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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

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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.

 

Miss. Anxiety

Flirting with fate
As she seduces you
With words
That make love
To your ears

Her weapon of choice
An overwhelming
Sense of worthlessness
Bestowed on her
Victims

Effortlessly, she rips
Her prey’s confidence
Without any hope
Of regaining it

OH NO !

Another rerun.....

I've got to go on a crash diet
and grow a head of hair
whatever works, well I shall try it
to keep my head from being bare

I need to trim my mustache neat
and shave 'most every day
and, again, watch what I eat
so some of me will go away

Trim the hair in ears and nose
clip nails on fingers and on toes
use drops to allay bloodshot eyes
work out the jiggle in my thighs

levenslang stil

Here within lies
a recollection
of large talons
that tear smooth

creamy flesh

a cadence ricochets
off paint peeled walls
of the clatter as soles
strike dry dirt and stone

blood rushes

two sets of eyes
squint and scan
backs hunched low
only darkness shields

momentary peace

words mumbled
in restless sleep
betray the vessel
of secrets deep

burial crypt

posterity's portal
reveals a clue
gravestone cipher
the silent cue.

poet first

poetry written is for poet first
only person who must be pleased

stretching words thin
tantalizing them to mean
what they mean
beyond what they mean

word play --
not a contact sport
but for firing neurons
skipping electro-chemical light
in darkness of skulls

critics pick and pull
poet's words
stack opinion upon opinion
losing meaning
perhaps only poet knows

poet just keeps writing
for him or herself --

most ruthless of critics.

"BLACK MOON" or the end of the world as we know it.
Margaret Ann Waddicor Novmber 13th 2010.

Black moon,
your glow eclipsed,
the clouds lit by the flare
from burning lights of cities,
towns;
weep,
weep your tears
of sorrow,
for on the morrow
weeds will form,
in place of life,
its vigour
and lacking daylight,
wither.

DAWN on WALLSTREET

On a top floor balcony I sit
in our great east coast city
as the night fades into day
among concrete business monoliths

The last few visible stars fade
into skies turning slowly black to gray
all silent save a lone street cleaner
slowly chugging down empty streets

Sun still drowned by tattered ocean
although under lighting horse tail cirrus clouds
with a soft saffron glow
alongside cris-crossed contrails

SHE

She's empty, a recepticle ,translucent.
No obvious personality ,
Deconstructed.

She is battered and bruised
Misused.
Frightened to emerge.
terrified he might see.

Playing dead, guarding
her sanity.
defending a personal reality.

Recieving body blows,
crushing all self esteem.
Grinding her to a tiny nub.

Tiny crumb of self
remains, .Something to hold onto.
When all else has fled.

Rebirth

Deafening waves of blood
Pounding in my ears
The quiet noise
Sudden darkness fills my eyes
Rising on the flux of my panic
It was the clatter of my clutter
Flowing in rushing rivulets
Down the banks of my life’s stream
Washed to the brink
Of eternity’s open maw
The crash cart enters
Harshly inducing
My reentry into the now
Briefly dead
But now reborn
Giving me two birth dates

* Due to a stomach ulcer, an artery burst. I died and was revived. This is my first poem on this experience. Cat.

Here we go passing by

Coal-bright heat
pulsates a primal beat,
this light burns white
in the squalid night.

The windswept fury
in a drunken flurry,
toppled kerosene lamp
leaves the table damp.

Morning slips in sly,
waking the bleary eye;
pollen grain breezes
peddles raucous sneezes.

Desire's Puzzle

The need for your acceptance
will usually keep me quiet,
but not today.

I feel weak, but strong,
alone and surrounded.
I feel left out, expected,
dearly loved and neglected.

But if someone,
anyone, can hear me ...

I want to be seen and forgiven,
in control,
yet out of my mind.

Lost, found,
locked in
and locked out.

I want to be anonymous,
but who the famous talk about.

I want to be remembered and forgotten,
and one day, one glorious day,
accepted.

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