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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.

 

Fire Meet Gasoline

Fire meets gasoline
There is sure to be
An explosion.

I'm exploding
Everyday I'm awaken
And see that
My world has not change.

Simple interaction
Ignites a spark
Trying to get it right
Explodes into a ball of fire

Setting my flesh to flames
Like lightening
I reach for the truth
But it leaves me burning
Wrangling on the ground
For some water to cool me.

This Economic Crisis

My son has given up his job:
he survived for almost a year
but finished up stressed-out.

He worked fourteen hours a day
for 1,500 euros a month.
He is a land surveyor;
he studied for five years
to get his degree.
That was his first job
and he is disillusioned.

One night they kept him in the office till 5 a.m.
then he had to go to work again at 8 a.m.
and measure accurately all day.

If he made a mistake
the company would lose money
and he would be responsible.

the hounds of a butcher

foot rounds to blood in side-pocket presumably
the ants of hill sun-smote refill
hounds, players above, below game
and the ballot is an ultimate forestry
cannibal cluster to let go our egos
quicker for the range of impeccable yoke's
primates for sullied yolks, car in these posters
ape the large size of submitted hearts provenance
infidel caliph to his masters ante-room
where cameras dangle around his neck

the ultimate design

This is always on one’s mind....
where to consolation find

.'''Where to go with you today
Your house or mine just fine....''anon...'''

as long as we both entwine
that is the ultimate desire divine
to swim in ravines
and let rivers flow from mine
to and within
ere the summer ends
and
we forget the golden mine
where then together we ought to dine
reverberating thoughts of the ultimate design

Imagination

I walked the shore
It changed as was my mood
Cold sands compacted
Hard surface that would hold an elephant
Tiny grains to shift as I
Pebbles as thrown by the sea
Jagged rocks with harsh surfaces
Just a beach that found the world as I did

Night Shift.

I salute you night-shift workers
wherever you may be around this globe.
It must be hard to sleep next day,
through morning light and noise.

Some of you put up with a lot.
Taxi drivers for example,
patiently waiting your turn in the small hours,
only to have to deal with drunks
or drugged-up, dangerous men.

Or night staff in A and E, or para-medics,
or prostitutes ready 24 hours a day,
or bar-men or bouncers or police.
All of you have to be psychologists -
specialists in misfortune and aggression.

Your Move!

That high-dollar chess set
doesn't help your game,
the look-how-smart-I-am-comments,
to me, seem lame

but you can't see it,
to you, it's success,
that shit won't help
on a feel-my-words-test

so get it out, release it,
let it fester on the page,
let us see something more
than your juvenile rage

dig past that pocket degree
show us the dirty lint
take us on a journey
make us glad we went

Show me

AT TOWN'S EDGE

What little hair I have is white
which peeks from under my hat's brim
as I head home to beat the night.
I pause a moment on a whim
just to look at all I see.

I've stopped between the town and home,
not really country but hardly town,
where both house cats and white tails roam
and not all trees have been cut down.
I shift my weight off old sore knee.

Born to love

Bryan Adams "everything I do " is now playing
Who needs Spotify when there is iTunes
Listening to iTunes Radio through my headphones
Keeps my depressed state in my bowels
I won't run away with the winds of my mind.

Some got it good
Able to move about with a clear mind
Not confused by the stormy winds of life
Trouble come to visit and never leave
Between two people hoping for a better way.

B U T T E R M O T I V E

dirty boots
and greasy hair
wave a cigarette
about in the swirling air

on the matress of weekend sheets
spilled cotton candy perfume
sin and collisions
smeared on the latex
on the varnish
on the tiles

a fan whirls
the sweet motor hum
stirring
long hairs
straying on the pillow
an arm draped
full of soft down
in the light
creeping through
the venetian

full lips parted
glistening in hot pink
and dark sky rimmed
dreamer blues

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