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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.

 

Creation, A Sam Poem

The breath of God lifts fledglings over trees,
their tufty feathers fluffed and barely spread,
to play with parents darting on the breeze,
a healthy joy of life that dampens dread

A tabby cat enthralled by sounds of night
sees azure haze split by a lance of fire;
his furry face aglow with wild delight
and full-heart beating to an avian choir.

Survival of the fittest may belie
the innate love such creatures typify.

S L I P S T R E A M Z

THE sky is a cup
in its clarity
in the chalice
the masterful alice

the muse ponderz
and the powder
wanders....

I have tasted the scripts
of tortuous
fortitude
wandered the garden alleys
alone

found the lost tiara's\
and had my harems

behold the textual gardens
of luxurious
lost
the minds end
past the shot out Dead End Sign

would I forgive the notions
the spells and the potions

not now

her popa's love

A pops love
for his wife
of those years
gone passed aside
when simplistic love
alone did only reside

there were few divorces
on the screen

marriage was
love and compromise
mainly

how really sad.....
now it is not like that

be happy
you had a dad
like he.....
and follow him
will thee

ME NE RICORDO [english]

ME NE RICORDO english

I miss them all to heart’s breaking
and sink to deepest longing.
memories are cruel recollections
and sicken a wounded soul.
I endure in this empty world alone.
‘the noise of living comes to me
In dreams only and the silence of the day
is a quiet mourning…
.

Black Swan on the Perth river.

The quietly glittering suburbs,
run snug in a choired chain,
their mingled meandering lights
follow the curve of the river in vain

hope for a Yearning mouth,
not visible beyond
the fist of clumped spires,
resembling a pocket full
of New York slung
south westward,
on cold dry promises
of gold.

Dad's Poem

Watching the rhythmic rise and fall
of the breathing,
of the man
that was my Dad.

The family sitting in various positions
of anxiety.
Holding their breath
with each uncoordinated spasm and jerk.

Occasional disjointed speech,
riddles and ramblings.
drifting in and out,
slow, slurred words
struggle to form.

A different breathing pattern
deeper,
peaceful ,
drops back to shallow,
monitored by anxious eyes.

My Only Published Poem (March Contest)

My friends wonder why
I don't often write
a poem about you;

"maybe she's not aware
of the Mother's day!"

"or maybe she doesn't care,"
they'd simply say.

They didn't know then
that you're the only
published poem I've
ever had
mother.

Dream Critters

Ice picks of light
scatter goofy dream critters as they
scoot back down
underground
to continue undermining
my precarious reality.

They are cute as hell, figments
of fascination,
shyly appearing only after
day lids are securely shut
and the depth of dark becomes unfathomable.

Harmless little varmints, they seem,
but are voracious, insatiable root eaters
gnawing vigorously at the raw under-pinnings of the official Me.

ART and ARTIFICE

ART and ARTIFICE

I don’t tell of sunny days ,
and past recollections
of better times fill my heart
with deep longing.
the soul speaks its tragic truths
of loss, pain and suffering.
the heart speaks of broken promises
and failed expectations.
a dying man cries out to humanity
for solace as he walks into the Unknown.
I don’t put flowers on a grave.
they are like meaningless words
that trivialize a tragic event:
pretense is artifice.
truth is art.

SNIPPET

Open the door
stick out my arm
no jacket today
morning air is tending warm.

Step outside
breath fresh air in
along with pollen's tang
sneezes begin.

Sneeze a bit, cough a bit
then lift my eyes to rising sun,
walk to my truck and get inside.
Spring work day has begun.

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