Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.
pink cherry blossoms
know nothing of poetry
nor does this haiku
Upon the ranch where wild winds blow,
the cattle graze and grasses grow.
A girl of twelve, with spirit bright,
lived with her folks in golden light.
Four men rode in with hearts of hate,
to rattle at the rancher's gate.
They came to claim a debt in blood,
to drag the family through the mud.
The floorboards groaned beneath the weight,
of iron spurs and rusted hate.
She huddled in the cellar’s gloom,
as thunder shook her parents' room.
"that button" is calling his name
will he blink, or just plink for the fame?
"it's so tempting" he thinks
it's a "kink" on the brink!
and to think who'll carry the blame
Like when you slip beneath the edge
of the sea, sharp stones razor the soles
of your feet, crabs nibble toes, the nagging
pull of the tide at your calves.
Involuntary curses lap around
your balls, belly bracing, testing
how deep the freeze can spread,
up to your neck in a numbness.
A small sip of death, pretend to forget
this liquid ceiling so easily broken,
the heavy world hovering that threatens
to burst through and swallow the ocean;
that foreign tongue, that silence.
Twelve summers in, the air is heavy with the scent of eucalyptus and hot bitumen, a world where the only clock that matters is the streetlight's first flicker. We are the kings of the cul-de-sac, armed with nothing but BMX bikes and an unspoken oath that we’ll never let the real world catch us.
Confusion
Confusion
Always rips apart trust
Dissolves willingness to be involved
In a long loved adventure and activity
Not knowing your role creates such doubt
Dampens one’s hopes and dreams
Willingness
I wish my eyes were unawake
on Wednesdays when my partner drives
too fast, too close and overtakes
the cars ahead on either side.
She risks our lives so we can make
it to the table just in time.
When play begins we have to wait
an age for her to lead or bid.
She stares at space, prevaricates
and as the opposition click
their tongues and wish the spell might break,
she squeezes out an overtrick.
Paralyzing pain as stones grind through,
Stabbing white hot needles to make you choke,
You freeze, crouched low as pain subsides,
And you know that soon they will eject.
But more will follow, though it be days or weeks,
Pray no one will see as you grimace, grind teeth.
No way to know when the hour may come.
Just know, and wait, as life goes on.
Twas the umpteenth time
the wife kicked the "sir" courtesy
stealth bomber engineered him out of bed,
cuz not only did my body exhibit
involuntary leg twitching
but my whole bag
of lovely bones went thrashing
like the tooth gnasher superflasher,
and of course, said spouse
gave me Das Boot
(in the groin -
even in the pitch black bedroom,
she scored a doozy
and nullified thoughts
of offspring with a future wife,
where those rapier like toenails, -
especially the big bad one -
Mamie Till- a fighter and a mother
Sought justice for her son and her people
Cruel discrimination based on colour
Her boy’s life taken, a nation lethal
Mamie, determined to expose the truth
Spoke out publicly sharing her story
An open casket revealing the proof
An act of hatred; relentless, gory
Her courage inspired others on the streets
A growing movement, fight for equal rights
The oppressed rose up, and began to speak
Hundreds of thousands marching in this plight