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Winners - September 2023 Contests!

Congratulations  to all of last month’s winners.


Ruby Lord won the School Days contest with the poem SISTER PAULINE

Paleoray won the Neopoem Of The Week September 24th To September 30th 2023 with the poem  Symphonic Ecstasy 

Ruby Lord  won the September 2023 Challenge Meeting the grim reaper with the poem Dead or Alive

Lavender  won the September 2023 Challenge Write about being invisible with the poem Old Ford

Hon won the September 2023 Challenge Waking up in the back of a police car with the poem Waking in the back of the police seat

 Credell Simeon won the September 2023 Challenge Waiting to see the doctor with the poem Stress Relief Doctor's visit

Isabel Agatha  won the September 2023 New Member Contest with the poem drunken hiccups

Neopoet Image Prompt Contest August 2023

Clentin  won the Neopoet Image Prompt Contest August 2023 With his poem titled  Fairy Tales Remembered. Congratulations to Clentin on a job well done.

The stream (all workshops)

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


We Are

The great sky
will sweep above us
reuniting our brief time
of what we have been
with what we will always be:

mud and ivy
oak and leopard
cloud and fire ant
rose and lava
ocean and hornet
cypress and fossil
canyon and hummingbird
wind and orca
oil and stone
dust and dandelion
eagle and chestnut
bone and mountain
lightening and riverbed
wood and air
tsunami and poppy field.

We are
elements of
chaos and balance.

The Girl from Yesterday

Thanks to a loving heart that beat for me,
I stand unfettered now, by love set free.
The girl I owe this debt to I can’t pay,
for she belongs to yonder yesterday.

From deep inside my long-forgotten past,
where paths were paved with thorns and pain was vast,
she shed her love, like leaves, in springtime’s youth,
a stream that flowed with kindness, love and truth.

Democracy in Decline

Apathy grows in a democracy,
A nation's dissatisfaction with its state.
Where our leaders no longer listen,
And our people are left to debate.

Our voices so often unheard,
Our votes no longer count.
The ideals of democracy
Seem far away and out of mount.

We thought democracy would bring us freedom,
But instead it's brought us strife.
Where our voices are no longer heard
And our country is full of strife.

24 (and?)

I think I hate myself.
day in and day out,
Thinking only about slicing through
my skull like eggshell.
The only way to rid of this hurt,
is to bury my brain and heart,
Six feet under the dirt.
Both organs, only bleed
for you right?
How I despise when you're not in my sight,
Late hours into the night,
where I worry and worry,
when I think of you,
it feels like I'm clawing at a horrible scab.

A Blue bonneted Bandicoot

A blue bonneted bandicoot with a sea calf
(amortized in blank verse)
scuttles amongst major malapropisms,
An object lesson of despair for students of the Classics.

In the Month of Hershwan in a study far from that place,
A Hebrew scholar paints calligraphy on a cloisonne
Clock. He expatiates Wallhalla – a Last Supper for his spectacle.

Adored by femme fatale (and others) for its chanced rarity,
They hunt for the preciosa, unbeknown that the bells are tolling.

My Twin

A buddy since life’sfirst day
Walking, talking, laughing out loud
Actions once taken for granted

Meet the Reaper

Gatekeeper of the underworld,
whose body hides under a cloak,
introduce yourself as you get hurled,
Lying in wait for your next victim to croak,
even though it might not be their time,
No mercy for those cast in molten mercury,
souls drenched in primordial slime every being always spoken to accusatorly.

Stress Relief Doctor's visit

No painkiller can bring relief,
No psychologist expresses belief,
Though it's in the back of my mind,
An enemy stabbing from behind,
No justice for this unfair crime,
No compensation for the time,
Lost to sleepless nights,
Fear of bright lights,
Tears at upsetting sights,
Those feelings of unrest,
I’m not at my best,
Yet being put to the test,
By this invisible threat,
Whose anguish I cannot forget,
With every return, I face regret,
Having me in disbelief,

pider-a night in the life!

My name is insidious.
You may not know me well,
but you soon shall.
My dwelling is dark
and has a well.
I live under your sink.
There's just enough moisture
to offer a drink.
And enough food to allow me time to think.
Enough space to set up shop...
to begin to get plump.
Venture out into the night
and well, make your house my home!
Don't think for a moment.
That I know not where you sleep,
or the sill of the window
where your children
lie fast asleep.

Gott, oh mächtig, Trump iz on the warpath again!

Glad for birth write to express views
aware cunning linguists
will apply figurative screws
in an effort at blatant mud slinging ruse
exercised courtesy mail in ballots,
or electorates standing in queues
who the previous Sunday
possibly fervently prayed within pews
a mixture of Republican and Democratic


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