Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

Neopoet Weekly 06/09/24 to 06/15/24 Winner!

 

This week’s winner is Lavender with the following poem

 

Winning Poem

Magic

Submitted by Lavender

A falling star settled on my rose,
a diamond dipped in velvet clothes.
I dared not touch the pure gift
sent from heaven, so swift,
but let it rest there
in such sweet air
and comply
to my
wish.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

Summer Image Prompt Contest Vote

Please read the following poems

And vote below.

Voting ends June 19th 2024

 

 

 

Abandoned

By:  Mary Beth Magee

 

She bobbed there in the gentle swell,
The little boat I knew so well.
The sail wrapped tight along the boom
Gave me a feeling of dark doom.
I saw no anchor chain hung down
To stop her, lest she run aground.
No one sat in her empty bow.
No hand controlled her keel just now.
A gentle breeze set her to rock.
How did she get loose from the dock?
As the breeze caused her to turn,
I spotted paint along her stern.
Rough letters where my name had been -
The words now looked like "Mortal Sin."
What had he done in dark of night?
Was he convicted by dawn's light?
Then in the reeds beside the dock…
What I saw gave me quite a shock.
A body, face down, on the lake,
Could it be him, for heaven's sake?
Please, no, I prayed and backed away.
What pushed him so, I cannot say.
I didn't dream that he would dare.
I only know I lost him there.

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Summer Image Prompt Challenge-Sailing

By: Hon

 

In the sailing wind blow
pacing along with the flow
feeling at ease and contented
under the vast blue sky
the spray of the fresh air
embarking on a new journey
traveling miles far apart
carrying with a curious mind
awaiting for a new opportunity
embracing with a sense of hope
bringing with an emotional ride
through many different stages
at the endless spending time
finding own destination
with each tale of the story
comes with lessons
instilled with the thought
life is a learning experience
that takes where it goes
a place that holds special
to the heart that embraces
like home

 

 

 

 

Vote Here

 

Thank you for your Participation!

 

Neopoet Weelky 06/02/24 to 06/08/24 Winner!

 

This week’s contest winner is hippiemoon with following poem:

Archeology

By: hippiemoon

Years from now,
We will be dead and buried.
Your laugh nothing more than
A whisper in the wind,
A breeze carrying off dandelion wishes.

Our headstones will rest together,
Aging together, as we did in life.
Tears from our loved ones will mix with rain
And our memory will fade with the engravings.

And years from now,
We’re forgotten by everyone but the Earth.
They will dig our bodies up
And find our bones entwined in each other’s arms.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

Congratulations to Shelby Pryor for winning this week’s contest

 

Something New

Rain rushes from the skies
Mixing with a single tear
The wind cuts through
Like every doubt, every fear

Lightning shatters my peace
Like the pieces of my mind
A distant thunderclap mocks
Of the girl I was and left behind

A tornado rages in my head
Demolishing my peace and joy
I plaster on a smile for you,
But it's just a tactic I employ

The fear paralyzes my heart
Yet I'm so tired of being afraid
It is time to get up and fight
Before my resolve starts to fade

My fingers curl around my sword
I lift it high, I've got my armor on
I bring it down with all my strength
Until the shattered pieces are gone

There is no fixing the girl I was
No use in buying time with glue
The only solution is to shatter her
And forge with fire Something New

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

At What Cost a Christian Chequebook

At What Cost a Christian Chequebook …

Doesn’t anyone find it disgustingly odd?
that a book meant for a saintly tomb.
Written by men who’re said to be of god,
is worth more than the fruit of the womb.

They say negotiations went incredibly well,
purchasing this book for nine million pounds.
I say they and the book should burn in hell,
I mean this is as stupid, as it bloody sounds.

Maybe this Time (Spoken Word)

Free these city streets
beneath her feet
burden by concrete
sky tower, tenements, pigeons perched
gutter rats dwindle from the light
there's something kinda beautiful here
to early rise
a yellow ball east of China town
off broadway and the bridge buckling down
the city illusive . . .
with no ninjas just chaotic chinese
chopped into Bruce Lee videos and wind chimes
continue to ring in dingy take outs
doorway standing nursing a plastic container
rice noodles, baby bok choy

Dreams

The minds manifest has so many weights
one such corner has the best enclave
to reminisce for the events gone by
yet imagine ones ahead
in the creation of one’s mind
bold, stout and fervent
the dreams one gets are heaven sent,
if there be one
otherwise dreams are the seeds of rejuvenation
a man can only create and procreate
with visual injection
of thoughts deeds and action
which manifest from sheer virtual imagination
the impossible is a deterrent,
the positivity is cornered

Stupid Girl

poor, poor little girl
she wants to be grown up
longing for a home
while she sits and sulks
and thinks and thinks
of how to play this game
go fastfastfast
until you get enough
but you never get enough
so shut up kid
when the sky is this blue she must envy it
she must be set apart, yet she must be the same
so cool and clever, so deliberately far from the box
that damnable, evil mold everyone falls victim to
whatever you say dear
you'll have your time to fly high

IT IS

IT IS

Something else and something else,
why does that sing a song
one where the words
forgotten
keep on coming along

beside me, through me
as I go
to where I do not know

who is looking,
what is looking
our consciousness
the brain its ticking time

where does awareness go
when there is nothing to be aware of
any more

we are a part
apart
yet joined to all that is
what is,
is something, nothing, nought
and yet its there

It is.

Nordic cloud.

moon racers

Its a good night he says,
Its a good night
for a race in the full moon light

Ave Maria

I will sing an Ave Maria,
if it ever comes again.

These shackles are jewel speckled,
donned from generation to the next.

We passed them on,
though they were painful,
under the eye of an aging world,
we guarded them with our lives
and what was left of our sanity.

Like sheep we are led to the slaughter
of reason,
and the judges;
book cases from Plato to Kant,
look down on us;

yet still we proudly walk on,
proud of our parent's yoke:

Dear England

Dear England
Ho’ dear England let me rest
and my worldly travel end,
My spirit lies in your silken bed
from my taunts of life to spend,
To rest away from the throbbing guns
that count the pace of life,
Safe within thy dream like-hold
as my mother’s kiss goodnight,
Embrace me like the dampened arms
of a lover's jealous hold,
and replace that dream before the dawn
my darkened nightmare stole.

.
There was movement at the Nursing Home for word had got around
that the Neolith Olympics was today
and the medals were all ready, first prize a hundred pounds,
so all the aged had gathered to the fray.
All the tired and bloated oldies, from Homes from near and far,
had gathered at the crisis muster point.
They'd come by bus, by train and plane, and some had come by car.
They'd be stopped by neither frame nor aching joint.

Creamy poet

Hello Lady Nevada
your return
sent cockles down my spine
my hairs stood on end
I rubbed my eyes
to reread your lovely one,

At twenty seven you could swim
along with the sun
but never naked…
barefooted maybe
and
here is this one awaiting for more
how your poetry satiates for sure
I wish to let you know
all readers
missed you so.
including the ones,
who are here no more
but hope to see your
Lovely free verse
my portrait,
as like a garland adore….

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.