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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.

 

Cup 2 (exploration workshop)

He made them by the dozen and so swift.
Quite unremarked the cups all seemed to be.
A haggle, then Denarii, then the gift
is taken for the slave’s new bride to be.

Upon a Sunday morning brisk and cold,
they watch a crowd lay palm leaves for a man
who rides upon an ass, yet seeming bold.
Another huckster, think they, with his clan.

A night of turmoil, fear and wrongful threats;
they beat him ‘til his flesh is stripped from him.
Upon the tree he bleeds, the cups are wet.
The old man casts the fullest as a whim.

Pirates' End (Exploration WS Sonnet)

Across the seven seas he sailed to seek
the greatest treasures that a man can find
and here he laughed and dined with men who reek
of greed within their hearts that made them blind.

The pirate king was trapped among his crew
who wished him ill and stripped him of his loot
they longed for him to die, of that he knew
so he made plans to give them all the boot

He paid a serving girl to seal their fate
and then he seemed to be in jolly mood
but in the end he felt the sting of hate
for she betrayed him with his poisoned food

saturnine arnica

Freud and schizophrenia,
saturnine arnica
junipers broll on Nausikaas
balms to bid him stay
brim suffocation of arnica,
or razors that cut through
puckered pine, porcupine
abacus of beads
stringed: placid
then plucked to viola
silhouettes of dusk
forgets all wavy auburn's,
therein awakened hamlets,
and kindred teeth break
shards of jowl

and pass, not dawn
letting gambols
of coral reefs
abandonment, the
faint whisper of a grass

Around the table knights of courage meet,
respect would lead to Arthur's knighthood court.
Their dishes, full of risks they'll sure defeat.
The good against the bad - the ills abort.

On golden dishes Arthur's knights would serve
their hearts to satisfy a hungry soul.
No accolades or medals sought, but crave,
for fairness, justice - nobler deeds in all.

rising glory

exquisite,
yes
not painful
but beautiful

you extract elixir of life
from the thoughts of a dying man

since ages as we are all born to die
one day
some day
since we arrive

but when shall the train arrive
at the platform of demise
none know yet
nor ever will
tis my surmise

man still till his last day wants to rise
and
once he does
tis no surprise
we all love to see ours rise....

Westkloc

the elastic strap
soaks white
and its a part of me
the wind up importance
beneath the worn chrome
dust and counting
minutes
seconds
days
months

Someone was playing
Stones from a radio
the notes cut the start
of the day like a bayonets
shave

We packed up
checked the gear
Raybans and extra
smokes
doused before
the rotors spun up
the hot dragons breath
of high octane
Boots aired out
still wet
Not soaking

SUCKER'S BET (substance and critique shop) { sonnet}

I guess I'll sit and slowly sling some ink
and try my level best to get it right,
penning a form at which I know I stink
in the near silence of a humid night.

Looking downward I try to count my feet,
ragged tracks left behind by moving pen
(I bet that I am way off of the "beat")
and likely need to start over again.

These lines are all stilted and stiff to me,
it's caused by counting feet and syllables,
instead of letting them just all run free,
These cursed things always give me troubles.

Silence

Wish melancholy upon the wind
while birds lie silent, feathers skinned
and rivers flow with stench-black jeers
we want to sleep again

the stench of money ebbs and flows
as children sleep beneath the bones
with bastardly sin they overhear
we try to sleep again

will you not answer their harrowing calls
they rattle and moan beneath the walls
your brothers and sisters are weeping my dear
we will not sleep again

IMPERMANACE DECANTE

Krack a smile
would it hurt
tinfoil cheap capped yearling

Expunge your soiled heartbeat breast
and let the fizz of the jacked up
Beat talk best

Nothing like the rush of things
to better unbecome
Invisible
Raise a toast by the neck
and taste its Essence
This vessel
Bless it under this
vulgar rain dressed night
that we may be pure
Against the warmth
of this fire
kindled in our loins

..

Of all the seats invented, one persists.
'Twould be the one for which most all would vouch,
and say a greater comfort can't exist
than when one's resting on one's favourite couch.

With stays and cushions sprung in interplay,
a range of shapes to fit, so every station
could then recline and while away the day
in clever, contemplative conversation.

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