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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.

 

Dactyl (Bottom Line Workshop)

Here is my example of a Dactylic ditty. Remember, we are writing strict meter "for the workshop only". Seldom is Dactylic or Anapest used exclusively throughout a poem. Also, this is in Pentameter. Don't feel you must write Pentameter. Trimeter or Tetrameter will suffice. These are long feet and writing in Dactylic Pentameter is a stinker.

 

Harmony, musical, Dactylic, yes it’s hard, try it out.

Don’t be afraid though not ready to risk it and trust yourself.

Why does your teacher keep whining so spite your attempts at it?

Workshop: 

TUMBLING

Tumbling
in the fast flowing stream
of life's experiences, 
ricocheting towards
the inevitable end,
 
where we join the great,
grand, soup of the sea,
watered down once again
to tiny particles, 
from whence we came, 

we live each day 
as if it were an eternity,
 
hang on to its beauty,
its magic, 
as if it were a precious gem,

where we end up, 
gems have no tangible,
visible substance, 

Forbidden

Only angels lament
with the moon rising as
days grow shorter and poems
are distant in the light. Do not
leave the word love all alone to
wither on a tree like a half-eaten
apple core.

Just whisper a tender
goodbye.

Evil

I search the mirror
To make things clearer
Then I'm faced with fears of
Emotions that ain't me
Through that my disturbia stains me
Blood soaked with the lust to loathe
Vendetta's rose
My beautiful ugly
My unusual lovely
A contradiction that haunts
To soothe my muse
A snake suffering from bad kharma
Though life is a bad charmer
I'm prideful
Blinded by hate with my words insightful
Weighted soul, balanced thoughts
Tainted goals, challenged faults

Why Can't Nature Be Our Hero...

Why Can’t Nature Be Our Hero…

We all burn while nature rages,
and our political classes know it.
No one reads between the ages,
or listens to the prophetic poet.

Chemicals have begun to mix
while people homelessly drown.
All we need is another quick fix,
shouts another podium clown.

Most are dripping in silver or gold,
all have paper to a massive domain.
Their speeches so clever and bold,
but it’s our planets live they drain.

Trochaic pentameter-Ron for Bottom Line workshop

Silence deafens growls under the forest
Witness glowing screeches of red eyes
gunshot roars squeak out in banshee chorus
The sound of wolf howls crooning lullabies

Ron

Workshop: 

Remembered?

We going thru a thing
To where we're getting labeled
The only hope we bring
Is incarceration then case closed
Who's there for us now?
The company we work for, bowing
To their work ethic just
To maintain effort to hush
The harsh reality speaking to us
Saying
You will never be free
Caged in
By the history that we teach
Slavery, to show our bravery
We breach the boundries of respect
Just to be left with a sex
Known for disloyalty, no love
Known for avoiding peace, no trust

Anapaest (Attempt "two" for Bottom Line)

You may cry in writing anew, work in the form of anapaest
Some may find the intellectual write will progress
Leaving standard writers with a plethora of poetry needing an edit
Then the teachers of poetry should help the others in the write

"Try two"

You may cry in writing of poems in forms you may not be now sure of or know.
Some may find when the Bard is now studied our work will progress
Leaving standard of writing now with another meaning to sort
Then the teachers of poetry should help the others in the writ

Workshop: 

limbotiations

folded in the currents of light
sleeping like a poised
spring

there is beauty
negotiated
in ugly announcements

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