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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

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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.

 

My Favorite Mystery Books

Characters emerge
Gripping my mind with fear
My heart now pounding

Dream Catching

If I could catch my dreams
All the ones that made me smile,
I would wrap them in a memory
And save them for a while.

Perhaps that small Pacific isle
It was nineteen ninety two,
The sun, the sand, and palm trees
The beach and me and you.

There was that cabin in the woods
Snow capped mountains all around,
We slept before the fires flame
Quiet nights without a sound.

London first, then on to Paris
Notre Dame and then the Louvre,
Wonders up and down the Seine
None more wondrous than you.

Wildfires

your life,
was like a night game
played out in the rain...

your love,
like fabled moths
flying to the flame...

your heart,
like a songbird
trapped in a gilded cage...

your soul,
a wounded animal
twisted in pain and rage...

your eyes, spoke to me
of the tiniest desire,
as you ran out of speech...

reaching out and touching
just one precious being
to set both our souls on fire...

Target Practice

I was with a woman
some time ago, who wore her love
like a pistol on her hip.

With her suspicious heart for ammunition,
one inevitable wrong move by me
and I was going to be done for.

Pretty soon I stopped
trying to avoid her aim.
She had already put holes
where we needed to breathe.

The Killing Floor

As lambs to the slaughter
men and women in order
will grow old and eventually die.
Their hopes and dreams,
Their peculiar schemes,
will be left here to wither and dry.
Wharehoused in masses
We'll prepare for the thrashing
that begins with your childrens denial.
Forgotten in boxes
down long empty hallways
your wish by your own design.
You built your life hopeing
in a dream to invoke.
A small gesture of love from a child,
but only received,
from your children it seems,

The Reckoning

Part 1

Into the night; the bone chilling, bloodiest part of the night;
wearing the skulls of enemies past, silently they crept.
Checking their list like good St.Nick, the last one wept.
Who knew Karma would turn up such a fright?

Heads wrapped in burlap, wrists tied with wire,
into the van they go like lambs off to slaughter.
Silently, she waits; her father's jaded daughter.
Never again would they make her out to be a liar.

I feel under the weather today February 19th, 2024

Substantial portion, viz
the lion's share
of the following poem
written June 10th, 2018.

Unseen enemy invades my body
with platoon of green berets air
rating, and enfilading immune system viz
Hub bully knock and sock kin me
courtesy roebuck seers sucker punches
mightier than stormy daniels wallop
from an indomitable
haversack being carrying
courtesy giant bully bear,
whereby cyclopean ogre

Ghostly Graveyard Warning

When the pumpkins turn orange and maples turn red –
When the full moon is yellow and huge overhead;
When October night winds bring a chill to the air –
Never walk in a graveyard at midnight - Beware!

When the crickets stop chirping and bats screech and fly –
When a black cat appears in the wink of an eye;
When the trees look like figures that both point and stare –
Then avoid every churchyard at midnight - Beware!

BEWARE THE PLATFORM OF BIGOTS.

I do not speak so why should they
Spout lies and filth from day to day.
Sad creatures full of bigots views
Bring misery to those they choose.

Do you heed or pay no mind?
To worthless voice, words unkind;
Spiteful barbs shot day to day
Bring misery like whips to flay

The flesh from off a victim's back
The blood to seep from weeping cracks.
Poor creatures bowed by heartless scum
Who leave their deadened bodies numb.

Had We Only Met

I caught the curve of your face in the crowd,
and the widespread room felt suddenly familiar.

Then, when you turned to leave, the same room
emptied into an anxious, gray regret.

Your name never had the chance to linger on
my lips, to slip itself behind the word,

"Hello..."

Trying to imagine your voice speaking back to me,
I stood out of place, staring longingly at the door,

forever wondering where our conversation might have led.

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