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April 2024 Contest Winners

Congratulations to our April 2024 contest winners!

Spring Fling  was won by Carrie with the poem Spring Fling

04/24 I Was An April Fool was won by Geezer with the poem Fooled Again...

04/24 Waiting In Line was won by  Mary Beth Magee  with the poem The Last Time

04/24 Are We There Yet?  Was won by Rula with the poem We're Almost There For It

04/24 My Favorite Cookie was won by Leslie with the poem After school treat!

Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

Vote for this month’s image prompt contest winner

Voting ends May 6th 2024.

Vote at the end of this newsletter.

 

Backwards

By: Carrie

G
All the things that I wanna write
C
Have been written
G
All the songs that I wanna sing
D
Have been sung,
G
All the things that I wanna say
C
Have been said before
D A Em G
All the things that I wanna do have been done.

G
I wanna fly a kite
A
At night instead of day,
C
I wanna drive a big old truck
D
The opposite way
G
I wanna laugh when I’m sad,
C
And cry when I’m happy and gay
D A
I wanna do what no one’s done
G
Any other day.

G
I wanna wear all my clothes
A
Wear em all inside out,

C
I wanna be real quiet,
D
When everybody else wants to shout
G
I wanna see the stars
C
When everybody else sees the sun
D
I want my day to end
C G
When everybody else’s has begun.

C D
Wouldn’t it be weird, wouldn’t it be funny and strange
A
If everyone thought like this,
G
Slightly deranged.

 

 

Lost Love

By: Alex Tanner

Should I recall those blissful times
When we like climbing flowers entwined;
Our blossoms scented evenings air
As Love and Lust forsook our cares.

Your laugh was soft and gentle,
A butterflies wings in spring,
Dancing on the sunbeams
Enough to make me sing.

Eyes so bright they sparkled
Diamonds on moonlit snow;
Flashing hither and thither
To make my pulse race so.

We held each other gentle
Yet tight so not to break,
Though deep, our love could never last,
Different paths our lives would take.

For fleeting months we tarried,
Each time we met we knew
This may be the last time
For lovers hours are few.

If I love ten thousand women
Tis you I will recall;
You gave yourself so willing,
For your passion I did fall.

On black nights as the wind howls,
As I lie in a bed so cold,
Your soft voice echoes 'cross the years
To warm my lonely soul.

                                                                                                                                         

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation.

This week the Neopoem is

 

 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

Let us congratulate Izzi Reinier on his first contest win as a neopoet member.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

The rules of engagement

These are the demarcation lines of hate,
The crude black daubs of a battle plan.

Unspoken rules of some other’s fate,
Silently inscribed by unseen hands.

And whom, do we suppose, lands the final blow?
Among the innumerable rain of fists immune
To the fire below.

Forged, wrenched, wrought – an old and heinous plan begins:
Unleashed: the thousand shards of violent delight

For those who come willing to sow and fight,
While high above the bloody heaven,

A sardonic watching master grins.

the sadness of being

the mourning light
lays upon your face
spilling its sadness
wearing your grief

we hold on trying
to halt your slide
under our hands
leaves of skin flake
to float the breeze,
you are vanishing

smile lines are erased
a flawless mask
takes their place,
looking into the unknown
you are lost in dreams

each day a knife of anguish
carves at your mind
you've forgotten
the majesty of life
and a love all carry for you

Mental Transportation

poetry

designed
sublime
pretty, sometimes

yet, simply a vehicle
a word driven craft

certified and licensed
for transporting
minds

d e c a n t e r

copious example
held aloft
the good life
shinning through

beneath the bitter milk
and sour bread
we tilled the salt
with toil and sweat

trickle aches
the open dreams
like runoff streams
and miles bred

porchlight nocturna
waiting for visions
from heaven
and whispers from
the grasses

hunting bat
on moth glass
chase

drink heartily
these chaste
allowances

Moving

A disassembled life of pictures, books and curiosities,
scattered all about.
Huge jigsaw puzzle meaning little at a glance.
The reason for each piece recalled as dusted off and
packed within a pasteboard box taped tightly shut.
Each box stacked neatly in the center of the room,
waiting patiently to be gathered up and carried off to
some new lodging near or far away.
Their contents emptied in due time and
transformed into a life again.

poor those sullen minds

I thought poor … like pee
of those sullen minds

till I met and read ye
you held my hand….
many try to kill…
and upon others soil till …

that is the way with this wicked world…
we all know…
how the real ones perish…
whilst others glow…
and so it's time to surface here ..
and form a tracer… like a bullet...
and so may it be the violet...

I held to my feet
dug deep ...
as I learnt then
when we did meet

HOUR GLASS

HOUR GLASS
A sudden winter chill
stills the night
and steals the fire of day.
my light grows dim
the past fades into oblivion.
there is no place to hide
and I am lost in Time.

Sparrows

Why do the sparrows fly so high,
so near the sun,
so out of reach of limb
and rifle shot?

Why do they call,
but more,
why do I hear them call
when I cannot share
their merry song?

Why do they come
and go
like fleeting ghosts;
like happy little phantoms
dancing to a tune
that only God
and angels know?

That I do not know?

Why can no shaft
dethrone them from
their airy seat
into my empty arms?

wounded

In for repairs :)

C H A R I T I E

an open wound
alive with warmth
steams

rising
as the soft
new snows
gather

past an
alarm of light
blazing in
its lonely
place

wet
with leaves
disguised
with night

a cold fire
with a scald
alive
within a heart

laying layers
beneath
fluidity

each slow world
dissolving
soft texture
of sound

delicate
impressions

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