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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.

 

o d e o n

sticky damp rivers
and white cigarette bodies
with slender brown tips
like a wreck
slinking into the shade
the yardage tilting
shinning hair and bright
scalps and tilted hats

horsehair itchy seats

darkness an eclipse
surrenders the hush
of voices
a murmur from the
stalwart banks
cupping expectation

and the shiver

Letter to God

what did you expect when you left us here? For us to love you and want for you to be near. I want to love you but I am not sure how. I feel so dirty and unworthy. Your word says humans are evil through and through if we are what are we to do. We come into the world not by our own doing but you say if we don't choose you we will be going to a place where we are tortured for all eternity I want to love you and I don't want to burn but I feel your love I have to earn

THE SHED

THE SHED by Ian Thomson

In my spider-filled shed, where the flowers were all dead,
And the garden could grow only weeds
In an old watering can, lived a nasty wee man
Who yelled “Beat it !” if I touched his beads.

These beads could be tragic, for they made black magic,
Kids cried, that’s what gave him a laugh.
When shorty Ben Foller wished he were much taller,
The beads turned him to a giraffe!

N O C T U R N I Q U E T

conjecture
swimming

current dishevel

cascade mirage
shimmers
like a candle
depth
vortex

the golden halo
crown
on our lip of love

rappel
upon
the decline
of night
swirling
together

drawn in the
sinous
dark pasions
a pressure
gathering
momentum

Sleepy if you say

Sleepy if you say
okay wait it’s a poem for you
naughty one over there
where
is your guess

as I said sleepily I profess
a poetry, off my night’s fanciful dress
now you guess
my poetry today
and
amend it later

I compose
a poem for you , you
who ?

I can’t say till
the poems enroute on its way
but sleep overpowers me right away
perhaps I may also go astray
let me compose a dreamy poetry
just for you all today

Odd God (a one minute challenge)

I find it odd
That the square root
Of negative one
Defines an idiot sod
Who calls himself god
Whose existence is moot
For when it all begun
His omniscience,
his omnipotence
and omnipresence
were lost in ignorance
of science.

27

l'm honoring my son's 27th birthday
and will equal his number of years,
with reasons he's the apple of my eye
'twas a baby that rarely shed tears;

number 2 he's creative, 3's his sense of humor,
number 4 he's my family's "glue,
"5 and 6 he's quiet and keeps to himself,
7, 8 makes me smile and laugh, too;

9, 10, 11 his integrity,
quiet ways, never raising his voice,
12 through 15 he's my life and my hope,
he's a thinker, and acts only by choie;

colors

My hue holds no definition
Thoughts paperless,
No weight attached
Breezes blow and some things change
Some stay the same
Colorless lines fill pages with hope
None answering the question
As to how one continues to write when the pages are full.
Impossible to answer without a pen
Never to exist without a thought
Finally finished with no guide
Exactly how it was thought to be all along

Between Twins

Twin boys were born untimely to a maiden, "fair"
on an otherwise non-eventful day,
three moutths to feed gave her quite a scare
so she sent one son far, far away.

She sent one son to be adopted in France
Ahmal was the boy's first name,
with just the one son she'd have a better chance
although she loved them both, just the same.

She's Sitting...

She’s Sitting…

She sits but feet from my touch,
her eyes speaking to all who see.
If I can love her this much,
would she ever care for me.

Who has the time for taking food,
head is lead by heart or ringed nose.
Are my feelings so misunderstood,
a body’s dying while love grows.

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