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Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Winner!

The winning poem of the

Poetry Month 2024 Imagine is

 Backwards by  Carrie

Congratulations to Carrie on such a unique poem.

 

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!

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

JIPPERZ

candy floss
the glitter gloss
like poison in its glass
she swallows the pills
feels her soul gasp
shudders her heart
feelings life pass
she walks her runway
green eyes mean
she drives too fast
in her lovers machine
Dolce Gabbana
and internet love
in the blackness of
ravens
she gives like a Dove

..

Will Of A Champion

If the tide of life is rising,
will you stand to face the storm?
When you risk the fear of falling,
remember where you have come from.

You tell your heart to keep on carry on
though you never know where hope has gone.
You know the truth, you're born as champion
within your mental vision, you'll live the moment.

If it feels as if you're choking,
and despair is slowly growing,
embrace your faith, keep striving on,
Then you'll see your hopes, reborn!

catechisms of damascus

the legible conundrums of the sweeping wings of an albatross
though the breath of the morning
where the crickets initiate their assidous toil
milk mingled of negligence to dystrophic awaited death
and the gullible faltered malady
amidst the lachrymose songs of gloam

belles dulcimer of the tattered sheets
is graphite ensembled of glass bread
spent fumes on the patter of earthenware
glittering the cluster of overcrowded necropolis
gone dusk feasible of the unripe animalculum
that sneaks to glimpse his share of earth

Gentle Steps....

Gentle Steps….

Gentle steps on their way to die,
Herod has decided only he shall rule.
They don’t speak out don’t even cry
this king knows no limit to being cruel.

Gentle steps, the Romans claim the earth,
conquering all before them as they plundered.
Formation warmongers, soldiers since birth,
were they really so good I’ve often wondered.

Gentle steps in the damp Scot’s weather,
red coats march as the people rebel.
good men shall die among the heather,
Culloden is looming, welcome to hell.

Thank our Creators

Thank the two for their creation
to whom we owe our existence
if not the fun they'd that day
we would not be here today

Whatever be they had that day
thank the two for their creation
may be a toast they raised that night
that helped them to get it pretty right

A boy, girl or would there be twins?
crossed fingers and sweet dreams
thank the two for their creation
for some nine months of abstention

THREAD

the snow falls
and every beautiful created
individual
reminds me
it will break
and shatter
melt
obscurity
in its totality

I lay and lay
the cold seeping
welcoming
the moisture
from each perfection
like a tear
kisses from heaven

the tether breaks
its delicate
pressure
parted

THE SHUNNING edit

THE SHUNNING

I hope to stay another day
or two or more
as far as the years allow
and when I'm gone
I wonder who will remember
my rhymes and metaphors.
I did leave a bit of myself
to see deep in my poetry
hard to find at times beyond
the occasional flaw...
but not enough to close the door.

A lonely Vietnamese Just Creative

A lonely Vietnamese

These twenty passed something years
I stand as an isolated stooge
no one loved me
when in Vietnam
none loves even now
though I am out of it
somehow

where is God
O some one say
does he too not love
my way

but then each day
I get messages
come son allure
don't worry
you have no job only
I am as lonely
laying on times floor

Mobster (Ballade WS)

The night they killed my wife and son,
a part of me was stripped away.
Do they believe that they have won?
Revenge is mine to have, I say.
I vow that all of them will pay!
For all their sins, I plan to sting
and settle scores without delay.
They'll feel the pain my wrath will bring!

Dearest Mother

The sun raced the other way
as you chased us
through our tiny green pastures
to spare us from
the hand of that bottle.

I never asked why we stopped running,
returned to keep those pastures;
why we plowed those fields with our souls
so we could plant new seedlings each season
to watch them wither and die because the bottle
wouldn’t share the rain.

I didn’t ask why your hands never sat on my head
like a stocking cap protecting my ears
from the blizzards wintered from that bottle.

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