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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.

                                                                                                                                         

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This week the Neopoem is

 

 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

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This week the Neopoem is

 

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.

 

Seasonal Memories...

And the day drizzled into a storm,
one that rolled gently over the valley
Enveloping the streets below "The Hill"
making heavy breaths, moving slow.

Water, water everywhere...
More than enough to choke me,
too little to float a boat, swim in
or cleanse the soul of the city.

The river runs ice-free this year
no break-up and flooding,
"Canal walk" striding past
Blue Crocus and Pussy-willows

London's Burning

London’s Burning

In Cahoots

Their bikes stormed past
the church lane, down
to the end of the road
where the gravel thins off
into nothingness
but dandelions, clover,
and Queen Anne's Lace.

The five boys wrestled their bikes
into a tight huddle, faces flushed from
riding so darn fast, and so darn hard,
hearts pounding inside their youthful chests -
still innocent,
still fragile.

Mother Nature

In the green flourishing garden
a splendor of view comes in
with a radiant display
showcase a place where it builds
with a seed of love
spread with a full
spectacular of look
from its unconditional nurturing

Echo of whisper tune
carrying in a soft silent breeze
beauty unfolds in the
exquisite blooming
flowers are dancing
birds are chirping
a symphony of songs playing
accompany by humming bees chasing
greetings from the young lively spring
with the vivid imagery of vibrant colors

Don't Look a Gift Horse in The Mouth

Although the night was cold
And the rain poured down
The crafty old fox, still felt bold.
He put up with the weather
Because he thought he was clever.
So, he conjured up a plan –
Living nearby was a horse called Gift.
The fox kept his eye, on the horse for a while
Whilst licking his lips – he was hungry, they were dry.
The horse was as fit as a fiddle
Because of the grass he ate - healthy greens.
The fox with white socks and red fur
Could also eat grass but meat he preferred

Above All Else

Above All Else
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

How I wish I’d never been taught
That being a selfless carer
Is what made you holy
All it did was make me
The perfect candidate
To love violent men and addicts

We must never again tell a woman
That they can’t keep anything for themselves
Knowing full well
They will give everything they have
Until there is nothing left

THE WALL

Last year I visited a hallowed place
I had been there twice before,
This place that reflects and honors;
A memorial no one should ignore.

Our nation's mall is the location
In the shadows of heroes past,
Tons of granite whisper quietly,
Our heroes names forever last.

Fifty eight thousand names are there
Etched for all the world to touch and see,
The names and dates of when they fell,
An epitaph of love, for all eternity.

Whereby yours truly presages and doth abhor
nothing short of an imminent civil war
dwarfing insurrection on January 6, 2021
oddly enough even reducing
ordinary decibels to a mute whisper
madding crowd trumpeting cacophony of ˈthȯr
drowning out sense and sensibility
allowing, enabling, and providing
golden opportunity for anarchy to run rampant
one issuing, earthshaking, and booming
as one collective soul with pride

I Wish

I can’t stop my emotions
They eat at my heart
Can’t slow down the thoughts
Gonna rip me apart

Maybe I’m crazy
Damage already done
I feel all fucked up
Maybe ‘mother’ has won

Can’t seem to settle
My thoughts won’t slow down
Frustrations taking over
My face it does frown

Hate feeling this way
I hate being me
I can’t fucking handle it
Can’t anyone see

Wish I could end it
Wish I had the guts
But I only take pills
So maybe I’m nuts

where Lassie free to run across petco junction

All across the webbed
wide esse Scott's landed wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge pot of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,

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