Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

the sadness of being

the mourning light
lays upon your face
spilling its sadness
wearing your grief

we hold on trying
to halt your slide
under our hands
leaves of skin flake
to float the breeze,
you are vanishing

smile lines are erased
a flawless mask
takes their place,
looking into the unknown
you are lost in dreams

each day a knife of anguish
carves at your mind
you've forgotten
the majesty of life
and a love all carry for you

Mental Transportation

poetry

designed
sublime
pretty, sometimes

yet, simply a vehicle
a word driven craft

certified and licensed
for transporting
minds

d e c a n t e r

copious example
held aloft
the good life
shinning through

beneath the bitter milk
and sour bread
we tilled the salt
with toil and sweat

trickle aches
the open dreams
like runoff streams
and miles bred

porchlight nocturna
waiting for visions
from heaven
and whispers from
the grasses

hunting bat
on moth glass
chase

drink heartily
these chaste
allowances

Moving

A disassembled life of pictures, books and curiosities,
scattered all about.
Huge jigsaw puzzle meaning little at a glance.
The reason for each piece recalled as dusted off and
packed within a pasteboard box taped tightly shut.
Each box stacked neatly in the center of the room,
waiting patiently to be gathered up and carried off to
some new lodging near or far away.
Their contents emptied in due time and
transformed into a life again.

poor those sullen minds

I thought poor … like pee
of those sullen minds

till I met and read ye
you held my hand….
many try to kill…
and upon others soil till …

that is the way with this wicked world…
we all know…
how the real ones perish…
whilst others glow…
and so it's time to surface here ..
and form a tracer… like a bullet...
and so may it be the violet...

I held to my feet
dug deep ...
as I learnt then
when we did meet

HOUR GLASS

HOUR GLASS
A sudden winter chill
stills the night
and steals the fire of day.
my light grows dim
the past fades into oblivion.
there is no place to hide
and I am lost in Time.

Sparrows

Why do the sparrows fly so high,
so near the sun,
so out of reach of limb
and rifle shot?

Why do they call,
but more,
why do I hear them call
when I cannot share
their merry song?

Why do they come
and go
like fleeting ghosts;
like happy little phantoms
dancing to a tune
that only God
and angels know?

That I do not know?

Why can no shaft
dethrone them from
their airy seat
into my empty arms?

wounded

In for repairs :)

C H A R I T I E

an open wound
alive with warmth
steams

rising
as the soft
new snows
gather

past an
alarm of light
blazing in
its lonely
place

wet
with leaves
disguised
with night

a cold fire
with a scald
alive
within a heart

laying layers
beneath
fluidity

each slow world
dissolving
soft texture
of sound

delicate
impressions

Painted Green Pastures

The street light strayed into the room
piercing like cat eyes
stalking the night
patiently waiting for the field mouse
to let its guard down.

Only the shadows move
as the heart races,
pumping a raging chemical river
flooding through the valley
of your memories -
you'll never think that way again

In the morning,
a pair of slippers is slid on your feet

(shoe laces are not allowed in here)

then they walk you to a chair
to teach you how to sit again

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.