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Mother's Day Image Prompt Contest

Mother's Day Image Prompt Contest

Please read the following poems

And vote below.

Voting ends May 26th 2024

Mum... You and I

By: Rula

 

Together we witnessed time ebbs and tides:

we went through ups, we went through downs,

yet luckily we got each other's sides,

you and I, you and I.

 

Together, unwillingly, we grew old,

with devestating wrinkles, and white hair.

We both raised families, yet we're still bold

You and I, you and I.

 

Together we laughed, together we cried:

I uplifted your spirits, you got my tears wiped,

we stayed together, side by side,

You and, I you and I.

 

Together we lived for worse and better,

until Alzheimer's stole you, my bank of love,

although you promised to stay forever

You and I, you and I.

 

My Gold

By Mr joghe

 

In whom I spent my old days and nights,

Who rocked me in my cradle;

And fed my pretty mouth with a spoon,

Did weep while I should weep.

How much will I pay

For the pain you’ve taken for me?

 

Who worked that jumper to keep me warm;

Treated me with diffidence and respect,

Her healthy arms always be my stay,

And always admired my prudent face that filled with laughter.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

Who tired me with apology for being tiresome,

And asked twenty questions and never waited for an answer.

My timidity struck her at the first sight;

When she taught me to expect something extraordinary.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

I find such a pleasure

In obeying her commands,

That I take care to observe;

Shall soon come to bless me.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

I vow, I thought so;

Never, as among queens and princesses

In her age; to be explicit,

I’ve kept very little company

In pretty smooth dialogues with her.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation!

Neopoet Weekly 05/12/24 to 05/18/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 


Mosquitos Suck!
  By William Lynn

 

Congratulations to William Lynn for racking up another contest win!

Neopoet Weekly 05/05/24 to 05/11/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Ways of loving by  Terumi Sakurai

Let us congratulate Terumi Sakurai on their first win as a neopoet member.

About Contests

There have been some changes to the about contest page
To take a look visit
https://www.neopoet.com/contest/program-description-and-guidelines

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Warm Flesh

Warm flesh wrapped in a
State of grace and a white shirt --
Sombre room reflects light in
Her eyes -- rising from perusal of
Her book of dreams

Elegant scent of woman rises
From the open shirt, and
Fills the room with feminine
Mystery

Hair loosely tied -- how effortless
To undo her auburn tresses and let fall
Round her eyes, offering invitation

As the bed waits to be used.

Repellent

Crude, rude and outspoken.
You could say she's a ball breaker.
She takes no prisoners
Repelling all with arrogance and bluff.

Inside turmoil and anxiety
Swinging between certainty ,
And uncertainty.
Raging against society.

Classic means of defence,
is to be on the offensive .
Repelling all with arrogance and bluff.

Vulnerable, frightened creature,
Inside a hard shell..
Raging against society

POPLARS

These poplars stand straight and tall
slim branches bare in early winter
seeds whirly-birding as they fall
confetti for all who choose to enter.

Gray trunks a match to cloudy sky
as their limbs applaud the wind
and maybe me as I pass by
on my way to journey's end.

I've come here often in the spring
as newly minted green leaves sprout
and this copse's love birds sing
while mating squirrels run about.

SHADE TREE MUSINGS

Here's another oldie I dusted off.........

I'm sitting here beneath a tree
that must be thrice as old as me
and as I sit I think about
how this huge tree was once a sprout.

Through all the years that it has grown
how many fields have farmers sown ?
and since it was a mere acorn
how many generations born ?

Beneath its spreading summer shade
what lovers' promises were made
while out upon an evening's lark
and carving names in smooth beech bark?

Don't give me that bullcrap about trying

So, you say you tried.
Don't give me that bullshit
It didn't require
someone who'd try
and you shouldn't get in the habit
of trying anyway
just get it accomplished
display some damned
adaptibility
and some gumption
make it happen
The outcome should be determined
before you even start
and then your effort
produces a finality
and a completion
The result doesn't have to be perfect
or even pretty
what matters is that you
see it through, to

The Journey of Your Song

It's a lonely, truthful journey
finding your voice, with which to sing,
even worse, then there's the journey for your song;

but, we all sing from our essence
to share the truths each heart may bring,
so sing out loud, sing out clear, and sing out strong.

After a while, you may meet someone
who may fancy the same "life tune",
but, their performance of the song does not ring, true:

green eyes! still unseen......

what fool must he be
to ignore lovely eyes
as yours

you have four boys
and
a girl
keep your family intact
each one is a pearl
including him
for whom your poem
now you unfurl

hope he does awake
from the slumber
in which he basks
and
its high time that
now he unmasks

Welcome to the Block

`

Curses lick with jest
at the small
of your back,
then they sear -
stinging hot:

Look around,
oath on jaundiced cloud;
kids with eyes
big as watermelons
hold the prods of hell's burning.

`

blue porcelain bowl

I am the blue porcelain bowl
got in China
with a chip inside
rim of my bottom ring

only I know it's there

there was a defect
in firing when I was
made -- left a fissure
so small it went unnoticed

lady from San Francisco
who bought me in Guangdong
brought me home
never noticed invisible crack
under me

on trans-Pacific voyage
a little piece fell off --
packing box never told
about sliver of blue

Night Owls

Pale eyes peer down
from leafless oak
beneath the watchful gleam
of ice-chip stars
on moonless nights,
when they dance
their whispered death
on silent wings of hunger.

No quiet hints
of tiny feet
escape attention,
no faintest rustle
dim in darkness
evades anticipation,
no silence paused
on edge of fear
will lose the focus
of sharp ear
when they listen
for patterings of prey.

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