The stream (all workshops)

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

RJ Bear Mar 26, 2026

My Liquid Eden

A needle’s kiss, a veins chase,
to vanish from this crowded place.
The golden wax begins to melt,
a liquid heaven briefly felt.

The silver thread begins to pull,
pulsing the void until it’s full.
But morning breaks with corrosive light,
to steal the peace found in the night.

The silk warmth begins to freeze,
bringing the soul to its knees.
A ferocious trap where life once stood,
cracked porcelain and rotted wood.

Death buys the calm it could,
with all it has and all it should.

leigh_ Mar 26, 2026

Cats at Night
Stealthy assassins,
patrolling the neighbourhood.
Agile, timid felines—
eyes aglow beneath street lamps.
No set route but knows the way.
Nocturnal sight as clear as day.
Coming to rest beneath a parked car,
not long stopped,
to shelter from the rain,
and take heat from a still-warm engine.
The sound of birdsong, the morning symphony,
like the Piper’s flute,
its signal—time to leave.

Clentin Mar 25, 2026

I Was Found

I was Found
Under a strong bright light
Voices calling my name,”Are you there?”
Telling me with a smile everything will be ok
My eyes slowly opened, my lips pursed
Giving to all, my thanks
For my life

RJ Bear Mar 25, 2026

A Glitch in the Tapestry

The sun crawls across the floorboards,
pale and clinical.
Catching my reflection in the hallway mirror not a stranger, exactly,
but a version of myself I stopped
recognizing years ago.
The silence here has a weight to it.
It’s the sound of a phone that doesn’t ring, of a table chair that hasn't moved in weeks.
Watching the street through the
window, people moving like static hum, while I’m stuck here in the echo of the afternoon.
Everything I used to hold onto has thinned out, gone the way of cigarette smoke in an open room.

Jane A. Rug Mar 25, 2026

No matter death stalks so close...

among the cornucopia of living beings
(in my unprovable opinion
only because said stealer of qi
flourishes all around and within us
from our first to last breath),
and particularly self evident
when violent homicidal
and/or suicidal crime portrays
barely recognizable corpse
as horrible and gross,
or even if natural old age id est
courtesy senescence understood
as the logical precursor
we human beings as rational creatures,
nevertheless experience shock
and emotional trauma,

William Lynn Mar 24, 2026

Hello My Friend

Hello my friend-
the words arrive like a small lantern
carried through the morning fog,
soft but certain,
glowing enough to show the path
between us.

Hello-
a bridge built from breath and intention,
a reminder that even in the quiet corners
of our separate days,
connection still knows the way home.

My Friend-
how gently those syllables land,
like a hand resting on a shoulder,
like memory choosing to stay.

Jane A. Rug Mar 24, 2026

After I die...

nobody will cry
cause yours truly opts
for cryogenic sleep (or cryosleep)
even though my soul
severely limited to transcend very high
nevertheless these lovely bones will lie
and affect a peaceful repose analogous
when Bluto (the nemesis of Popeye)
receives meted and deserved comeuppance
knocked flat out cold on his back
with his bruised face staring blankly at the sky,
but unbeknownst to cartoon creators
speaned (an actual word
meaning the past tense of the verb spean
(or spane), a chiefly Scottish

RJ Bear Mar 24, 2026

Gamble for your Life

Piano gasps a final chord, then dies,
stifled by the dust and heavy, amber flies.
A table sits beneath a swinging lamp,
where shadow wars with light, cold and damp.
The Outlaw sits with iron on his hip,
a nervous twitch upon his whiskey lip.
He holds three queens against a blood soaked vest,
seeking one more sunrise in the West.
Across from him, the Sheriff wears the tin,
a badge that’s tainted by a decade of sin.
He counts his chips like years he’s thrown away,
and eyes the door for the spirits of yesterday.

Ebon Croe Mar 23, 2026

SCREAMING TREE!

Do you hear it?

It bleeds an echoing scream
It screams to me
A blood-curdling scream

A shrieking scream that can't be found
Unless lost to hear the screaming sound
I must be lost to hear the devil's hound

Do you hear it? Louder than before
Could this be the fear behind the seethe door?

It comes from the forest with a haunting jeer
Once you fear, you can never not hear

Grisly tree roots deep in the vein form of a shadowy black wood
The screaming tree is a Witch that snatched me from where I once stood

oldmanWil Mar 23, 2026

courting pandora

a lake at the top of the mountain,
… a wellspring from which
all the love of the world would flow
were we in a reasonable world…
i wish i could bathe in you,
could swim in you,
drink of you.
feel your cleansing presence.
feel life surrounding,
drowning in your soft bliss

you are perfect…
always have been,
always will be,
…to me