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April 2024 Contest Winners

Submitted by neopoet contests on Tue, 2024-04-30 20:38

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

Submitted by Apostolos "Paul... on Mon, 2024-04-29 23:58

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.

Neopoet Weekly Contest 04/21/24 to 04/27/24 Contest Winner!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-04-27 23:40

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.

20 April Neopoet Weekly Contest 04/14/24 to 04/20/24 Winner!
13 April Neopoet Weekly Contest Winer 04/07/24 to 04/13/24
6 April Neopoet Weekly 03/31/24 to 04/06/24 Winner!
31 March March 2024 Contest Winners!
View all community news

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

THE DAY THE POETS DIED

Submitted by scribbler on Wed, 2012-02-08 19:39

I heard the sound of pages turning
from writers' alcoves everywhere
where the dim night lights were burning
and poets laid their deep souls bare.

Then there came that final day
when verse and music both were done.
Had bards not heard their parents say
be sure to not look in the sun?

That fierce light burned their muse to cinders
and dried the ink within their quill
regardless of their age or genders
without vision they'd lost their will.

Workshop: 
Working With Titles

Floating

Submitted by emogothgirl on Wed, 2012-02-08 17:14

he took my paper heart
and folded it into a plane
threw it to the wind
and all my efforts were in vain
he stole my ink, my life
and wrote his name over again
he sits and grins and writes my death
and bleeds me through his pen
my bones have bent so many times
but never have they broke
yet then i felt the subtle crack
with every word he spoke
my body's cold, my breath is hot
my knives are sharp when mind is not
and right now they are all i've got
that listen.

S U R R O G A T E D E V I A T I O N

Submitted by Esker on Wed, 2012-02-08 14:31

caught me in your swell
the sweet perfume of orbit
how you swayed me
the fire gleaning
like ships ablaze
sinking suns
with powder guns

glitterbeing slit
this aperature
translation

fire off salvos
of love lust and
taste the rounds
of hate catching
bare hearted
ruins

You walked barefoot
with naked seas
to find me

how undressed
I am
naked neath
these waters
drowned

excstatic
and alive

(For P)

When the Poet Died.

Submitted by wesley snow on Wed, 2012-02-08 14:28

When the poet died,
nothing lost was found.
Ever he would hide
poesy he had bound.

When the poet failed,
no one sought his work.
But he never quailed,
left alone in murk.

When the poet passed,
everything he wrote
stood no chance to last.
He had never gloat.

When the poet ceased,
beauty went away.
Darkness was released.
Now, the night is day.

When the poet died,
nothing lost was found.
We had all relied
on the poet's sound.

Workshop: 
Working With Titles

Obsession (updated)

Submitted by Candlewitch on Wed, 2012-02-08 11:21

Obsession

Buddha on the road with Kerouac

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Wed, 2012-02-08 09:10

That laughing man
on the road ahead
of himself,

I think
that creative urge just died an untimely
death,

Goodbye Jack, we hardly knew you.
Goodbye Nietzche, I fucked your God
and it was good.

Lorraine(Workshop Submission Storytelling In verse)

Submitted by China Blue on Wed, 2012-02-08 08:30

Lorraine,‭ ‬even her name
Is a tinkling of rain drops to my ear

Red velvet grown clinging to every curve in her body

The ebon hair exposing a delicate neck

Crystal blue eyes‭ ‬that glowed,‭ ‬radiating her beauty even more.

What caught my attention above all

Was the ruby choker with its three tear drops trickling along her breast

How much my eyes did see,‭ ‬they remind me of

A slash with it’s droplets of blood.

How I quiver at the thought.

The blood pounding in my head

Pulse raging out of control

Workshop: 
Storytelling in Verse

CONCRETE

Submitted by tired_goat on Wed, 2012-02-08 06:32

the sun hidden behind a cloud of organza
the moon hood shadowing on the skyline
of tarmac, sings a ballad of loose fists
after holding tight for a whole collapse of the night
a car pours and pulls out like a water drop
on the highway – street lights
so yellow flicker into Dickens fate
and the Moby Dick is me, upstanding
on white guidelines of foreverness

The Yield of my Bequeathal

Submitted by docmaverick on Wed, 2012-02-08 02:08

To my parents I give crazy "props"
for putting up with me,

they provided great examples
which gave me integrity.

I also thank my siblings
for when push came down to shove,

they made me a better person
each combining to teach me, love;

and from then on I was willing
to share myself with all my friends,

giving me true substance
instead of following the trends;

which made all the difference
in the way I shared my heart,

Why!

Submitted by loved on Wed, 2012-02-08 00:27

Why is it that all artists and poets,
are at their best
after sex
It’s a natural thing all enjoy
but still younger ones fake
while the elders do make
and
the artist puts his experiences at stake
then upon a canvas reveals
the artful deals,
as poets lament
but readers fail to comment
Oh! why can someone tell me?
the effect of abject nudity,
that energizes the human mind
more than subtlety

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