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April 2024 Contest Winners

Congratulations to our April 2024 contest winners!

Spring Fling  was won by Carrie with the poem Spring Fling

04/24 I Was An April Fool was won by Geezer with the poem Fooled Again...

04/24 Waiting In Line was won by  Mary Beth Magee  with the poem The Last Time

04/24 Are We There Yet?  Was won by Rula with the poem We're Almost There For It

04/24 My Favorite Cookie was won by Leslie with the poem After school treat!

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.

                                                                                                                                         

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation.

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.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Spirit of Butterfly [Sunku]

Carefree
I flutter
tirelessly

taking
utmost joy
in living life

longing
to embrace
tranquility

Pressure fissure:

All political correctness
Needs to be evenly supplied
Else it becomes a pooled mess
For special lobbies misapplied

Lawmakers sadly and truly
Are just political zombies
Controlled not by voters duly
But at beck and call of lobbies

At times pressure is so intense
Legislators agonized squeals
Are perceived not as an offense
But partying gains on sweet deals

Can we rescue office bearers?
How can the system be repaired?
Answer is with the protesters
And public support is prepared.

Full Lungs

Free at last,
don't owe anything 
to anybody 
- I'd worked enough
in the past -
and now like a child,
do only
what I want, 
still not completely old,
I don't ask
why I have to die first 
but 
I am excited
by the fact.
And 
every minute of my life
- what has left of it -
must be mine.

A hound carved.

Bare the brittle bones of night
let them eat. those that sleep
won't mind

Let the rumble clatter of timber
combust in its iron cage,
while one slaves

Let the other sleep, and whimper
dreams of running deep
into woods

While you cover strange ground
while the sleeper, sound
investigates the nocturne territory

Of a night, you once found,
once shared,
now a gnarled possession

A bone flint impaired by joint memory
let then, the night compare, while
one whittles words

Brouhaha

"I want my son to grow rich and successful through the pursuit of science"--Rimbaud

I crossed the sand

It tried to drag at my feet
Then the ocean
Tended my needs
The rippling surge

Crossing over toes
Caressed my ankles
Wetting my shins

The art of falling
As if to welcome
The insistent waves

To caress my body
Floating forward
Feeling the choppy tide

Caring not to breathe
A cool acceptance
Freedom of an Ocean

Holding my frame
Firm yet ignoring me
Seeming to laugh

I paused to look back
Then strove to be released
Becoming part of the whole

Dementia [Sunku]

I hide
my turmoil
with shaky palms

ashamed
my lips fail
to voice my mind

resigned
I follow
hands of the clock_

A Simple Read

While folding the pages
of the life's book
page after page
in search of happiness
between the lines,
a period or a comma
might hinder the journey,
don't stop though,
the book's still open
your epitaph isn't written yet.

TWISTED HINT (formerly untitled)

One hot spring day not many years past,
not so many as to have labeled me young,
but enough to have still been steady of pace
I grew restless within abode's walls
and set out on a quest.

So in my old truck I went
(Not my old red one, this one was gold)
down almost every type of road.
Hectic four lane highway, two lane blurry asphalt
through a few small towns
bypassing a sleepy southern city.
Finally a country road
which became gravel.
My kind of road.

Drugs and alcohol

I go to the store to get some Mountain Dew
Mom asks me if I’m high and i tell her I am through
But my Mountain Dew is ‘special’
And my drugs are confidential
And i don't want them to know the truth…
About my torn tattoos
That left a bruise
About my deep ass scares
I almost crashed my car,
I wasn’t that sober.
They ask me “why do you drink your only 13,
You shouldn’t drink you have a family,
But I’m a broken serial code
Only 4 numbers long, they’re unknown
And i'll bring to school my lean

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