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Description: Write a poem to your childhood self. 12 to 32 lines written in rhyme or free verse .

Contest Link

Create your poem here.

About Contests

Winner may advance to the final contest in January 2023

This week the Neopoem is " A Stranger by Anna Severchuk. Congratulations to Anna on such a fine poem, To read this poem please click the link below and leave a comment.

Thank you to the Neopoem group for choosing the weekly winner.

Our seventh series of ten of this workshop is about to start. There is still room for two people to join this workshop.
If you are interested please click the following link

To see how the previous workshop transpired please click below

Neopoet Anthology Announcement!

We have decided to publish a Neopoet anthology with all the poets who have won any of our contests. We will start a contest to select the cover poem of the anthology. Join our contest by clicking the link below

The Neopoem Of The Week has been awarded to Mark for his poem "Feelings of Expressions" Congratulations to Mark on such a fine poem. To read this poem and leave a comment click on the link below. Thank you to the Neopoem Group on picking the weekly winner.

The stream (all workshops)

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


River Rocks

River rocks are like love
So smoothed by the current
Moving waters surrounding but they stand tall
And take on the water, never to fall

But those rocks, so unmoving, are dangerous ones
Ones you may run into when you take a plunge
It’s the clashing of love we see every day
From fights to breakups to hateful displays

So while these rocks may seem nice from the surface
When you dive in, be nervous
Because those rocks can harm you
Just like love can, out of the blue


Grandma Mae told me
Linda’s butt was too big. As if.

And you know what she told her
son when he earned admission
to Brooklyn Tech? You ain’t gone to
no tech school—it’s all the way across
town—and anyway, Mr. Hotshot—
nobody’s gonna hire a Jew.

But her stuffed cabbage was
delicious—meaty, salty, sweetened with
swollen raisins. No wonder I loved her.



Strings of Silver

Her hairs
are strings of silver

Her neck
holds dazzling diamonds

In her eyes
Hidden lights sparkle

Queen Elizabeth II
was a beauty to behold

Samuel Onyeche

The Life of Night

When the sun sets and ends the day,
Another life living and on the way,
The night a mysterious time,
Full of magic and some things divine,

The moon a crescent of white,
Fireflies coming to bear their light,
The owl presiding over the dark,
Nothing making a single mark,

Moonflowers bloom all around,
A rare beauty to be found,
Water, a silvery sheen,
This new life seen only by the keen.

Love and Grief

I met a man who just lost his wife
His grief he could not hide
I sat with him while he wept
Through his tears, he kept asking why

As he wiped his eyes,
He looked at me and said,
"Mother Nature's made a mistake, she forgot to wait"
"The husband should always get to say goodbye"

I watched him walk away
And thought how it must feel
To be loved and to love so much
That you can't live without

A stranger

A stranger

In the venue where we met
I saw a stranger in the black.
I saw his eyes,
They were like ice.
I heard his voice,
It wasn’t noise.
I saw the wings on his back
And blood on his neck…
You could think I am a liar,
But I am sure it was a vampire!


The circumstance of a royal death
the cathedral organs, the choirs, the bearer party,
crisp uniforms on a hundred Royal Sailors pulling the coffin
all marching in step to that drum
this is not Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club band

Royal Brothers that were only together for the ceremony
entered the cathedral in step with the rest
perhaps (maybe) to honor their dead grandmama.
no Father MacKenzie writing a sermon the night before
this is not poor Eleanor Rigby’s ceremony, nations abide it.

Lying In the Bed You Made

Stab me in my heart, not my back. Then when you watch me take my last breath, have the courage to say goodbye, before the cold words last spoken are the last words that I hear before my eyes close and my wound opens.

Then, when you see me fall, catch my lifeless body, lost of all purpose, and tell me that, before my time of death, I wasn’t completely worthless.

At my visitation, pay your respects towards the debt of all my efforts that were handed to you without expectations of appreciation or reciprocation.


Who’s that folding your fitted sheets
and cleaning your hotel bathrooms?
Who’s that humping your wet concrete;
Who's that pushing your brooms–
--do you know their names?

Who’s that pruning your pink azaleas,
and picking your ripe peaches?
Who’s bussing your dinner tables;
who’s that washing your dishes–
--do you know their names?

Who’s that feeding your grannie lunch;
who’s that changing her diaper?
I’ll bet five bucks you have a hunch,
so on this piece of paper–
--won’t you write their names?


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