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Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

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Backwards

By: Carrie

G
All the things that I wanna write
C
Have been written
G
All the songs that I wanna sing
D
Have been sung,
G
All the things that I wanna say
C
Have been said before
D A Em G
All the things that I wanna do have been done.

G
I wanna fly a kite
A
At night instead of day,
C
I wanna drive a big old truck
D
The opposite way
G
I wanna laugh when I’m sad,
C
And cry when I’m happy and gay
D A
I wanna do what no one’s done
G
Any other day.

G
I wanna wear all my clothes
A
Wear em all inside out,

C
I wanna be real quiet,
D
When everybody else wants to shout
G
I wanna see the stars
C
When everybody else sees the sun
D
I want my day to end
C G
When everybody else’s has begun.

C D
Wouldn’t it be weird, wouldn’t it be funny and strange
A
If everyone thought like this,
G
Slightly deranged.

 

 

Lost Love

By: Alex Tanner

Should I recall those blissful times
When we like climbing flowers entwined;
Our blossoms scented evenings air
As Love and Lust forsook our cares.

Your laugh was soft and gentle,
A butterflies wings in spring,
Dancing on the sunbeams
Enough to make me sing.

Eyes so bright they sparkled
Diamonds on moonlit snow;
Flashing hither and thither
To make my pulse race so.

We held each other gentle
Yet tight so not to break,
Though deep, our love could never last,
Different paths our lives would take.

For fleeting months we tarried,
Each time we met we knew
This may be the last time
For lovers hours are few.

If I love ten thousand women
Tis you I will recall;
You gave yourself so willing,
For your passion I did fall.

On black nights as the wind howls,
As I lie in a bed so cold,
Your soft voice echoes 'cross the years
To warm my lonely soul.

                                                                                                                                         

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 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

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Poetic Creations by Mark

 

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there you are by  leoferaco

 

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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

S P E K K E L . . K R E M E

Forest line
stretch like a taut ache
a hunger slipped with aces
and access desire
pulled against the crotch
and hip like the snout of
a holster warm

a walk perfumed and an eye
of fire
Caveat Venditor
how I adore
stature of splendour

Red Brother

Thank you for your service,
Your guidance and your grace.
Thank you for our history.
Your welcome to this place

Next time I go to Bingo,
I will truly look around.
I know of your museums,
Yet I play on sacred ground.

Thank you for your culture,
Your people's Benediction.
Thank you for your patience,
Forgive us our condition.

I wrote this as my personal poetic thought s upon Native American Week just last month. Will be nice to see what others think of my thoughts.

Perrenial Grasses

I've been sneezing for the last few minutes,
my eyes watering,
my nose running,
I think I've developed allergies
to my impending age,
there's so much more behind me
than
in front of me,
fewer ducks in a row.

Halted Again

At times things seem so convoluted
that my mind has wound the circuit
twice, before it's even entered
through the thought's front door

and words pour out in raging passion
all denying form or fashion
over paper pencil flashing
inspiration madly scores

Then sitting back, the write to mull on
mind now blank, the ideas all gone
poor formed symbols, woebegone
I understand one word in four

LIFE'S MEANING

First two little real stories:-

A wise professor was asked:
What is the meaning of life?

He put his hand into his inner pocket
and pulled out a little piece of mirror
and told
that since he was little
this piece of mirror had followed him
wherever he went,
he often took it out
and tried to shine light into the dark corners;

this he felt he was doing for other people,
but that he was only a medium.

He then declared that this was his meaning of life.

Waterfall

Floating across the surface,
a human speck admist
flotsam and jetsam,
I drift away from you,
into the sunset where
I'd rather be.

The wind huffs again
in a little cough
urged by my pestering prayer.

Away, away I go,
with that cold bread
damp with sea-salt
and clenched by
a determined fist.

I watch the rays of sunlight
set to a redish hell
of playful lights,
dancing like water nymphs
across my face.

The Fruit Stand Yard

Apple trees in the back
bearing lip red fruit
sweeter than any sugar cane

A pear tree
in the front
small grass green fruit
growing off of it
its fruit often used
for batting practice

In the middle
a tree of peaches grows
with a small anti squirrel cone
around its middle
and the juicy ripe fruit
making these rodents’ mouths water

The small wooden arbor
of grapevines with their
bunches and bunches
of purple sour grapes
hanging there
too sour to be eaten

The sun burn down into the resting arms of night
lights off; are now on
settling scene Scorsese, De Niro joint
eye of storm is over
restless youth appear from nowhere
baby vampires snipping dead eyes

save aged stories
to be told, written scripts a new Capote
how wise to let the vines ripen
as the Sabbath evening unfurl its wings

A Part of You

Your hands amaze me.
Strong yet tender
as the lightest touch from them
sends goosebumps trailing across my arms.
So soft and smooth
as you run your thumb across my cheek
-almost as an afterthought
before you turn away
and leave me standing here.
Breathless.

GRAY DAY THOUGHTS (feedback shop) edit

On an afternoon of rain and wind
thoughts go where they shouldn't stray
and wander forward to the end.
Who shall leave and who shall stay?

I don't think I could bear to see
my life's love lying cold and still.
So selfish as the wish might be
let me be first to top that hill.

But, should I be the one bereft
wait just beyond the crest for me.
I know my heart will soon be cleft
and I'll catch up to you shortly.

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