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Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

Vote for this month’s image prompt contest winner

Voting ends May 6th 2024.

Vote at the end of this newsletter.

 

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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This week the Neopoem is

 

 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

Let us congratulate Izzi Reinier on his first contest win as a neopoet member.

This week the Neopoem is

 

Poetic Creations by Mark

 

Let us congratulate Mark on his latest contest win.

This week the Neopoem is

 

there you are by  leoferaco

 

Let us congratulate leoferaco on his latest achievement.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

On My Knees

God, you listen to my worries
And cries the capture sleep
The aches that come profoundly
And leave me somewhat meek

The time I spend
Down on my knees
Is time that stands so still
These words that stagger out my mouth
Are daggers set to kill

Sacrificial Pawns

did someone hear his last cry
or was he a Kentucky chicken fry
lost much before his prime
though it wasn't his crime

in caskets lined in endless rows
restless lie the mortal remains
wondering if it was really worth
to suffocate in these memorials

muffled voices, riddled bodies
end products of the arms lobby
who rejoice during a war cry
packing ammo for more convoys

Karmic Kaleidocsope:

For those who live life amoral
Who believe not in piety
Whose actions reveal mien feral
Aiming for notoriety

For those who think this world is all
Neither presence of human soul
Nor an afterlife rationale
Not in God’s Role but Being Sole

Regime of black operations
Reacting with impunity
Negating due reparations
Self entitled immunity

This base philosophy won’t last
Leading to increased regression
Leaving victims in wake aghast
Aggression ends with egression

Arcadian Ground (military memories contest)

So many traded
The pastoral
For the petrifying

But they did not remain stone

Either when tilling
Their rocky fields at home

Or when facing
The stony fields of war
In distant countries

The cold rains falling
The ice of indifference:
Enemies
Or flying metal

Infantrymen
Or bombers
Of both sides

Who have their own
Fields and families
To go home to

Surrounded by flowers

On or in
The precious
Arcadian ground

We all are fighting for

Don’t Ask of Me (May Contest Military Memories)

Armed and dangerous moving around
Dust rising, then clinging to sweaty bodies.
A bright flash that went on forever
A coldness encased my body as light faded

I drifted in dreams, reaching out time after time
Trying to hold onto any reality, without luck
Swirling lights, forever world, again, and again.
There in the darkness, I heard a soft crying.

Please don’t let him go, filtered through
The waves of pain descended into my body.
I shook, and entered a deadly turmoil.
Gradually all things became as a placid lake

PTSD (May contest)

Sitting in this gritty hell
sandbags piled around fox hole
as rising moon begins to swell.
I'm dug in like a great big mole.

Not far away sit some good friends
they are about as safe as me
hoping we'll have peaceful ends.
I wish I could see just one tree.

Suddenly a fiery line
leaps out from a nearby dune
then explodes ending its flight's whine.
Peaceful vigil ends too soon.

Planting Hope

As I wake up
I need to refill
the morning glass of hope
to back me through
the long day's turmoil.

so I decided
to plant a rose
blooming with prayers.

Nowt to say

I had nowt to say
and lay noiseless,

Yet,
I heard the whispering
of innocence depraved,
awakening to terror.

Gasping infernos
of white smoke churns
turning lungs to pitch,
gods and men look on
despairing the child

Family is cleaved away
by the feel of the steel,
swirls rotate the bulb,
hypnotized to their grave,
elegiac lines cannot convey.

Children run the night
forgotten in the gush
of Ice burned to fire,
parents crave the blaze.

War Is Not A Lady... Military Memories May Contest

Sharp like a knife
The edge of her tongue
Slices of hate fall from her lips
Butter won’t melt in her mouth

The ice of her heart refusing to thaw
In the heat of his passion
Sucking the breath from his life
Draining the strength of his soul

His heart sinks like a rock
There is no way out
Do or die
She wins...

My Place in the World

Petals have melted. At first,
they were blossoming clouds,
then wandering swirls,

completing the cycle,
they are now transparent,
glistening scales on the road.

On the sloping shoulders
the asphalt is black almost oily.
The rain is over.

River has blown up. It stands
in every crevice
reflecting the sky.

And in one of them is my face
on the background of
trembling branches

and emerald leaves.
Or maybe it is my hair entangled
with the late spring

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