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Neopoet Weekly 03/17/24 to 03/23/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

2:23am by zach

 

Congratulations to zach on such a fine poem.

Early Spring Image Prompt Contest Vote

Early Spring Image Contest Vote

 

Please read the two finalist poems below and click on the vote here link to vote on your favorite poem. Voting ends March 29th 2024.

 

 

The Visitor

By: Mary Beth Magee

You visit for a moment,

Accept a breath of hospitality,

Then dash away again.

You share your company briefly.

 

But in that time, oh,

The magic you bring.

From tiny eggs to instars

To gloriously patterned wing.

 

I watched you hatch and crawl,

Grow, shed and wriggle.

You change your dress. Your

New look makes me giggle.

 

You give me joy and delight

With your aerial ballet.

My royal friend, magician,

Harlequin at play,

 

Dear monarch, share your gift

Of grand, exuberant joy

With all. Give us eyes to

See, and feelings to employ.

 

You set an example

Of living in the moment.

Let us live so our days

Are likewise spent.

 

Dash on, my friend,

Your destiny calls.

Send your children my way

When the milkweed grows tall.

 

Spring Comes

By: Candlewitch

 

Fields of springy clover

beneath my barefoot toes,

dance-happy feet kick up

a delight everyone knows!

 

Green, green all around,

a heart full of joys untold

rolling over and over in

nature's paradise hold!

 

In gardens of my growing hopes

tulips, buttercups and crocus

flourish healthily blossoming,

as Spring comes into focus.

 

 

Vote Here

Neopoet Weekly 03/010/24 to 03/16/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Dancing In The Dark  by  William Lynn

Congratulations to William Lynn on such a fine poem.

Neopoet Weekly 03/03/24 to 03/09/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

THE LAST RING by  Jokerface82

 

Congratulations to Jokerface82 on such a fine poem.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Apology

I didn’t mean to hurt you
I swear upon my heart
When he asked if he could walk me home
I knew I wasn’t being smart
He put his arm around me
He started playing with my hair
I told him I had a boyfriend
He told me he didn’t care
You can’t turn back the clock
You can’t go back in time
He was older and so was I
The chance for love had passed us by
There are times I wish I could turn back
Things are so different now
And I want to be the girl I was
But I don’t remember how

After The Sermon

I try not to go down memory lane.
The packages there,
I don't want to open them.
It's not like Xmas, when the joy
is seeing joy and it's multiplication.

What hurts is not me.
Behind regrets and hatred
is that silence where no 'other'
is remembered; no 'other'
niggles me with pain.

I lie still and try to be calm,
to rest as if floating
and when the buzz saw outside
intrudes, it's only the builder
next door, making something new.

Katushka

cirrus flavours
a neon show

beyond the orange dust
taste of dusk

I came to you

the river of wire
the summiits of poles
blanched in their
thoughtful order
shivered in the yellow
lights

the pretty Dodge coupe
sleek as a river
speckled
with rust

take away anger with
a blossoms graze
coloured scarf binding
the burn a torn rib
a ragged filling lung

drenched fingers in prayer
velvet light green
253 radio tuned to
twelve point three

Anticipating...

Listen to the silence
Waiting for the key
My ear is tuned to hear you
Your’s to hearing me

Your step is light, most quiet
My eye searching all around
I hear your comfort-voice
Heart-volume at full pound

Work all day anticipating
It doesn’t matter what you say
Zoning out, no content
I’ve been waiting all the day

Home at last from all the horror
The killing and the death
Cheating, lying scum
It stinks, I hold my breath

milt what!

as we swim in the vastness of the universe supreme
we are an extension of milt …
it so does seem

well for those who want to know
what is milt …
some say
Google it....

well...

it’s the sperm of male fish
spread across the waters
female fish come to bathe in it freely
when some enters..

human beings are also
extensions of fish like existence
so be it some like, fish,
swim along the current
mostly few like electric eel and me
against..

In Medias Res -RE-WRITE

IN MEDIAS RES

I take the moments as they come
and when the moment is kind
I ride the wind in furious flow
as far as my ecstasy will go.

But when the sickness strikes
I no longer have a voice to sing
frozen in fear and desolaton.
I wait pretending
holding on to my soul
as long as I can
until
I start to live
again

St. Patricks' Day (2 sides to every story)

The Bad

Yeah Paddy’s Day is on its way
The time when alcoholics come out to play
Wear your green with pride they say
But I often hang my head with shame
on this supposedly great day
For every Paddy, Mick and Dick
Will be out acting the tick
A night on the town
Will only get me down
As people, their sorrows, they attempt to drown

The Good

fragile web of breath

poetics of space, opacity of breath
placement of words, stepping stones
subtle pause, falter –or go on-
gaseous syllables left unformed
cosmic birthing of the stars
richness of the not yet said
deeper than the newly born
ears, sound struck , open to the sun
music , note expectant, waits -
harp’s crested gorgeousness,
voluptuously flowers, enfolded,

silence pulses in my tongue

The forests round the mountain side
are shades where many creatures hide
and slink through lowly growing leaves
as though the forest sighs and heaves
with life and sentience of its own.            5
The newly planted wood had grown
into a haven queer of sort
where natures creatures held their court.
The fluttering birds in chorus sang,
and rattling branches, squirrels rang            10
and ravens raised their calling din
as Inve, hunting, trod within
the virgin forest, rodents caught
and to a little fire brought

The legends told by kings in court
are of the greatly varied sort.
Long tales of unrequitted love,
or stories from the world above.
Of wizards wise and witches vain        5
and cursed lords with iron reign.
Most of these tales do have some truth
from most fantastic to uncouth
yet of the legends ever told
one still remains that grows not old.        10

There once had lived a dreadful queen
whose beauty never shall be seen
if all the west were e'er unmade
for none more glorious was that maid.

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