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Neopoet Weekly Contest 04/14/24 to 04/20/24 Winner!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-04-20 14:53

This week the Neopoem is

 

Poetic Creations by Mark

 

Let us congratulate Mark on his latest contest win.

Neopoet Weekly Contest Winer 04/07/24 to 04/13/24

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-04-13 21:46

This week the Neopoem is

 

there you are by  leoferaco

 

Let us congratulate leoferaco on his latest achievement.

Neopoet Weekly 03/31/24 to 04/06/24 Winner!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-04-06 22:02

This week the Neopoem is

 

Enchantress.by Alex Tanner

 

Let us congratulate Alex Tanner on his latest achievement.

March 2024 Contest Winners!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sun, 2024-03-31 21:16

Congratulations to our contest Winners 

 

Mother Nature  contest  was won by Lavender with the poem To My Monarch and Her Milkweed

03/24 New Member Contest was won by lostLA with the poem insights of a orphan

03/24 I Was Bullied was won by Candlewitch with the poem Ramming Speed!

03/24: What My Best Friend Gave Me was won by  Mark with the poem What My Best Friend Gave Me

03/24 Looking At The Stars was won by Alaethia D with the poem Dear Heart, One More Time

03/24 My Favorite Pet was won by  Alex Tanner withy the poem My Pal Jet.

13 April Neopoet Weekly Contest Winer 04/07/24 to 04/13/24
6 April Neopoet Weekly 03/31/24 to 04/06/24 Winner!
31 March March 2024 Contest Winners!
31 March April 2024 Contests
View all community news

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Into the music I allowed

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Fri, 2012-02-03 11:47

you,
far away,
I think I love you

our dance of separation,
heavy-limbed
and shredded
far
into the melancholy night

no cell phone ringing
no shared riffs of space
no feathered bridges
across

mudra hands enjoining
this wasteland paradise

faded flower stains of your heart
like deep ribbon grief
upon my lips

Comrade in my Arms.

Submitted by wesley snow on Fri, 2012-02-03 11:36

 

(Based on a story idea by Joe Kubert)

It’s Belgium ’44, the world’s at war.

The yuletide came and went, but brought no joy.

The Bulge is still a challenged corridor,

 yet with their progress troops now redeploy.                               4

 

And so the Private finds himself alone.

Awareness has returned and with it pain.

It must be night, he thinks, while lying prone,

for nothing can be seen of all the slain.                                         8

 

But then the man looks to the Prussian skies

Workshop: 
Storytelling in Verse

Our Missing Piece

Submitted by WonderGolly on Fri, 2012-02-03 11:12

We fruitlessly go through life
Scouring our outside
For our missing piece
That for its uniqueness
Defines our very existence.

Our missing piece

We had it all to ourselves
In the dawn of our being
Naïve and frail as we crawled
And giggled and wiggled
At life a gentle fellow.

Our missing piece

One we truly lost
In the noon of our being
When the rushing waves and tides
Came crushing on our solitary shore
We sauntered like insanity’s friend
Trying to make meaning out of meaning itself.

Echo on a Cliff

Submitted by loved on Fri, 2012-02-03 10:58

The horizon is far
yet not distant enough,
We surf our ways across the seas,
we fly over sand dunes
and
surpass all eventualities…

None is brave enough,
to place a boulder
nor a hand upon our shoulder,
to prevent our movement
from darkness to light

I Sing a Song

Submitted by t. reflexion on Thu, 2012-02-02 23:23

I sing a song of praise and joy
To Him who makes us all wake up
Each day, from the day we were born
I sing a song, I clap my hands
And dance to the beats of each day
I walk the path laid down by rules
Not to hurt those who come my way
I laugh when no one comes to help
And cry when they mock at my back
They know not that I see them all
In front of me they show their teeth
If air were to be bought by men
I will have no where to buy it
I sing a song of praise and joy
No man can give what they have not

Workshop: 
More Meter

You Speak of Everyman

Submitted by loved on Thu, 2012-02-02 21:32

But I am told,
I can't comment on workshop poetry,
hence I read slyly…
But now it’s clarified
I can comment easily.

But your Everyman
includes everyman and woman
Hopefully!

When I passed by a garden in Montreal,
I observed a beggar
sleeping on a bench...

Torn shabby dirty apparel
but his inner showed,
as if he had just purchased it
or picked up one ...

He was an
Every –sort –of man
Like just any one…

The Atheist and the End of the World

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Thu, 2012-02-02 15:05

i.

I suck at being holy.
Can't write poetry worth a damn,
I can't pump sunshine up my blanks
or my blind side. My mileage will
always vary.

Can't help but think the world is no more than a rock
in a hard place,
torpedoing out in space, hurtling to some final destination,
each and every being thinking the answer is
written in pure poetry, holy prophecy or
monetary concurrency.

Down Both Roads

Submitted by William Saint George on Thu, 2012-02-02 12:23

Asking questions already answered
in a desperate quest to clinch a dream
by the skin of a tooth.
That is how life is like,
for any one born in a cage.

You see the ends,
and know the forced limits,
but when darkness falls
and your eyes fail you,
you ask the slave-master

"How far will you let me go?"

Oscillating like a pendulum,
eternal in the timed swing:
you are set to and fro,
and that is all you know.

where is utopia?

Submitted by tired_goat on Thu, 2012-02-02 09:51

Coles doesn't stock spinach anymore
sometimes you can find it in the cans
but it doesn't come in bunches

I don't know what a spinach plant looks like
so I'd Google it

***

I want to find out what finding out is
where's the screws on my iPod?
my mobile?

how do you use a thesaurus?
I know it's not alphabetised like a dictionary
isn't there a search tab?

***

I can't remember what a stone looks like
in my hands, touching me

For Esker

Submitted by loved on Thu, 2012-02-02 00:51

It was indeed
a great day for me ,
when you passed by my solitary lane,
somewhere in the maddening wilderness .

That you having been declared the best,
by the only poetic authority
enlivens my heart

I am no one to commend,
but greetings I can send
to a poet who time views
as God sent

Alas, I am a solitary passerby,
In this vast arena of time,
where only death bells
for ever for me chime ,
so anonymous,
Loved,
is a name of mine.

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