Long Workshop Poems

This page shows my writing process and is part of Poetrysoup's first workshop.  The workshop's intent is to reveal how revision strengthens a poem. Constructive feedback can be a gift.  Should any journal...

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Sponsor: Carol Eastman

Long before Christmas had become a jolly folklore,
I met a grandfatherly man...
He was clean shaven, tiny and crabby,
And always wore a floppy black suit, his name was Mr. Atnas.

See, I was at such...

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Good new,good news He said to me
'I have the power to set you free'
'Come ,along this path we'll walk',
I listened closely as He talked;
Eternal life and 'new life' within
upon Him I place my sin,
peace,wholeness and...

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As I was walking swiftly
Just to reach Bajoga early
To see what a hot birthday
Will be chucked in the day
Of 27th of the october,
I collided with a creature
Seemingly so calm in nature
And so educated by sanity
With...

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About Bill Posters and Bill Greenwell

Words not to use in poems

In 1993, I (Bill Greenwell) went on a three-day workshop with the poet Peter Sansom, who co-edits The North, and runs the Smith/Doorstop imprint. He’s...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s TWENTYEIGHTH LEGAL (Part One) by T. Wignesan
 
N.B. If any one is interested in reading the continuation of the extracts of letters that Eric Mottram wrote from America during 1965-66 to...

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Turning my back on typhoon skies, 
a pestilent past, I pitch my mistakes 
into a forgiving wind. Standing barefoot 
at the edge of apologies, 
coastal tides carry hope, tomorrows stir
on a mariner’s horizon. I search...

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First Version   -    (Posted 5/11/14)

Towards the end of late morning,
As noon was approaching,
And people went about their usual chores
A mighty rush of water
Swept them right off their feet.

No one knew...

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Father’s Day was coming and Dragon was already, in full mode.
Hubby was his Hero, a true Papa, like in every story ever told.
Everyone was talking about what’s, to be, their Papa’s Day gifts.
Yep, TV salesmanship...

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Every time I turn on that street I feel a sudden tingling under my feet. Every time I turn on that street, I feel  a strange emotion rising
in my chest and  I can...

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What’s up with Santa
                               ...

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Dance, my little pretty, dance. As I pull the strings she rises off the floor. Gracefully I dance her across the stage. How pretty she looks dressed in black. Short high heel boots, black stockings,...

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'Twas the night before the New Year. Gawd! All the beer had gone dry
Not a house or a tavern could renew our supply.
Was I too drunk to recall if what followed was fact?
While we drunks...

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The Christmas Mouse
T'was the night before Christmas
And with everything done
The kids were all dreaming
Of Christmas Day fun
The tree was completed
We had wrapped all the toys
When from the basement below
We heard a faint noise
I sprung from...

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I can hear the drums beating
They are beckoning me to come
I can hear the drums beating
Murmuring what is taking me so long
I can hear the drums beating  
And it is singing a merry little...

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In the 1970s early two contractors worked around
Southern 'New South Wales' and Gundagai town.'
Stationed at the riverside park, at the rear of a garage
With pit and pumps all as part, now Tom and Matt
Got a...

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Me cars down at the doctors ‘cause there’s trouble with the coil,
and somewhere I’m losing water so once or twice I’ve had it boil.
It needs another set of spark plugs and me mufflers had the...

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I decided to write Santa this holiday;
sent it care of his workshop, in the Milky Way,
for there were many things I wished to get from him,
though thought my chances of getting them were slim!

It was...

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You never see the tears I weep father on your mossy stone,
      Until we meet again in Heaven you are safe within my heart;
We had a special bond, the perfect,...

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Hundreds quizzed and all perplexed
Not even one understood
for my answer to their only question
who is your source?

Nonetheless iam not afraid and
dared to think beyond the surreal truth
But to tell the truth of truth; when
my positron...

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WATERLESS TEARS


Who would put vinegar on the lips
of those who cry, “We thirst.”
Pour dust into the vase of hope’s evaporating promise?
Deny the single tear shed for lack of moisture,
refuse the very earth its need to...

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Learning By The Living.


Life's roads we all travel down
mistakes we think we've made.
Living for the memories
that we could never trade.

Finding set backs now and then
in things not meant to last.
Picking ourselves up again
then moving slowly...

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You loved her with all your being, but she left you wounded
Now you look at life without seeing, you feel your world has ended.

You were twenty five, she was twenty three, young and strong yet...

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WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND


Sprinkled-rainbow clouds reign above the skies,
peeping yellow in-between wrinkled pillars 
shine like bulbs to crash the net of fog
attached to curve hands of green Cathedrals.

A carpet of bluebells and daffodils
covers...

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In the labyrinth of bone-like thoughts, where the echo of pain ricochets madly,
I desperately seek a prosthesis for my soul, maimed by life and disappointments.
Where is the cosmic workshop that forges spare hearts hidden?
In which...

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