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Early Spring Image Prompt contest Winner!

The winning poem of the

Early Spring Image Prompt contest is

 The Visitor by  Mary Beth Magee

Congratulations to Mary Beth Magee on such a fine poem.

Neopoet Weekly 03/17/24 to 03/23/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

2:23am by zach

 

Congratulations to zach on such a fine poem.

Early Spring Image Prompt Contest Vote

Early Spring Image Contest Vote

 

Please read the two finalist poems below and click on the vote here link to vote on your favorite poem. Voting ends March 29th 2024.

 

 

The Visitor

By: Mary Beth Magee

You visit for a moment,

Accept a breath of hospitality,

Then dash away again.

You share your company briefly.

 

But in that time, oh,

The magic you bring.

From tiny eggs to instars

To gloriously patterned wing.

 

I watched you hatch and crawl,

Grow, shed and wriggle.

You change your dress. Your

New look makes me giggle.

 

You give me joy and delight

With your aerial ballet.

My royal friend, magician,

Harlequin at play,

 

Dear monarch, share your gift

Of grand, exuberant joy

With all. Give us eyes to

See, and feelings to employ.

 

You set an example

Of living in the moment.

Let us live so our days

Are likewise spent.

 

Dash on, my friend,

Your destiny calls.

Send your children my way

When the milkweed grows tall.

 

Spring Comes

By: Candlewitch

 

Fields of springy clover

beneath my barefoot toes,

dance-happy feet kick up

a delight everyone knows!

 

Green, green all around,

a heart full of joys untold

rolling over and over in

nature's paradise hold!

 

In gardens of my growing hopes

tulips, buttercups and crocus

flourish healthily blossoming,

as Spring comes into focus.

 

 

Vote Here

Neopoet Weekly 03/010/24 to 03/16/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Dancing In The Dark  by  William Lynn

Congratulations to William Lynn on such a fine poem.

Neopoet Weekly 03/03/24 to 03/09/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

THE LAST RING by  Jokerface82

 

Congratulations to Jokerface82 on such a fine poem.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

confused wandering nomad poet

sometimes I wonder

why do we walk
and
not fly high up in the sky
and
even if no one does not read us
why feel so shy
they will at least see us fly high
a flag of Neos in hand
to be like a present from this wonderful site
will do
and
poetry coming in print some day
all will say why
did LOVEDLY
fly away

No More Punching Bag

I won't cry again!
Tears changed nothing,
doesn't stop the pain,
never end the hurting.

My patience is gone,
crushed by the reigning anger.
It grates me to the bone,
the rise of a monster.

The bullies have had their fun,
now it's my turn to make a stand.
I will no longer turn and run
I'll face all of them like a man.

It doesn't matter
if I win or lose.
They will remember,
the day I choose
to stand up
to their abuse.

The Terrorist

After months of brain-wash
he headed
-as a mouse-
towards a kindergarten's
playground.

His steps margined
the hooded dark thoughts,

then no ocean
ever cleansed
the sinful hands.

Near Sunset, in the Spring

By a lake,
one day in April,
I sat toasting marshmallows
as field mice turned
discarded fedoras
into a park
of imagined possibilities
existing,
entirely,
without my daydreams.

AT 63

At three score and three I saw the truth
in a blaze of stern reality.
We all burned time in wasted youth
and I hardly dare to exclude me.

In small years how could we see,
though we'd been warned by older folk,
that in the future we would be
the butt of time's cruel ancient joke?

Mortality? A rumor so we thought
body nor limb would betray us.
We're too swift ever to become caught
by that black clad pursuing cuss.

BEYOND RAINBOWS

BEYOND RAINBOWS

I dreamed a dream in sepia
and faded black and white.
there were no rainbows in my life
nor would there ever be....
how could I see otherwise:
stormy clouds of deadly grey
behind horizons blue,
sudden falls into the abyss,
the fear of life's turns and twists,
the curse of suddenness
a world of paradox
a world hidden by lies

LIDDED SVELTATION

churning air
a tired essence
the slow burn of autumn
simmering in the stillness
behind the blinds
beyond the thin slip of
curtians
outside the drywall
and brick veneer
down below the
stoop rooftop
drainpipe and leafy
urban tree
the street still warm
from a blistering sun
oily and bloated in
the west
swallowed up by the
liquid haze
the fan buzzes on
flipping papers
stirring hair
the clock tic and the
television
streams its low glow

paradise that or this

Paradise that or this

that paradise is no illusion
its pure and simple your imagination
darkness
when you cannot see with open eyes
what will you do there
with no eyes

now read my version below
read it breathless
in one go
or punctuate it if you wish to do so

Kitchen Table

Another sleepless night spent at the kitchen table,
waiting for morning to come so that I am able to breathe again.
It's flat, like my chest, as I hold my breathing to rest
while the suppressed heart beneath my lungs is trying its best
to repent.

I have failed you, my heart cries.
I failed you, too, I realize.

RAVAGED

RAVAGED

ravaged by the years,
deceived and betrayed
by the treachery of Creation,
I have become less than myself
too quickly, too soon, nearer
to my end than my beginnings.
there comes to us all one
faithless day a sudden epiphany
of growing old and a sickening
disbelief of Life’s final push.

[Richard for Joe]

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