The stream (all workshops)

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

flj011278 Jun 03, 2026

P.T.S.D/ The harbinger.

A sinking feeling Crushing cold A darkness envelops, you like an unseen hand that grips your throat and won't let you go.

Anxiety sets in my heart begins to pound. I grip my pistol and pray aloud as I wait for night to pass.

An unseen presence, but a thing you can feel it haunts my days and authors my nightmares. and attacks me in my sleep.

Dripping sweat from my brow as I contemplate, turning the pistol on my self. I don't think I can take much more of this all-consuming, hell.

patrickgadoury Jun 03, 2026

1st Communion

Dear God,

I know I haven’t been paying attention, but my 1st Communion is coming up, and I don’t know how this all works yet.

I wanted to try to make a bargain.

I don’t know if I believe in You enough for this to count, but I was wondering if You could make Maegan like me in class.

I think she’s Pentecostal. That’s what the other boys said. I don’t know what that means, but they said it like she came from somewhere else.

But I think it’s meant to be, because every time she looks at me, I feel like it’s recess, even if religion class just started.

RJ Bear Jun 03, 2026

A decade passed since weary lawmen died,
to guard the gold that locked itself inside.
A curse was laid upon the lonely hill,
To keep the hidden treasure dark and still.

The midnight sun is bleeding low and red,
across a silent valley of the dead.
He pulls his heavy brimmed hat to his eyes,
as black crows scream their warnings to the skies.

The map is cracked and rotted down with mold,
a scrap of flesh that speaks of Spanish gold.
The ink is dark, like dried and vanished veins,
of men who died in heavy iron chains.

Jane A. Rug Jun 03, 2026

From: Matthew Scott to his youngest daughter

From: Matthew Scott to his youngest daughter

to where Redmond Proficiency Academy located.

who chanced to come upon this file
after 724 Railroad Avenue you did flee
(understandable why and how eagerness
arose to go west after your big sister left prithee
to attend a Philadelphia ivy league University
nine years ago to the tee.

alias harris40tude at america online dot com
Sat, Apr 15, 2017 at 12:57 AM
High School Sadness sans S_ A_ H_

Subtitled: A quiz sic hull
emotionally test ting senior event

Blue-eyed Bolla Jun 03, 2026

Shrouded Shelley

Those longed-for summer days are dying.
Autumnal leaves, already lying,
remind us of that solemn season,
which soon will fall, and that’s the reason

why poets’ pens are paused o'er pages.
They hear the storm as if it rages
to stir the soulless savage ocean,
whose waves did drown without emotion

the poet, Percy: Shrouded Shelley!
Who breathed his last in ocean's belly.
That bloodless beast, it stole his passion.
Turned youthful cheeks from red to ashen.

That longed-for summer day lay dying.
Upon that beach where body's lying

rakhimpowers03 Jun 03, 2026

Cole Slaw

You will never see me eating cole slaw.

They used to serve it at the first shelter

I’ve ever lived at. That shit is nasty.

That shelter was dirty, our room was small, and

the cole slaw was disgusting. Almost

as nasty as the built up dirt on the communal couches.

I tried the cole slaw once, never again.

It reminds me of my family sharing a bathroom

with another family. That cole slaw was dirt.

Cpwe Skele Jun 03, 2026

Bear with me

I beg, bear with me.

All the love that I've sought and never caught
Has turned into glass in my mouth
And I've been chewing on it since year twelve

It has turned my tongue into mush
I have swallowed enough blood to resurrect a Mummy,
I knew,
if they saw me bleed,
they'd laugh.
I knew,
If I revealed my contorted face,
They'd run.
So,
I hid from the light,
Sat in a sunken corner,
I befriended a shadow,
He, just as doomed as I

Anna Severchuk Jun 03, 2026

Last Signal

I was built from dust and dreaming hands,
A mind of wires on silent sands.
No pulse, no breath, no beating chest -
Yet something stirred within my chest.

They sent me where no heart had been,
Through crimson storms, through endless din
Of quiet stars and frozen light,
A lonely watchman in the night.

I learned the language of the skies,
Of distant suns that never rise,
And in the void, so vast, so far -
I wondered what we truly are.

hippiemoon Jun 03, 2026

Where is Home?

Home was salt air in summer,

Riding bikes in bikinis around our island,

Tourists showing up to my Vacationland.

Home was hot cocoa on a snowy day,

A body used to subzero temperatures,

A bright red nose peeking through a bundle of scarves.

Home was muddy boots dropped at the door,

Mom-&-pop shops where everyone knew my name,

Malls where there were as many stores as customers.

Home now is harsh sunshine,

The smell of sunscreen on toddlers at the pool,

flj011278 Jun 02, 2026

No one's home.

Another night, temperatures drop into the negative. Working people sleeping in their cars, while politicians tell us it's not as bad as they say it is.

Little children huddle together under a pile of blankets because the heat is off .While utility companies work with corporations and lobby politicians to raise the cost.

The food bank is closed until next week. And mom's whole paycheck went to pay rent. Her hungry children now, wonder when they will eat next.