreams
where have you been
one says
are you now asking
an autumn leaf

the invisible one smiles alongside
now 'tis autumn
there is no surprise

hope you too will be
some day
flying about
side beside

Foolhardy Lovers

mi fatha.

Mi fatha

Mi fatha wer a miner,
a big owd man wer ee,
wi an 'eart so bold it wer solid gold
en that wer plain te see,
al si thee yung un he wud sey
as off te pit eed trot,
mi mam ed never know if eed be
cumin bak or not.

darn Denaby pit e wud gu
a dank en dusky hole,
twer not much gud fer a man like im
ee wer’nt a bloody mole!,

The White Man

Even after all the
That shit with
Monica Lewinski.

Homophobia and
No abortion.
Congress and
Political extortion.

Too much racism,
And white-supremacy.
All the bullshit lies
And no transparency.

Women's rights are
Being abused.
Why are you smiling?
You look amused.

We can't forget about
The slave's
Here in the land of the free,
home of the brave.


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