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This week the Neopoem is

 

  My Heart, My Heaven by Izzi Reinier

 

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

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.

                                                                                                                                         

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The stream (all workshops)

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Just You Wait

I need to look at days gone by
To see if there are things that I
Have missed in my every day
Things at work and then at play

Do you know the things I miss?
A stolen look, that long soft kiss
The talks of love and other things
The friends I had, then my siblings

Things that may seem every day to you
To me they are lost, I can never renew.
It is an age thing I hear you faintly say
If I turn my hearing aid up all the way

Frozen

Limbs lie frozen
Moonlight twirls
Wind plays
Shallow symphonys
Calm night
Something new
Dark shadow
Presence strong
Flowing quietly
Hovers close
Reaches
Takes Arm
No longer
Afraid.

still ...tis digital kids

and perhaps you know not still tis digital kids

my brain is made of golden chips
that's why that alone works mostly...
hold one...
will you
and
then someone will say
a diamond one is now on ..
whose
will be news....

the chip will ask a question
is it now on?
or
diamond slow down
better on than off ...

so digital God gave a hint
one for that
and
zero we can't say
we all know not

hence one and a dot
keep fixing a lot...

Rainstorm

Winds ferociously growl
with weather most awfully foul.
some trees buckle and bend in the sway,
blown by the blustery day.

The sky is overdressed,
with swaddles of cotton soft pressed
churning clouds of rumble and tumble
‘til water sluices crumble.

Pouring buckets to earth
that skip into puddles of mirth,
falling down from the heavens in pelts,
drum beating watery welts.

Until all is unhinged
and vapours are beautifully tinged
with vermilion dazzling drops.
after the torrid rain stops.

"Digit" (For the story telling in verse)

“Alfred Digit” a Summary of his papers passed on to me a month or so ago.
They are taken from the diaries of a school chum I use to know.
I have written these mostly in the third person as it would explain the whole sequence of his later life

"Digit" Pt 1
He tore at the flesh as the screams subsided
the poor fool’s world and his had just collided
A short walk that was all there was to extinction
another flesh crazed attack his mark of distinction

A New Life

We thought that moving to a place

with springs, grass-field and butterflies

would make it better for us, but it was all vanity;

like in the city when we were complaining about overdue bills,

traffic, noise and lack of privacy,

we are now polluting this serene place

with our petty fights.

If it is possible to move to heaven right now,

I think God would kick us back to this blue ball……..

Honey, I think it’s time that we change our attitude

towards each other, and rekindle our passionate love,

What’s in a cuppa? (Iambic Hexameter)

One must be in the moment to enjoy the tea,
a time of contemplation; nowhere else to be.
Aroma, taste and warmth alone to hold one’s thought.
A sentimental cup and may perhaps a pot.

Arrange a lovely view to set the mind at ease
and should it be outside allow naught but a breeze.
Then choose the tea with care- it must be brewed to soothe,
a bitter taste or something cultivated smooth.

Stifled

You smacked a moratorium
Across my mouth,
An invisible hand that said:
"cordoned off, keep out"

Ideas were muffled,
Freedom of speech, A no-go
Whatever was said
Represented a no-show

You built a wall
So high I couldn't see
Not past or around,
Merely, inside of me.

You scratched away
The surface of my smile
Said "hide it", don't confide it
You look like a clown".

Ounces Steeped Out

Ounces Steeped Out…

I once stepped out on to the stage of time,
after all I know how the actors do act.
They’re mostly in pursuance of mime,
you know it to, it’s a moment we refract.

We can play to an audience of just one,
behold the actors find they’re in love.
Simply that’s the way it’s always done,
all that they needed was a gentle glove.

But when audience becomes two or more,
as they pass on to a different set or stage.
Rattling on like a train to a musical score,
that’s when notes become difficult to gauge.

a t r o p h i n

stale palm
the sweat work pallour
knocks the sun slipping

honorary scars
and sun dyed cars
a desert blossom
in a cacti needle forest
glistening sting

knuckle
fallen
rest

with overcast
shades

a ventilators
steps
risen
and dropping

barometric
loves flame
in the cupola
of a pilot game

take wing
pretty verse
in a slipstream
orchid dusk

pressed
on peaches
of gravity

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