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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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Around The Globe Anthology

2nd edition


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Around The Globe Anthology


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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.


spring storm

Hint of beginnings of oppressive, dry heat
pushed on easterlies
stirring the winter icy still
to sluggishly resist
onslaughts of snugness against its chill.

Threatening the warmth with cooling water
rushing from the west to support the cold
woolly black blankets of power
whipping the air below to rattle leaves
into a frenzy that sounds a lot like laughter.

Window Of Despair

In flickers of a TV screen
a thousand tales speed by,
bereft of all imagination,
without the briefest hesitation,
except where sponsors scream
about the useless filth they ply.

Through this window of despair,
a thousand souls all live and die,
each second of each life flayed open,
butterflied between each slogan
so carefully designed to snare
the careless sweep of each mind's eye.


He was just here
with those hazel eyes
drawing me into a place
love defined

Maybe I was on a dark road
at the time
and he gave me
some light and protection
against loneliness and the impact
of destiny

He understood me for who and what I am
and much more than passion can find
a way to bind -
I was trapped by his humanity...

7 November, '10



Just beyond the end of autumn
I hear the winter's call
and he arrives to slay the leaves
which, stubborn, clung through fall.

The land once green and full of life
has now grown cold and sere
and harvest's colors once so rife
no longer are seen here.

As white and silver cloak descends
to cover silent frozen land
air turns cold as all warmth ends
and quietens all at hand.


Child on horseback
Won’t you come for me?
Mother by morning
Won’t you cry for me?
Cause I am so tired of being strong
And I am so sick of being wrong
That I will refuse to breath

Sun on my shoulders
Won’t you burn me?
Moon calm the violent seas
Won’t you drown me?
Cause I am so tired of being afraid
And I am so sick of riding the waves
So I will refuse to speak


My knees hurt so much today
I decided home I'd stay
And watch the autumn sun so bright
journey from the dawn to night

The sky is not all pure and blue
within it fluffy puffballs grew
morphing as they drifted past
outpacing shadows that they cast

Between the earth and drifting cloud
flocks in migration cry out loud
as they sojourn to southern lands
in large flocks or scattered bands

Dynamics Of Me

I am a still life a bowl of fruit
...or flowers in array

nothing unsettling
or startling
nothing to turn from
or linger upon

...of yesterday
...or a thousand yesterdays past

changes percieved
glance to glance
derive solely from
the commotion within yourself

I am still
I am fixed

quietly afloat in that which is eternal

youngest gal! then two years ago...since grown

youngest gal!
you are very young
exquisitely beautiful

guys and gals
you‘ll be alarming
as they will be desiring....

take great care
be totally aware
Internet is actually dicey!
life is pricey

guys want that only
what by now you
ought to know

so take care
my youngest friend
before you meet
a premature
towards the end!

Someday This Gonna' make Sense

after a busy day, i broke free by the riverside..
watching the lilies taken by the flow,
to the far diverging end form my sight,
a tiny sight i'm a fool to know..

my eyes flew back to that rare-taken.. highway,
where a mobile came to pass then and now gone
how may ways are there along the way?
to realize my goliath dream to be her one..

will she ever dare to catch me down?
or will always see me as a bitter clown?
will be chilled up by the sense of doubt,
nah, i wish i would never fall off the ground..

her hands

her hands

of finest stuff
of nature, her hands
are wrought --
to shine
the world a brighter
set amidst the stars --

her hands do sing
and dance in mortal
air -- but have transparency
that is eternal

their loveliness -- their
beauty --
their slender elegance
I wish gracefully to
hold in mine --

and feel a moment of
eternity they possess
without effort.


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