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Community News

We are attempting to make everyone's experience on the site more personally gratifying. The AC is proposing changing Neopoet so that, before posting a new poem, a member must make three comments on other member's stream & workshop posts. This will guarantee more comments on other posts and, we believe, improve the user experience.

One "credit" will be awarded for a new comment of any length on a stream or workshop poem (except for your own). For simplicity, no "credits" will be awarded for prior comments before this initiative.
Three "credits" will be spent to post a poem (in the stream or in a workshop)
New members, and all existing members as of the start of this initiative, will be granted a certain number of "credits" - initially, we are proposing enough to allow two poems to be posted.
"Credits" expire after 30 days
One can check their own balance, but only trustees & advocates can check the balance and transactions for other members
"Credits" are only awarded to comments at least at the 25% percentile in terms of size (based on our analysis of almost 200k comments, that's 16 words or longer).

We welcome the opportunity for everyone to voice their opinions and will take community feedback into consideration before drafting a final proposal.

Following the precedent set during the "one poem per day" initiative, we will then submit this proposal to the community for a referendum.

Forum thread:

The stream (all workshops)

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


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 coldness
Of rainy fields of war
In distant countries

The ice of indifference
Or flying metal

Infantry men
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 seems 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


As I wake up
I need to refill
the morning glass of hope
to cick the long day's $#t

Today I planted a rosy rose
blooming with prayers

Nowt to say

I had nowt to say
and lay noiseless,

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 cold of her heart refusing to melt
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

Poetry Shoes

Poetry shoes,
kinda flashy, it's what I choose,
made in Guatamala,
by some poor seamster fella,
the colours of it's outer skin,
stir strange thoughts from deep with-in,
from the depths of my mind,
only to find,
they got me on the go,
as my words start to flow,
to new homes whoever will hear,
many pass by, my words may bring a tear,
or a smile from a memory past,
as good feelings get cast.
Well I just love my poetry shoes,
there se fine and they come in two's!

Reconciliation Begin With Recon

reconciliation begins with recon
the military observation
of a region
to locate an enemy
or ascertain
strategic features

because since practically
the beginning
there has been
a strategic divider
like Hitler
or Cover Girl magazine

a fork-tongued genius
with everything wrong
to say

however many people are involved
always has one more
with horns

who doesn’t want us
back together again

and who probably won’t go down
without a good fight


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