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Neopoet Weekly 02/18/24 to 02/24/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Trials and Triumphs by Shelby Pryor

Congratulations to Shelby Pryor on such a fine poem.

Around The Globe Anthology second edition

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Around The Globe Anthology

 

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Contests

Neopoet Weekly 02/11/24 to 02/17/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

The Purge by RoseBlack

Congratulations to RoseBlack on such a fine poem.

Neopoet Weekly 02/04/24 to 02/10/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Lovergirl by hippiemoon

Congratulations to hippiemoon 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.

 

Ghost

I don’t think you can fully get away from me.
When you’re with her, you’ll feel the ghost of my love.
You’ll open your eyes after kissing her and you’ll think it’s me.

I’ll haunt you everywhere you go.
Every road you drive, every street you walk,
Every goddamn second of your life I’ll be there.

I’ll be waiting, watching, lurking.

I think you killed me.
My soul is not tethered to my body,
My emotions switch on and off at an instant.

My ghost holds all of our secrets now,
So I don’t have to.

My First Bicycle Ride

My first bicycle ride
it takes me back to
my childhood memory
a precious gift for my birthday
instill me with a curiosity
like a baby’s step
learn how to walk
with the count of 1-2-3
despite the many falls
I beam with a smile
carry with a determination
of mindset
keep on going
like the energetic bunny
it did not daunt me
until I get it right
with the persistent
of practice
I never give up
to find fear as the excuse
learn from my flaw
to make it better

Free will!

It's an extistential right to have a choice
better to have stentorian voice
to get your views across
and nail it to the cross
some sort of manifesto
to gain your due respect you know
rebuke all your assailants
and vocalize complaints
for many come and many go
beware the ones who lay you low
then stand again uncompromized
your place in life epitomized
when people round don't seem to care
you'll lift your voice
with those who dare
develop lofty paradigmns

Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...

studious skinny scruffy scribe

My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.

Treasure Hunt

Sometimes I think poetry is
the time you first learned to skip
a rock across a glassy lake.
It touched the water five, maybe six times
before sinking below the surface.

You looked forever for the perfect one
to toss. Even though forever is where
the stone came from and returned to.

I don’t know for certain
all the places poetry can be found,
but if it lets me come back to these things
I’ll willingly continue the beautiful search.

Talk Talk

You are a huge O mouth
Open and yawning like a sink hole
Yelling absurd answers to simple questions
Your breath a cloud of steam
That freezes in the night air
To those who talk but never think
An exhausting O mouth eating oxygen
Eating and eating
Emitting opinions

The tongue in perpetual motion
The jawbone still chattering
Your mouth can run marathons
Silenced into a stupor
I sit here and say nothing
Pretending to listen

Our Failed Leaders

Our leaders choose greed to gain power
Leading us astray by the hour
The lies that they spread
Fill us with fear and dread

Our friends, our bodies they want full control
But want AR 15’s continue to roll
Killings are part of our schools each day
A terrible price that we must pay

Members of our society were brought here from birth
Their requests for acceptance are greeted with mirth
Our Justices now serve those who appointed them
Not the constitution and laws from which their authority stem

Phyllis Wheatley

you, Aborigine child, detached from your memory
so young - fairest blossom, waned in bloom
weaned from your maternal bonds
to wear a nation's wail
to sing the tribal songs in lyrics
dipped in pain

how self-deceit employed the minds
of those who hate.
how the zeal of those
meant to be skilled in lowliness
frustrated those who hate.

their concealed paganism
cries for blame to reveal
the disposition to fairness in their hearts...
so heartless!

Paris

Paris
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

Have you lived a life that’s good?
Have you helped somebody?
Have you chased your dream?
Have you healed?
Have you fallen in love?
Have you rescued a dog?
Have you seen Paris?

For those who answered no, don’t fret.
If you’re reading this right now,
Then you still have the chance.

I hope you take it.

Written February 20, 2024
© 2024 Kelly Ann Wilson

Springtime

From the get-go everything seems dirty
or just a little bit more than a little bit
or enough to notice.

To sit my city girl in the Mooshtang's bucket
sends us down roads bent, to the liquor store and more.
She is the last and only one
with strawberry red hair and dopey smiles
-the real ones mean so much fun!

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