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Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

Vote for this month’s image prompt contest winner

Voting ends May 6th 2024.

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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.

                                                                                                                                         

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 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

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Poetic Creations by Mark

 

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there you are by  leoferaco

 

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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Beckon

Beckon…
Blurters put their words on bucks.
Life with bucks is more than lucks.
Freudian slips are says are bad.
Sell your Betty all are sad.

Blushless pays will buy your names.
Train her ways and all may tame.
Trainee fields are training goals.
Win my Betty all are those.

Traitors blurt the words of classes.
Sell your nations all must pass.
Roses and wines are PINKO drinks.
Water damages some are rains.

p a l l i s a d e . . . . d a r c e . . . .

haunted rotations
the nail hum

a moon lifeless and pale
floats in the frozen field
of stars

like icebergs
shattered
and orphaned

alone

a dorm room phone rings
a handset lifting
and your voice
sweet and full of sleep
says Hello

A HOLY THING--new update

A Holy Thing

As I decline and begin to fall
a holy thing from deep within
begins to shine in me
and I realize
I will always be
somewhere somehow

these dying eyes see clearly now
the nature of all living things
I mourn the years gone quickly by
and hold them safe
where memories lie.

and if it is a soul I truely have
I hold it in some holy place
hidden in this sad heart of mine
until I know it is time
to let go

Cold Homes

 I've looked into houses
not really *homes*
some are palatial
with luxurious domes.

Well-furnished,
their hearth's lit,
yet cold still the rooms
and the beds.

The souls
seem strangers,
shadows living in holes,
or some ill-bones
and shattered thoughts
just gathered
under some bricks
and stones. 

FOOTSTEPS IN THE SNOW

FOOTSTEPS IN THE SNOW 
3rd December 2012.

Smooth sheet
stretched between the posts
a silken fabric ready to be disturbed
by nature's bustle
lying silent, white, asleep
so still,
so unperturbed,
existing in its virgin quiet
when no winds blow.

Below the crystals beautiful,
the grass succumbs,
still green,
unseen to grow
the sky that changes
from the indigo of night
is slashed with light
as dawn begins to show
across the plains of Salisbury.

Scrabble Finale

The exciting, nail-biting finale
Oh, playing time has finally arrived
Family competition of Scrabble
Ah, over dictionaries we have strived
It often finishes in a squabble
Someone’s vocabulary has nose-dived
Tommy's poor lip quivering and trembles
All because Robbie chanted, mocked and jived
The whole table begins to dissemble
An argument from where the word derived
Oh dear, watching all good spirit crumble
Hopefully, harmony can be revived
Next time, one of these ideas I hatch

Bribery sins

Bribery sins…
.Spurns and prides are taking passes.
Passing balances all are cases and tasks.
Some retakes are warrants put.
Pick the tough ropes not only straws to last.
PINKO god-some will need the disciplines.
Doors to Eden just are door ajar.
Some things harmonic needed our justices to cohere.
Feels are fear alarms that mighty come.
Something uprights needed our uprising.
China premier WENJIABO bribery sins then some of them must also sinning with so.

Rummy wakes

lost to a dream merchant
the counter a bed
the lights wink in the chrome sink
and the clever skill wrists
are slunk to the pocket depths

an ear exposed beyond the thick
shine of dyed black hair
anonymous grifter colour
like a great wing
laying shinning down the
length of wool
the tiny back

Snow and rain caress
the plate glass
and there is joy in the voice
of the bell
that cries arrivals
and departures

an aviary angel sleeps
in weary wings
and working soul

Plastic magic Pen..

Plastic magic Pen…..

I once had a plastic magic pen,
that sought the stories of heroes
way back when.
Each hero was to be of a different
breed, it would be good if all you
Poets, writer’s would take heed. .

This pen was interested in gathering
their stories, and writing them into
the futures glories.
He needed to find men and women
who’d been brave, even if they were
now in their grave.

EMPTY SPACES

EMPTY SPACES

I stand in an empty place
reaching far and wide
no horizons to hold onto,
and I am lost in vertigo.

useless are recollections
short flashes of life done
replayed in Death’s refraction.
meaningless are words
for they only say, never truly tell.
fearful is the silence I hear
hollow echoes of my prayers
into infinite spaces. *

*BLAISE PASCAL: “Le silence éternel de ces espaces infinis m’effraie” [The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.” ]

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